#posting this here since I know some of my friends might be interested later

[creativepup]

Going to go ahead and get all my Good Omens S2 thoughts out as a long-time book fan (moreso meta than plot details) - under the cut because this will be long (tldr at the end)

First of all, I genuinely liked the season, for all that I wasn't expecting to. I thought it was all well put-together: the themes were consistent and well-defined, the storylines all intertwined and foiled each other, it was generally consistent with what was previously established, and there were no plot twists that came out of nowhere (no not even the ending - more on this in a moment). There were some parts that I didn't fully jive with, but no more than were in the first season.

(I do think some of Gaiman's personal promotional choices were... somewhat disingenuous, and part of why there's been so much upset. But I think giving the product an evaluation for what it is is more important than what the creator said in some online responses.)

To start: the TV versions of Aziraphale and Crowley are not the same as the book, and they never had been. Even in season one there were already some big characterization divergences - I've already reblogged some other good posts that go into more detail, but I would argue that this even starts with Crowley's red hair (I almost completely avoided watching the initial release because I thought it looked so clownish). If some of these differences continue to be amplified by continuing the TV story then I think that's only natural. I also think they were never going to be the same as the book anyways. How could they be, between the change in format and the absence of one of the book's key creators? At best they are just homages to their original counterparts, and they shouldn't be viewed as more than that. While I am really happy that the new season seems to have encouraged more people to start discussing the differences and compare the two media more thoroughly, I don't think the show should be expected to conform to the book, especially as it starts entering new territory. (And the new season did make some corrections, to keep things from veering too wildly off-track.)

I enjoyed a lot of the bits of world-building we got through the side characters. Jim was surprisingly entertaining as were all the little threads tied to his memory loss. I really enjoyed Shax as our average ladder-climbing demon trying to get noticed amidst the horde (really Shax in general was great, I'm sad I haven't seen more love for her), along with Furfur trying to get a promotion (he doesn't really want to move up to Temptations, but that's what you're supposed to do if you want to advance, right? Really reminds me a lot of how management positions are treated irl), as well as the insight into how Hell is not immune to falling short of its own propaganda. (The zombie implications were fascinating too.) Meanwhile Heaven has its own employee struggles, except there it's sibling squabbles and struggling to get into the 'in' crowd. It was also nice to see a bit more of the neighborhood outside of Aziraphale's bookshop. I wasn't fond of either Nina or Maggie at first, but they did grow on me at least as their roles in the plot became more clear.

Regarding the Ending - it's basically a mirror of what we already saw happen in season one, and it's what the lack of communication all season was building to. And if the question is why would these characters make the same mistakes - why wouldn't they? With all that happened during the Apocalypse countdown, character development wasn't a big focus, and they're two entities on an immortal timescale. Especially with Aziraphale, never changes outfits, took 80 years to change his mind about holy water. The time gap between the two seasons is relatively minuscule in comparison. Other shows like WWDITS also show immortals having a hard time changing long-held behavior patterns; I don't see why Good Omens should be held to a different standard.

I've seen a lot of theories trying to dive into secret meanings or What Really Happened, but none of them really land. The show doesn't do twists like that - even with the body swap in season one the audience was left temporarily in dark to give those scenes more effect, but never left completely out of the loop. (The one theory that was interesting was Metatron formerly being human - that would explain the behavior we see from him in the finale.) The key information we are conspicuously missing, that I think is where the focus should be, is Aziraphale's conversation just before the confrontation - this will probably shed a lot more light (ha) on why he took the job offer (which I agree is pretty strange).

What I actually didn't like about the season - I thought the makeup felt really flat compared to season one, especially for the side angels and demons. I don't know if it was an executive decision to take a subtler approach, but the angels barely looked angelic (I couldn't even see Uriel's gold dust half the time) and most of the demons were similar (Shax doesn't even look demonic at all). I think the only one I was happy with was Dagon, and even their makeup looked more costume-variety than the first season. Beelzebub also fell flat for me for most of the season, though I don't know whether that's from the acting or the makeup issue. They just really lacked the presence and intimidation that made them originally stand out. I also wasn't a fan of the increased focus on Crowley's former life as an angel (and setting their first meeting further back, I don't like recontextualizing the wall scene), although given the number of fan theories that hit the nail on the head I can't say it came out of nowhere. I really feel that the life someone's had for 6000 years defines them more than the life they had for ~7 days, and it's insulting to only focus on who they were before.

I don't have anything good to wrap this up on, so TL;DR: Thought Season Two was the same quality as Season One, if not the story wrap-up we were told to expect.

[phagodyke]

i keep getting irrationally miffed at ppl 😐😐

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[gurugirl]

The Handyman | a check-in*

Summary: You and Harry throw a housewarming party and your ex shows up with some advice for whoever built the kitchen counter. Harry makes sure to prove to you how well-built his countertops really are.

A/N: Based on this idea! Previously posted on Patreon. Read the original one shot here.

Word Count: 3,613

Warning: smut, the tiniest touch of jealousy/possessiveness

❊❊❊

You hadn’t intended for your little housewarming party to turn into a whole thing. Harry said he’d help you invite people from town, a way to make more friends and get to know some of the locals a bit better. But then when your dad told your cousin that you were throwing a small party she let it slip to someone from your past. Van, your ex. She apologized, saying she didn’t think he’d be interested until he asked for more details. But you weren’t going to be rude and uninvite anyone because the house was big enough for everyone. And you did say “open invitation” after all.

“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Van pulled you in for a hug when he arrived. You put on your nicest smile and attempted to act happy to see him. And it wasn’t that you disliked the guy but the awkwardness of dealing with an ex you hadn’t seen in a while was a bit daunting.

“Oh my gosh. You too! I’m surprised to see you here. All the way out in the middle of nowhere!” It truly was a surprise. It was an hour’s drive from the city to get to your house. And even though your cousin told you she told him and he seemed interested, you half expected he wouldn’t show up.

You made small talk with him before excusing yourself to go to the kitchen except he followed you.

“This house really does look nice, Y/n. Did you have help with all this?”

“Thank you. And yes. I had someone help with everything. Harry’s been so amazing. Listened to what I wanted but he already had his own ideas which I loved so much. Kept almost everything original.”

Van ran his palm along the butcher block island and ducked down to check the construction of the cabinets beneath, “Who’s Harry?”

“Harry owns a small company doing all kinds of work for people in town. He helped me restore the whole place and landscape. I mean, he basically did all the work but… yeah. He’s also my boyfriend.”

Van raised a brow at you, “Boyfriend huh?”

“Yep. Boyfriend. He’s actually here somewhere.”

He nodded as he inspected the window over the sink, “Not sure if you remember or not but I became an architect. Wish you’d have called me. I could have really done this place justice. Sort of feels like some of this could have been upgraded.”

“Oh? Like what?”

You caught Harry’s eye when he stood at the entry between the kitchen and the dining room as he spoke to a few people he knew.

“Well this window for example,” Van pointed, “I would have pushed this whole wall out, made a breakfast nook over the patio since there’s so much space at the front. Could have put in built-in bench seating and it would have given you so much more light in the kitchen and increased the value of the property.”

“I mean that sounds really nice but I wanted it to be original. Expanding the walls and windows like that sounds like too much. And I’m not planning on selling it so increasing the value doesn’t appeal to me.”

“I just hope he knew what he was doing. If someone’s not quite qualified you could have shoddy workmanship that shows later. Like all the cabinets and these new countertops,” he knocked on the surface, “might look fine now but give them a year and you’ll see if it’s up to par.”

Suddenly Harry was wrapping his arms around your front and kissing your neck as Van was then suggesting a rebuild of the staircase to expand the width. You placed your hands over Harry’s forearms and grinned at the feel of his lips on your skin. His distraction had almost made you forget that Van was still talking until he slowly got quieter as he looked between you and Harry and realized you were no longer listening.

Harry kept his eyes on Van as he pressed warm kisses to your neck. It was a signal to Van. You were taken and you were happy and Harry wasn’t some pushover. You were his girl and he was letting Van know.

“This the ex you were telling me about,” he whispered into your ear so Van wouldn’t hear it.

You nodded and giggled, turning to look at Harry when Van cleared his throat.

Harry stood up straight and put his hands on your shoulders, “Sorry to interrupt like that. I’m Harry, Y/n’s boyfriend. You are?”

“Oh, I’m an old friend. I’m Van,” he put his hand out to shake and Harry wrapped his big palm around Van’s with a nod.

“Nice to meet you, Van. Now, what were you suggesting I do differently?”

Van’s eyes widened slightly, “Oh… I wasn’t saying you should do anything different… it’s just that there were some ideas…”

You were no longer interested in what Van had to say at all when you felt Harry’s hand slide down to your hip. It felt like a possessive move. You’d never known Harry to be jealous or anything but that whole exchange had you seeing a bit of a different side of him.

“Definitely some good ideas, Van. But we’re happy with keeping things original. Feel free to have a look around at everything if you like. Only room off limits is our bedroom upstairs that’s locked, but otherwise, knock yourself out.”

Neither you nor Van missed Harry saying our bedroom upstairs.

“Okay. Well, thank you. Yeah, I mean I think you’ve done a great job here and…” Now Van was backtracking.

Harry nodded, “The most important thing is that Y/n is happy with how everything turned out and the quality of construction is the best,” he rapped his knuckles on the countertop, his brow raised at Van.

Van kept his distance until he left a couple of hours later, only hugging you quickly and telling you, once again, how nice it was to see you. You weren’t sure why he showed up in the first place. Maybe, being an architect, he was genuinely curious about the new house you bought and had help restoring. Or maybe he was hoping to rekindle something long gone but then was caught off guard by Harry.

“I can see why you love it here,” your cousin nudged your arm as she ogled Harry who was talking to a woman animatedly.

You laughed softly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your boyfriend, obviously. Damn. Who knew small-town men looked like that? You’re living your Lifetime movie dreams babe. Old mansion, aunt’s inheritance, hot local who helped you fix the place up falls in love with you…”

You laughed through your nose and shook your head, “I’m not saying I’m not agreeing with you but… I would have stayed here with or without Harry. He’s just the cherry on top.”

“Oh, I bet he’s the cherry on top. So…” she looked around the space and then back at you, “He’s living here with you then?”

You nodded, “Yep. When we started dating it was just kind of the natural next step. I think my dad thought it was too fast but I didn’t want to be away from him at night anymore and he didn’t like it either. I suggested that he just stay and… well that’s really it. He’s here for good. Plus he put so much love into this house. It feels like it’s just as much as his as it is mine.”

You could admit, everything looked fantastic. Harry had made your home into something you could see yourself living in until you were old and grey. Something you were proud to show off to everyone. It was a labor of love, for both of you.

. . .

When everyone had gone, you were wiping up the countertop when your sponge was plucked from your hands and Harry pulled you back into his chest, “So Van thinks the construction of this counter isn’t well done?”

You turned in his arms and grinned up at him, “You know the construction is fine. It’s the best. Don’t worry about what he said. I don’t think he could tell from just looking anyway.”

“Did you like him a lot when you two dated?” Harry pushed you gently back toward the counter, your bottom hitting the edge.

“Why? You’re not jealous are you?”

Harry licked his lips and squeezed your hips before sliding his hands up to your waist and lifting you to sit on the smooth surface you’d just wiped down. You laughed and grasped onto his shoulders.

“Of course, I’m not jealous of Mr. Architect. But I do want to demonstrate how sturdy everything is. I’m not the type to cut corners, you know…” he dragged his big hands up your sides and one up your spine until his fingers found the back of your neck, collaring you with his big palm as he bumped his nose into yours.

You giggled and pushed your arms over his shoulders, “Seriously, Harry. I know how sturdy everything is. No need to prove anything to me.”

“Mmm… I know I don’t have to prove anything,” he smoothed his lips against yours gently, and slowly with the poke of the tip of his tongue at your plush lips igniting the furnace in your tummy that always simmered with need for him. But when he got like this… with his hands on your body and his mouth prodding at yours… the simmer turned into a boil.

You felt one of his hands travel down your hips and then to your thigh where he bunched the material of your skirt in his palm until he’d pushed the fabric out of his way and teased his finger up and down along the edge of your panties next to your crotch.

Spreading your legs for him you leaned back slightly and parted from the kiss with a laugh, “We gonna do this right here, Harry?”

He splayed both of his hands over your bare thighs and squeezed. His eyelids were heavy as he roved his pupils from where he was holding your plush thighs then up to your face, “Wanna?’

You couldn’t help but giggle again and bite your lip as you nodded.

“Mmhmm… Thought you’d want to. Given how wet your panties are right here,” he pressed his thumb over the crotch of your knickers, “Bet you need it more than I do, sweetheart.”

He smeared his thumb around the material of your sodden panties, wetting the pad of his digit before finding your clit and pressing into it. A breathy pant fell from your lips.

“What got you like this, Y/n? What happened, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, just you.”

“Me? Are you sure about that?”

“Always you, Harry.”

He grinned and pushed the fabric of your panties aside as he kept his soft green eyes on you, “What about me does this to you, hmm? You just like me so much that you start dripping?”

You felt your face heat up. Harry often liked to ask you questions that got you a little shy or embarrassed when you had to answer. And even though you should be used to it by now you still got a bit antsy. But fuck if you didn’t love it.

“Yeah. I really just like you so much…”

Harry’s grin never faltered as he kept his gaze pinned to yours and pressed his thumb at the entrance of your pussy, taunting it open until he had pushed it all the way in and you gasped. He began slipping it in and pulling it out, “I know you do. And I love how much you need me,” he continued fucking you with his thumb, “How your body reacts to me. Look at you, Y/n…” he dipped his gaze down to where he was thrusting his thumb into you, “Letting me fuck you with my thumb on the countertop I installed. Making a mess of my palm and I bet the quartz under your ass too. Almost shaking you need it so bad.”

You grunted and rolled your hips up against his thumb, pressing him in further and Harry groaned at your little pathetic wiggle.

Releasing one of your thighs he hooked a finger into the bottom hem of your blouse and pushed upward, “Arms up.”

Raising your arms overhead harry pulled the shirt from your torso and then pulled your bra down, exposing your tits one at a time until you were pouring out over the stretchy material. With his thumb still inside of you, he ducked down and wrapped his lips over your nipple, tongue first.

You moaned and closed your eyes when Harry moved to your other breast, pumping his thumb through your walls until it was all gushy sounding. He stood back, pulling his thumb from you and then bringing it up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it to lick off every drop of you while his other hand worked at his button to get his pants undone.

There you sat at the edge of the counter with your legs spread and your wet pussy on display. Your panties were stretched to the side and out of the way but you could feel the elastic digging into the back of your thigh and your bum.

Harry pulled himself out of his pants, his gorgeous cock already at full mast and ready to split you in half. He cradled the underside of his shaft as he stepped in toward you and held your thigh in place as he smudged his tip into your labia, spreading your arousal through your crease. The dirty look on his face was heated, like he was about to overtake every part of you.

“Hold onto my back, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you on this well-made countertop now,” he smirked at you cheekily.

You would have laughed but you were already feeling his tip at your pulsing muscle and the anticipation of him stretching you open was making your head spin.

He rocked forward, his thick crown penetrating you and opening you up as he stuffed himself in. It took a few pumps of his cock in and out to burry into the hilt. He gasped when he felt your pussy devour him whole.

Your fingers clung to his back as he began to thrust, long and languid, wet and hot.

“Fucking hell… Got me so weak for you, sweetheart. So desperate to feel you around me all the time. Wanted to fuck you on this counter right in front of your ex-architect so he could see who’s fucking you these days, who’s treating you right…”

You moaned with every deep nudge of his cock through your wet channel. But when he ran his thumb over your clit you croaked out loudly, “Fuck! Yes…”

“See? Look how good I am to you… give you the best don’t I?”

You nodded, “The best, Harry…”

He crashed his lips to yours as he worked your cunt with his cock and his thumb and the languid thrusts turned into frantic jerking motions with his tip nudging into your guts, a hint of pain spreading through your insides at the way he bullied his thick length into you. He rocked his hips against you, the sound of smacking flesh and muffled moans between kisses filtered out through the open window onto your porch. Luckily you had no neighbors anywhere near so no one would know the kinds of things that went on in that old house every evening.

Your thighs were trembling with every swipe of his thumb at your clit and every dip of his cock through your insides.

“Gonna come for me already? Yeah? Fuck, baby…” he was swollen and leaking as he shoved into you. The feel of you wrapped tight around him was always heaven. His favorite.

You whined loudly, the build-up of your orgasm was unable to be stopped as you let him ravage your pussy however he liked. Pat-pat-pat… the sound of wet pussy getting fucked was a typical soundtrack in your house just about every night.

Harry ran a big paw over your tits and squeezed as he pounded into you. The counter under you never budging.

When your pussy began to squeeze and flutter and spasm and your mouth dropped open wide you let out a pitiful cry and dug your fingertips into the taut muscle of his back as you gushed on his big cock.

He only increased his pace as he fucked into you and watched your pretty face twist up in ecstasy. He loved watching you come. It only fed his ego to see such a pretty thing with your face all scrunched and lips curled and wet as you quivered in your orgasm.

He hissed to hold himself back as he felt your pussy slobbering arousal all over his dick. He’d have loved to unload his come right then but he wanted to force another orgasm from you before he allowed himself the satisfaction of coming yet.

When you felt him slow his thrusts you could hear him cooing at you, “Good girl. Fuck baby almost made me come you look so pretty like this.”

You lulled your head up to look at him and he smoothed his lips against yours as he stilled his hips, cock lodged deep inside of your tummy.

“Gonna have you bend over now, okay? Put your feet on this stool if you need it,” he dragged the stool next to his foot toward the counter for you. And with wobbly limbs, you adjusted your seating, turning over so your hips were face down against the counter top and Harry quickly placed his big palms on the round of your ass, pulling you apart so he could see your pussy and anus.

He inhaled sharply as he ran a finger through your folds and you jolted from being so sensitive, “Easy, sweetheart… This is gonna feel good once I get going. You ready?”

You nodded into the crook of your arm and let out a muffled yes as he nudged his cock against you again.

His fingers dug into the meaty soft part of your thighs before he split you open, burying in balls deep on first pass.

You grunted and braced yourself as he began to plunge through your insides, wet strokes of his long cock filling you and then pulling back to his tip on repeat.

“Ooh… shit, sweetheart. So fucking pretty…” he pulled at your ass cheeks and railed into you. You knew he was sweating already, he was giving it his all, using his strong muscles to fuck himself into you and panting breaths every time his balls smushed into your pussy.

You began to feel that fuzzy little prickle spread over your core with every stroke of his cock. The ridges of his bare dick always fit into your crevices and little spots like he was made to snug inside of you and get you off just like that. Your g-spot was never left unloved with the shape of Harry’s cock, his tip always dipping right into it with every pass.

He began to grunt with every glide of his hips, his cock being massaged by your warm walls making his balls tighten and his heart pound the closer he got to his end.

The sight of your pussy sucking him in, lips wrapped around his thick shaft and leaving creamy arousal along his length was just as hot as the way you felt encasing him. But of course, there was the scent and the sound as well. It was lewd. All his senses were burning and singing as he fucked into you.

“Ahh!” You moaned and began to push back against his thrusts, desperate for your next orgasm as it was approaching fast.

Arousal dripped down your inner thighs as he rutted into you, his pace growing sloppy and erratic as he could tell you were about to come.

And the moment you gurgled a wet moan and he could feel you clamping down he gasped and gripped onto your hips, moving you over his cock like you were a toy to fuck, he pulled your ass against his hips and then upward along his cock before slamming you against him again, smearing your pussy juice on the countertop as he did so. You cried out and convulsed around him as Harry finally pumped into you, pulling you back against him until he was stuffed into you as deep as he could reach and released every drop of himself into you.

He groaned as he came into your warm, cozy pussy, pumping strings of his come through your slimy arousal-coated cunt.

Harry made getting off easy. You’d never been one to come so fast or so easy but you were convinced his cock was shaped exactly like you needed. You reached back to take his hand as Harry leaned over your back and kissed your neck, “Pussy fucked and stuffed and countertop sturdy as a rock,” he laughed.

You giggled and arched your back to attempt to move yourself, the position was not the most comfortable after all.

Harry helped you down and held onto you so you wouldn’t fall and you both laughed again when you turned to face him, knowing you had mascara down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and grinned at you, “This is the best housewarming party I’ve ever been to.”

You pointed at the counter he’d just fucked you on and chuckled, “And that is the sturdiest kitchen counter anyone will ever see.”

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[cozy-writes-things]

Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

O.

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

Oh

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.8k+

→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.

i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.

if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.

thank you. i love you.

without further ado...

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

EPILOGUE: A BET

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?” 

Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts. 

“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?” 

He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.” 

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.

And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.

“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.” 

It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars. 

Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.

But your friends didn’t know. 

Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy. 

At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.

“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?” 

“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.

Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?” 

“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.” 

“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath. 

Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.  

“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.” 

What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable. 

Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.

“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.

“Of course you’re choosing the red one.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature. 

You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.

“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”

Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.

Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.

You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends. 

The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second. 

But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out. 

It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.

He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.

And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie. 

You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet. 

You sort of hated yourself for it.

You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.

“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”

“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“

“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”

 You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.

“Nowhere,” you shrug off.

“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?” 

He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.

“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.” 

All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way. 

It was a nice change.

It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words. 

Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.” 

“What’s there to discuss?” 

You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.

His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?” 

No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.

“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?” 

You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room. 

It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.

“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”

The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time. 

You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.” 

You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.

You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.

—

STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight? 

You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.

Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant. 

STEVE-O: ???

The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.

“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.” 

The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.

“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“

STEVE-O: helllooooo????

“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?” 

Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked. 

“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.

It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone. 

“You sure?” 

You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.

You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“ 

He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.

You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.

“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.

He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering. 

With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy. 

STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.

At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more. 

“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“

Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.

You were going to kill Steve Harrington. 

“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”

“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.

“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.

“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“

“I didn’t see the texts.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nope.” 

You’ve never been so short with your friends. 

But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off. 

“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“

“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?” 

At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.

“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.

Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues. 

So much more than like.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.” 

“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.” 

Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker. 

“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?” 

“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”

Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.” 

You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie. 

Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face. 

“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.” 

Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping. 

Don’t bite me, you mouth at him. 

Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever. 

“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?” 

“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space. 

You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation. 

You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.

Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him. 

“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?” 

Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends. 

“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.” 

He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment. 

“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”

“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.” 

Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think. 

“You just sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie. 

He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on. 

As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.” 

Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants. 

When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra? 

You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one. 

Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.  

“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.” 

“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases. 

“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line. 

It almost makes you smile.  “Someone sounds jealous.” 

“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”

“What do you mean?” you play dumb.

You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now. 

“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.” 

Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you. 

“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.” 

“Oh, you must see the irony there-” 

You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.” 

Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it. 

Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?” 

You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.” 

He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.” 

Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.

Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily. 

“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.” 

“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”

He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror.  The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand. 

And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate. 

Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?” 

Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.

You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.

You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point. 

After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose. 

We really need to just buy a second helmet. 

The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it. 

Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly. 

Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words. 

“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.” 

You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found. 

You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?” 

Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?” 

“That’s my shirt.” 

“What?” 

He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.” 

You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you. 

Bastard. 

“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.” 

—

You were wrong. They do notice. 

Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.

They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other. 

You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt?” 

Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely. 

“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric. 

Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good. 

“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly. 

“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.” 

“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?” 

In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.” 

Ah, fuck. 

It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck. 

Fuck. 

You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier. 

“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.” 

“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”

You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s. 

You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid. 

You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead. 

And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away. 

He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.

“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.” 

Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey. 

Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance. 

When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.

And Nancy had noticed. 

“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.” 

While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself. 

Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.

“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.” 

“Is that a good idea?” 

You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.

He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots. 

You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly. 

You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?” 

Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames. 

You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight. 

His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?” 

Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie. 

“I don’t think you are, Munson.”

Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is. 

Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough. 

She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything. 

“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?” 

He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-” 

“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?” 

Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss. 

His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”

“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!” 

Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly. 

“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.” 

Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?” 

You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look. 

“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-” 

“Holy shit.” 

Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-” 

Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.

Oh no. 

“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly. 

“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.

Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?” 

Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm. 

Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones? 

“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.” 

“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out. 

Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”

“Fuck off, Nancy.” 

“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!” 

“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.

You have no clue what his lockscreen is. 

“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten. 

You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble. 

“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?” 

He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.

It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds. 

It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.

For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him. 

“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, “But, I just- I really liked this photo.” 

He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him. 

You’re the farthest thing from upset at him. 

“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips. 

You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.

And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.

“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?” 

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good. 

“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.” 

Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval. 

Well, so much for next time. 

You give him a little nod. 

Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.

This, as a matter of fact, changes everything. 

No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.

The reactions all vary. 

Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!” 

Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.” 

Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.” 

“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?” 

“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?” 

You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home. 

You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air. 

You liked him, you liked him, you liked him. 

And the feeling was mutual. 

You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real. 

“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-” 

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.” 

“I don’t care if you were a dick,” you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.” 

“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?” 

“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.” 

And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more. 

“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier. 

Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had. 

You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?” 

“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself. 

“How’d you know?” 

Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.” 

“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.” 

You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”

“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”

“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.” 

Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.” 

His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment. 

His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat. 

Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now. 

Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week. 

You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time. 

The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real. 

“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup,  “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.” 

He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months. 

You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him. 

“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.” 

“I never really did.”

“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?” 

You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind. 

Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you. 

That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him. 

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

So why can’t you just tell him that?

“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.” 

“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.” 

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult. 

Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots. 

These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot. 

“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.” 

Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.” 

“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass. 

The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie. 

“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.” 

Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.” 

He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do. 

And yeah, you did know what to do. 

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.” 

A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues. 

Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back. 

Next time. You have to tell him next time. 

—

The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly. 

Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind. 

You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her. 

Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.

It’s a domino effect from there.

Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless. 

Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun. 

It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars. 

The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.

I love you. 

It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.

You had a breakdown because you love Eddie. 

You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.

It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves. 

“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“ 

Now. Not later, not next time. Now. 

“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike. 

His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?” 

Here goes nothing – be brave.

“I-” 

Why is this so hard? 

It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy. 

It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right. 

It’s easy. He loves you – you love him.  It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was. 

“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily. 

Loving Eddie is easy. 

“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.” 

Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him. 

His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.

You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year. 

“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life. 

You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.” 

Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you. 

He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours. 

“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.” 

“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”

“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.” 

You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”

“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.” 

“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself. 

“We so did.”

You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”

He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.” 

“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?” 

“They do.” 

He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be. 

You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off. 

“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo. 

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.

Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!” 

Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other. 

Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable. 

Finally. 

“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking. 

You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly. 

Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.” 

Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home. 

When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.” 

His lips meet yours for good measure. 

It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

[candieduranium]

my intro post

i guess it’s about time i made one of these

(why does this have so many notes???😭/genuine)

long ass intro oml

last updated jan 6, 2025

•my name is micah but i also respond to furcata and rover

•i use any pronouns except it/its. other than those, i genuinely do not care what you use for me

•im a minor

•i am a christian. i do not force it onto other people. please respect my religion.

•i make mistakes on my blog (accidentally deleting things, unbalanced polls, etc.) from time to time so please excuse if i make some errors. trying my best.

•my tag for my original posts and reblogs that i add to is “micah’s owlposting” (ehhhh not all the time, actually, tagging is so boring) even for stuff that isn’t owlkin-related. i have to retroactively tag my old posts with this tag so keep in mind that not all of them are tagged! i will update this post when i finish tagging.

•i am an american barn owl therian, vernid othermidst, machinehearted, and pigeonhearted.

• i am a quadrobist. i started in april of 2024.

•usually the things i post are about my alterhumanity but i also post golden texts my friends and i send each other along with some other stuff. sometimes in my posts there are mentions of sex and (mild?) sexual themes

•im also a furry. furry ≠ zoophile

•my favorite music is by greta van fleet and umbrabyte. i also just enjoy vocaloid in general, too. in fact, the original purpose i had for my blog was just to keep up with umbrabyte and her content better. here’s umbrabyte’s spotify:

•my favorite aesthetics are cybercore, mizuiro/ tenshi kaiwai, vaporwave, and rococo

•my only definite dni is if your blog is focused on nsfw, has sexually explicit images, or unsafe for minors in general. we can interact if you are in a basic dni (zoophile, radqueers, etc) but i probably won’t interact with you as much as those who arent in the dni.

•i am pro endogenic and i do not tolerate attacks on endos

•haters will be blocked unless i find them especially funny.

•im up for chatting about whatever whenever so just shoot me a dm if you feel like it (sfw, obviously)

•my hobbies and special interests are drums, classical latin, fursuit making, cosplay, and illustrating

•i’m very interested in learning how to make vtuber models and customize ball-jointed dolls

•my main fandoms are umbrabyte, tloz, pjsk, and tadc (i know some these fandoms are known for having /crazy/ and problematic fans. im not one of them)

•i have a 4 year old black cat named dumpling (i post pics of him sometimes) and a 17 year old dog named stella. i hope to get a couple of oranda goldfish someday

•i dont have a set posting schedule. i post when i post. but i generally like to stay pretty active and try to post at least once per day.

•i follow anyone who interacts with my posts positively when im not in their dni and theyre not in mine and their blog isn’t completely default/blank this is now false. i have just learned that the maximum follow count is 5k and i am already above 4k. there are too many of you for me to follow you all😭

•some random and useless stuff about me: i have mild-moderate trypophobia and a deviated septum, my favorite color is orange, i LOVE creme brulee, and my mbti is antp-t (a for ambivert) and my current favorite vocal stim is “meds time!”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

mild eyestrain warning ⚠️

how the fuck does this have so many notes??😭

i’ll probably update this post later on since im sure there’s something i forgot. check back with me every once in a while and i might have some new content on this post

thanks for reading 👍👍

[xxlady-lunaxx]

I love you; I don't pt.2 | {SaneGiyuu}

part 1

Theme: Fluff+Angst

Note: uhh cw death 

a little uzusane friendship 

ooh hi its been a while since i posted writing that wasn't a reblog ‼

×××

Previously: 

Giyuu didn't look back, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop a sob that threatened to spill out. He should've expected this. There was no way in hell Sanemi would've stayed in love after years, it was a miracle he'd loved him in the first place. Of course.

×××

Sanemi visited after a couple days. He had sent no warning letter—because he couldn't write coherently yet—and simply arrived at Giyuu's door. 

Giyuu had opened it and then proceeded to lead a couple minutes of a staring contest in which they both blinked several times before regaining his composure and letting him in.

"What're you doing here, Shinazugawa?" Giyuu asked. He shifted his hair to cover his cheeks which burned red with embarrassment. Their last encounter hadn't been quite so successful and he had a hunch that that was exactly why Sanemi was here.

"Are you alright, Tomioka? I'm sorry about last time," Sanemi said, though his gaze was tracing around Giyuu's house. It hit him then that he'd never actually been inside here before. He'd only known the address but never wondered about what Giyuu might look like doing idle things.

"Sorry?" Giyuu frowned. "I should be sorry. I ran away like a child, I'm sorry."

Sanemi shook his head. "That was... reasonable."

"Well, what you said was also." 

"Right. I still shot you down, though," Sanemi said pointedly.

"Didn't I do that to you too?" Giyuu asked. It wasn't Sanemi's fault, it was his own. 

Sanemi's lips quirked in a smile. "Then we can call ourselves even, no?"

"...fine."

A moment of silence.

Giyuu watched as Sanemi took in their surroundings. 

"Do you want some tea?" he offered.

Sanemi nodded slowly. "Sure. Although something cooler would be nice. The weather's insanely hot."

Giyuu nodded back. "Okay." He walked down the hall, turning to the kitchen. "...cold tea?"

Sanemi followed him, rolling his eyes. "Whatever is fine."

"Alright." He supplied the two cups of 'cold tea,' dropping several ice cubes in them.

Sanemi took the cup he was offered, taking a sip. "So...?"

Giyuu tilted his head. "Hm?"

"Are you alright? You never answered my question," Sanemi said, leaning against the wall.

"Oh. I'm... fine." Giyuu considered the question again. "I'll be fine."

Sanemi let out a breath. "If you need anything, we can talk."

"I didn't know you were so considerate."

"...well I can be if I want to." 

Giyuu cocked his head to the side. "You want to be, now?"

Sanemi shrugged. "Isn't it my fault you ran away crying?"

"That's mine."

"Yeah, well, I haven't seen you cry in my whole life." 

Giyuu dipped his head down. "I used to be more... emotional? I don't know. I let down my guard, so it's my fault."

Sanemi put his cup down. "Let your guard down more, then. There's no demons fucking with us anymore, you don't have to be on constant watch."

"It's more like a habit now," Giyuu murmured.

"I know. So try letting go of it."

"I can try."

Sanemi smiled. His smile was gentle and so... unlike him. Giyuu's cheeks were brushed pink and he forced himself to look away.

"Good," Sanemi said. "Anyway, this tea doesn't go good cold. I'll be going now. See you later."

Giyuu nodded. "See you later."

×××

To his surprise—which, according to Sanemi, shouldn't have been a surprise—they became friends. Nothing else, as muh as Giyuu longed for it. But it was nice. Sanemi would come over sometimes, or vise versa, and they would talk. Like they were normal people on a normal day. And he loved seeing into Sanemi's character. It was a change, for the better. Sanemi was much more open with him—as Giyuu was as well—and it was interesting to see how different he was when he could be relaxed. He smiled genuinely a lot more, too. And, despite himself, Giyuu found that he couldn't let go of his love for Sanemi. He loved him; he did. He couldn't stop it. He didn't try to, anymore. Best let it fade out.

It didn't fade, however. Though it wasn't much of a burden. It just made him love spending time with Sanemi more. Receiving letters in broken Japanese asking him if he wanted to come over. It was like falling in love all over again.  He didn't mind. It was a wonderful feeling, in other perspectives. It made him happy.

Time droned on.

Four years had passed since Muzan had died. Four years, already. He didn't know what to think about how much time had passed. He was unwilling to think about it.

It was his birthday tomorrow. He prepared.

×××

He wrote letters to the Uzui's. He wrote some to the Kamado's—and shorter ones to their friends, whom he didn't know well. He wrote one to the Butterfly mansion—Aoi. To Kiriya and the other two Ubuyashiki's. To the Rengoku's, Urokodaki. He had them all stacked up neatly, tied together and placed by a crow. Kanzaburou was far too old to be carrying anything now, so he had put a different crow to the task of delivering the letters.

Then there was one.

He had hesitated before sending Sanemi a letter. He didn't know what he would say. In the end, he simply invited him over. He was sure that none of the others knew of his birthday. In the previous years, he had simply said, vaguely, that his birthday was in February. They brought him gifts in the beginning of February. They had done it this year, as well. When they asked about the timeline, though, he brushed it off. He told them that his birthday was later in February, that they needn't worry. He would tell them. And he would. Only... after.

Sanemi arrived at his house late in the afternoon of his birthday. He didn't know that Giyuu would die today—he couldn't, right? He had with him a package. He placed it on the table in front of Giyuu, sitting down across from him.

"Happy birthday," Sanemi said, leaning onto the table. "Forgot to give you something when the others did."

Giyuu tilted his head, smiling slightly at him. "Thank you." He struggled to untie the cloth and Sanemi reached over to help him.

Inside, there was a photo album. It was pretty, looking homemade and adorned with cut-out photos of Giyuu. He opened it and found pictures slipped inside it. Pictures from the past four years. With everyone. He turned the pages, a bittersweet smile curving his lips as he gazed at the photographs. He paused at one, his eyes tracing the picture. It was of him and Sanemi, eating. At that time, Tengen had taken the picture. Claiming they looked like best friends and wondering what they would've said about this in the past.

He looked up at Sanemi whose eyes were averted, embarrassed.

 "Thank you," he repeated. "I... love this."

Sanemi looked up, offering him a shy smile. "That's good. I was going to keep it blank but... you wouldn't have time to fill it. So I went to Uzui and took all the pictures he'd taken. Had them printed, et cetera." 

Giyuu nodded. "I really appreciate it, Shinazugawa. I... Yeah. Thank you. Thanks."

"You keep saying that. But, uh, you're welcome," Sanemi said, dipping his head down.

Giyuu laughed softly. "I don't know what to say. It's great."

"Then hopefully you'll enjoy it till the end."

"I will."

×××

Night came. Giyuu urged Sanemi to stay, setting up another futon for him. There weren't any other rooms and it was February; too cold to sleep on the porch or elsewhere. So the extra futon was placed in Giyuu's room.

Time came for when they would sleep. Giyuu lay, staring up at the cealing. He hadn't told anyone but lately, he'd been losing a significant amount of weight and blood. And lately, as in, in the last week. He was thankful to not have gotten another spasm of coughing in front of Sanemi, but he knew it was only bound to come. And it did. Blood had come with it, dotting his clothing red.

Sanemi must've been awake for he was at Giyuu's side in an instant. It was dark, but the red was a large contrast to the white of Giyuu's clothing and he must've seen it. "Tomioka? What happened? Are you okay?"

Giyuu answered by doubling over, the metallic taste of blood going sour on his tongue. When he looked up, he realized Sanemi had scooped him up in his arms. 

Sanemi's eyebrows were furrowed in concern and he frowned. He seemed to be thinking. Understanding.

Giyuu coughed against, moving his arm up to cover his mouth so he wouldn't get blood on Sanemi. 

"Tomioka," Sanemi said suddenly, once Giyuu's coughing has stopped.

It was close to midnight. The two had stayed up quite late talking, only getting into the beds around 11 pm.

"Tomioka, when is your birthday?" Sanemi's voice was tight. His eyes were focused solely on Giyuu's. "When is your birthday?" he repeated.

Giyuu bit his lip, wincing. It hurt to breathe. "Today."

"Today as in... as in the eighth? Or today as in... the ninth. Tomorrow?" 

"Eight...th. Eighth," Giyuu mumbled, he closed his eyes.

"...what. Tomioka—why the- Why the fuck did you not tell anyone?! What the hell is— Oh my god- I knew something was—" Sanemi was stumbling over his words, cutting himself off. "No. No, why today? I didn't- Does anyone else—?"

Giyuu shook his head slowly. "No one else knows. I think. I didn't want them too. I invited you over because..." He paused. His breathing was heavy. He was struggling to breathe in. His lungs hurt and strained as if he'd been running for hours. "Shinazugawa.... Shinazugawa, I still like you—I lo-"

He coughed, no longer trying to cover his mouth. Blood dripped from his lips, coating them a deeper red than they'd ever been. 

"Tomioka, I'll take you to Aoi's," Sanemi mumbled, rocking back on his heels. He felt weak. Giyuu was light, however. Lighter than he should be. He started to stand.

"No. No—it won't work, you know it won't work, leave-" Giyuu sucked in a shaky breath. "Leave me here. Shinazugawa. Shinazugawa—I love you, okay? I don't care that you don't like me back but I needed you to know this before I died."

Sanemi shook his head. "No. No, you're not dying now. Maybe Aoi can figure something out. I'll figure something out. You're not dying in my fucking arms, Tomioka. I won't fucking let you." His voice became desperate. 

Giyuu was vaguely skeptical. Why did Sanemi care so much? "Then put me down, Shinazugawa," he said quietly. It was taking all his strength to talk. He couldn't afford losing his last precious moments. 

"No, I won't, I won't," Sanemi insisted, clutching him tighter.

Giyuu's eyes fluttered open. He caught Sanemi's panicking gaze. "I... appreciate you being my friend, Shinazugawa. Thank you for the last years, you truly made them... wonderful." 

Sanemi blinked rapidly. "No, no, I- ...I liked being your friend too," he mumbled. He seemed to have given up. 

Ah. That was it. Giyuu nodded slowly, a small smile forming on his lips despite the pain stabbing his lungs. "I'm glad... glad you did too. I enjoyed every moment with... with you. This included."

He figured, then, that Sanemi was acting like this in his form of friendship. Sanemi cared for him—though perhaps not romantically anymore. But he cared. He had liked being his friend. That was good. Giyuu was glad.

"Thank you," Giyuu repeated. 

Sanemi was quiet, leaning his forehead down against the pale palor of Giyuu's. "You should've told me it was today," he whispered. 

"I couldn't," Giyuu mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Sanemi said. "I-"

He hesitated. And that was all it took.

In the small moment he paused, Giyuu's breath shortened. He was barely breathing. And then he was not. 

There was a moment in which Sanemi vaguely registered this. He didn't understand it for a moment. Only that the ragged breathing of the man in his arms had stopped filling the silent room. Then it hit him and he struggled to keep himself up, his arms tightening around Giyuu's still-warm body. The warmth would fade soon as Giyuu's blood stopped pumping through his body.

A silent sob ripped through Sanemi's throat and he realized he was crying. His shoulders shook and he bent his head down, tucking his chin against his chest. He hadn't gotten to say it. 

He didn't know how long he sat like that, almost motionless, clutching onto Giyuu's body. But then there was a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up.

Tengen was there, frowning, kneeling by his side. "I'm here, Shinazugawa," he murmured. 

Sanemi must've looked like a mess. Tears streaking down his cheeks, blood staining his clothing. Tengen said nothing of it, only sitting next to him and holding his hand. They sat together for what could've been minutes or hours. Then Tengen stood silently, looking around.

"We have to bury him," he said quietly. His voice cut through the silence of the room. He sounded tired. 

Sanemi nodded slowly. He was hesitant to move away.

"I'll... go and get some of the others. Put him on his bed when you're ready, okay?" Tengen said, gazing at him one last time before leaving.

Sanemi's eyes went back to Giyuu's face. It was slack, but a ghost of a smile still lay upon his lips. He paused then slowly bent down. Sanemi's lips pressed gently against Giyuu's cold, plush, blood-stained ones. He moved, dropping Giyuu gently onto the futon. Then he stood, willing his legs to work as he moved to the door Tengen had left from, making his way out of the room and away from the man whom he had thought he would never love again.

×××

« Word count: 2265 »

right so this took weeks to actually get ideas on how to write it, so i delete my progress and try again and finish it in one afternoon? 

i was struggling with how to word the last paragraph btw!! its supposed to imply that he fell back in love with Giyuu but the last sentence was icky 😃

[joydoesathing]

When can we get Martin and Frances hcs? I kinda want to know some of their lore..

most of my main points and hcs for martin has already been posted in a previous ask so I'll just link it.

since frances hcs and lore has been requested in my inbox over and over again for a while and i now have some time, here they are:

Frances

A simple woman with simple wants and needs

She's not known to be an outgoing person and can be quite the recluse, so she usually gets dragged along by more outgoing neighbors to have some fun (although she doesn't seem to enjoy it at first, she eventually does try to enjoy)

Usually is quite an indifferent yet chill person and rarely gets genuinely angry. She quickly moves on from disagreements and doesn't seem to hold grudges

The past and LORE with Nacho

Ever since she was small, her parents were strict with her and how she goes about her life. With how little freedom she was given most of her childhood and teenage years , she mostly accepted and settled with what she's given and had no real wants and interests up until she met Nacho when she was 17.

She and Nacho have been hitting it off quite well and she actually loved him. To her, he was the reason she had genuine fun for the first time in a while and developed a stronger desire to want and do things for finally do things for herself. When she unexpectedly got pregnant, she actually was looking forward to the prospect of having a family with the person she loved (Nacho) and she thought he would've felt the same way too. But he ran off without a word, never talking to or communicating with her ever again. She was confused and heartbroken.

Later on, Frances' parents found out about her pregnancy and went absolutely livid and they kicked her out of their house, so she stayed with a relative. She didn't have much close friends and wasn't very close with her relatives so she didn't have much people to closely confide to about her struggles. She also relentlessly tried any way to try and contact Nacho but mostly to no avail. She endured the suffering alone... Penting up all her sorrows and grudges, slowly spiralling downwards to depression and later down into insanity

After the whole near-murder fiasco, she was institutionalized and given psychotherapy for at least a decade. Most of the treatment was a psychiatric counseling mixed with taking antipsychotics and mood stabilizers.

When she was finally discharged, she has mostly forgotten about what has happened in the past and had a mundane but new start. But what she didn't expect is that her new start would be near to the root cause of her madness.

Initially, she didn't recognize Nacho and Anatolii at first, but when she did, she did some catching up with Nacho. Frances admitted that she has decided to move on from the past and forgive Nacho and even stated that she felt ashamed for trying to kill him.

For now, she chooses to stay a bit distant from Anatolii but try to care for him from afar and would never dare claim to be his mother. This mostly stems from the guilt she has for not actually being a mother when she was supposed to and the fear that she might suddenly relapse and hurt him or his father. She just chooses to be more of a weird aunt figure.

[kooktrash]

Please fill us in on this delusionship cause I'm so invested now. What in the world is going on with you and this guy? This is so interesting and Very fic worthy tbh

Ok ok im just gonna respond to this with the lore

and disclaimer: it is a long, meaningless, delusional story that has been going on for about a year. ask @joonberriess she gets weekly updates and yall are gonna get it all in one go 😭 A LOT OF SPELLING ERRORS

[key: the story is about 🩷, but there was a previous person 💙, and places are 🐸🦎🛑💨]

for background info: I work full time at a retail store in a shopping mall and lowkey good bucks 😗but anyway, I’ve been here since 2021 so you basically notice when stores hire new employees or people quit or new places open. you begin to know everyone working at your neighboring stores etc

Tbh it’s kinda like high school where you get bored and need someone hot to look at across the hall me and my coworker thought the guys at the shoe store were hot and they would flaunt their stuff if you know what I mean. And there was one man who stood out let’s call him 💙and we were on the same wavelength he knew we were just “window shopping”👀 but when he started dating a girl at the store directly across from mine I had to be a girls girl and find a new target

Around this time a barber shop was being built around the corner. Still a bit of a walk but on my side of the mall. It was out of the way so we didn’t really care bc it wasn’t directly in front of us. And the lore is about 🩷 who works at the barber shop. And when we first saw him I knew he was barber but I didn’t really care bc we couldn’t directly see them like how I could with 💙. I notice’s 🩷 was hot but not like “we work at the same place hot” more of “just a hot customer” type bc he went into my store with another barber and lowkey he didn’t look interested so I just didn’t care to talk to him

a little later we found out 💙 was a bum ass bitch,couch hopper and cheated on the girl with one of his new coworkers ( downgrade might I add. ) He was still on my radar but not really cause now he’s just a man.But the girl moves away and I have her on snap AND GET THIS when she was posting her good bye pics she posted picture of her at the club and 🩷 was in the background. But at the time I wasn’t delusional YETTT I just knew he was hot. and he wasn’t like PURPOSELY in the pic I think he just happened to be at the same bar as her.

Okay now during the summer I was in the streets 💅🏽and I kept running into him at the club and in my head I was like damn I see this mfer everywhere. The second time I really noticed him I was with my friends and my brother for context my stepbrother is gay but people mistake us for a couple bc we’re only a year apart and really close friends. I saw 🩷 at 4 different clubs 🦎🛑🐸💨. The first club we went to was 🛑 he wasn’t there at first but when he was there he was sitting a few tables away with a girl but you could tell he recognized me bc we work at the same place. Even though he was with a girl he was still kinda looking over at me to the point where my brother noticed. I had to explain a little bit of the lore. After awhile we didn’t see him anymore and we got bored of that bar and went to another — we like to bar hop. Anyways we ended up going to 🐸. And at 🐸 guess who we end up seeing !!! 🩷 with his girl and at that point I was like this a weird ass coincidence and you can tell the girl was beginning to notice too bc she kept glaring. he was still paying attention to the girl he was with obv but I could catch him looking over and it was getting annoying. (WAIT WAIT I FOR GOT TO TELL YALL MY BOTHER-IN-LAW USED TO GET HIS HAIR CUT BY HIM BUT I DIDNT KNOW) at some point I think he left 🐸 and little later we decided to leave.

BUT WAIT I didnt know he was standing out side getting ready to go back to 🛑. Keep in mind 🐸 and 🛑 are down the street from each other and 🦎is across the street from both, but 💨 is blocks away. As we’re walking back to 🛑 we see him near 🛑 and 🩷 stops to talk to someone he knew or whatever. We end up passing him and go to 🛑 and later he also goes back to 🛑 still with the girl. at this point I think he thought it was

Getting a little weird and left 🛑 immediately and idk where he want nor did I pay attention. But when we got bored of 🛑 again we decided to go to 🦎 and you wouldn’t believe who we saw again —🩷!!!. But as we got to 🦎 he was leaving but a few moments later he shows back up to 🦎— after seeing us go in. And my friends were confused bc every bar we’ve been to we’ve seen him. I’m trying not to be delulu but it was still weird.

anyways the night ended with a bunch of weird encounters that I’m telling myself were just coincidences BUTTT like I said we work at the same shopping mall so I was still bound to run into him at work yknow? one particular time he had to pass my store to go to the food court for lunch I’m assuming and I walked to the escalator trash can to throw a drink away right as he was walking walking back (but I fr didn’t notice it was him and I doubt he did either) TELL ME WHY I’m over here trying to be mysterious and not look at him like I know him and this mf FULLY whipped his head the other way to not look at me. At that point I was offended bc one) it’s not my fault we keep running into each other and two) I’m just as confused as him lmao 😭

after that I was basically like ew fuck that weirdo bc like I said I’m not intentionally trying to run into 🩷 especially not if I think he’s got a girl

anyways so weeks go by with little encounters like this at the mall and let me keep it a buck, 🩷 would see me with different guy friends all the time so as far as he knew I was taken too yknow?

yall remember 💙? Well he started looking GOOD again and like yeah he was a bum but he understood the assignment <3 he knew it was just flirting staring and nothing more. 🩷 was just tooo… approachable? I like my men like 💙 where I don’t have to expect anything out of it I can just stare and that’s it. so I had told my coworkers idc about the barber aka 🩷 and I was back to being delulu for 💙 and KEEP IN MIND THIS IS ALL IN GOOD FUN nothing serious, but at this time since 🩷 would purposely try and avoid I didn’t care about him enough to be bothered

but I think the universe got something against me bc anytime I would go a long time without talking about 🩷 or seeing him, he’d just magically appear again like the universe was trying to force him back (delulu i know)

so for instance, the next time I saw him he wasn’t with the girl from last time. he was with some guy friends and I was with a full different set of friends than the ones I usually go out with. when I went out with this group

I invited one of my guy friends over and I remember we were walking past 🦎 bar and I didn’t realize 🩷 and his friends were just hanging out around there and I drunkenly made my guy friend tie my shoe. So 🩷 is watching my guy friend get on his knees outside and put my leg on his lap and tie my shoe 😂I’m telling you such Y/n moments

but isn’t it weird how after I was like fuck this man don’t care he just kept showing up? and any time I was out after that he didn’t have a girl with him anymore and he would pay extra close attention to whatever guy I was with

I was out of town for work for a whole week and the one night I came back to go out with my friends I just happened to run into him over and over and over again AND now at the mall he’s not even bothering to avoid me

like I remember once I was standing at the entrance with another coworker and he just stared me down like 😳 and even she was like “WHYD HE LOOK AT YOU LIKE THAT” And I’m like girl idk I thought he was in his avoiding me era

but from then on he would dead stare me but me being mysterious 🎀I would ignore him bc like I said idk if he had a gf or not anymore and also tf I look like approaching him first. even when I’d walk past his barber shop I could see him staring at me

at the club he was getting bolder, staring me down, staring at anybody I talked to etc etc

I remember on Halloween I was dressed as the white rabbit and we do a candy crawl at the mall for kiddos so I had been dressed up all day, I’m walking to the front of my store and I can see into the store across from mine. I remember they have a mirror right at the entrance and 🩷 was definitely trying to look at himself through the mirror when I saw him (bc I could see myself through the mirror too) and I swear the second he saw me he whipped back around to make sure

I would see him talking to other girls every now and then but I feel like it was always if we went a couple weeks without running into each other and like I said I’d talk to diff guys at the club so I couldn’t say anything I’m just delulu

I’m trying to speed this up but once I went out with the group of friends I don’t usually run into and we were at 🐸 which is a two story club. we were at the bottom and my friends and I were about to leave. it was around Halloween time still so we were dressed in costumes and I was wearing this big ass white cowboy hat. there’s no way he didn’t know it was me when I was right by the door, he recognizes my face, and I’m in a big fucking hat BUT GUESS WHET THIS MF DID. There was all this walking room between me and the wall and he deadass pressed up against my back just to pass me by slow and I even turned confused as hell like me being delulu but this man will do anything to be noticed instead of talk to me.

another time at the mall I passed by the barber shop to go to the makeup store and listen y’all I’m crazy so I’m aware the barber shop has mirrors all over so I could see if he’s at his station through the mirrors and HE WASNT. So I walked past, went to the makeup store and ignored the stares from the other barbers. tell me why as im leaving the makeup store 🩷 is standing right outside of it “on his phone” but right as im going to pass him this man does a full 180 degree angle to look at me !!$ 😭 im crazy I kno but if this ain’t giving wattpad idk what is

Basically, we kind of did this back-and-forth all summer all fall too . We would see each other at the club? multiple different clubs and we kind of keep an eye on each other. If he was with a girl, I would notice that he was with the girl if I was with a guy, he would notice that I’m with the guy and we kind of just kept each other in check the whole time but never actually talked which is where I’m saying I feel delusional. Like one time at the mall, I was walking to the food court, and I saw another barber from the shop and he looked at me and then he turned away. Then he looked at me again then he got his phone and started typing. Then he looked at me again, typed again, then put his phone away and turned his back to me and IDK y’all this is where I’m saying am I crazy because I swear it felt like he was texting about me And considering the way all the barbers look at me anytime I walk past I’m fully convinced 🩷’s talked aboutme before to them l not necessarily like that he likes me or anything like that. Maybe he just talk about me in a sense that we run into each other constantly and he thinks it’s weird. Also, I’m feeling lazy so I’m sorry to just use voice to text.’

The last time I fully ran into him was when he like rubbed up against my back that one time I was wearing a cowboy hat and I remember telling one of the girls I was hanging out with about it and to be fair she was drunk so I don’t think she was fully listening, but we were walking outside and I remember her like pulling on him and saying That she knew him and to be honest, he looked more shocked at the fact that I was standing there then he did when she called him out because he didn’t even really react when she called him out, but that was the last time I fully saw him like that

So recently, I haven’t really been running into him that much and honestly, I’m not that mad about it just because at this point it’s been like an all year thing. It’s getting annoying. I can’t tell if I’m being delusional. I I feel like I’m delulu for a reason And it’s it’s like I’m not even gonna lie to you. I Hang out with other guys. It’s just I’ve wasted too much energy thinking about this one 🩷 guy when he’s never gonna even talk to me, but it just feels like the universe really want us to be in the same area it’s pissing me off LMAO.

and this previous weekend I finally asked my friend who said she knew him how she knew him and she basically told me that they were talking for a minute, but they never dated or anything like that. They just went to the club one time together and some other girl approached him and was like yelling at him, and my friend was trying to mind her business, but then I guess the girl talk to my friend and yelled at her telling her that she don’t know why she’s messing with him if he has a girl, I don’t know how long ago this was I was kind of drunk. I don’t remember asking it wasn’t that serious so I just moved on , but I don’t know he’s just too weird and low-key I’m weird. I move weird and so I like a man that moves weird because then I don’t feel guilty about moving weird with them, but he moves too weird I might just ditch 🩷 for 💙

Except today, I literally said I don’t care about 🩷 because of what my friend told me, but then I end up running into him at my at work again and I’m like Bruh I swear to God the universe plays this weird manifestation game where they want us to run into each other for no reason because we don’t even end up talking

And to end this essay, I want to say it’s so stupid and like I said, it literally sounds like a fanfiction just because no nothing of it makes sense and I’m definitely being delusional, but I feel like I’m delusional for a reason because he has done a lot of things that I might’ve forgotten to even add in that have just made me so confused but I try not to read into it because sometimes im the problem 💀 idek delulu but self aware and for a reason

what do yall think

OH AND ONE TIME I HAD A MF DREAM ABOUT 🩷 and tell me why in my dream he said “I’ve been wanting to talk to you but you’re always with other people” and idk weird 😭😭😭 this is definitely a hard read bc of all the errors but sorry yall my head hurts

ask me questions if you got any and tell me what you think 💀like I sound crazy I know

and what I think is funny is I’ll have a full roster of men who I’ll go out with yet I’m more tripped over a man I don’t even talk to lmao

[krunklys]

Why Batcest is a Thing

I was talking with my friend the other day and while she's not a batcest shipper, she asked me why I was. I said that I don't think I take it to the same extremes some other people do, a few things that aren't a personal favorite of mine would be any of the REALLY younger kids with Bruce or say Dick and Damian. It's mostly the age gap that gets to me.

But she asked why I liked JayTim and I had a time explaining it to her and I wanted to bring it here as a sort of explanation, I suppose for people who might not enjoy batcest ships.

first of all, the name. Batcest is... an interesting name. A lot of arguments you'll come across is that they're not actually related, or there are some fanfics out there for aus where one of them (most commonly Tim or Jason) were never apart of the Batfamily in the first place. Of course, there are some where they are! Because, at the end of the day, in Canon they do share a family. But the implication of it being incest can be a real no no for people, even if it's not. Dick wasn't adopted into the family for quiet some time (I think he was adopted around the same time Tim was but I'm not a 100% sure, not to mention he acted as his ward and then aged out of it), Jason was adopted but after his return to life has regularly denied his part in the family (Look at literally any Red Hood Comic, though I do prefer to look at the New 52 Red Hood and The Outlaws for his feelings towards Bruce and the Wayne's in general), Tim was adopted but was later emancipated (in Red Robin), and Damian has a blood relation to Bruce only. Morally, there can be a problem with it but for mow shippers, since this is fiction, the lack of blood relation means there's no problem. Remember! They're not real people. Adoptive relationships, or pseudo familial ones, they don't see these relations as any reason to not ship them! And in later points, I go into why. And if people really had a problem with this pseudo familiar relationships, take for example Tim and Jason who have never once lives under the same roof nor have any legal connection to each other through Bruce, then on principal alone they should have a problem with Cassandra and Stephanie - Cass is adopted by Bruce, yes, but Bruce has also claimed Stephanie as part of the family and includes her in family talks. Does that not make them family members? No. They're friends or girlfriends, depending on how you want to interpret them.

Secondly, the canon relationships that any of the Bats have with their partners. I could go through all of them and explain the nuance of the relationships but I'll simplify for the sake of the post. In Bruce's sake, whether it be Talia or Selina or for the more fanon ones like Clark and Min Khoa (i think that's how you spell that, I'm not sure though!), there's no denying that in Canon these relationships don't pan out. Talia and Bruce have moral problems, even if she was originally a spy and didn't kill, and Selina and Bruce have an entire history of problems. For Dick, himself and Barbara are much of the same. A sweet beginning until something comes in to ruin it and they break up. Take, for example, the newest Nightwing run (on webtoon and not technically canon, i know). Barbara breaks up with Dick because she feels disconnected from him and like he's still preforming for her, but they have no conversation about this prior to it. With Kori, I'm not as knowledgeable about why they broke up, all I know is that they did and it was ugly. Another example is Tim! Himself and Stephanie didn't work out because she couldn't trust him, due to now knowing his identity, and then she faked her death, causing the distrust between them both. These are only a few examples of how relationships work out for Bats and in my personal opinion I think it's because of a ack of understanding for the characters, their love interests I mean. And in fanon, partners for Batfamily members tend to be washed down - Kon acts as an emotional crutch for Tim, Roy has morals he simply does not stand with anymore in Canon in JayRoy fics, Barbara is an anecdote in DickBarbara fics, and Selina is barely featured in Bruce fics. Not to mention the simple lack of wlw fics in the fandom that aren't background.

Due to this, the shipping of Batfamily members together is only natural. The characters share similar morals or in the case of Tim have such complicated morals that in fandom you can pick and choose what to use. They're fleshed out, have a canon relationship with multiple layers to it, and complete each other in many ways. In comparison to some of the fandom favorite ships like SuperBat or BirdFlash, where we only see a two dimensional aspect of their relationship recently, then the shipping of characters like Jason and Tim or Tim and Dick together is a natural conclusion to reach.

And Finally, History and old characteristics. It was mentioned before in another post that I'll try to hunt down for you guys and link in a repost because it will be WORLDS better than what I could write and have much more research thrown into it than this does, but originally there were a lot of implications under their relationships, specifically Bruce and Dick. Wardships programs were used by a lot of gay people when gay marriage was illegal, so were adult adoptions. It was to have a legal connection in whatever way possible. And I think in a really old comic, Dick has a dream where he's living in the manor as an adult still with Bruce. Bruce has a portrait of them together. They eat breakfast together in their pajamas or underwear, and spend all their time together. Batman regularly saves Robin over civilians and for his relationships, sometimes they wouldn't work out simply because of Dick. It worked this way for many Superheroes and their sidekicks in the "golden age" of comics! Batman has always had queer undertones since his creation but adding Robin into the mix just proved this. Like it or not, Bruce and Dick had sexual and romantic implications to their relationship since the character was first introduced in the 40s.

As for Old characteristics, in the New 52 i feel as though some of the characters have been washed down do their base characteristics. They lack depth in a way some characters don't or in a way some do, particularly in fanon. Dick's possessive originally and I see people talking about his anger issues as a child a lot, especially in comparison to Jason's Robin run, but either way - the characters have changed throughout the years. That doesn't mean that people can't cling on to their old relationships or even their old personalities. People are so fond of making Jason insane and crazy and Hella mean when in recent adaptations, he's a normal vigilante for all intents and purposes. He's not even a crime lord anymore, I'm pretty sure he still owns the Iceberg Lounge. That's all to say that the boys used to be a lot closer than they are now, especially Tim and Dick and Dick and Bruce.

The conclusion to my explanation to her is that batcest is much of the same as any other ships - picking and choosing what to take from canon to put two people together into a relationship that you like. It's a work of fiction and while that's important to remember, it doesn't say anything about you in real life! you don't enjoy real life incest if you like JayTim. That's all to say si that there's reasons behind it that some people like and some people don't. She wasn't swayed by my answer but accepted it since she couldn't deny that the Batfamily has been explored on and their relationships together so much more than their relationships with anyone else, canon or fanon.

[firewolf111]

Hello!

I've had a fanfic idea in my head for a while, but have been struggling to find the motivation to write, especially since this idea would be a long form fic and I usually write oneshots. I have a bit of an all or nothing mindset, so convincing myself to work on a project I can't finish in one sitting is really hard. So I figured why not try a notes thing.

(Not sure why I'm trying since only my sanders sides ship posts seem to get any attention, but may as well)

So...

For every 5 notes this post gets, I'll write for 15 minutes. Every 10 notes I'll write for the 15 minutes and post a small blurb to keep myself accountable.

If we somehow get to 100 notes, I'll up it to 30 minutes.

Let's go over some basics for the fic so you know whether you want to root for me to write it or not.

It's a Hermitcraft fic. Although it is kinda, slightly a life series cross-over (the summary will make this make sense.

It would technically be Mumbo centric, but it would have scenes from multiple of the Hermits pov.

Sound interesting?

Here's the summary:

The life game was over. Mumbo knew that for a fact. Yet a part of him feels trapped there. Nightmares and paranoia have become a frequent experience for him. But it was just a game. He wasn't going to ruin his friends' fun just because he couldn't handle a little bloodshed. Besides, the game was over. This was Hermitcraft. Hermitcraft was a safe server.

Except... the server is safe. But the players aren't.

Most viruses and parasites that could potentially latch on to a player are normally large enough to be detected by the many firewalls and anti-virus programs Hermircraft has set up. Any of them small enough to slip past are too weak to attach to the players. Or normally they are. But Mumbo hasn't been doing too well.

Why would the Hermits think to check? Surely, if one of them was feeling bad enough that a virus could latch onto and feed off of to grow stronger, then obviously, they would reach out for help. Except he didn't.

And now the virus has grown too strong.

What happens when the virus gives Mumbo the ability to alter the server's code?

Well... he already feels like he is trapped in the life game. So why not bring it to life?

Let the games continue.

(Well, that summary got away from me. I might later make a better one.)

But anyways, if that sounds like a fic you may enjoy, send some notes. Comment, reblog it, tag your mutuals who you think might like it. Do whatever to peer pressure me onto writing this (otherwise, the idea will probably rot away in my brain).

Just preferably keep it to 5 notes a person.

[germesthegenie]

Can a “😍😙😁” gal and a “💀👿🩸” gal really be besties? Sure seems like it so far.

Based on a scene from Ward 3.3

Recently finished Ward Arc 3! Thoughts below:

Been a while since my first post on Ward, a couple of thoughts:

Arc 2

I like the slower pace so far (we’ll see how long that lasts i suppose). Nice to get little moments like Victoria going to interviews and visiting the kids at the hospital.

Zion really gave one last middle finger to humanity and said “You know what? Automated random horrific death triggers.” Jokes aside, the broken trigger scene was haunting, might draw something based on it in the future.

The therapy group superhero team premise is interesting. Nice to have a band of characters who have mental or emotional weaknesses but have each other’s backs! Now let’s see who they’re up agaisnt- oh, Tattletale? Oh no.

Not too many thoughts on the arc’s interlude, a lot of nice worldbuilding which is always welcome.

Arc 3

Capture the Flag was a fun premise for a friendly fight, and it delivered pretty well in showing off everyone’s powers, strengths and weaknesses. Also nice to see Victoria filling a more mentor/coach role and getting to flex the experience she’s gained with her power in a more positive light. Have some drawing ideas once I figure out how exactly I want to depict stuff like her aura.

Liking the new team so far, though still need to wrap my head around some of the finer details of the powers. Definitely gives me Jojo vibes in how the powers are more complex in the sequel/s.

I realized quickly that Kenzie’s powerset is a lot like my character from my friend’s Worm campaign (which I might write more about later on). Also a surveillance/drone Tinker, though with more focus on multiple drones and material efficiency than Kenzie’s big boxes of large scale holograms and photo-distortion.

Seems the group all have their own little secrets and/or problems they need to work through. Please Vic don’t let any of them near Tattletale they would practically be a freebie for her to take down.

Ok, no Birdcage as I learned from last post. But is there, like, a dead Earth with a one way portal to toss Carol into? Is Sleeper still occupying Earth Zayin? Maybe we should send Carol there on a free vacation I hear it’s a lovely time in… whatever the effect of his power is.

Evil Robot Grocery… ok how do you even fight that. I guess it’s an S-class Threat for a reason but like what option is there other than quarantining and bombarding the entire area they’ve spread to? Do EMPs work? Put Ghost Bakuda to good use and make that Arc 6 Bomb to knock them all out?

Silly rodent themed hero. Close enough, welcome back Mouse Protector Ratcatcher. Also gonna toss her on the list of “characters I should draw some time.”

Amy Dallon finally speaks, and looks like she’s making friends! Friends that are all (at least former) supervillains! That are encouraging her down a darker path! I can only see good things happening here. A little surprised we get her this early from an Interlude rather than from a main chapter, though I suppose it does make sense to flesh her out more now rather than waiting until Victoria directly sees her again in whatever state she’s in by that point (probably a bad one).

That’s all the Ward thoughts I could think of at the moment. Will be reading more, next update hopefully won’t take 2 months again (but probably will)

[captainzigo]

Hi everypony!

My kofi is ko-fi.com/captainzigo if you enjoy my art, consider leaving me a tip! this is otherwise entirely a labor of love so,,,

you can also send a request with your tip! but if you choose to do so, please read the disclaimer later on in this post**

my non-art blog, where i accept asks is @snapewife-divorce-lawyer and my reblog-spam blog is @3amgaypotion also i am on bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/captainzigo.bsky.social

that's a bunch of pictures of my oc(/ponysona) Prickly Pear. she's a cowgirl

Frequent/noteworthy questions below the break

**on donations made to me:

i still dont take commissions currently, but if you send a request with a donation, there's a 99% chance i'll do it. and that remaining 1% i'll probably just ask you for a different request. if you send me a request with a donation you are not sending me a commision. you are making a donation, and i might do you a favor as a result. you do not own the resulting art. and I am under no obligation to complete it or to do it in the way that you like. you do not need to make a donation in order to make a request. i talk more about it here

hello mutuals!

If you are a mutual, DM me for an invite to discord server and subsequently to minecraft server

on sending me asks:

any asks you send me should be like Strongbad emails. one paragraph. no attachments. unless you are sending me refs.

in any interactions, please keep in mind that i am a stranger on the internet and act accordingly.

unless I have explicitly said otherwise, you can safely assume that I do not count you amongst my friends. it is nothing personal, it is in fact the opposite.

why am i like this?

i am autistic. i say this because representation matters, but also because i would like to ask that you please be very frank with me. i don't even really need your patience. just say what you mean and we will get along fine.

can you draw my ocs?

you most certainly can draw any of my ocs. i'd love that acually. tag me

on (re)posting my art:

do not post my art on other platforms. do not repost my art period. I don't really exist on other platforms since i deleted Twitter. So if you see my stuff on other platforms, it's not me. except for my bluesky.

transformative works are obviously allowed, at least here in USamerica where i live. but if you want my blessing, please keep them SFW, and try to keep the spirit of the original artwork

is my blog SFW?

im in my twenties. i keep my blog SFW (as i define it) as a strict rule.

i do not consider the fact that sex exists, that some people enjoy it, or some innuendo to be NSFW. i also do not consider swearing, even as tho a sailor might, to be NSFW.

are NSFW interactions ok?

in short: no. while i have no aversion to to that sort of thing, and often actually enjoy it, i keep this blog SFW. the intention behind my art is to be SFW even when it might be skirting the line. in general, and especially, specifically with mlp, i do not wish to have NSFW interactions on the internet. please respect this boundary.

on shipping:

in my opinion, all romance real or fictional should be between people who are similar in age, doing age appropriate things, not closely related, and all with mutual consent. i am not interested in witnessing or interacting with anything outside of these parameters.

on my blue hair and pronouns:

i am a trans woman. i am also bisexual. i am also poly and demi since im listing things. i am out online becasue i know how important it is to know that you aren't alone.

do i take constructive criticism?

NO 🖕👹🖕 FUCK YOU!!!!!!! GET BLOCKED IDIOT!! unless you are a marginalized person who feels i have unintentionally made you uncomfortable somehow with my art or otherwise. in that case i am sorry and you do me a great favor by calling me out. OTHERWISE FUCK YOU DUMBASS IF YOU DONT LIKE MY ART GO DRAW YOUR OWN 🖕🖕🖕🖕

“i hate bronies”…

i don't necessarily hate you if you self identify with that label. i like to make myself off-putting to keep creeps away. i talk about it more in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/captainzigo/744131513208176640/when-i-say-i-hate-bronies-in-my-header-its

brony?

i don't hold a lot of nostalgia for old brony stuff. infact it's quite the opposite. i was a child when the show came out, and more than that i was a girl. i am not a brony.

do i like g5?

i like all generations of mip including the new stuff. gen 4 is just the one i grew up with

why is my header aurora, bori and alice from the best gift ever?

well that would be because i hate them like a mother hates a child. like the sun hates the moon. like sickly victorian child hates the slightest morsel of bread.

on flurryheart:

i often draw stuff about cozy glow x flurry heart. this is with the understanding that cozy glow spends about a decade turned to stone. nullifying the age gap.

🤓☝️ i think you mean effect, not affect

i am dyslexic. i spell stuff wrong all the time and i type weird. please don't bother correcting me. wooptydoo your brain is wired normally. sending you a medal.

on my username:

i've had the same username since i debuted on the internet. zigo is the name of an oc i made that i dont really talk much about anymore. zigo is a fine enough nickname, and at least one person calls me that irl.

[trainsinanime]

The following post is intended to be seen as levity and joking, not salt.

Chloé this, Chloé that, "Redemption started?", "Redemption interrupted?", "Redemption cancelled?". The discussion is getting old. What I haven't seen enough yet is how the show did Sabrina really dirty, by giving her the worst thing of all: A conscience.

The early parts of the show toyed a lot with how exactly Chloé and her relation to Sabrina works, which was clearly not well established when the first episode came out (hell, they didn't even seem to know who Max and Kim were yet, they only had their character models). Sabrina's deal is easy enough in the abstract, but difficult to pin down in the early episodes: Is she more meek or mean? More of a victim or more of a bully? Does she share Chloé's values whole-heartedly, opportunistically, or is she pressured into it? Does she have scruples or is she just a coward? Those are all elements in her character to some extent, but the exact mixture did not really solidify until she got an episode to shine and be away from Chloé, in Evilstrator.

That episode did the fairly obvious plot of Marinette going, "you can stand up to your bully instead of doing their homework for them!", and then showed us how Sabrina reacted. And the reaction was: Sabrina is every bit as unhinged as Chloé, just in completely different ways, and their dysfunctional relationship might just be the only one in which either of them can function.

This choice is not fully unproblematic, but ultimately okay in my book. I think die-hard Sabrina stans might call this character assassination, but I don't think there are any die-hard Sabrina stans. I feel like I should become one just to even out the numbers. Anyway, the choice clearly telegraphs that the show is not interested in long-running redemption arcs, which, you know, fair enough, it is designed for six-year-old French kids after all. (Yes, season 2 and 3 looked rather different here, but that's later)

The show did not exactly use Sabrina consistently after that, but for a while, they leaned into it. Early Sabrina was often mean, materialistic, codependent (I don't actually know what that word means I'm just guessing) and toxic in her own way. She broke into Marinette's room, helped steal Marinette's designs, lie and cheat for Chloé.

And then that was basically it. The show mostly forgot about her. She was an appendage to Chloé, usually frightened and a bit incompetent, but not much more. When Chloé showed signs of a bit of a hint of a redemption arc, Sabrina was not part of it. When Chloé gained a sister for, I actually don't know (I still maintain that "replacement bee" makes no sense for anything but selling merch), and there were hints that this might be relevant to her story, Sabrina wasn't there.

What did happen in the moments we saw Sabrina was that Sabrina got more meek, more scared of Chloé, and less mean. There were no more hints of her playing superheroes with Chloé and being at least somewhat of a friend, and also none of the meanness of Miraculer, one of the worst Akuma names in the show. Instead she was now in a closet doing Chloé's homework.

As she becomes less effective, she becomes more sympathetic, with some moments e.g. in the New York special, until she finally becomes Miss Hound. At this point we have basically the exact same thing that Evilstrator rejected: Sabrina is really just an oppressed underling who is too scared to tell Chloé to stop, instead of someone with at least some of her own ideas that happen to overlap with Chloé's in all the worst ways.

This all comes to a head in confrontation, when Sabrina's defining character trait is suddenly, out of nowhere, that as a police officer's daughter, she hates lying and stealing and hates that Chloé makes her do it. Since when!? Sabrina, weren't you around for Darkblade!?

Sabrina breaks off her friendship with Chloé and is now officially a good girl. And that sucks.

Old Sabrina had a certain edge to her. She made sense as an Akuma threat on her own, and even as a threat to Chloé as Vanisher and Miraculer. Now, she's only an Akuma effectively when Chloé tells her to, and she stopped listening to Chloé anyway. Her personality is now strictly: A good girl. Not like Chloé.

Ironically, in her emancipation, she has lost almost everything that made her unique, and become entirely defined by Chloé in every way. She's her own person, but with barely any personality traits except "not like Chloé anymore". No hobbies, no meaningful relationships with anyone, she's just there, and nice now I guess.

There are so much more interesting things you could have done with a mean Sabrina, which we know for sure because the show already did some.

But that's really part of a wider issue: When people talk about Chloé, they mostly forget Sabrina, and Sabrina isn't interesting enough to stand on her own. The ideas of a Chloé redemption throughout season 2, 3 and in some form 4 focused on Chloé's relationship with Ladybug, Marinette, a bit Adrien, Audrey, and a bit Zoé. Chloé's super-duper villain arc in season 5 focused on her relationship with Lila. Sabrina, who has been here from day one, who has the longest and most complex relationship with Chloé out of any character, is not a part of it at all.

I think that sucks. I think Sabrina has more potential, but in particular I think Chloé is more interesting if we include Sabrina in the discussion as well. Their relationship is something deeply weird and unique, and any Chloé redemption that brushes it off leaves a lot of very tasty crumbs on the table. It sucks that it ended like that. Yes, Sabrina is now redeemed, but as a result of that, she's boring, and isn't that much worse than being evil?

In short: We should all write more Chloé/Sabrina fanfics.