#no matter how honest and earnest of a try I gave it?

[dex-starr]

I know my brains not really designed to think in s conducive way for some things. Like I’m laying in bed just thinking about the times I got to lay in bed with you.

It’s not like an experience that I’ve had an emotional equal to and I’m sure you’ve had that since then. I know who and when too, but yeah dude I just miss it. I don’t want to give it a try. I don’t think I would even give it a try with you at this point. There’s just a part of my heart that’s extremely weak right now. I wouldn’t be giving my best self or my full self like I was. I don’t know if I know how to.

…like to elaborate on that: I’m being my honest self and saying what I mean but I don’t think I could just reach that level of tenderness. I felt like that was the best I could give and that was not enough given everything else that was going wrong. It’s confusing to get into but it’s something that I need to talk more about.

I think about love a lot and sometimes I just get stuck thinking I don’t really know how to… because I lost it. But I know that’s just me not giving myself room for error. But yeah dude like… there’s just parts of my brain that I just don’t know why it’s going like that; but it do what it does.

[kivaember]

another snippet for the umbra 1999 fic and its just arthur standing there like "why is drifter so concerningly fucked up and somehow oblivious about it" while drifter cheerfully recounts a time they got greviously injured and didn't die that time!

-

Of course, the cause for the misunderstanding between Drifter and Arthur was revisited the next day.

“Yeah, we were gonna spar,” Drifter said, unperturbed by Arthur ambushing them at breakfast (or, “breakfast”, as Drifter was tucking into a pot noodle of all things). “I like to keep my skills sharp, since sometimes it’s easier for me and Umbra to fight separately than as one, y’know?”

No, Arthur didn’t know, but he got the gist. “Then why the secrecy? You could’ve done it during the day, instead of sneaking around and looking suspicious about it.”

Drifter didn’t immediately reply. They simply looked at him and idly stirred their pot noodle, their expression surprisingly difficult to read. Drifter was a bit contradictory like that, Arthur was realising: they were earnest, direct and generally honest, but there were moments where Arthur just… couldn’t gauge them at all.

Still waters, and all that.

“I’m not sure,” Drifter finally said. They sounded thoughtful. “I guess… because I’m used to it?”

Arthur frowned.

“When Teshin taught me to fight, it was in a dark cave hidden away from the world,” Drifter elaborated, seeing his frown. “Because what we were doing was wrong, in the eyes of Duviri. I wasn’t allowed to fight back there. And before that, I was learning how to sneak around the Zariman, since…”

They trailed off with a grimace, looking down into their pot noodle. “Since, y’know. Adults.”

Sol.

“…well, you don’t need to sneak around here,” Arthur said gruffly, not really wanting to court another unexpected bout of ‘fucked up things about Drifter’s past’ in the public food court of all places. Arthur was barely able to mentally withstand them as it was over KIM where there was a safe buffer of physical space and privacy.

“If you want to do something and you’re not sure if it’s fine, just ask, for Sol’s sake,” Arthur continued when Drifter just gave him an unreadable look. “We’re all adults here.”

“Okay…” Drifter said slowly. “Then… can me and Umbra spar with naked blades in the mall during the day?”

“Sure,” Arthur said just as slowly. “Provided it’s under supervision.”

Drifter blinked.

“It’s not a knock against your skills or Umbra’s, before you say anything,” Arthur continued when Drifter opened their mouth. “It’s basic safety, mate. If you were… like us, it’d be one thing, but-”

“But because I’m a squishy and delicate human who doesn’t have accelerated healing like you guys, you wanna be safe rather than sorry,” Drifter finished.

“Right.” Arthur studied Drifter’s face. They didn’t seem pissed off or insulted. Just amused. “Unless you’re going to say you do have super healing or whatever-”

“I don’t, actually,” Drifter admitted. “Uh, maybe? I heal a little faster than a baseline human, but I usually die from my injuries, so I’m not sure.”

Said so matter-of-fact. ‘I usually die from my injuries’, without a shred of hesitation or a flicker of emotion. It was like stating a fun fact like, ‘I have a mole’ or ‘the sun’s out today’. Just, ‘I usually die from my injuries’, leaving Arthur standing there trying to absorb that incredibly fucked up statement while Drifter took a bite of their pot noodle like nothing was wrong.

“…right,” Arthur said again, a lot more stridently. “Well. We don’t want that here. You dying from a stupid sparring accident in the middle of the mall, I mean.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a lame way to die,” Drifter agreed and entirely missing the fucking point. “Probably in my top twenty?”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling forcefully.

“Don’t worry, though, Umbra usually patches me up if he accidentally injures me,” Drifter continued, oblivious to or ignoring Arthur’s growing agitation. “One time I messed up a parry and he cut my side open - blood went everywhere-“

“Lettie,” Arthur muttered. “We’re having Lettie supervise.”

“And I almost passed out from the shock of it, but Umbra just immediately started patching me up by using his-”

“Nnngh,” Arthur groaned into both hands.

“-and I didn’t die that time!” Drifter finished cheerfully.

“…” Arthur sighed. Heavily. “Marty.”

“Yeah?”

“When you spar Umbra,” Arthur said, after dragging his hands down his face. “You need myself and Lettie supervising. Closely.”

“Okay…” Drifter said slowly, giving him a bit of an odd look. “Seems like overkill, but this is your mall so… sure.”

Overkill, they say, after telling Arthur all that.

[oliver-lennox]

"You make it kinda hard not to stare..."

I murmured, my voice soft and laced with affection.

He was stretched out on the Ravenclaw common room sofa, his dark brown hair gave him an effortlessly charming look. The flickering light from the fireplace cast golden shadows over his sharp features, making him appear almost ethereal in the quiet of the night.

He glanced up at me, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh? Is that so?" he teased, his tone light but his gaze warm, as if he knew the effect he had on me.

I sat down in the armchair opposite him, my book resting forgotten in my lap. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, the way he seemed so at ease, his crossed long legs rested on the sofa, his head resting against the armrest. He was completely relaxed, yet there was an undeniable magnetism about him, something that drew me in no matter how hard I tried to look away.

"You’re too distracting," I admitted, a playful lilt in my voice as I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. "How am I supposed to get anything done when you’re like this?"

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate in the stillness of the common room. "Well, I didn’t ask you to stare, did I?" he said, his teasing tone matched by the glint in his eyes. "But if you must… I don’t mind."

My cheeks warmed at his words, but I couldn’t help smiling. "You’re not usually like this," I said, shaking my head, though the truth was, I didn’t want to look away. Not tonight. Not ever.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile widening as he stretched lazily, his movements so effortless they only added to his charm. "Not usually like this?" he repeated, feigning offense. "And what exactly am I like, then?"

I leaned back in the armchair, crossing my arms with a small smirk. "Oh, you know," I said, pretending to think. "Usually, you’re all books and brilliance, the perfect Ravenclaw. Serious, focused, a little intimidating."

He laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet room like a melody. "Intimidating, huh? That’s a new one." His gaze softened, his teasing tone giving way to something quieter, more earnest. "Maybe it’s just you, then. You make me want to be like this—relaxed, playful... happy."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. His sincerity disarmed me, his eyes holding mine in a way that made the rest of the world fade away.

I managed a small laugh, trying to mask the fluttering in my chest. "You’re dangerous when you talk like that, you know."

"Am I?" he asked, his voice dropping lower, his head tilting slightly as he studied me. "Or am I just honest?"

I swallowed, my cheeks warming even more under his gaze. "Maybe a little of both," I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled at that, the kind of smile that felt like it was meant just for me. Slowly, he shifted, sitting up on the sofa and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. The flickering firelight caught in his eyes, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

"You know," he said softly, his tone almost contemplative, "I don’t mind if you stare."

My breath caught, and I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head again. "You’re impossible," I said, though the affection in my voice betrayed me.

"And yet," he murmured, leaning just a little closer, his eyes never leaving mine, "you’re still here."

[pestorik]

can you please expand on deuce/riddle ??? im rlly curious abt them tgt in your AU,,,,

(if you have the time i would also love to read abt azurid & mallerid :D ! no pressure though! im mostly interested in deurid ^^)

the riddle ship trifecta...

i enjoy them bc i think riddle really needs a calm presence in his life that makes him feel like he can act in ways he never had the freedom to do before, without feeling judged or made fun of. whether that is acting childish and silly or just expressing emotion freely. he's obviously really sensitive to being teased so he needs someone who is ok with that and just finds joy in his joy.

i relate to this a lot bc i myself am a very sensitive person, and get emotional really easy but im also very cynical and dry, so i think ppl see that contrast and find it funny. which is fine, but i get hurt or annoyed really easily by teasing bc i think what i really want is for someone to see how easily i get emotional (like crying at almost every movie i watch) and rather than seeing it as smth weird and funny, they recognize my empathy as something good. i want someone to see the value and worth in my emotions, no matter how trivial they seem.

and i think riddle needs that too. deuce isnt super smart but i think he's really earnest and riddle would appreciate that about him. he shows a lot of self awareness in recognizing how his past actions hurt his mom, and realizing he needs to be proactive if he wants to be a better person. very few ppl are willing to admit when they are the problem. he's just a very soft guy, but like, passionately soft. he wants so bad to be good. and i think he would want so badly for riddle to be happy, it would become really important to him just like his mom's happiness.

malleus is super honest about his intentions, which i think riddle needs bc his lack of social skills leave him anxious. he probably would get too frustrated having to play games and guess feelings. malleus just has a super calming presence and riddle needs that so bad. i think they are both pretty awkward bc of their upbringing so maybe they could find comfort in each other, knowing there's no judgement.

azul is none of these things lol 😂 i do NOT think these 2 would be a perfect healthy couple but i enjoy their dynamic. riddle is sensitive ofc but hes also super smart which is why i like the thought of them together. the two top students, not really in a competitive way, more like they recognize each other's weaknesses but also highly respect each other. to the point that they wouldnt ever make a move against the other. i could see them having a more loving relationship but in my mind they are more like a power couple lmao. like two powerhouses joining forces. i do think seeing riddle trying to overcome his own trauma and be a nicer person could inspire azul to do smth similar, realizing that if he likes and respects riddle, there must be some value in kindness without reward.

none of these would be canon in the AT au unfortunately, at least not in my mind (you can do whatever you like with it tho, it also doesnt mean i wont still talk/draw about it). there would definitely still be interactions among them with plenty of room for interpretation. obviously the most between deuce and riddle bc they are both HL.

i could see an episode where riddle recruits deuce to help him repair one of the elephant guardians (since deuce is good at repairing stuff) and they become closer. bc deuce used to get up to a lot of trouble he also has a lot knowledge of some of the rougher parts of the kingdom (im referring to deuces former crew as the spoiled fruit gang) and probably accompanies riddle when he needs to go there. riddle might sometimes go to deuce for advice on his relationship w his mother, since deuce is close w his mom. it would be cute if deuces mom came to really adore riddle and gave him a lot of the experiences he didnt get w his own mother.

[crimeronan]

Hello, got a TOH question for you! I'm trying to write a scene from only-slightly-canon-divergent!Luz's POV, and to dismay finding I'm struggling with it. Any pro tips for writing her you can pass on to someone who didn't study at Luz University? 😅

aw, this is a sweet ask. i'm flattered to be considered a resident luz expert! and i LOVE an excuse to infodump. this got long i'm sorry i just love thinking about. my girl.

luz is usually pretty whimsical and optimistic (which is why her later self-destruction hits so hard), she believes in people and she believes in The Triumph Of Good Over Evil. she's weird and doesn't understand social norms but she cares So Much, About Everything, Ever. she believes that things will work themselves out like they do in stories, she sometimes steps on people's toes when she's trying to fix a situation, she loves an underdog story and it's constantly getting her into trouble.

i think the biggest three things for me when writing luz POV are these:

-

she is UNRELENTINGLY kind and trusting.

this is her biggest strength - she's constantly befriending her enemies through the sheer power of earnestness. and this is how she makes and keeps friends like willow, gus, and eda.

this is also one of her biggest weaknesses - she gave hunter back his staff in hunting palismen when she Really Should Not Have, she didn't pick up on philip's Bad Vibes, etc.

she truly honest-to-god believes the best in everyone and is surprised and hurt whenever they disappoint her.

-

2. she has NO impulse control and CRIPPLINGLY hyperactive ADHD.

luz is all over the place, constantly. her thoughts and hyperfixations go a mile a minute. she can devour a book in a day and learn a conlang in a week, but she can't sit still and she has the type of ADHD that makes traditional classroom learning borderline-impossible.

outside of school, you see this constantly in the decisions she makes, or rather the decisions she Doesn't make. luz always blurts out exactly what she's thinking, when she's thinking it. she always thinks that her first solution to a problem is the best one & rarely plans beyond that. she's not an analytical strategist. in fact she's frequently fucking up everybody else's plans by..... just. being luz.

the fact that luz always says and does whatever she's thinking is, again, one of her greatest strengths: she is SO earnest and genuine, and it makes it easy for people to believe in her. she loves SO openly and is so lovable in turn.

it's also one of her greatest weaknesses because. oh my god, girl. challenging boscha to a witch's duel on willow's behalf. angrily shouting straight-up heresy about belos in public in hollow mind. all the shit that got her into trouble in the human realm before she ran away. u know

-

3. she is Desperately Afraid of hurting people.

i'd say she's afraid of being a Bad Person (TM), but i do think her fear is more specific. in WAD, her nightmare isn't exactly about having committed atrocities herself -- she doesn't even believe she could have! she knows she didn't create the statue graveyard, she immediately tells amity "i don't know what's going on, but i wouldn't have done this."

all of her fears are related to things her friends & family went through after meeting her.... she's terrified that she's going to hurt the people she loves, no matter how much she tries not to. she's terrified that her presence in the world is harmful by itself.

same with her rant in the classroom in TTT. when she says "it would be better if he [i] never existed," she even says (paraphrasing) "who cares about the broader impacts or the greater good. who cares if he was a hero or wanted to do the right thing. it doesn't matter!!! what matters is that he ruined everything anyway!!!!"

her anxiety with papa titan reflects this, too. "doesn't that make us just like belos??" she's figuring out how to navigate the world and complex morality and she's terrified of getting it Wrong. she already feels like she's done everything wrong & it's completely shaken her sense of self. she doesn't trust herself not to hurt people or to work for evil because she doesn't have a clear understanding of what separates her ideology from belos's.

this third point often isn't relevant in fluffy/lighthearted fic because luz's optimism, joy, and simple zest for life are Definitely dominant in her character. but it is VERY relevant when doing character studies or angstier writing exploring her headspace in situations where she feels guilty or afraid.

-

everything else is set dressing. she's quirky and weird, she's bouncy and stimmy, she loves bats and rats and snakes and bugs and creepy crawlies, she loves gross shit, she loves shipping and romance and sweeping high fantasy, she gets Deeply invested in every random plan she ever conceives, and she is Astonishingly easy to love because of how easily she loves.

you don't have to keep every single detail of this in mind when writing her!! this was just a nice excuse to gush about my girl who i love so so so so so fucking much. luz love of my life daughter of my heart FOREVER.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Azul, Jack: An Honest Effort

The first thought I had about the Groovy is… MAN’S BARELY OFF THE GROUND (as expected). I imagine that Azul aggressively insisted to the photographer they should lie on the ground to get a high angle shot of him on the broom just to give the false impression of him being higher up than he actually is.

I wanted to write about Azul coming to terms with accepting who he was, as well as shed a light on how hardworking he is. He didn’t just take the easy way out, he actually worked his ass off in all that he does. There’s many instances of Azul going above and beyond go improve, even for things he sucks in or for inconsequential things (flying in his P.E. Uniform vignette, rolling the dice in his School Uniform vignette). He deserves recognition for that.

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What do you do on your days off?”

“I don’t much like to be idle. Time is money, and I would prefer to not waste either,” Azul expelled a breath. “If you must consider it a ‘day off’, then... I wake up early, prepare myself a drink, and peruse the papers. When there is no work to be done, it’s all about self-maintenance.”

“I agree it’s important to take care of yourself, but... You’re basically still working at that point.”

“You could put it that way, yes. However, sharpening one’s mind is not just busywork. It’s also like a kind of training to strengthen the brain, similar to how one would train to strengthen their muscles.”

“Now that, I get.” Jack nodded. “There’s nothing like the burn after a good, honest workout.”

At this, Azul winced. “I fail to see the appeal of such a thing. It’s hardly a sensation that I’d call pleasant. However, I suppose it can be nice to physically feel the results of rigorous effort.”

“You should try it sometime then. You’d appreciate training the muscles if you worked up a sweat yourself.”

“... I do.”

The effect on Jack was immediate. The beastman’s eyes popped, jaw hanging open and fur standing on end.

“HUH?! Azul-senpai, you... train?! Seriously? I never thought I’d hear the word from your mouth!”

“Yes,” Azul replied, bristling. His voice was set in frost. “Is that really so difficult to believe?”

“It’s just--” Jack stopped himself and reconsidered. “You’re not the type of person I picture doing that kind of thing.”

“What does it matter if I am or not? Anyone is capable of exercise, and it is well within my right to do so.”

“Er… yeah, you’re right.” The shock quickly turned to shame, and Jack’s ears flattened, tail dropping. “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment and said something careless.”

“As your benevolent upperclassman, I will overlook your transgression and accept your apology made in earnest.”

Jack gave a small smile. “So tell me more about your training. What kind of exercises do you do? What made you want to start?”

“I try to work a little of everything to ensure that my body is evenly toned. As for what motivated me to begin… I suppose you could say that I was, in your own words, looking for a ‘good, honest workout’.”

“But unlike me, you’re not in an athletic club. You don’t like P.E. class either. When you talked about it earlier, it didn’t sound like you enjoyed training. I don’t think you’d go out of your way to do it for fun.” Jack folded his arms and furrowed his brows. “If you only wanted to get stronger, wouldn’t it be easier for you to make a deal and take someone’s strength?”

“Is that truly what you think of me?” Azul frowned. “You miss the point. What use is it to steal what you desire most rather than earn it for yourself? Would I really be able to call those traits my own? There is no pride to be had in that.”

“You didn’t have an issue with it before winter break.”

“Well…” A complicated look clouded the birthday boy’s features. “I was a different person then. Those things don’t have the same value as they once did. They’ve depreciated.”

In spite of the coldness of his words—the pointed truth of them—there, too, was a soft sadness slipping past his lips. Acknowledgement, and painful sympathy.

Azul was looking at Jack, but not clearly seeing him. His eyes seemed to be trained on something else, someone else, far off in the distance.

A sad little boy curled up in a pot, clouds of inky black tears coloring the water.

“… I was a different person then,” Azul repeated, this time more firmly. “I endeavor to be someone worthy of admiration through my own efforts. If I can be satisfied with my abilities, then it will steer me from walking along that dark path again.

“Be it flying, strength, or luck of the draw… I have always been aware of those shortcomings, in life, but what good comes out of it were I to stop there? What good comes from wallowing in doubt? That is why I will make something for myself, and why I must find my own strength through honest effort.”

I will accept the past and use it to guide me to the future. The “me” I wasn’t able to accept then… Someday, I will become strong enough to embrace him.

Jack stared at him hard. “Are you being honest with me?”

Azul chuckled faintly. “Why wouldn’t I be? What would I hope to possibly gain by deceiving you about my personal ambitions?”

“Towards the end, it didn’t sound like you were…” Jack paused, cocking his head to one side. “Are you even still talking about your Overblot anymore?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I was referring to that incident. What else would I be talking about?”

“You’re dodging the question again,” Jack sighed. “It’s good that you’re motivated to keep up that training though. With that kind of attitude, I’m sure you can reach the heights you’re dreaming of.”

“Urk! Must you phrase it like that?” He hurriedly glanced away, mumbling to himself under his breath. “And here I was, so carefully redirecting the conversation away from that!”

“Heh.” Jack allowed himself a smirk. “So even Azul-senpai has this kind of side to him, huh…”

“Wh-What side?!”

“You know, like a point of weakness. Vulnerable. Kind of squish—”

“AHHHH, DON’T SAY ITTTT!!” Azul pleaded, his volume and pitch spiking into a loud whine.

Jack deadpanned. “Yup. There it is, the squishiness.”

“A-Ahhhh… You went and said it anyway…” the birthday boy groaned, a hand to his forehead. He took a deep gulp of air and slowly exhaled. “… Excuse me, forget you heard that.”

“Why? Isn’t it good to be aware of your weaknesses? That way, you can find strength from them.”

Azul warily eyed him. “You’ve got some bite in you after all.”

“You keep me on my toes. Wouldn’t want you catching me off-guard someday.”

“My, I’m honored to hear that. I’ll have to work hard to keep up with that strong moral character of yours.”

“Good luck. You can work on that along with the muscles. Maybe I’ll see you at the gym or on the field sometime. Until then… show me what you’ve got.” Jack nodded at Azul’s broom.

“Hmph, very well. Prepare for me to deft your expectations, and bear witness to the fruits of my labor!!”

The merman mounted his broom, tensely straddling the handle between both legs. It was a posture he has practiced for hours on end—perfected and polished like a mirror, if not a little too stiff.

The moonlit air around him heated with magical energy, sparkles flickering among the flowers. Very slowly, his bouquet—and his feet—lifted from the ground.

And…

… Azul sluggishly chugged forward, only a few centimeters off of the ground.

“Uh… good job? … I think.” Jack searched for a compliment. “It definitely ‘defied’ my expectations like you said it would.”

Azul flushed.

“… N-Not a word of this to anyone, Jack-san!!” He sputtered back. “Solemnly swear to me that you will not share this with a single soul!!”

[lirotation]

I Hail from Silverymoon: Delapsus Resurgam

I gave up on this one. LOL, just not what I imagined.

The graveyard scene was perfect, so wholesome I wouldn't change a thing. Though given my Amaara's personality, "sex on thy grave" is not going to happen. To be honest, I don't think killing Cazador magically made everything right for Astarion. Him offering sex here feels like: "1. Let's see if I can do this now. 2. I have to secure this relationship cuz I don't want to lose her."

Astarion X Amaara(my wizard Tav) fluff.

____________________________

At the city graveyard, Astarion and Amaara stood side by side in front of his grave.

Astarion said, "There is almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries, I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want."

Amaara turned her gaze to him, tenderness danced in her eyes, "And what do you want?"

Astarion turned to face her, eyes holding warm affection, "You... I want you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do. I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that."

Amaara met his gaze solemnly. "You won't. I am oath-bound to you now. Whatever comes, we walk this path together."

Astarion paused, thinking back on the desperate vow she'd made in the ritual chamber. "You may spend your life on a fruitless quest just for my sake...I won't hold you to such an oath."

Amaara stepped closer, taking his hands in hers. "It was no reckless oath made in desperation. I meant every word. However long it takes, I will find a way to restore your life." She brought a hand up to cradle his cheek gently. "time spent with you have been the most cherished moments of my existence. You are worth any sacrifice on my part."

Overcome with emotion, Astarion pulled her into a fervent embrace, “Thank you.” He murmured. Then he stepped away, drawing his dagger, “Well, I should probably fix this.” He curved the current year on the tombstone

He knelt down in front of his tombstone in contemplative silence, and Amaara joined him, a wildflower in her hand. With a gentle touch, she placed the delicate bloom on the grave, a symbol of life and renewal amidst the shadows of death. He cast a soft, appreciative smile her way.

"Cute," he teased, the word tinged with warmth. Then, more earnestly, he continued, "I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again."

Moved by his words and the sincerity in his eyes, Amaara's heart swelled with hope. She turned to face him, mirroring his position, her gaze locking with his. His hands found hers, and he held them gently but firmly.

"With everything that life has to offer," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of his determination to embrace this newfound chance at living.

Amaara's smile softened with shared hope. This was all she had wanted - a future together unburdened by the past's shackles.

Astarion's eyes twinkled with equal parts affection and eagerness. He leaned in close and whispered, "If a night of passion is on the table, my dear, I could certainly be persuaded."

Amaara froze, smile faltering. "On your grave?" she asked uncertainty, She searched Astarion's face intently for any trace of humor. But his eyes held only earnestness.

Her thoughts raced, trying to discern his motives. Did he find some morbid significance in making love at this location, some sense of healing or redemption? 

Part of her recoiled at the notion of intimacy in a graveyard, But another part worried refusing might hurt Astarion, making him feel rejected all over again.

Perhaps this was a test of her vow to walk whatever path he needed, no matter how dark. But did devotion demand going against her own instincts? Unsure, she hesitated, grasping for the right words.

Overthinking as always, Amaara tried to ignore the voice inside screaming that this was wildly improper. She wished she could read Astarion's complex emotions and history the way she devoured arcane tomes. But understanding him would take time and care, not just intellect.

All the racing thoughts took only but a second. Amaara pushed aside her uncertainty. She drew him into a lingering, tender kiss, pouring all her affection into it.

After, she met his gaze again and spoke softly. "My love, while I'm touched you want to share this, being intimate in a graveyard would...discomfort me. I hope you understand."

She brought a hand up to cradle his cheek. "The past is buried. Our future lies elsewhere now. In warmth, joy and new memories untainted by sorrow."

Astarion covered her hand with his own, turning his head to kiss her palm. "Wise council as always," He offered a roguish smile. "I suppose cemeteries make better backdrops for brooding, not romance."

They lingered a while longer hand in hand, the silence between them comfortable and contemplative. Amaara could sense Astarion reflecting on all he had endured and lost, and she gave a small, supportive squeeze, anchoring him in this moment.

Then they made their way back to the Elf Song Tavern, both absorbed in thoughts of life, death, and new beginnings.

Upon entering Amaara's room, Astarion hesitated. "Actually, would you mind conjuring up your illusion again? The one of your old bedroom."

Amaara looked surprised but nodded. With a graceful gesture, the modest room transformed around them into her lavish childhood quarters.

Astarion regarded it closely this time. He asked her questions about the décor, the cluttered bookshelves, the sweet scent of potion ingredients. Small details he had ignored before now jumped out, hinting at her personality.

When Amaara drew back the curtains to reveal the dazzling Moonbridge under the starry sky, Astarion joined her there. The wonder in his eyes was genuine now as he took in the iconic view she had shared. This time, the illusion felt real. A true glimpse into her world instead of staged artifice. Proof of how deeply things had changed between them.

"It's beautiful," he said softly, then he turned and pulled Amaara into a passionate kiss in the moonlight, expressing wordlessly the depths of his feelings for her.

When they finally parted, Astarion gently cradled her face in his hands. "I love you, I love this, I love it all." he confessed fervently, laying his heart bare. After centuries unable to trust or feel, those words carried momentous meaning.

Amaara's eyes shone with joyful tears. Hearing him finally say it with sincerity was more magical than any spell.

"And I love you," she replied, with all her heart. 

No more false pretenses or manipulation - just openness, grace, and a future together built on understanding. Their true journey was just beginning.

[fluff-a-nutter]

What’s up girl, it’s ya ADHD simp

My I request varian x crushing!reader?

The reader had a massive crush on him but after the “betrayal” she ignores him and doesn’t tickle him as much as she did when he came to him in a lee mood. He keeps trying to talk to her but she keeps ignoring him even though she still loves has a crush on him, he then, after feeling sad that she won’t pay attention to him, see’s her face down in a pillow mumbling about how she hates that she still loves- I MEAN HAS A CRUSH ON HIM and wants to tickle him to death because of how cute he is. He then gets a revealing (tickle spot wise) outfit and keeps laying on her and stretching himself out, after she brakes and tickles him to death they mend they’re relationship and FINALLY become a couple

Absolutely! Here ya go!

You had heard wind of Varian being redeemed after his betrayal of Rapunzel and most people were thrilled. You however, were not most people. You wanted to rekindle your close bond with the boy, you really did, but Varian’s betrayal still hurt too much. You had trusted him and he had broken your trust and your heart. How could you forgive such a thing? It doesn’t help matters that you still have a massive crush on him. So you did the completely mature thing and started avoiding Varian completely. However he seemed very determined to fix things between the two of you.

You were hanging out in the town square with a book when he approached you a few weeks later.

“Y/N, can we talk?” He asked. He sounded so earnest and his shyness was so adorable. You almost said yes. Almost. Then the pain of being betrayed returned and you turned away.

Varian sighed, feeling discouraged, but he continued anyway. The only thing he could do was to be completely honest.

“C’mon, y/n. Just listen to me! Can’t you see I’ve changed for the better? I know I hurt you and you have every right to be upset, but I miss you. Don’t you remember all the good times we had together? We were so close. I’ll do anything to get that back.”

Despite feeling hurt, you can’t help but listen to his voice. He sounded so sad and sincere. You felt a pang of guilt for avoiding him so much.

Hesitantly, you turned to face Varian. The way his face lit up with hope was so precious that you could have kissed him. He’d tried talking to you before, but you had never gotten this far with him. Maybe it was time to fix things.

You opened your mouth to speak but you quickly faltered when you saw what Varian was wearing.

Instead of his usual maroon vest over an apron, he wore a plain white tank top that exposed his stomach. Varian had noticed you staring and his face turned crimson.

You knew what he wanted. He was in a lee mood. He only wore that when he was desperate.

Before you could say anything, he laid himself across your lap and stared up at you with those goddamn puppy eyes that should be illegal. You were close to your breaking point and you knew if you gave him what he wanted, there was no turning back. Taking a deep breath you decided to forgive him.

“Alright, Varian. We can try again, but don’t blow it.” You said, pressing your hands against the warm skin of Varian’s tummy. He squeaked in delight but he spoke with utmost sincerity.

“Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint you again, y/n.”

You offered him a cautious, but hopeful smile.

“Alright then, prepare to laugh, alchemist.” With that, you began to mercilessly tickle Varian’s tummy, sides, and even his belly button. He squealed in delight, wriggling around in your lap. He’d always been such a squirmer when it came to tummy tickles.

“Aww, is this what you wanted, Varian?”

You cooed in a teasing fashion. Varian couldn’t answer, but he giggled and nodded happily. He was too cute. Before you really thought it through you leaned down and planted a small kiss on his giggling lips. He went rigid in your arms, causing you to stop tickling him.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me and I just- mmmph!”

Varian cut you off with a kiss of his own. His lips were warm and soft and tasted vaguely like the smoked ham he loved so much on his sandwiches. Overall, it was a truly perfect kiss.

He broke away all too soon and smiled shyly.

“I- umm- I really like you, y/n.”

You giggled and kissed his cheek.

“I really like you too, my ticklish alchemist.” You teased, poking his exposed tummy. He jerked back with a squeal.

“Oh, you thought I was done tickling you? Think again!” You grinned and pulled Varian closer and resumed tickling him. He was still giggling long after you had stopped.

[reobsessed]

A Knight and His Squire- Part two

Alright here it is, Part two!

CONTENT WARNING: 18+, NSFW, Minors DNI, unprotected sex.

Pairing: Luis x Leon.

A continuation of Luis and Leon's activities in the basement (: enjoy.

A big thanks to my editor and reader, Suri.

Here's a link to part one!

Part two is just below the cut here =p

“Ah, ah fuck,” Luis cried out. 

Leon’s passionate assault didn’t end there, with his free hand he jammed it down the front of Luis’ underwear grabbing ahold of him. Luis’ head spun at the sensation. Leon’s fingerless gloves felt rough against his sensitive flesh and yet his exposed fingers were surprisingly gentle, pain and pleasure merged as Leon’s hand moved up and down. Luis reached his hands up the back of Leon’s t-shirt, burying his nails into soft flesh. He worked in tandem with Leon and with every stroke Luis would scratch lines down his back.

“Looks like I’ve really made my mark,” Luis remarked, staring proudly at his handiwork. Vibrant red streaks ran all the way down Leon’s back, a stark contrast to his milky white skin.

“I think I’m ready to leave my mark too,” Leon grinned mischievously. He was hungry, his stomach empty and he had a whole feast in front of him.

“Reach into my back pocket.” 

Confused yet compliant, Leon used his free hand to rummage in the back pocket of Luis’ jeans. He kept hold of his grip around Luis, there was no chance he was letting the sad excuse of a man weasel his way out of this one. Finally he found what Luis wanted.

“You serious?” Leon groaned in exasperation as he held up a clear bottle of viscous liquid, aptly labelled ‘lubricante’.

Luis shrugged. “Never know when you might find yourself in a tight spot.”

Leon gave Luis a firm squeeze, eliciting a pained yet lustful moan.

He brought the bottle to his lips and twisted the cap off using his teeth. He pulled off Luis’ remaining article of clothing, purposely throwing it so that it landed alongside its matching counterpart.

Luis felt vulnerable for the first time since entering that basement. His entire body laid bare to Leon’s piercing gaze. 

“Guess it really was worth coming to Spain to see the sights,” Leon quipped, struggling not to laugh at his own joke. Luis rolled his eyes in response.

“Fucking tourists…”

Leon moved fast, stifling Luis’ complaints with a clumsy kiss. Luis couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at how inexperienced, yet earnest Leon’s affections were. Upon first meeting he thought the man uptight with no sense of humour but beneath the cold exterior of a secret agent was a kindhearted and caring soul.

Leon spread a generous layer of lube on his fingers, he turned to Luis once more, seeking approval in his longing gaze. 

Just like a puppy. Luis smiled fondly at the comparison. He lovingly stroked his hand down Leon’s slim yet defined chest. His hand hovered over Leon’s boxers momentarily before he brought it down and clasped his hardening cock in one hand. That was all the go ahead Leon needed as he plunged a finger inside Luis.

Luis’ back arched but he didn’t call out, Leon would have to try harder than that. Accepting the unspoken challenge, Leon added another finger, and then another until finally the dark haired man let out a cry laced in ecstasy. 

“You seem used to this,” Leon stated matter of factly.

Luis did his best to sound hurt by the accusation. “Are you insinuating something amigo?” 

“Have a lot of companions, do ya?”

“I hope that’s not an issue for the president’s loyal little mutt.”

Leon chuckled. “I’m not the judgemental type, I promise. Just making an observation.” Sensing Luis’ hurt he pulled him close. “I’m a little jealous to be honest, I've only ever been with women.”

“That much was clear.”

Leon threw Luis to the ground playfully. “I’m getting tired of that smart mouth.” He reentered using his fingers, peppering Luis’ chest with kisses as he did so. He was desperate to taste every last inch of Luis.

“Hurry up and come inside,” Luis pleaded, his mind muddied with longing and impatience.

Leon pulled himself free from the confines of his boxers. With both hands available he steadied Luis’ hips as he lined himself up. They both moaned in unison as Leon pushed his way inside. 

“Fuckkk,” Luis whimpered. “Leon, ah.”

There was no sound sweeter than the utterance of his name from Luis’ lips. 

“Ah you like how that sounds do you?” Luis brought his mouth to Leon’s ear and whispered sensually. “Leon…” 

Hearing it drawn out in that smooth Spanish accent sent Leon’s mind into a frenzy. He was on top once more as he buried himself desperately and repeatedly inside the other man.

Grunts and heavy breathing echoed throughout the room, along with the resounding clang of chains. The desire to draw it out and keep going crossed Leon’s mind but alas, he had a job to do. 

Luis, sensing something was off, wrapped his legs round Leon tightly.

“Let’s wrap this up shall we?”

Leon shivered, there was something thrilling about being ordered around that really got him going. 

“Ye- yes,” he ground out through deep gasps. His pace quickened, as did Luis’. Leon could feel his mind going once again, pleasure took hold of him and he could feel his release coming. With a final cry, “Luis, ah, ah,” he let go, filling Luis to the brim.

“Got there in the end,” Luis tried in vain to retain his earlier snark but lust overtook him as he let out a breathless howl, spilling all over Leon’s chest.

Both men collapsed to the floor in a satisfied heap. However, reality soon set it.

“Oh Jesus, i’m sorry Luis, fuck let me clean this up.” Leon frantically grabbed at the discarded tissues that fell out of Luis’ pockets earlier and began dabbing at the man.

“Quit it, quit it. If you wanna be helpful, fetch me my cigarettes,” Luis ordered as he sat upright, fiddling with his lighter. 

Leon began overturning Luis’ pockets until his hands fell on the unmistakable box of cigarettes. Wiping his hands before he did so he pulled one from the box.

“Allow me.” He brought it to his mouth, holding it limply between his lips. Taking ahold of Luis’ hand he lit the cigarette. Leon’s hand cupped Luis’ for the first time that day. Leon let out a satisfied sigh as he savoured both the taste of the cigarette and the touch of Luis’ fingers.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker,” Luis smirked, snatching the lit cigarette with his free hand. 

“Guess I’m open to trying new things.”

Luis scoffed. “Don’t get too used to riding on top, cowboy. I’ll show you how it’s done next time.”

Leon turned away in an attempt to hide the blush that was rising to his cheeks, when suddenly he broke out into a cocky grin. 

“So, there’s gonna be a next time?”

Luis responded by tossing the closest piece of clothing he could find at Leon.

“Filthy American.” Luis chuckled in disbelief as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

[waystartoo]

tomgreg sand mites microfic

Tom wasn’t entirely sure how far down applying lotion on his assistant for a severe case of sand mites in Dundee, Scotland, fell on his bucket list, but it certainly seemed as if it may be getting crossed off any moment now. That is to say, he was seated on the bed with Greg facing with his back toward him, a tube of medicated anti-itch cream in his hand, and an earful of the same incessant whining he had heard all day blaring in his head.

“It’s like, did you know they can actually lay eggs under your skin?” Greg sputtered in disbelief, frantically pawing at the reddened spot on his neck he had been attacking all afternoon. “I could be filled with hundreds of these things at this point and I don’t even think the number for the sand supplier Connor gave me even works, really? It just keeps ringing?”

“You know I think I saw a guy a few seats over from you scratching his arm as he was leaving the play, Gregory. We may have a class action lawsuit on our hands if you play your cards right,” Tom chimed back as he twisted open the tube of cream.

“Really?” Greg asked in complete earnest, spinning around where he sat to face Tom with those familiar big doe eyes only to be met with a suppressed chuckle.

“Of course not, you idiot. Now, turn back around.”

Greg huffed in frustration but obliged the demand just the same, repositioning himself to face away from Tom again. Then, without further hesitation, he tugged off his sweater and deposited it on the bed beside the two of them. “Be honest, how bad is it?” he asked.

Tom sucked in a deep breath glancing over the sight in front of him. To be honest, it was much worse than he was anticipating. The pale skin of the boy’s back was entirely covered with unevenly distributed clusters of tiny, bright red dots. Some sections of the skin were more irritated than others, even breaking open into slight gashes from where he had reached around and scratched himself through the thin material of his sweater throughout the day. It was a bit like a young child had been let loose with a container of red finger paint and instructed to use Greg’s poor back as a canvas.

“Tis but a scratch,” Tom lied in reassurance, catching his lip between his teeth as he took in the full sight of the matter before him. He could only imagine just how much pain Greg was actually in. It almost made him feel guilty for scolding him for whining all day. Emphasis on the almost. “You’ll be back to frolicking around and making merry in no time as soon as you stop scratching the damn things.”

He squeezed a somewhat generous amount of the anti-itch cream into his palm as Greg huffed again. Tom didn’t need to see his face to know that his lips were curled up in that signature pout of his.

“Yeah, well, you try dealing with these things crawling over your body all day and see if you don’t do the same!” Greg protested, folding his arms over his chest like a child.

“Oh, just hold still for a second, would you? I probably will have these disgusting things crawling all over me by the end of this,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes in response.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

Tom was the one to oblige this time, gently beginning to apply a thin layer of the cream over the surface of his back only to have Greg immediately tense up at the sensation.

“Jesus, that’s cold,” he whimpered.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I need to warm it up for you first too, princess?” Tom teased, gliding his fingers over Greg’s shoulder blades and reveling just a teensy bit in the feeling of watching him shiver beneath his touch.

“It might’ve been nice, sure,” Greg answered, ever-entitled and needy without shame.

Tom simply laughed in response, concentrating on rubbing small circles of the product into the clusters of bites on Greg’s back. Even despite the bumps and gashes, his skin was incredibly soft, easily manipulated even with the slightest touch of Tom’s fingertips. It was kind of addicting in a way, trying to cover every square inch of his flesh with the pasty pink cream like it was some sort of game he was determined to win.

“You can relax, you know,” Tom said after Greg’s shoulders never strayed from where they had seized upward at the first touch. “I’m already committed to the task so it’s not like I’m gonna hurt you or anything.”

It was Greg’s turn to laugh now, albeit a bit nervously, as the tension slowly relaxed from his body beneath Tom’s touch.

“Thanks,” he said sheepishly, then, without thinking, added, “It feels really nice, Tom.”

An uneasy silence settled in between them as Tom froze in the motion of applying the cream across his back at the sound of Greg’s words. What happened to the man that had chucked water bottles at the guy, pushed him down in the snow, and wrestled him against his will, and why had he been spontaneously replaced with some tenderly caring nurse in a too-short white dress and matching hat? Who was this, really, rubbing circles on Greg’s back with a smile on his face? Had he completely and totally lost it?

“Tom?” Greg asked suddenly without turning around, snapping Tom out of the downward spiral he was racing through.

“Sorry,” Tom said under his breath, deeply embarrassed at each and every one of the thoughts that had raced through his mind. It was only once he recognized the discomfort in Greg’s voice that he remembered why he was here in the first place. As a friend helping another friend. Greg would do the same for him, after all. It was only fair.

More cream was added as he once more applied his hands to the man’s back, paying close attention not to press too hard on any of the sections of broken skin. His hands lingered over a knot in the muscle, hesitating before gently massaging it out. He was almost too distracted by watching the muscle loosen at his touch to hear it, but he did. A high-pitched, involuntary moan tumbled out of Greg’s lips and into the deafening silence of the room around them.

Tom should’ve paused here. He meant to. To rip his hands off of Greg’s back as if he was removing his burnt hands from a searing hot stove and gasp at his indecency. To make some cutting joke about this reaction was only appropriate given it was probably the most intimate physical touch Greg had ever and would ever receive in his life. To storm out of the room and avoid speaking to him for the next few days.

But, instead, he just laughed, feeling the warmth from Greg’s body filter up through his fingertips and into his chest.

“Sorry,” Greg chirped out, a reddish tint settling over the tips of his ears. Clearly embarrassed by the sound he produced. “You’re just really good at this.”

“Try not to sound so surprised, will you?” Tom taunted, easily undoing the tension between Greg’s shoulders with his fingertips. “You’re not the first to crumble at the Wambsgans rubdown.”

“Don’t call it that,” Greg whined in response, earning another chuckle from Tom. “That makes it sound like you’re-like you’re out just giving back massages on the street or something.”

“And if I was?” Tom asked. His hands moved lower on Greg’s back, dancing just above the waistline of his pants.

“You’re, uh, not though?” Greg said, entirely too confident for Tom’s liking. “You wouldn’t do this for anyone.”

“I see,” Tom said quietly, watching his hand creep dangerously around Greg’s waist. He didn’t remembering telling it to do that. It was almost like a reflex of some kind. “You think you’re special, then?”

At this, Greg closed his eyes, leaning backwards into Tom’s hands which were now embracing either side of him. “I know I am,” he hummed.

-

baby’s first tumblr post. idk if i’m doing this right but heyyy <3 also if ur looking for a better version of this scenario, @/ezlebe wrote a fantastic one.

[scaredbisexual]

The Brave, The Heroic, The Beautiful, The Love of My Life

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

WARNINGS: implied self-harm, thoughts of unaliving oneself, kinda dark sometimes, self-hatred, Eddie needs a hug so much

Word Count: 4468

Summary: Steve Harrington, the boy who fought demons on a monthly basis, who threw himself between abominations and the kids he grew to love to dearly. The boy with the perfect smile, the smudge of freckles across the bridge of his nose whenever the sun came out for a little longer, the deepest and most earnest eyes he has ever seen.

Steve Harrington The Brave, The Heroic, The Beautiful, The Love of Eddie’s Life. How exactly he went from hating the boy with every fiber of his being to almost begging on his knees to please, please, please, love him? A mystery, an unfathomable coincidence, a mistake probably.

----------- OR the one where Eddie is a mess and Steve puts him (mostly) together

Author's note:

I wrote this because Eddie is a character I see myself in and bc I stopped taking my anti-baby pills and my hormones are making me sob to Taylor Swift for 4h straight. So maybe I'm projecting, sue me.   Enjoy!

The couch he was sitting on was an old ratty thing, dingy and showing off its years with holes worn out in the material. It was plaid, a crime against humanity in his honest opinion, the pattern peeking out from under a soft, thick blanket strategically placed over the biggest holes. The springs haven’t yet started  being annoying, not yet biting into his body when he was trying to relax after a whole-ass day of being the town pariah. 

The only light in the trailer was the one coming in from the outside, a lonely lamp post bringing in a sickeningly yellow haze, bathing him and the whole living-area in it. A cloud of smoke was dancing in the air, intertwining with the rays of light and harmonizing just to fall out of rhythm once the smoke was too thin to survive. Too weak, too fragile, too bad. 

Eddie let out a sigh, his body relaxing, muscles slowly releasing the pent-up energy and instead surrendering to the soothing cigarette smoke curling around in his lungs. Everyone needs something to die of, he supposed. His hair was pulled up in a loose bun, a hairstyle he would never let anyone see him in, no matter how hot he was. Nope, nobody could see him that way ever since one of those little shits from his primary school made fun of him and nicknamed him Edith, claiming he looked like a girl. 

Not that there was anything bad in embracing his feminine side, mind you, he just didn’t really fancy giving the townsfolks any more ammunition to use against him. After all, alleged satanic cult was enough to attract a few askew glances, some finger pointing and a sprinkle of denying him service. So no, pulled up hair was a home-alone-affair only, especially if it was being held up by a pink scrunchie, something he nicked from El when she wasn’t looking. He felt bad about it but a few weeks after that she noticed it on his wrist and gave him a nod in understanding, never mentioning it again. 

God, he could never fully comprehend just how lucky he was – his newfound family accepting him wholly and without missing a beat. He smiled to himself, picturing the group of misfit young adults and teenagers, all hanging out in the backyard of his trailer just a few days ago. They have thrown a bonfire night, deeming the night pleasingly warm and negotiating with the parents that yes, they would watch the kids and yes, Steve would drive them back the next morning. 

Steve.

Ah yes, that guy. The guy who took part in bullying him all throughout high school, the golden boy, The Hair, the player, the ladies man, the Adonis, the coveted one. 

Steve Harrington, the boy who fought demons on a monthly basis, who threw himself between abominations and the kids he grew to love to dearly. The boy with the perfect smile, the smudge of freckles across the bridge of his nose whenever the sun came out for a little longer, the deepest and most earnest eyes he has ever seen.

Steve Harrington The Brave, The Heroic, The Beautiful, The Love of Eddie’s Life.

How exactly he went from hating the boy with every fiber of his being to almost begging on his knees to please, please, please, love him? A mystery, an unfathomable coincidence, a mistake probably. 

And yet here he was, sitting on his ratty couch, going through his pack of Marlboro Reds (he likes his cigs heavy and painful), a smitten smile on his lips whenever Steve double-crosses his thoughts. Here Eddie was, flirting with him just enough to keep the deniability, to scoff whenever someone pointed it out and touching Steve’s hands, arms, biceps, back, neck, hair if he was feeling brave. His fingers tingling, eyes shining with unshed tears and happy to just be that, to let Steve be that – the unattainable, the perfect, the one that got away. 

Because Steve wasn’t interested – and that was okay, just peachy. Yes, he blushed when Eddie’s comments got a little bit too rowdy, reciprocated every hug, smiled at casual touches but, well, that was Steve. He was so nice it hurt, so selfless and self-sacrificing that sometimes Eddie thought if maybe he was scared to tell him that actually, he did mind. That he hated the touches and the flirting but didn’t want to hurt Eddie’s feelings. 

‘Fuck’ he mumbled into the emptiness of the trailer, Wayne having left a few hours prior to go to his graveyard shift. ‘Get a fucking grip’ he told himself over and over and over again, repeating it like a mantra. He has seen Steve shoot people down, whether thoughtfully and delicately or in a mean way with the bitch smile that could cut diamonds with how sharp it was. Yes, Steve would have told him, he assured himself. 

Having gone through his planned and expected moment of grief he shook his head, rolling his shoulders and letting out a long huff. There was no use in overthinking it and indulging in the memories of lingering touches. Steve didn’t like him, period. And that, although painful, was okay. More than okay – expected even.

After all, who was Eddie if not a lowlife, a criminal, a person who stole fucking scrunchies from children. A boy accused of leading a satanic cult, a measly mechanic who has just barely finished high school. A guitar-playing, softhearted nerd with walls put up so painstakingly and effectively that he sometimes felt trapped. 

A warmth bloomed in his eyes, forcing a few fat tears out of his eyes. He chuckled to himself, pitying himself and simultaneously cutting off that train of thoughts. Nancy always said that it wasn’t healthy and while Eddie wasn’t exactly the epitome of health he didn’t like the idea of one day being found in his bed, passed away from overdose because his soft, soft heart couldn’t take it. And well, yes, that was a possibility if he followed his natural self-hatred instincts. He wasn’t proud of it but couldn’t deny the self-destructive behaviors he had; he has. 

He stood up, his legs a little shaky from the abundance of nicotine swimming through his veins and tears threatening to wet his face even more.

‘You’re okay’ he muttered to himself, shaking his arms and legs as if he had ants crawling on him. It helped, grounded him when his thoughts swam so far away all he could think about was just how much he hated himself. 

He shuffled to the kitchenette and opened the fridge, looking at some leftover pasta and Wayne’s sandwich that he made himself for breakfast. He smiled to himself, knowing that after the night shift Wayne was so tired he oftentimes made his meals for the next day before, so that he would eat at least something before bed. Eddie always offered to make him some scrambled eggs but his uncle claimed it gave him a migraine – all the smells attacking his nose after twelve hours at the plant and a sleepless night hurting him more than anything. So Eddie just accepted defeat and instead made a big dinner on night-shift days. 

He saw his reflection in the bottle of beer standing on one of the shelfs and squinted his eyes, taking in the sight of deep bags under his eyes, the unruly curls slipping from the control of his pink scrunchie, hollow cheeks and glistening eyes. He looked like death. 

‘Ugly fucker’ he muttered, taking the offending bottle and opening it with his lighter. Maybe he wasn’t eating or sleeping really well recently, sue him. It’s just that… well, most of the foods he used to love made his gag-reflex reacting and the nightmares, correction, the night terrors kept him up all night, saying hello to the day without saying goodbye.

He took a big gulp of the cold beer, wincing at the aftertaste – it was some weird stuff Steve left there the last time they had a movie night and Eddie wasn’t a fan. 

Steve.

He thumped his head against one of the cupboards hanging on the wall and let out a frustrated groan. Not thatpath again.

And just when he was ready to go look for something stronger to take his mind off, well, everything, he heard the sound of tires on gravel and saw the lights of a car outside. He furrowed his brows, glancing at the clock – it was nearly 10 pm on a Tuesday night and while he wasn’t super invested into the lives of his neighbors, he knew that it was peculiar for them to have any guests that late. He shuffled over to a window from which he could see his front porch, his limbs heavy, mouth sour from the taste of Steve’s beer and body clad in just his comfortable, worn-in sweatpants and a Motörhead t-shirt. And, well, maybe a pair of bunny slippers that he got from Max as a gag gift for his last birthday. Whatever. 

He glanced out the window and his eyes widened as he observed Steve getting out of his car, humming something under his breath and walking slowly towards his trailer. He froze on the spot, looked down at himself and cursed loudly. And maybe if he was a little smarter he would just tell him to go away and let him wallow but as established he had a little bit of a weak spot for Steve. He could feel his heart speeding up, sweat gathering on his upper lip as he panicked and watched Steve get closer and closer to his front door.

The bell rang, Steve knowing that Wayne was out on Tuesdays, and he jumped in place, spilling a little bit of the beer on himself. He cursed again and hurried towards the door, taking in a few deep breaths before opening the door. And as the only surface defending him from the sight of others slowly cracked open, he could feel his face contour, changing to be the Eddie everyone else expected. The clown, the freak, the easy friend. 

‘Steve’o, what brings you to my humble abode?’ he said, his smile crooked and voice sounding oh so weak to his own ears. But Steve smiled, a glint in his eyes and this lovely dimple on the right side of his mouth appearing.

‘We said we would watch something tonight, Eds, you forgot?’ he said, stepping inside and touching Eddie’s torso on his way, making his vision swim.

‘Oh’ he said intelligently. Yes, yes, he forgot about their plans to devour a few films while eating greasy pizza and smoking on his couch. Sue him, he had other things crowding his mind, like the fact that he looked like a dweeb, a pathetic loser in comparison to Steve’s ironed polo and his favorite pair of jeans that made his ass look phenomenal. He was a weak, weak man. 

‘Shit, sorry man, I can go if you have other plans’ Steve said, reading Eddie’s unease as… whatever, because it was not rejection in the slightest.

‘No!’ he answered hurriedly, finally closing the door and moving towards Steve. ‘No, i-it’s fine, it just slipped my mind but I have no other plans. Zero. Nada. None.’ he blabbered, looking up at Steve and cursing the few inches the other boy had on him. He wasn’t small or short, no, it was just that Steve was Adonis and he towered over everybody he know, both in his muscle mass and the height – and what’s super unfair is that he didn’t even workout as much as in high school, and yet he was a literal hunk. 

‘Okay, cool’ Steve said, his smile coming back on that beautiful face. And only then did he seem to take in Eddie’s attire, eyeing the pink scrunchie, his ears that were sticking out just slightly, the rugged t-shirt and the fucking bunny slippers. ‘You look cozy’ he quipped, biting the inside of his mouth to stop from smiling giddily.

‘Har har, laugh it up’ Eddie said, rolling his eyes for show but feeling his body start to tremble from anxiety and fear and he fucking hated it. Steve was good, Steve was safe and he shouldn’t be so scared to let him see another version of himself, but God he was. ‘I got the slippers from Red, they are comfy’ he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically small and unsure, yet the tone somehow dismissive at the same time. His acting abilities never ceased to stop amazing him.

But Steve didn’t laugh, instead cocking his head to the side and scanning Eddie’s face, making him tremble even more, bodily shaking because his friend, his fucking crush was looking at him with so much attention it almost physically hurt. 

The blonde stood up from his place on the couch and slowly but surely walked closer, never taking his eyes off Eddie.

‘What’s wrong?’ he muttered, his voice soft and quiet, as if he was trying not to spook some animal. And Eddie laughed hysterically because Steve found him at his lowest, at least that week, and he has never experienced that before. So yeah, it must have been glaringly obvious but he hated how fast he has been found out.

‘Steve’ he pleaded, everting his eyes to look at the ceiling instead, fighting the tears with all the arsenal he had. ‘Don’t’ he muttered, outstretching his hand to stop the other boy from coming any closer.

And he didn’t. He stopped his shy from Eddie’s palm, instead taking the hand between his own soft, warm hands and staring at Eddie with those deep puppy eyes, silently assessing him.

‘Hey, it’s okay’ he cooed, rubbing soothing circles into his knuckles. And he wanted to help, Eddie knew that, but it broke him. The closeness, the initiated contact, the waterfall of thoughts he has been battling that whole evening but actually not only, actually the last couple of months. 

And so, as if he was just a spectator and had no control of his body, he let out a sob, his insides twisting and body lurching towards Steve, Steve, Steve. 

‘Please’ he begged, taking the polo into his fists and hiding his face in the material, sobs wrecking through his body. 

And he was so terrified for a split second before he felt strong arms circle his middle and pull him even closer to the magnificent warmth of Steve’s chest. He could feel and hear his heart beating, soothing him a little. 

‘I’ve got you Eddie, I’m here’ he heard, mumbled into his hair and he sobbed even harder, throwing his arms around Steve’s neck and standing on tis toes to hide his face in the crook of his friend’s neck.

‘Fuck’ he heard, a huff of breath tickling his right ear and then he was being urged to hop up, scooped up in Steve’s fucking inhumanly strong arms and cradled like a baby. He could do nothing to stop the tears, the hiccups that escaped his throat whenever he took another gulp of breath. ‘You’re okay Eds, breathe’ Steve mumbled, making his way, well, their way to Eddie’s room. He held him close, safety radiating off of him, laying him down on the bed oh so gently. 

‘Steve’ he croaked out, reaching for the other boy when he moved away. 

‘Here, here’ the blonde muttered out, climbing onto the bed too and immediately, without any hesitation, pulling him into his chest. ‘Cry it out, I’m not going anywhere’ he almost commanded and Eddie did, God, he did. 

They spent so much time curled on his half-collapsed bed, Steve murmuring sweet nothings into his ear and tears tumbling off Eddie’s cheeks like it was their job and they were after a raise. And then, just when he felt almost dried out, empty, hollow, he heard:

‘God, please, Eddie, you’re breaking my heart’ and he wanted to scream, to laugh, to fucking jump off the cliff because that just broke his heart and he was so tired, and so high-strung and, and, and…

He woke up with puffy eyes and his mouth so dry he felt as if he had eaten all the sand off the Sahara Desert. He was slick with sweat, his bangs plastered to his forehead and feeling disgusting yet better than he has in a long time. He blinked his eyes a few time, fighting with the lingering sleepiness and rubbed then with his fist when the blinking didn’t help. 

‘It’s still early, go back to sleep’ someone whispered from next to him and he jumped up, startled. Eddie looked up and came face to face with Steve, who’s eyebrows were furrowed and eyes a little puffy too, as if he were crying. 

‘Steve’ he mumbled, sitting up and looking at his friend. ‘Fuck’ he rasped out, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, the memories of the night before coming back to him all at once and giving him whiplash. ‘Fuck!’ he half-yelled, his eyes hurting from the pressure and head pounding. 

‘Hey, hey, none of that, come on’ Steve soothed, taking his wrists and forcing him to stop hurting himself. ‘Eddie, talk to me’ his face was a little sterner. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, all’s great’ he tried joking, plastering on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

‘Stop fucking around, you just had, like, the most serious breakdown I’ve seen, and I’ve seen a lot of this shit’ Steve barked out, pulling Eddie closer to himself. ‘Scared me half to death, hyperventilating and crying for an hour straight. You couldn’t hear me Eddie!’ he said, hysteria evident in his voice. Eddie blinked, taking in the other boy’s-tired eyes and how crumpled and wet his polo was, probably from all the crying. 

‘Steve, please, it’s nothing’

‘It’s not nothing if I have to console you for hours on end!’ he shouted, making Eddie recoil and take his hands away. He looked down at his, yet again, shaking hands and hugged himself to stop the tremor.

‘Sorry, I’m sorry’ he murmured. ‘I never wanted you to have to go through that, it won’t happen again, I’m so-‘

‘God Eddie, you don’t understand, do you?’ Steve cut him off, shuffling on the bed and taking Eddie’s chin between his fingers to make him meet his gaze. His beautiful eyes were bloodshot, frantically scanning Eddie’s face. ‘I didn’t know what to do, you scared me so much, God!’ he rushed out, not letting Eddie get a word in. ‘And still I want, no, I need to see it again if it means you won’t be going through that alone. I want you to tell me you’re feeling bad, that you need me! God, Eddie, please, just talk to me”.

And Eddie is a motormouth, a person without a filter that speaks more often than he doesn’t, spits out his opinions unprompted, tells animated stories and it seemingly everywhere at the same time. And yet in that particular moment he couldn’t find a word to say – too wrung out of emotions, too tired, achy and still fucking trembling to do anything else but launch himself at Steve, again in the span of less than 24 hours, but this time aiming at his mouth. 

He could truly write poems about Steve’s plump lips, how they tasted a little salty, confirming he has indeed been crying, how warm and soft they were. How they made Eddie feel important for a moment, how scared he was when they didn’t move at first, and the immense weight that dropped off his shoulders when they started moving.

And not only were Steve’s lips moving, but his arms too, circling Eddie’s waist again, and pulling, pulling, pulling, pressing him against himself and holding so tight he thought he would never breath again. Somehow that was okay in his book. 

Their tongues danced together, lovingly stroking each other, parting only to take in shaky breaths and then reconnecting, like long-lost lovers finding themselves, even though it was only seconds that they have parted for. 

‘Eddie’ the lips formed his name beautifully, making him keep and sob a little again.

‘Don’t stop’ he begged, knowing that it was a fluke. He wasn’t that lucky to get those lips forever, to be able to peck them whenever he deemed appropriate, to trace them with his fingers, watch them stretch in that blinding smile. ‘Not yet’.

‘Eddie’ Steve whispered, a little more forcefully, pulling away from him. And that broke Eddie’s heart all over again, already mourning the friendship and closeness of Steve, knowing that he had just ruined everything that was sacred between them. ‘I’m not saying stop forever, just for a while’.

And wasn’t that a sentence. Eddie blinked, looking at a little smile that played at the corner of Steve’s lips, so different to his worried eyes. 

So he stopped, dumbfounded, confused, petrified of what came next. 

But, to his surprise, Steve took in a deep breath and leaned down to press a quick, forceful kiss to his palm.

‘Talk now, kiss later’.

‘Kiss later?’ he repeated, his eyes bugging out and mouth somehow feeling ever drier than before. ‘Steve, kiss later?’ he repeated hysterically, climbing onto his knees to do something, anything, his body buzzing with pent-up energy. He could feel a distinct tingle in his lips and that made him feel even more unhinged, placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders and, for a change, hovering over him. ‘You. You want to kiss me. Later.’

Steve squinted his eyes up at him and roamed them over his face, looking for something and Eddie tried really hard not to tremble. He had enough of trembling for a lifetime.

‘Is there a problem with that?’ he quipped back, a smidge of humor in his voice. He slowly raised his arms, placing them on Eddie’s lower back, rubbing circles on his stomach. And Eddie couldn’t do much more than just collapse, his mind a mush and leaking out of his ears, it felt.

‘Steve, Steve’ he keened, hiding his face in the crook of his neck that was slowly becoming his favorite hiding face. He placed a delicate, scared kiss on the column of his throat, his hands frantically nesting themselves into the soft expanse of blonde hair.

And Steve didn’t even flinch, just let out a long sigh that sounded like relief and cuddled into the weight of Eddie on him, not caring about the sweat coating his clammy skin or that he probably smelled like death. 

‘Baby, what’s wrong?’ Steve cooed, nuzzling into Eddie’s mop of hair and making him yelp and blush crimson. He could feel the heat reflecting off of his face, feeling so small in Steve’s arms and yet so strong somehow, like he could move mountains.

And if he didn’t say anything for a while because of a stream of baby, baby, baby, going through his head – well, that’s between him and God, if she was even listening to his muddled-up thoughts. 

‘You like me?’ he squeaked out, refusing to come out of his hiding place between Steve’s neck and arm. 

‘Yeah’ he heard, uttered out in a sweet, sweet voice, lacing with another sigh coming out of those plush lips and he felt fucking invincible. 

‘No, no you don’t Steve’ Eddie protested, prolonging the last letter of his… of Steve’s name. He felt the body under him shake with the power of a chuckled in response.

‘Why are you asking if you apparently know better than me?’

‘Shut uupp’ he drawled out, his ears ringing and vision swimming with another batch of tears. Since when was he such a crybaby?

Apparently since Steve Harrington, The Brave, The Heroic, The Beautiful, The Love of Eddie’s Life held him so tight breathing hurt and his insides tingled.

Since Steve Harrington liked him back and made fun of him when he denied. And why exactly did he deny? 

‘That’s impossible, Steve, come on.’ Ah yes, that’s why.

‘Eddie, I’ve been in love with you for a few months now, stop mansplaining my feelings to me, please’. And that just wasn’t right, was it? Eddie wasn’t the one being loved, the one cherished and held and kissed, and, and, and…

‘Stop’ he begged, feeling hot wet paths being carved into his cheeks again.

‘No, no I won’t Eddie, because if this’ he flailed his hands around the room to seemingly no one, given hat Eddie couldn’t see him. With his movement he prompted Eddie to let out a whine that was mortifying to himself, making him squirm in his place in Steve’s lap, what the fuck. ‘is caused by me, by even a little bit then I cannot stand for it, I can’t’. With that he grabbed Eddie by his arms and moved him away from his safe spot in Steve’s neck, making him face the other boy.

And God, he was a mess – nose snotty, eyes bloodshot, wild hair curling in every direction except the one he didn’t want it to curl to. But Steve wasn’t much better in his crumpled-up clothes and with teary eyes that roamed the expanse of Eddie’s face.

‘I don’t know what you’re going through Eddie, but if this was about you liking me and fearing I somehow don’t like you back then stop. Stop the spiral, there is nothing to worry about because God I love you’ he rambled on, his words tangling with one another, eyes searching Eddie’s, trying to read his emotions.

And that wasn’t the only reason for Eddie’s breakdown, they both knew that he was troubled by so much much, and yet. 

And yet it made him stop for a moment, the tears stop as if he hadn’t paid the water bill and someone turned all of his taps off. An yet he smiled, bright, beautiful and ugly at the same time, his crooked teeth biting into the meat of his lower lip, reaching up to wipe to snoot from under his nose. 

They had so much to go through, all of this shit that Eddie has been drowning in for the last couple of weeks waiting for them in a steaming pile. But maybe, just maybe, it could be Future Eddie’s problems and now he could bask in the safety that were Steve’s words, eyes, mouth, arms, everything. 

‘Steve Harrington, The Brave, The Heroic, The Beautiful, The Love of My Life’ he muttered out later, freshly showered and full of warm soup that Steve cooked for them both. He was snuggled into the warmth of this boy that took care of him without batting an eye and somehow all of his troubles seemed to be a little smaller, at least for a moment. 

--------------

It is not the aim to imply that Steve's love for Eddie fixed everything that was bothering him - remember, if you need help reach out to someone! And self-love and acceptance is the first step, not the love of someone else.

That being said I hope you enjoyed this wild journey! Let me know in the comments, love ya! x

P.S. i may write another part of this, some domestic bliss or smth, I want my babies happy

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 199 Rundown

Code Geass: Roze’ of the Recapture: So… war again, damn I really hate it when revivals and sequel series basically go “Yeah all that shit you did in the first series? Too bad we’re basically just doing the same song and dance again so it didn’t mean anything” Like I don’t think anyone expects a World Peace ending to last forever but it’s still unpleasant to think about all the shit people go through not mattering much, like Attack on Titan’s ending was at least honest with us like “Yeah there’s definitely gonna be a lot more wars” and the Star Wars sequels at least gave a couple decades of relative peace and made the Imperial Remnant the somewhat underdogs, but with Code Geass we’re kinda back to square one, there’s like 7-10 years of peace under Schnizel before the 100th Emperor of Britania picks right up where Lelouch left off and re-invades Japan which is really kinda funny because Britania’s trying to hard to re-establish racism that they still call Japan Area 11 even though from what I understand Japan is literally the only place the Neo-Britanian Empire has captured so going with the naming convention it should be Neo Area 1 but that’d give the local population a sense of pride being compared to the original Britanian Capital and being elevated that so they just have the number 11 floating out there to appeal to racist nostalgia I guess. Neo-Britania has basically jumped Japan with the help of some of its inside men and Made Japan Great Again by hiding behind a Great Wall so they don’t get assblasted by the Black Knights and it’s really funny to watch these guys be exactly as arrogant as they were before while fucking cowering behind a wall that will definitely go down before the series is over, like this is always the problem with making future shit out of energy instead of materials, energy can be shut off dipshit, but on to our protagonists. Roze’ and Ash are twin brother terrorists for hire and basically a prototype of what Lelouch and Suzaku would’ve been like had they seen eye to eye sooner and teamed up. Roze’ is the theatrical twink who’s good at planning and chess and a mysterious power to influence people and Ash is the earnest and strong skilled pilot with the series’s main unique knightmare frame. They basically get a trial mission from the local big terrorist group and manage to kill the brother insiders who opened the door for Neo-Britania with Ash doing some cool Super Saiyan Knightmare frame bullshit and Roze’ revealing that she’s actually the Princess of Japan Sakuya Sumeragi and the Sakuya they have captured is actually her Padme’ Amidala style body double and best friend. Now see your twink was just a girl all along that’s cheating. I like how Sakuya’s Geass works, she seems to have to activate it on her throat and then instead of giving them a command she gives them an Ultimatum Contract, like a “do this thing or this will happen” kind of deal and based on the fancy boy she uses it on they don’t seem inherently aware of the stakes of the contract or compelled to fulfill it so it makes the penalty easier to inflict, but we’ll see if they use that in any creative ways later. Idk, didn’t have high hopes for this show and it’s definitely a simple start with a couple cool things going on but we’ll see I guess.

Ranma ½: Akane kinda breaks down once her hair’s been cut and aside from slapping the shit out of Ranma and Ryoga she doesn’t really react at all. Turns out the Sakura reference I made last time was more accurate than I thought since she grew her hair long to be more like her sister and hopefully earn the affections of the Doctor (who appears to be the same age even in a flashback where Kasumi is in school so he’s like OLD OLD, like forget Akane he may be age inappropriate even for Kasumi) but cutting it involves her letting go of wanting to be someone else and being more true to herself and it takes her a while to process those emotions and it’s a neat little bit of character writing that ultimately ends up with more relationship shenanigans for Ranma and Akane. Meanwhile Ryoga’s not done yet and breaks into Akane’s house looking for him, revealing he too has one of the Spring Curses and there’s a funny little bit where Ranma thinks he’s turned into a dog and just brings home a random dog while the real Ryoga is a tiny piglet Akane’s been taking care of, kinda reminds me of Boota from Gurren Lagann and I would not be surprised if that’s where it came from. Shenanigans ensue and both Ranma and Ryoga end up naked together so he can explain his backstory of originally being mad at Male!Ranma for accidentally leading him to the cursed spring and now being DOUBLY mad at Female!Ranma for being the one to actively knock him into it. Tons of shenanigans happen as Ranma does seem honor-bound to keep Ryoga’s secret for him but also wants him to get away from cuddling Akane so we’re in the classic situation of nobody explains anything and we have a bunch of Three’s Company misunderstandings about it. It’s really weird in this show because explaining anything about these misunderstandings would take like two minutes tops and yet people wait days before finally getting around to clearing things up.

Arcane: Just getting this out of the gate this series doesn’t give many names and the few it does I don’t remember so a lot of the side characters are going to get nicknames until they earn the spot in my brain to remember their name. So street rat gang consisting of Vi, Pre-Backstory Jinx, Big Guy, and Store Brand Junkrat break into Piltover and steal a bunch of macguffin-style technology no one understands because that’s always a good way to get a series going. Apparently this guy had fucking crystallized nitroglycerin on his desk so a botched escape results in an explosion that turns a robbery into a terrorist attack. Also I’m just kinda mad that so many people in Piltover leave food lying around like the inventor guy leaving his sandwich out should’ve been a clue that he was close by but also someone just leaves cupcakes on their balcony and I know that’s symbolic for some reason but that’s also just a very silly thing to do like they’re fully icinged so they’re not like cooling or anything they’re just out on a balcony. Anyway upon getting back to the undercity they get jumped by even more hooligan-y hooligans and Jinx drops the shit in the river and given how she was swinging that back around with it full of the crystal nitroglycerin shit that exploded after lightly bumping a wall I’m surprised we didn’t see an atomic explosion that ends the series right here. Still yeah once the kids get back they find out their stunt has disrupted the fragile balance between the Poshly Heights dudes and the Sewerpeople and like if that’s all it took that shit was not going to last long anyway but we gotta put agency in the main characters’ hands. Their adoptive father Vander isn’t about to throw them under the bus but the cops are pretty chill about ‘yo we don’t care if we get the right guy we just wanna lynch SOMEONE to justify our racism’ so we’re setting up a backstory parental sacrifice early here. Vi does comfort Jinx despite an annoying ‘they only heard half the conversation’ bit and tells her every one of their tragic backstory laden squad has fucked up and no one fucks up as long as they keep learning. And last but not least the hooligan named after the Bladerunner guy tells Evil Eye Man about Vander’s precarious position so he can… use his Evil Rat Bane Venom formula for… something, that stinger kinda went in a lot of directions idk.

Dandadan: This episode is just ridiculously cute overall, it’s a “how the heck do we go back to school after that?” episode classic for the post-arc resolution of school-bound anime, but there’s a nice twist on it given it also means Momo and Okarun have to define what their relationship is outside of a crisis pushing them together. Okarun’s natural nervousness kicks in now that the pressure of a casual environment is back on but both of them just want to talk to each other and keep An American Taleing around the school just barely missing each other before eventually literally colliding. Momo’s friends see her with him and she completely rejects the idea, not really because of embarrassment but because confronting the idea that they might already be more than friends scares her. Okarun thinks she’s just embarrassed to be seen with him and vows not to bother her anymore until he meets a girl with Main Character hair that secretly talks about just teasing him which sets Momo off and she pulls the old Satoko Hojo washbin drop, another classic. Once the two have finally calmed down to talk to each other again, Okarun reveals his dick is back but his balls are still MIA and everyone just kinda clowns on him for not noticing sooner. Seiko drives the remnants Granny’s spirit out of him and into the cat doll we’ve seen in the OP and ED which kinda spoil this and turns out despite all her rage Granny’s still just a cat in a cage because Okarun retains the powers of his Hollow Form and Granny just gets to be a powerless mascot character now, she’s been Kon’d right in front of our eyes. Turns out this powerlessness extends to the plot though as she has no idea how to get Okarun’s balls back either, looks like it’s time for a new arc already.

Gleipnir: The pair continue their hike up into the mountains, weighing pros and cons on action vs inaction when they have to protect their identities and kind of agree on shooting first and asking questions later since Claire’s a psycho and Shuichi has less balls than Okarun. Just so happens the first guy they run into looks like First Hassan on steroids with swords for arms, his whole character is basically “Me fight good” which you can’t really go wrong with, it’s an anime staple, the surprisingly honorable bloodthirsty battle whore. It’s here where we get a good gauge for the team’s capabilities, a good wall to test how strong their attacks really are. Turns out the gun’s really the only thing that can hit him and it’s some kind of super gun and the two eventually split up, doing a pincer attack on him with Shuichi holding him down in the outfit while Claire separates with the gun to finish him off. The guy realizes he’s basically done but also that if Claire shoots the Noisy Cricket style gun while she’s outside the costume the recoil will blow her arms off at best and straight up kill her at worst so he surrenders to save both of them. There’s also this ogre guy that’s creeping on Claire and takes pics of them and says he’s part of a monster gang around here but also he just kinda stands there and blackmails three people he knows at least some of which have powers while his ability is… having a big head? So Hassan man cuts him in half and officially joins the team.

Trigun: So this is the show that ACTUALLY has Space Cowboys that we will see later. Still this episode is kind of a standard first episode for the time, a lot of mystery surrounding the idea we don’t really know what our main character is like despite him being in the OP and everything. Vash is a singularly goofy protagonist and a Jack Sparrow type of the highest order where you can’t tell how much of his stuff is planned and how much is luck, it’s always a fun character type and it feels like Vash has even less idea of what he’s doing most of the time than a lot of these types of heroes, Trigun really is putting its silliest foot forward and I appreciate that when the opening is him surrounded by bullets and a bunch of cool guns and then it’s just him being a doofus for twenty minutes and falling ass-first into winning against the fellow outlaws and bounty hunters that have accidentally taken up his disastrous name. Also really like Meryl and Milly’s schtick like the tagalone semi-capable girls are a fun trope on their own but the fact they’re insurance adjusters specifically gunning for Vash because of all the property damage shonen battle bullshit causes is REALLY funny, like it’s a really fun idea and the fact that they just wanna keep tabs on him instead of turning him in and getting him off the streets/getting the reward to pay out premiums makes no sense and I do kinda love it. Very unserious show, enjoying it a lot.

Revolutionary Girl Utena: It’s finally the start of the new arc and already the vibes are totally different, like everything feels more sinister and threatening even if the actual structure hasn’t changed much, it’s hard to explain. Anthy introduces Utena to her brotherAkio who’s the acting director of the academy and about to marry the real director’s daughter Kanae. Meanwhile Miki’s being offered to join the Illuminati and turns them down because his self-esteem is just THAT bad. He tells the girls about the building where a hundred boys were buried alive a hundred years ago but it turns out all one hundred of those boys were Rose Duelists and are used as fodder for Souji and Akio’s Black Rose cult to kill Anthy. They do… something to Kanae that involves psychological probing to reveal her darker emotions about Anthy which is understandable given she doesn’t have many genuine emotions, it’s kinda like Hanekawa from Monogatari, it’s not an excuse for treating her badly but it’s understandable to not know how to deal with her. They stab her with a Black Rose and basically make her a zombie duelist harboring the soul of a dead duelist boy, using his coffin for a catalyst. Kanae challenges Utena and since the Black Rose is the catalyst for the brainwashing it makes sense that it’s literally the focal point of the duel. Also the Shadow Chorus Girls actually talk to Utena now? Or she can hear them, first time she’s interacted with them so I guess that’s a symbol that the layer between the narrative and the meta is getting weird. They also do this cool Domain Expansion type deal that changes the terrain of the arena based on the regrets of the dead boys so that’s kind of a neat way to mix it up. Utena beats her of course and we’ve got our structure for the arc, kind of a monster of the week brainwashing Sailor Moon kind of deal, except instead of shooting rainbows at them Utena has to stab them with a sword. Afterwards Kanae has no memory of her time as a duelist but is otherwise unharmed, meanwhile Anthy continues unaware that her supposed brother is the Dios-ass motherfucker pulling the strings behind all this.

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 21: MSCL 1x02 Dancing in the Dark

Not many new observations, versus last week, after today’s episode of the MSCL re-watch.

I think that Angela and Patty will get on really well as adults, when Angela can see how similar they are in a lot of ways, and appreciate both her mom’s sense of humor and her… her own earnestness, how she does try, how she is trying. The things that probably seem awkward and embarrassing to Angela at 15. And I think Patty anticipates this day, too, and looks forward to it: “Pretend I’m not your mom.” / “Mom. I can’t pretend that.”

I really felt for Rickie in this episode, even though he hasn’t really come out of the chorus line yet. I think re-watching as an adult, I see more of how his story is really influenced by and defined by his sexuality. Yes, it’s obvious that he’s also got a crush on Jordan and that, unlike Angela, it will have to remain just a fantasy that gets him through his day. But the full impact of that just…hits me anew. When Rayanne says that Angela DOES want Jordan “in actuality,” but she’s just “programmed not to admit it,” she means it in a girls-need-to-hide-their-sexuality way, but it’s really more true of Rickie: he’s not allowed to admit it; he could put himself in danger by admitting it. He seems to just be parroting back the others as he’s been doing for 2 episodes. But really he’s just being honest: he understands what Angela means AND Rayanne’s admonishment has a ring of truth to it.

It was interesting to me to read that Graham and Patty were supposed to illustrate a couple who felt boxed in by gender norms and were figuring their way out from under those expectations. I do see that: Patty is Graham’s boss, Graham prefers cooking to working in the office, etc. It’s something I’d like to think about and try to look for in a more detailed way, though. Like in this episode, where Patty complains about not being able to lead in the dance (let her lead!!) and later Graham seems to complain about the same thing: always having to lead. Well—let her lead! It’s also notable to me that, even though they are adults, they get their own sort of coming-of-age arc too. Patty, like, Angela, changes her hair and for largely the same reasons. She smashes a princess doll her father gave her when she was a child. She’s ready to move on and grow and change. And Graham is still trying to figure out “what it means to be a man,” feeling stagnant in his work, sabotaging his marriage, unsure of what he’s doing with his whole life (I can relate).

Jordan definitely is already really interested in Angela… It’s odd trying to read their interactions from his point of view. She obviously challenges and confuses him, and even though she has this huge crush on him, she doesn’t just go along with him no matter what; she doesn’t do things that make her feel uncomfortable or that are unpleasant; she can’t be pressured. I feel like he hasn’t run into many people like that. (Not really saying anything new here just… am trying to see more from his POV this watch-through.)

I’ve always assumed that Brian’s reaction to the ID—“It says here she was born yesterday”—was a reference to a typo on the card, but now I wonder if maybe it was just a really deadpan joke? Jordan didn’t get it for sure.

It really pushes all my buttons to see all the connections and metaphors and the whole overall structure of the episode—how the night at Brian’s is compared to the science experiment about the hearts, how the interaction between Jordan and Angela is compared to the dance. Yes, every sentence about the hearts did seem to have two meanings and yes it did get to me every time.

…I still really want to write the fic based on the headcanons from like 3 years ago and I know I just SHOULD because that’s what hobbies are for but…yeah. Afraid. Anyway, I got distracted by that, so, that’s all for today’s thoughts. Gotta get to bed so I can be a semi-real person tomorrow.

[deadn30n]

a   normal   person   might've   taken   offense   to   Daisuke's   outburst,   but   Eden   Cielo   is   not   a   normal   person.   if   their   awkward   mannerisms   were   anything   to   go   by    –    at   least   they   were   trying   their   best   to   fit   in,   even   if   it   was   done   rather   poorly.   as   quaint   as   this   little   city   was,   even   something   that   appeared   so   simple   could   often   offer   intricate   catacombs   of   rich   history   that   wasn't   otherwise   documented.   Eden   knew   next   to   nothing   about   this   place   right   now;   undoubtedly   they   would   take   great   interest   in   Dark   Mousey   and   the   art   of   theft,   should   Daisuke   deign   to   bring   it   up.   such   thrilling   stories   would   surely   entertain   the   network   of   a   mind   that   never   rested    –    ever   yearning   for   the   next   fantastical   piece   of   everyday   human   life.

after   gazing   at   him   for   a   couple   of   seconds,   listening   quietly,   they   finally   spoke.   “   no,   i   am   not   of   your   world.   does   that   frighten   you?   ”   always   the   beacon   of   unbridled   honesty,   you'd   be   hard-pressed   to   find   someone   who   could   bare   their   truths   as   openly   as   Eden.   it   was   initially   advised   against   openly   giving   away   their   otherworldly   nature,   but   as   Eden   traversed   the   celestial   roads,   carving   their   network   of   paths   into   their   flesh,   they   began   to   believe   that   was   a   stupid   notion.   they   were   supposed   to   earn   the   trust   of   humans,   but   how   exactly   would   they   do   that   without   being   honest? 

honesty   was   the   backbone   of   human   society.   this   was   one   of   the   very   first   lessons   they   learned   when   interacting   with   them.   if   someone   couldn't   trust   you,   then   they'd   have   no   reason   to   engage   with   you.   an   obvious   observation   gave   away   that   Daisuke   was   young,   and   some   humans   often   dismissed   others   based   on   their   age,   but   just   because   Daisuke   was   young,   didn't   mean   he   was   undeserving   of   the   respect   that   came   with   telling   the   truth. 

returning   to   the   present   conversation   at   hand,   Eden   listens   with   earnest   while   trying   to   understand   the   nuance   behind   it   all   to   the   best   of   their   ability.   they   still   don't   fully   grasp   it,   but   gods   are   they   trying,   even   with   their   limited   amount   of   knowledge.   “   i   admire   those   people.   ”   they   state   bluntly.   “   to   make   a   wish,   even   if   it   may   not   come   true.   to   not   give   up   no   matter   what.   that   is   part   of   what   it   means   to   live,   is   it   not?   have   i   decoded   this   correctly?   ”   they   definitely   hope   one   day   they'll   be   able   to   understand   and   experience   those   feelings.   they've   only   grazed   the   surface   of   what   ‘emotions’   might   feel   like,   and   they're   practically   starving   to   have   more   exposure   to   it.

what   catches   their   attention   next   is   his   poor   attitude   toward   himself.   this   was…   what   they   called   self-esteem   wasn't   it?   they   couldn't   be   certain   they   reached   the   right   assumption,   but   judging   by   both   his   reaction   and   what   he's   said,   it's   probably   not   a   good   idea   to   pressure   him   into   a   place   he   might   not   be   comfortable   with.   “   understood.   i   will   erase   what   you   have   just   told   me   from   your   file.   ”   they   cock   their   head   to   the   side,   ready   to   ask   a   more   broader   question,   but   something   else   occurs   to   them.   “   i   do   not   believe   i   have   received   your   name.   ah…   yes.   that   is   why   your   data   is   labeled   ‘untitled’.   i   have   been   rude.   my   name   is   Eden   Cielo,   what   is   your's?   ”   it's   customary   to   introduce   yourself   first   before   starting   a   conversation,   isn't   it?   how   could   they've   made   such   an   error    –    perhaps   an   admonishment   was   in   order   later   on.

“   but   i   must   ask…   why   do   you   feel   you   are   insufficient   as   a   human?   i   have   not   heavily   analyzed   you,   but   you   do   not   appear   to   suit   the   term   ‘loser’.   i   must   admit…   i   do   not   know   the   meaning   of   that   word   yet,   so   my   analysis   may   be   incorrect.   ”   it   was   definitely   not   incorrect,   but   of   course   they   can't   know   that   for   sure   yet.   “   i   see   no   reason   to   be   displeased   with   yourself,   you   are   a   kind   person   who   has   spoken   even   to   me.   many   would   be   deterred   by   something   like   me,   or   so   i   was   warned   by   my   creator.   ”   they   pause,   appearing   to   mull   over   something   in   their   mind   before   continuing.   “   please   do   not   be   hard   on   yourself   young   human,   you   are   unique   and   special   as   you   are.   there   are   certainly   good   things   about   you,   i   am   certain   of   this.   ”

alright , definitely like argentine . daisuke's left with nothing to do but anxiously stare as the other seems to process his answer , the sort that probably shouldn't have taken anyone more than just a few seconds to grasp . when he's met with nothing more than another query , he can't help it --- ' a-are you not human ?! ' he blurts out in an instant , and the shock of his own volume turns a few heads , after which his shoulders raise and sheepishly , hopelessly try to hide him .

who , or rather --- what else ever referred to humans as a third party outside of themselves ? if it was a hikari , then surely dark would have woken up by now , sensitive to all the magic-infused things that his own tamer wasn't . the flush on daisuke's face nevertheless lingers , a deep red to match his hair . for all his desperate curiosity and urgency , he really didn't have any right to be rude , did he ?!

' sorry . i meant --- u-um , there's no guarantee it'll work , ' and really , in a world where anyone's wish could be granted just by a coin and everyday fountain , existing sounded like a nightmare . ' it's more ... for everyone's feelings ? ' his fingers lift and start to nervously tumble at invisible locks . ' for hope . there are plenty of people who believe a lot in this sort of thing , that it'll make a difference in their lives , but there are lots who think that hard work's the only way to get anything done , too . '

and then comes the question of himself . at first , he gulps --- of course , a long time ago , he had completely given up on any practical method of accomplishing his personal wishes and desperately , despairingly decided to leave things to fate . the coin , for all the incredible flash and style of its absentminded toss at the time , had plunked into the water before sunken shoulders and a deep frown . a frown that now threatened to return with a sudden torrent of emotion .

displease , decline , he could , right ? but how much of himself would have been betrayed if he did something like that ? the other's stare jolts him , too . ' ah , um --- ' in the end , no matter how unnatural someone felt to speak compared to other "human beings ," he just couldn't help but feel like he was just as ill-suited and unordinary for any role of judgement .

' i ... i don't really know if i'm the right person for any of this . because , my wish --- ' he hesitates , but then pushes everything forwards from the back of his throat anyways . ' i wanted to be someone else . i didn't want to be a loser anymore . ' he wanted to be someone impressive , someone interesting , someone worthy of confidence and even a myriad of friends . it was easier to confess something like this to a stranger , wasn't it ? even if he kept the closest , most painful parts to himself . ' ... i still don't know if any of that's come true , or not . er , and maybe since that's all a little more than embarrassing , don't --- file that ? '

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[neverwasreddie]

Part 2 of my reddie Christmas ficlet that nobody asked for!

*

Eddie’s trying really, really hard to be chill about Richie’s Christmas gift, but 1. “chill” is not a word that has ever been used to describe Edward Kaspbrak, like, not ever as long as he’s been alive, and 2. how can he possibly be chill about this?

Richie swears up and down that it’s nothing, that Ben loves tinkering around in his little garage-turned-woodshop and it gave Richie an excuse to try and reenact the Ghost pottery scene with the hottest Loser without his Beverly around to interfere.

But Eddie knows better, saw the flicker of fear on Richie’s face when he finally opened the gift. Knows that this means something special to Richie, something he’s too shy to put into words.

And the fact that the wood is from the Kissing Bridge of Derry is no coincidence, either. That is the detail Eddie keeps getting hung up on, no matter how Richie tries to brush it off.

“I just don’t get it!” Eddie is still saying a few days later, dusting the shelf around the frame with the utmost care. “Did they demolish that safety hazard while I was in the hospital, or what?”

Richie snorts, not even bothering to look up from the Rubik’s cube he’s fiddling with on the couch. “Well, someone almost did. Lucky Mikey boy caught me before I burned his whole stupid town to the ground.”

He’s casual on the surface, but there’s enough bite to his words for Eddie to turn and ask carefully, “What?”

Sighing, running a hand through his hair and refusing to look up at Eddie, Richie shrugs. “I wasn’t exactly in tip-top shape while you were in your little coma nap, there, bud. When they finally kicked me out of your room to go shower and sleep, I took the long way back to the inn. Got some of my frustration out on that stupid bridge. And before you say anything, I didn’t vandalize the whole thing, alright, just that one slat that was already rotting in the center. Didn’t take much to rip it off.”

A flashback to his hospital room strikes Eddie, then: the feeling of Richie’s raw, scraped hands gripping his tightly, Eddie assuming the injuries had come from his fall from the Deadlights.

“You really took this wood from the bridge?” he asks carefully, dropping his dust cloth and carefully approaching the couch. Richie is still sprawled out on his back, gaze turned from Eddie, so there’s no room to sit beside him, but Eddie feels the inexplicable need to be near Richie for this conversation.

Always feels that need, if he’s being honest with himself.

“Yeah, well, excuse me for not exactly thinking straight,” Richie mutters, and it’s a testament to the sincerity of the moment that he doesn’t even go for a low-hanging gay joke at his expense. “I thought I was losing you after just getting you back, and I…”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head and lets the Rubik’s cube drop to the floor.

“Hey.” Eddie drops to a knee beside him, picks up the toy and squeezes Richie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up if it was going to upset you. I’m…I’m still just really surprised about the gift, that’s all. It means more to me than you know, alright, even if I…even if I’m showing it in a stupid way.”

Richie cracks an eye open, then smiles when he sees whatever pathetically earnest expression Eddie’s probably wearing in return.

“Just glad the work was worth it, Eds,” he says softly. “That stupid hunk of bridge is about the only thing worth taking from that town.”

*

Eddie doesn’t know how serious Richie is about that statement until later that night.

Their evening of Hanukkah and Christmas gift-giving with the other Losers had been a smashing success, with all the stupid gag gifts one could expect from the friends of Richie Tozier mixed with all the sentimental and heartfelt presents to be expected from the likes of Mike, Ben, and, surprisingly, Stan, secret sap that he is. By the time the others stumble back out to their homes or hotels for the evening, safely and drunkenly tucked into Ubers lined up like Christmas sleighs, Eddie is feeling warm with love like he hasn’t felt on Christmas Eve in decades.

Richie is looking just as warm and relaxed from his spot on the couch in the corner, flushed from mulled wine and cozy in an ugly Christmas sweater and smiling at Eddie like he’s never been so content.

“Did you have a good Christmas Eve, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“The best,” Eddie says honestly, ignoring the nickname in favor of painful sincerity. “Thank you for letting me host that here. That was…you’re really the best, you know? That was the best Christmas I’ve had since the last time we were all together.”

Richie’s smile only grows at that. “Glad to hear it, Eds. Anything for you.”

It’s hard for Eddie to look too closely at Richie when he’s turning his full attention on him, knowing he’ll never have it like he truly wants it, so he fiddles with the decorations on the bookshelf for something to do. A nutcracker and a snow globe and a fat, squishy snow man, lined up next to Richie’s homemade frame.

“It’s just nice having everyone together. It’s just…we’re so lucky, you know?” he murmurs, his wine-clumsy fingers knocking the nutcracker over, hurrying to catch the frame before it can fall.

It’s only then in his hands that he sees the back of the frame for the first time, the engraving on the back that looks much older than Richie’s more recent carpentry efforts on the front.

R + E

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, a rush of cold panic and warm hope pouring over him all at once. “Richie, what’s…is this from the bridge?”

Richie looks up, curious, paling slightly when he sees what Eddie is looking at.

“Oh, yeah. That. It was, uh, it was on the part of the bridge I broke.”

“It’s our initials, Richie. R and E.” Barely able to hear over the pounding in his ears, Eddie whispers, “Is that us?”

Flushed from the tips of his ears to the collar of his sweater, it’s impossible for Richie to do anything but nod, a little sheepish as he drops his gaze to the floor.

“The summer of the clown, when you were grounded and we were all in that awful fight and I couldn’t see you, or anyone…” He laughs, a bleak and mirthless sound. “I thought I was going crazy, you know? I needed you more than I ever did, because that stupid clown knew my secret and…and I was already so scared of him doing something to me, but then he knew how I felt about you, and if he did something to you…” He shakes his head, eyes falling shut as the fear of the memory washes over him.

“How you felt about me?” Eddie clutches the frame to his chest like a raft in a stormy sea. “How did you feel about me?”

Richie opens his eyes and looks steadily at Eddie. “How did I feel?” he asks. “I felt enough to carve our initials into the Kissing Bridge without caring if anyone saw. I felt enough to rip that bridge apart and take those letters with me in case that’s all I had left of you when I left that stupid town this time around.”

He closes his eyes, briefly, and then, like he’s steeling himself for something, he adds, “I don’t know why we’re saying ‘felt’ in the past tense, like I just gave that frame to you for no reason. As if any of those feelings ever went away.”

All at once Eddie feels lightheaded, like the first thrilling time he drank a beer with Richie and thought he was going to fall over, but knowing all the while without knowing how he knew that Richie would catch him if he needed to.

“You still like me like that?” he whispers, running his fingers over the letters with reverence before placing the frame back on the shelf.

Richie smiles ruefully, makes a buzzer noise out of the side of his mouth. “Wrong four-letter word, there, Eds. Try it again. Same first letter, whole different set of consequences for me.”

Eddie approaches Richie with all the care needed to approach a startled fawn, quiet slow steps forward and a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Rich, don’t chicken out on me here. Can you say it? Please? For me?”

Eyes wide with someone less like fear and more like wonder, Richie swallows and grips the hand on his shoulder with all the strength of someone about to unburden something he’s been carrying for far too long.

“I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Always have been and always will be.”

It’s like someone unlocked a box that had been hiding in Eddie’s chest, flipped it upside down, and shook it until every joyful emotion he’d ever known came tumbling out in one jumbled mess. It’s a thrill unlike anything Eddie’s ever felt: every leap into the quarry, every stolen moment in the hammock with Richie, every night sneaking in and out of windows and whispering in the too-near closeness under bedsheets.

Richie loves him.

“Does it count as a Christmas gift,” Eddie says breathlessly, pulling Richie to his feet, “if I tell you that I love you, too?”

Dazed, eyes wide and lips parted slightly, Richie nods stupidly until it seems his brain has caught up with his heart.

“Only if you mean it,” he says, gathering Eddie into his arms and pulling him in to a first-class kiss for the ages.

Eddie thinks, if this is how Richie is going to kiss him every day, he’s going to have to find him a Christmas gift, after all.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie,” Richie whispers against his lips, and there’s a lot Eddie wants to say back to that, but it’ll have to wait, he decides, as he pulls Richie in for another kiss.

They’ve got a lot of catching up to do.