#the more i think about this the more big brained i feel

[kanmom51]

Chapter 3 in the making

Traveling together to "film a show" was big (yes, this was to film a show, but we all know it was mainly to spend much needed time together, and if we didn't, let's be honest that we did, but if we didn't, then JK literally confirmed this for us in episode 1 of AYS). But back in 2023 when a public Jikook was a scarcity, left us with more question marks than anything else as to how this will actually be coming to fruition.

Enlisting together was HUGE. Like H U G E. Them being the only ones to do so not only within BTS but the first and only idols to do so. A choice made by the two of them. To do this together. With each other. Not with anyone else.

Are You Sure?! Do we need any words here? Like really? Because AYS was as loud as F$@&. No, seriously, idk what you want to call it, a soft launch, a smack in the noggin, whatever you do, it was quite clear to those who have eyes and a brain. With or without knowing who JM and JK are, their history, their culture. Louder to those who do know them.

Since their enlistment and even through Muse and AYS we got practically nothing from the two. Oh, we did have a couple of interesting pics from their basic training and graduation, a few pics from the unit, a shit ton of signatures, some more interesting than others (joint messages, pretty decorations...) and a few nice messages, but mostly silence from the two. This stood out even more so in comparison to the almost barrage we've been getting from NJ and Tae, both enlisted only a day before Jikook.

And then came December. With less than 6 months to go.

JK going live from his new place. Dare I say their new place? It's not like we haven't talked about this over the past 18 months. Speculating, wondering. But man (figure of speech y'all), these last couple of months, they are sure making me feel like what we saw as leaning to the delusional side or more so wishful thinking, ain't no delusion or wish, but more so a very possible reality to come.

But let's get back on track.

So, December gave us:

"We spend our free time together", "we sing together", "we sing while we shower daily together", not to mention JK's btw remark about seeking privacy away from others "to sing".

Then came JM in January with their "conversations before going bed" about "what kind of image we want to show" and "what kind of lives we will live moving forward".

And February rolls in and we think that we will be back to their silent treatment, but JK comes to us with a heartfelt message (they really feel the end and want out). But nothing prepared us for Hobi's birthday live and once again those two with their "we share a room" and "we have stories to tell, but not sure how much we actually can..." that won't scare us off, lol.

Funny how every single hysterical claim made by those who were hit so very hard by their joint enlistment has been shut down by the two of them by now!!

Anyway, do we see a pattern here? Can we call this a pattern? Is there more to come? Well, obviously there is post military service, but seeing as to how they have been in the past couple of months, I'm thinking that we will be getting more even before that.

I'm guessing that conclusion isn't a far fetched one, seeing what we got last night.

And OMG, that was another HUGE loud af Jikook statement.

Ribbon on right: "I love you 🖤"

Ribbon on left: "BTS Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook".

Yes, a statement.

I stand by that.

Because even if you don't think it's anymore than a cute thing, just another thing that Jikook do together, then you are not seeing the cultural context here.

So, several content producers/directors that were Hybe employees (directors of I am still, AYS and JM's production diary amongst others) have left the company to open their own company (Idk too much about the company they opened, but my guess is that they will continue working with Hybe as contractors rather than employees, but also allowing them to work with other companies and create their own content, including producing a new boy band). And they posted the congratulation they have received.

From Hobi.

Hoshi and Woonhoo of Seventeen.

Each sending a separate wreath.

Zico

And there are wreaths they received from more than one sender. Joint wreaths. But this was from companies (joint ceos), or business partners. Not two separate idols or people.

Now, if you don't see what's huge here, let me show you the K side of this to maybe get some perspective (although, let's be honest, you don't need to be on the K side to see this is a couple thing).

Yes, I wonder the same thing!!!

There is more.

So much more.

The K side of things is literally going mad. Good mad.

And there is a reason they are.

This is most definitley not something friends, as close as they might be, would do. Not friends, not multimillionaire friends. They most definitley can afford two wreaths. And that's one of the points here.

Once again.

This was a choice.

Not to send separate congratulative wreaths. They sure can afford to do so. Even if they aren't on vacation at the moment and are in the base. Seriously, two young men closing in on their 30s, independently financially sufficient and so much more.

Yeah, this most definitley was a statement.

And the frenzy K Jikookers are in at this very moment is well enough proof to that.

Btw, haven't been to the dark side, don't know just how crazy and rabid the cult and antiis are going, but my guess would be...

Anyways, sitting here smile plastered on my face, I'm kind of starting to think, that this is maybe, just maybe, going to become our new normal. Jikook doing couplie things, openly, proudly, unapologetically.

And if this is them even before they are discharged...

What a great time this is going to be.

[trashmouth-richie]

: *✧･ﾟeddie x female reader | snowed in | 18+ smut [6K]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* sexual tension lingers when you + your bestfriend get snowed in together during the biggest blizzard on record - aka, eddie munson and the blizzard sex in apartment 4D

“So that’s how you would find x,” you say tapping the rubber eraser to your notebook paper, “is this making any sense?��� 

When you agreed to come help Eddie study you were glad to do it. Ever since you were kids he had always struggled with school. While he was able to skate through elementary and middle school, high school had been harder for him. And he would be the first to admit that it was you that got him through his final year at Hawkins High. 

Now, many states away, at a college where the only person he knew was you— he was falling behind.

Having a new found freedom of college professors genuinely not caring if you showed up to class or not, he took advantage of that perk and decided to not attend his eight AM class monday, wednesday, and definitely not friday. 

Assignments went undone, tests were skipped and forgotten about. Weekday ragers, mid morning hangovers, and late night shifts as a barback at O’Houllihan’s kept Eddie busy but not enough to excuse his lack of attendance.

The end of the semester was nearing, and Eddie was looking at failing remedial algebra. A class that meant he was already behind everyone else, and if he were to fail— he’d be kicked out left to pack his shit and head back home. 

After an ass chewing over thanksgiving break from a disappointed Wayne, that icy blue stare nearly welling with traitorous tears, Eddie finally decided to pull his head out of his ass and study for his last semester of junior year.

“You’d think after dealin’ for Rick all through high school that math would be a fuckin’ no brainer.” Eddie huffed, sitting back in his desk chair, his long thick fingers folded behind his head, “maybe if they added dime bags and some half ounces, I’d actually understand this shit.”

You snickered, pushing eraser shavings from the page with your fingers, “think Mr. Walter would go for it, he totally ate his fair share of shrooms in the 60’s.” 

“Mother fucker probably invented them.” Eddie agreed, dragging those big hands down his face with a groan, “godddd I hate school.” 

You close the Algebra book and shove it into Eddie’s backpack zipping it up, “oh you poor thing, must be hard to be musically talented and go to college on a full ride scholarship.” Your bottom lip pops out to show your fake sympathy and Eddie returns it with an eye roll and a middle finger. 

“Shit,” he sighs, blowing air through his lips standing and running his fingers over your jacket on the back of his chair, “didn’t even think I’d get in let alone have all of my tuition paid for, besides.. you’re the one who was going to leave me for dead back home Miss This-Will-Look-Perfect-On-My-College-Applic—ow!” 

Your friendship with Eddie was never a casual thing. 

You were friends, sure, but it was somehow more than that. Eddie had dated around in high school and you had too but they never lasted. Summer of senior year you had even been so close as almost sharing a kiss while drunk on Boonesfarm at Byers’ party— something you both denied ever happening. But something you also both stayed up at night thinking about unbeknownst to one another. 

That June night was burned into your brain, and you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. 

“I wasn’t going to leave you for dead!” you teased, giggling as Eddie nursed his ‘injury’ after the pencil you had been holding slammed into his soft hoodie, “I told you we’d find a way for you to come with me.” 

Eddie smiled and bit his lip, he was grateful that you were willing to do whatever it took to get him into college. And he was stunned stupid when his creative writing, and an autobiography that was assigned freshman year had gotten the attention of not one, but two of the bigger colleges you had also applied to. 

He swore he never submitted them, deciding at the last minute that college wasn’t for him and that he didn’t want to leave his uncle behind— so you and Wayne both did it for him. Licking envelopes and sticking stamps, praying on a trailer park dream that Eddie could get in. 

“Always lookin’ out for me aren’t ya?” He mused, his cheeks burning with a blush on his porcelain skin. 

“We look out for each other, Eddie,” you say cheerfully, “Always have.” 

Eddie stares as you read through your notes, eyeing the little piece of hair that falls into your eyes, too short to shove behind your ear. He remembers when you got glasses, how you hated them. Loathed the way they made your face look, and how the wire rims sat on your round cheeks. Now they’re pushed on top of your head, pulling your hair back so the light in his room shone on your silky skin. 

You were beautiful. 

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you stretch with arms over your head, fingers laced together. Eddie snuck a glance at you, noticing that your soft cardigan fit too big on the sleeves and the plain shirt you wore underneath was riding up your stomach, showing a strip of skin that he only got to see during the summer time. 

He wasn’t sure when he started noticing you were more to him than just a friend— that’s a lie, Eddie knew the exact moment, the exact second. 

He skipped out on dates, said no when Rick’s girlfriend offered to “show him the ropes” one night when he was waaay too high and was blabbing away about how he didn’t know why he ended things with every other girl he had been with.  

It was obvious why. Maybe to everyone but him and to you. 

“I’ve had enough studying for tonight,” Eddie says, cracking his back, “wanna go to a movie or somethin? Channel 6 said we are in for some snow… I can drive, we can sneak in some shrooms Pete left, I might have some k laying around here somewhere.” 

You giggle reaching back to the bed and gathering your stuff. “Nothing about being high at the movie theater sounds good to me, Eddie.” 

He rolls his eyes, “yeah because you always freak out, weed is s’posed to be relaxing.” 

For whatever reason, weed was never that for you. It left you paranoid and skittish, but mostly clinging to Eddie with wide horrified eyes, whispering about how you couldn’t feel your legs. 

“Thanks, but not tonight,” you say behind your hand as a yawn escapes, “I gotta work in an hour and Sal said if I’m late one more time he’s gonna fire me.” 

“Ppffft, he’s not gonna fire you, fucker can’t afford to lose anyone at that shithole.” 

You grab your bag and look for your shoes, shrugging.

“Tips are good, all I have to do is bat my eyelashes a few times and they fork the dough over. Plus! Mikey always saves me a burger when he shuts the kitchen down. Win-win.”

He stands with a cross to his brows and when he doesn’t say anything you pull at the sleeve on his hoodie, “come on, walk me out. ” 

Eddie hated your job. Hated that you worked at the sleaziest bar in town. The thought of you flirting with drunk guys to make a little extra money made him sick. 

He’s mumbling under his breath the short walk to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the door open with dramatic flair, he bows with a hand forward to let you exit. You laugh, and before you can say bye, before you’re crossing the threshold Eddie pipes up in a serious voice.

“Tomorrow. Movies. You, me, a bucket of over buttered popcorn… I’ll even buy you a Cherry Coke.” 

Heat warms your cheeks under his stare, and you can’t help but smile back at him. That nagging feeling you couldn’t pinpoint was hung thick between the two of you again, and you looked anywhere but at him. 

Taking time to examine the veins on his hand as it gripped the door handle, the way his eyelashes seem to have their own permanent curl to them…. “add a pack of twizzlers and you got yourself a deal, Munson.” 

He smiles as you step into the soft lit hallway of the fourth floor. “Don’t leave me hanging, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes and laugh, he’s standing in the doorway, the door partly closed behind him, “see you later, better hurry—you’re gonna be late.” 

Eddie watches as you head for the stairs. His heart pumping wildly in his chest, but why? You two were friends. What was he even doing?

Shutting the door he slides the bolt into place pressing his forehead into the wood, a low groan escaping from his lips. What the hell was he doing? He runs the conversation back over in his head mocking himself as he strips off his hoodie and t-shirt, tossing them around his shared apartment. 

“You and me and buttered popcorn’ Christ Munson, get it together.” Flopping on the couch Eddie sighs loudly, saying your name out loud and letting a smile quirk on his lips as he drifts to sleep.

❆ ❆ ❆

Frantic knocks pull him from his catnap and he rolls his eyes as the knocks turn to pounding. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep for but it was now dark, his apartment cast into complete inky blackness. 

Pete probably forgot his keys, again, he thinks. Bounding to the door and flinging it open an annoyed expression on his face. But it’s not Pete at the door, it’s you. 

Snowflakes, and chunks of ice were matted in your wind blown hair, your teeth chattered loudly as you tried to force a small smile, wiping a tear away from your eye.

“Jesus! Are you alright?” 

Eddie pulls you inside rubbing your arms to bring warmth back into them. He listens as you sob about getting stuck in the ditch on the way to work, and how the only landmark you could make out was Eddie’s apartment, so you made the decision to leave your car and trek back the way you had come. 

He huffs in a worried tone, flicking on the lights and watching as they sputter to life. You’re gently trying to pry the gloves from your fingers when he steps in to help and unzips your jacket, assessing you further as he realizes you are covered in snow. 

“You walked here?!” 

Eddie always yelled when he was worried or scared, a bad habit that he unknowingly picked up from Wayne. 

The tears flow down your face now in a frozen river, the ache of numb limbs and nearly frostbitten skin has you crying out in pain.  

“I should have st-stayed in the car, but it was so cold Eddie, and th-the snow is coming down so hard, nothing in town is open! N-no one on the streets, not even a snow plow.”

Eddie leaves you to throw open the crooked blinds. Not a single street lamp was on, the city looked deserted except for the howling wind and sheets of snow blanketing the ground, swallowing up the roads. If he were to look hard enough he’d see the waist deep path you had made to get here. 

Doubling back to your shivering body, his mind was scrambling on what to do. “Christ! You’re lucky you’re not dead!” 

“I know,” you wail, unable to stop the clacking of your teeth, “b-but I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Wayne had taught Eddie many things in his time of caring for his nephew. How to fish, how to hunt, how to be a respected man (that he was still trying to master) But something that always stuck with Eddie was the fear of the elements and how you could die from a heat stroke or the opposite—freeze to death.

“You gotta warm up before you pass out or something, your clothes are soaked, they need to come off.” He shakes his head like a parent finding their teen sneaking out of the house. “Go to my room, undress and I’ll make some coffee.” 

Your clothes were stiff and heavy as you peeled them from your body. Clumps of snow littering the carpet of Eddie’s room as you stripped with shaky fingers and shivering limbs. If you weren’t freezing you would have thought about how strange it was to be naked in your bestfriends room, but at your current state you could barely register what you were doing. 

His bed was warm as you sat under a blanket, the entire thing webbed around your head down to your toes, only leaving your face exposed. 

A low ring sounds from the kitchen and you hear Eddie move around to answer the phone. You couldn’t remember a single time where you felt this cold. Even doing your traditional New Year’s eve plunge into Lover’s Lake with Eddie every year was warmer than this. 

It could have been ten minutes or an hour before Eddie came into his room. He was balancing two cups of coffee and a plate stacked with two grilled cheese sandwiches. 

“Alright Frosty,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, eyeing your heap of clothes. Clearing his throat, his cheeks pink as he starts to ramble, “h-hope you’re hungry, because this is all I know how to make and I can’t go to the grocery store to get anything else.” 

“Smells good,” you manage through shivered lungs and rattling teeth, “thank you.” 

He sets down the mugs on his nightstand, adjusting it so you could both reach as he sat beside you, then deciding to grab one and moving closer, taking a big gulp before he sits back. 

“Probably shouldn’t hold a cup yet, you’ll burn yourself.” 

He waits for your hands to wrap around the porcelain and he gently tips the cup towards your lips. The coffee seems to seep through your bones, warming you up ever so slightly as you convince your throat to cooperate and swallow. It was heaven.

“Always looking out for me, Munson,” you say with a little smile, your eyes meeting his.

He holds your gaze for longer than he ever has, not saying a word just staring endlessly into your eyes. A smile creeps to his lips and he hums softly in agreement. 

A beat passes of Eddie carefully helping you sip at the coffee, and you begin to feel your fingers thaw, yet the chill in your body is still prevalent and you shake beneath the heavy blanket. 

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch again as he contemplates how to help. A hot shower would only make it worse, causing your body to go into shock. But you needed to get warmer. His mind is working a mile a second but it comes down to the same thing, there’s only one thing he knows of for sure that will help. 

Kneeling in front of you Eddie reaches forward and touches your cheek. “Hey, I need you to know that all I’m trying to do is help you okay? Cause right now you are shivering and your lips are changing color… so I need— I … shit, I’m going to hold you, so that my body temperature can help get yours back up.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, glassy eyes barely open. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks almost shamefully, “Because its—”

“Yes, Please.” 

“Okay, okay okay,” Eddie moves the end table and positions himself in front of you again, pulling gently at the blanket wrapped around you until you’re only sitting in your bra and panties, but he doesn’t look. Instead he positions himself behind you and wraps the blanket behind the both of you. 

He winces when your cold skin presses into his chest, “goddamn, you’re freezing.” 

You muster a small giggle in response. His skin feels like fire against yours, almost painful as your body temperature fights to calibrate with his own. 

Any other day you’d have been embarrassed to have Eddie see you like this, mismatched undergarments and looking sickly, and you would definitely feel something more than anything but tired with your bodies huddled together under the blanket. 

His warm calloused hands run up the length of your arms and down your knees to your ankles and up again. You can feel the press of his belt buckle into your lower back, the heat from it almost branding your flesh like cattle on a ranch. 

You welcomed his body warmth with open arms, his hands melted you, and fuck— they felt amazing on your frozen skin. Your teeth chatter as your hands huddle around your mouth, blowing any warmth into them you can, trying to stifle a small escaped mmmf.

Given the circumstances, Eddie is relatively calm. He’s not letting himself register that he is touching you, that his bare chest is against your soft back. That your skin, although ice fucking cold, is smooth like silk, he’s not comprehending that you’re both half naked in his bed. 

No— he’s not doing any of that. Because you are his friend, and you were going to get sick if you didn’t warm up soon, and he was helping you. 

Nevermind that your clothes were cluttered on his floor. 

Nevermind that you were wearing a lacy pink bra, a color that he definitely didn’t know the proper name of. 

It didn’t matter that your breathing seemed to hitch a bit when his hands worked up your knees and skimmed along your waist, his thumbs rubbing over the string of stretchy fabric sitting high past your hips. 

You were Eddie’s friend, he was your friend, and that’s all that matt— jesus christ are y— are you enjoying this? 

No, no. He’s mistaken. His voice was almost gravely when he collected his thoughts. “Is this okay? Are you feeling better?”

Answering with a nod you lay your head back against his shoulder, “feels good, your hands… s’ warm.” 

Eddie takes the opportunity to nuzzle his chin into the space between your neck and shoulder, wrapping himself around you in a hug. “For the record, there won’t ever be a day where I won’t look out for you, sweetheart.” 

If your cheeks could heat up they would burn, but right now the frozen butterflies in your belly warm up and flutter around, causing a sheepish little grin to paint your lips. 

“Really?” you whisper, tracing the top of his hand delicately with your finger tips.  

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs lightheartedly, “can’t imagine not having you.” He goes rigid, stumbling over his words, realizing what he just said, “n—not having you in my life, as a friend.” 

The silence grows loud and Eddie panics, but you haven’t pulled away yet.. in fact you haven’t said anything at all. He was aching to know what was going through your head. 

“Have you… thought of having me another way?” 

“What?”

Your own heart is pumping so fast all the cold has left your extremities. It was either now or never knowing, and missing this opportunity so perfectly laid out like you had in June years ago wasn’t something you are willing to do again. 

“Have you thought about us.. being more than what we are now, more than this.” 

Eddie, ever the brave, takes a deep breath steadying his hands on your knees in a slight grip, “yeah, yeah I have.” 

“Oh,” you choke out.

Oh? A word of multitude meanings. It’s silent again, only the roaring wind outside to accompany the wild beating hearts in Apartment 4D. 

Before either of you could say anything more, the lights flickered once, twice, and finally went out for good. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes behind you, and he tries to move but you hold him where he is: with you, holding you, touching you. 

“Do you remember the summer after Senior Year? When Jonathan threw that party at Hopper’s abandoned cabin?” 

Of course he remembered, the smell of your vanilla perfume still stung his nose from time to time, even though you had switched to a different one, Eddie never forgot how your skin glistened, how your hair smelled of sticky honey and vanilla. He found himself drowning in that memory of you often. 

“Yeah,” he swallows, “I do.” 

It's easier in the dark to ask these kinds of questions, easier to answer them also. Like the dark casted a veil of trust and zero judgment. As if whatever you were admitting would stay here forever, in the inky dark, beneath the heat of Eddie’s warm arms and a hand me down blanket.  

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” your voice was small and meek, but beneath your skin your heart thundered. 

He lets out a shuddering breath past your shoulder, one that raises goosebumps against your bare skin. “I didn’t know you wanted that from me.” 

Before you can object Eddie continues, “you made me nervous back then… I couldn't think, and I don’t— didn’t— want to ruin it.” 

“And now?” You ask, moving Eddie’s hands like a puppet master so they skim up your hips and around your middle, cupping just below your foreign shaded pink bra. “Do I still make you nervous?” 

He swallowed audibly, but he took back control of his hands and rested them below your ribs, circling your skin in lazy patterns, his thumb nail catching on the underwire. 

“Well,” he whispers against your shoulder, his lips hovering idly over your pebbled skin, “I’ve had years to fantasize about it.” 

“Fantasize?”

“Mhmm,” he confirms, lowering his mouth impossibly lower to your skin, “can’t get you outta my head.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and your body is pulsating with want, warming from the inside out, no longer shivering from the freezing temperatures but from him.

You needed your hands on him. Now. 

Lifting your arms to escape the warmth of the blanket,  you reach backward to cradle them behind his neck. Weaving them through his soft curls as you arch your back and pull him toward you. 

A groan escapes his lips and you shudder in response, unable to take one more minute without his lips on you, you turn around and balance on your knees between his legs.  

He’s too pretty like this, nothing but the shadows of the storm on his face and bare chest. A haze in his eyes as they roam over your body. A strangled fuck slips from his lips and he’s all but drooling like a puppy at the sight of you like this in front of him. 

“C’mere,” he nearly whispers, gesturing with his fingers and patting his lap with his other hand. 

You straddle his hips and lay your hands on his chest, flicking your thumb nail across his silver chain he never took off, a shy smile on your lips. 

“Hi.” 

Eddie rests his hands on your lower back, following your spine and finally feeling that the little stretchy fabric he felt earlier on your hips, v’d off into a tiny thong. He was positive he’d have a stroke before this blizzard was over. 

“I wanna kiss you like I should have at Byer’s party. ‘m not gonna stop unless you tell me to, and goddamn baby I really hope you don’t.”  

His lips find yours in the dark and fireworks light behind your eyelids. It’s soft and slow and impossibly sweet. Eddie tasted like coffee and cream and slow Sunday mornings. 

You open your mouth and his tongue greets yours, tangling together into a sleep massage filled with soft moans and rolling hips. Your fingers weave through the hair at the back of his neck and after all this time of knowing Eddie, you can’t believe how soft his hair feels. 

Like silk sheets in a fancy hotel. 

He’s swallowing your little gasps as he grows hard beneath you. Peppering kisses down your neck, across your collarbone and landing back to nip at your earlobe. He’s taking his time, carving his hands along your curves, kissing every surface he can find, growing impossibly stiff beneath your sweeping hips. 

Eddie moans when you call out his name once he has you on your back, his mouth hot against your peaked nipple, your fingers wrapped in his curls. You’re practically writhing beneath him, aching for him to keep going. 

His boxers come off and you can only feel, and judging by the way your hand can’t wrap fully around him— you knew taking him would be every bit of heaven and the best parts of hell. 

He whines with pleasure when he’s pressed into the mattress as you tease him. Kissing the tattoos on his hips, you make sure to take extra care of the warped and mottled patch of skin on his ribs. You knew, despite his protests, that they still itched and weren't as pliable as it had been before the skin was ripped from his body. 

Your hands work his shaft in tandem with your mouth, wrapping as much of him as you could manage, he’s a panting mess when he practically pleads that he can’t take anymore, he needs to be inside of you.

He leaned towards the night stand reaching for a lone condom. But you want him just the way he is. Want to feel everything he has to offer. Want to feel him stretch you open, want him to feel the way you adjust and gasp with each inch of him stuffing into you. 

When he lines up, he looks up just as you intake a sharp breath, watching as your bodies connect, and he practically cums on that sight alone. 

He’s moaning low and practically rumbling out fuck every other word. Your breath is gone, suffocated by being so full you can barely contain yourself. Eddie works you through it, and when he’s fully seated to the hilt, he leans forward and collects your lips whispering how he’s got you, how he’ll take of you, always. And he would forever if you’d let him. 

When he moves it’s slow and steady, his hips moving fluidly like the rhythm to a song. Your hands are clutching onto him, gripping his biceps, leaving moon shaped indents in his skin that only add to his pleasure. 

Eddie picks up speed when your body moves back against him, knowing that you need more, want more and he’s happy to oblige. Pressing a thumb on your clit he rubs slow, then fast. Circular, then up and down. He’s working her like a rotary phone and you come undone, whimpering his name and moaning as tears leak from the corners of your eyes. 

He follows not far behind you, and it’s a shaky, earth shattering high that has him throwing his head back holding onto your hips as if you were keeping him Earth bound. 

You both collapse into a tangled mess of sheets and sweat and discarded clothing. Eddie tries to get up but you pull him back to you, kissing his jaw and reveling in the high of euphoric bliss. 

❆ ❆ ❆

Four days the power flickered on and off as the city worked hard to restore things back to normal. It was the most snowfall the city had ever seen, but you missed it all. Hard to keep track of what day or time it was when you were constantly being fucked into oblivion by a man who absolutely adored you and worshipped your body like a sacred temple. 

You were raw, and stained with presses and laps from his lips and tongue, a deep set of teeth marked the back half of your shoulder that you were extremely privy to. 

Eddie also had his fair share of love bites and claw marks from you. Unlocking a kink you didn’t know even existed a/n: (Does it? Marked men? is that a kink? listen bitch idk but it’s hot)

Neither one of you worrying about anything, barely making time to make a meal before you were back at it again, on the table, the counter, the bathroom floor, Pete’s bed, up against Eddie’s closet— everywhere, not a single surface was left untainted. 

The questions of what comes next, what does this mean for him and for you would be answered another time. 

For now, in the blissful naivety of the shelter from the blizzard in his bedroom of apartment 4D —that would later smell of coffee, and cigarettes and a record set of orgasms: you were tickled pink to be snowed in with him.

likes, comments, reblogs are loved and adored ** if you want to see more dm’s are always open and welcome, thanks for having me back here after being gone from this space for a few months 🖤💋

All time taglist that i’m dogshit at remembering: @dashingdeb16 @bastardstevie @what-the-jams @lexr86 @pretendthisnameisclever

@littlebibibliophile

[kurokawaia]

Hi, I read your story, where the kids are rude to mom (the kids of Bakugou, Dabi and Hawks) how do the kids react if their mom decides to ignore them as punishment?

AFTERMATH OF YELLING AT YOUR MAMA!

⋆·˚ ༘ * FEATURING :: Bakugou Katsuki, Hawks, Dabi - (separately)

⋆·˚ ༘ * WARNINGS :: none really, bakugou x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader, dabi x fem!reader, x fem!reader, second pov, reader is a mother, kids have a little bit of attitude, kids are around 5-8 years of age, slight spoilers for dabi! I don't condone ignoring your children, please don't, + more? MINI DRABBLES.

DABI

Well, you and Dabi's son is a carbon copy of his father, so he acts the same when being given the silent treatment only less touchy (obviously da faq) The first stage is acting like he doesn't care, he will cross his arms letting out a grumpy huff while rolling his eyes, "Whatever, I don't need to talk to you anyways," is what your son will say, but, after a few hours he starts to feel a little weird. His mum isn't nagging, isn't scolding, isn't even looking at him and it feels so wrong because you always give him attention whether he wants it or not.

The second stage will be when he starts to get annoyed at not receiving any attention, he will trail behind you, definitely gets extra moody (shocker where he got that from) he will go around kicking random toys, furniture and overexaggerated sighs. This happens all until he hugs the back of your legs and mumbles, "I'm sorry I was mean, Mum. Can you talk to me again?" looking as far as you can behind you all you could do was regret ignoring him because of how dilated his cyan eyes were, having his lips in a sad pout and a sheen of tears glazed over his eyes.

HAWKS

Hawks’ kid can’t handle the silent treatment, because she is as needy as her father when it comes to attention. The moment she realizes you’re ignoring them, their brain starts spiraling because you usually just forgive her but Hawks suggested a different strategy. There is no phase one with her, she immediately tries to fix it with begs of your name and tugging at your shirt and a big pout on her face (something she learnt from Keigo). Due to you being used to Keigo's antics, you don't fold, then she goes running to her daddy, her head meeting at his lap as she sulks.

"Mummy is going to hate me forever," she mumbles in an overdramatic tone. The only thinks Keigo could do was laugh because he finds his daughter truly fascinating sometimes. "Sure she will, sweetheart."

BAKUGOU

At first, Bakugou’s kid scoffs, you gonna ignore him? Yeah, he's ignoring you too. He will let out the most dramatic huff and cross his arms and poke his tongue out at you and in the most unconvincing voice he will say, "Like I care!" Ti which, you have to force down a laugh that was about to slip out before Katsuki nudged your arm, making sure you don't break character. Although, just like his father, he will make every attempt to make you jealous and it's honestly the pettiest and funniest thing you will ever experience. Your son will say how much he needs his daddy's help right in front of you and Katsuki has to force down his laugh as well because you both know what he's doing.

Then a few hours pass and then he starts to finally let it sink in and then he becomes frustrated and here comes when he stomps up to you while your doing your skincare with Katsuki. "Yell at me, Mum!" he would pout and you were confused at what he was getting at before you let out a soft laugh, bending down to wrap your arms around your sweet boy and he does the same without any embarrassment.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

honey's a/note: hope you enjoyed, this hasn't been proof read so there might be a few grammar and spelling mistakes ^^

let me know if you (inbox or comments) want to be apart of the mha taglist! specify the character and ill tag you in any works they are present in!

[forgetfulfish]

I think as well it's the spiraling horror of the way the tasks get more and more mundane. The viewer sees Gabby's situation and they're jarred by how screwed up it is. Severance for personal and selfish reasons. Then they emphasise the reality of this kind of existence so blatantly with Wellington Gemma's "I was just here", going to the dentist over and over again.

This image of the ultra rich handing off uncomfortable things goes from childbirth, to the dentist, to airplane turbulence. People so devoid of humanity they would in a literal way slice off a part of their own self and use it to avoid all pain and discomfort. However, the airplane amps it up a level of bizarreness, because that's a discomfort that is already fully avoidable. Countless nervous flyers every day take a sleeping tablet on a flight. Checking out of the concious world on a flight is already an option, so what's the appeal? That one could stay awake and converse and keep up appearances while on the flight? There's no possible reason that isn't entirely based on keeping up appearances. There's a whole other more ethical way to avoid that discomfort right there. The situation has spiraled from selfishly avoiding pain and locking that poor innie in the cabin 3 times, to the Wellington Gemma that ensures endless dental procedures to allow an outie to avoid even the most routine and trivial uncomfortable procedures, to keeping a person eternally on an airplane to avoid showing any even perceived weakness or fear. We've seen what having only the severed floor does to the Lumon innies, even with other innies around and diconnected from the outside world. Now scale that down to an airplane but there's nobody who understands you and you're never really anywhere always in the sky. Always expected to socialise with outies like you aren't even an innie. Gabby's innie wouldn't admit to being one, she put up a front, it's a reasonable jump to assume that's what will be expected of them.

And then they show the Christmas room. An innie created to avoid writing thank you notes at Christmas. A person who exists solely so that one would not have to go to the effort of actual human connection. But it goes deeper than that, this is a task one could pay an assistant to do for them. Any person who doesn't give a damn about thank you notes and can afford an optional brain surgery like severance could probably outsource this task with ease. Heck, a thank you note is something you could just forego entirely. But no, they think that one must keep up an appearance of gratitude, of a hand written thank you note, and they see no issue having one woman write forever so that they can have that. And this one scene hammers home the goal of keeping up appearances because the innie is expected to return their spouse's declartion of love. The innie must behave as the outie spouse would. A big cultural holiday that's meant to be about spending time with family is turned into her constant suffering all in the name of the outie avoiding being even slightly inconvenience having to perform a kind gesture. And what better framing for the corporatisation of human feeling than Christmas, a holiday famously intensely corporatised.

We went from singular rich lady selfisly offloads her suffering, to avoiding routine medical procedures by having a person go through them endlessly, to having somebody locked eternally in a vehicle simply to save face, to creating an innie to avoid anything that is even mildly annoying and in doing so turning what should be a relatively mundane task for the outie into an infinitely stretching never ending hell for an innie.

The viewer sees the horror of Gabby's innie's situation and the show just takes it lower and lower and lower. Absolute doom spiral of situations and motivations. Quality storytelling.

thats actually crazy. what if you didn't have to be present at the dentist, while on a boring flight. what if someone else (who was you) wrote a bunch of thank you cards until their hand hurt. what if you still felt the pain, but it was their whole life. what if you did immeasurable violence to yourself in a million tiny ways every single day. and that's the bright shining future of severance.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of kissing, mentions of family death, bra touching, talk of needing to piss ? 

A/N: This chapter is LONG. Lmk if we like it being this long or if I should break it up next time sorry! Proofread by @darksturnz (ty lovely girl!)

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P7: Bras & Piss

wc: 2700+

Not even a single insult. Chris barely even lingered in the main room with Matt and me—like he couldn’t even fathom breathing the same air as me. 

It hurt. The dull ache in my chest seems to worsen everytime he ignores me. Even though it’s only been a couple of days, it still just felt different, and not in a good way. 

Luckily, Chris hadn’t caught me loitering in Matt’s room to help him out with his date with Mia. Although, part of me wish he had. Maybe then he’d at least ask or say something mean. And I just wanted him to say something—anything. 

“Pleaseeee?” Matt begs, his hands clasped as if he’s praying, the same plea falling from his lips yet again. 

Ever since I helped him with his outfit, he hasn’t stopped pushing one idea—he wants to make it a double-date. That way, it wouldn’t have to be so awkward at the beginning. 

But who the fuck was I gonna take on a double-date? The only men I’ve talked to recently are Chris, Jimmy, and Shawn. 

Chris is just not an option. Even though Jimmy’s sweet, that would be weird as fuck. And Shawn…well, I’m still mad. But I have to pick. And I can’t let Matt down—not when I see how much effort he’s putting into this girl. If I couldn’t have a perfect love story, at least I could watch it. 

Shawn. 

I stare at his contact on my screen with distaste, my gaze flickering from my phone back to Matt sitting across the table from me.

“But you and her will have so much fun—”

“Please! I don’t know what I’m doing and I just…I’d feel a lot better if I know you’re there,” he says, his face contorted as if he’s in pain. 

Sighing, I look down at my screen with hesitation. My fingers brush against the key, my cheek pulsing with a sharp sting as I feel my teeth gnaw into the muscle. 

I may hate Shawn right now, but I don’t hate Matt. Matt felt like the first real friend I had made in a while, maybe even ever. And this would help our friendship grow, maybe I’d even like Mia as a friend too.

Ugh. 

|  To Shawn: Hey, do you wanna go on a double date with me this Friday?  |

I send the message before I can rethink the wording. My nose scrunches as I see the read receipt pop up immediately, three dots moving on the screen as I watch Shawn type back. 

|  From Shawn: Fuck yeah ;)  |

Ew. How did I ever think this man was crush-material? Before that dumb party, it was like some sort of unspoken thing, we were always flirting, always touching more than just friends typically would. But now even the thought of his dumb brain coming anywhere close to me made everything in my stomach churn uncomfortably. 

“Thank you, you’re the fuckin’ best!” Matt cheers, walking over to me, pulling my head in his hand before planting a platonic kiss on my head. His arms shoot up in the air. He does a stupid little victory dance, nodding his head to an imaginary beat. 

“What the fuck.” I look over, seeing Chris staring at his brother incredulously, scratching his head before nodding his face from side to side, turning around and walking back down the hallway. 

It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in days. For some reason, it makes everything inside of me feel a little bit lighter, like it’s some sort of relief. 

Maybe he’s easing up. 

I shake the thought off as Matt sits back down, blabbing on about anything and everything. 

It’s nice to have a friend. 

___

Matt was helping return the favor. It felt weird to bring a boy in the house, my mother was definitely judging. But I needed help. And I liked Matt’s style the first day we talked, plus—who the fuck else was I gonna ask?

“What do you want to wear?” he asks, flipping through the clothes in my closet while peeking his head over his shoulder to look at me sitting on the bed. 

I shrug. “Matt, I don’t know. Maybe something comfy, but like…I don’t know,” I whine, huffing as I roll my eyes. Why did this have to be so difficult? Shawn was probably gonna wear what he always wore—black jeans and a long, loose T-shirt, the ones that always had a sports number on the back. 

“What about this?” Matt pulls out a skirt. 

I immediately shake my head. “Hell no. It’s too windy, I’m not dealing with that.” 

He points, nodding as he shoves the article of clothing back into place before shuffling through more options.

“Hey, um, what even happened that night? You know…with Chris,” he mutters, his voice quieter than before. 

My face scrunches as I think back on the memory. “I don’t even know. He showed up at window at like, 2 in the morning—”

“How did he know it was your window?” Matt asks, cocking his head to the side as he turns to look at me. 

I shake my head quickly. “We made awkward eye contact when he was taking a walk—but that’s not the point. He came here, bribed me to go on a walk—”

“How did he bribe you?” Matt quips. He holds his hands up defensively as I glare at him.

“Trevour, duh.” I state, the obvious information dripping sarcastically as I let out a dramatic sigh, “Then, we went for a walk. It was… nice?” My voice rises almost as if I’m asking a question. Matt nods slowly, his scrunched face unrelenting as I continue to explain, “He gave me an apology. I mean, he didn’t say sorry, but like—well—you know what, I don’t fucking know, okay? All I know is that we came back here but my window had slipped shut. He was gonna sleep on the floor, but he just couldn’t and we were too tired to argue and—”

“And then you cuddled like a married couple?” he cuts in. 

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, squinting at him as I cross my leg over the other, resting my hands on my knee. “Matthew, shut the fuck up. I’m going on this date for you—I’d rather lick a toilet seat, fuck a splintered broom, and—”

Matt cuts me off, walking over and shoving clothes into my lap. “What about these?” he asks. 

Looking down towards the fabrics, I purse my lips to the side. Baggy cargos, a tight fitted black long sleeve shirt with lace details, and a maroon bra—

BRA?

“WHY THE FUCK—”

“WAIT SORRY!” he panics, grabbing the bra and throwing it aggressively back into the closet, “I just didn’t wanna hear about you fucking a splintered mop or whatever the fuck so I panicked and I—-I didn’t mean to, I swear!” he shouts, his eyes bulging as he covers his mouth with one of his hands. 

My face relaxes and I swallow thickly. He didn’t mean to, it’s fine. He saw my fucking bra, but it’s fine. 

“You’re lucky we’re friends and I like your dad,” I whisper lowly, my eyes twitching as I inhale a shaky breath, “-or I would slap your man tits so fucking hard they melted off your scrawny fucking chest, you stupid little—”

“Oh my god, wait! This is like—just another level of friendship for us then! Think of it that way,” he says, slapping my arm lightly. 

Is this bitch for real?

“I’m gonna go change in the bathroom,” I announce, stalking off towards the bedroom door. I turn around and point my finger directly at his chest, watching as he gulps. “Don’t touch a thing,” I warn. 

Matt nods quickly, clasping his hands together as he stands deathly still. 

At least he’ll be the only one touching my bra tonight. 

___

It wasn’t awful. 

Burst of colors and history are painted throughout canvases hung on the colossal walls. Matt and Mia had already ventured off. In fact, it didn’t really seem awkward at all. 

It made me smile watching their brief interaction. Matt was being an absolute fool, scratching the back of his neck like a damn dog. Mia, however, was shy, but excited. Apparently she really liked all of this. She loved it even more when she realized Matt would listen to her rant about each masterpiece for hours on end. 

Shawn was fine. It wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. I think he could sense my stiffness, being able to understand that whatever we had going on had taken a big step back. 

“How’ve you been? Tessa said you guys haven’t hung out for a while,” he points, his hand swinging obnoxiously between our bodies. I think he was trying to hold my hand without directly asking. And it was fucking annoying.

I rub my lips together as I try to keep my gaze pointed ahead. “Yeah, I guess I just haven’t had much time with the project and all,” I answer. 

That’s a lie. I had time. Honestly, I've been kind of bored recently, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Shame, we miss you, ya know?” he teases, bumping his shoulder into mine. 

They miss me? 

My body slumps a little more with each step. I see Matt and Mia from the corner of my eye, a smile crawling on my face as I see him utterly infatuated with her presence. Maybe that could be me someday, having someone who wanted to understand the most pointless things about me. 

“Heyyyy,” he waves his hand in front of my face, pulling my attention back to him as I feel my cheeks flush. Damn. I’m like a fucking iPad kid when it came to everything. “If they're too distracting, we can venture off further…you know, just us,” he suggests, his brows lifting on his face as he licks over his lips. 

His face is even pissing me off. Why is he looking at me like that?

“Shawn, I’m still upset with you. You drove drunk,”

“I only had a few drinks, you’re being fuckin’ dramatic,” he interupts, huffing as he rolls his eyes. 

Only a ‘few drinks’ could do a lot of damage. 

I wonder what Chris was like before he lost his mom and his brother. Maybe it was someone like Shawn. Someone so incapable of taking any sort of accountability, someone so… careless. 

Silence sinks into the air. A brush of heavy tension weighs downward as I try to create just the slightest bit more of distance between us. 

“Hey, hey,” he coos, quickly tugging my hand into his before cradling it with his other. I look up at him as he stares down at me, my face twisting as I gaze around us. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s dumb, I know. I just… I guess I just wanted to have fun and make sure you had fun too, alright? That’s all it was, it won’t happen again. Swear,” he says, pulling our hands apart and interlocking our pinkies. 

My eyes squint harder at him before I let out a deep sigh, slowly nodding before retracting my hand back to my own body. At least he’s taking accountability. 

“We’re gonna go get ice cream, you guys wanna come with?” Matt asks, stalking towards us with a stupid smile on his face. My eyes fall down, seeing his hand pulling Mia’s lightly, his thumb swiveling against the back of her palm. Oh, he’s so fucking adorable with her. 

“Nah, go ahead. I’ll drive her back, go have fun,” Shawn answers before even sparring me a singular look. 

Bitch. He’s not even my boyfriend and he’s trying to speak on my behalf. Yeah, this isn’t gonna work. 

“Are you sure…?” Matt’s eyes trail to mine. 

I purse my lips before giving an affirmative nod. They’ll have more fun alone. “Yeah, go ahead. Don’t have too much fun,” I joke, offering a small wave as they walk down the marble flooring, disappearing past a corner. 

The sound of Shawn’s chuckle makes my face furrow, my lips curling into a tight line as I raise my brow at him. “What’s so funny?” I ask

Shrawn shrugs. “Just couldn’t wait to get me alone, could ya?” he teases, playfully wiggling his brows and sparing me a wink. 

I chose this over ice cream? 

___

That date hadn’t ended awful, but definitely not good, either. I was still waiting for Matt to finish up. It had been hours at this point, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be anything but happy for him. 

I didn’t know where else to go. I felt really drained, I just wanted someone to talk to. This was the only thing I could think of. And even though it seemed a bit odd at first, it felt normal, as if this was something that has happened at least twenty times before.

“And then what happened after Matt and Mia left?” Jimmy asks, petting Trevor nuzzled up in his lap as he gives me his full, undivided attention. 

He was more than happy when I showed up knocking at the door. I was just glad it wasn’t Chris who answered. And speaking of, I still didn’t know where he was. Probably in his room or something. 

“Well…” I look up to the ceiling, retracing the memory as I explain, “It wasn’t bad, I guess? We used to, I don’t know—flirt? But he’s just so…I don’t know how to explain it,” I groan, sinking further into the couch. 

Jimmy laughs. “Then what went wrong today? He seems sweet enough, why were you even mad at him?” he asks. 

My eyes scrunch close. I wasn’t gonna tell him that detail. I had already told him too much, definitely more than I should have. 

“I think he was gonna kiss me and I…I don’t know. I just kinda brushed it off and asked him to drive me home and well… here we are,” I sing, covering my face with my hands. 

The old man looks down at Trevor as he rubs the dog’s ears. “Maybe you just gotta get out of your head and give him another chance, kid. Whatever he did, just put it aside and try things out. I mean, thank god for my wife giving me chances. If not, she would’ve left me in the dust when I accidentally got paint in her damn hair,” he breathes out gruffly, laughing dryly at the reminiscent memory. 

A smile climbs on my face as I listen to his tone get softer. The slight joke holds meaning, a lot of meaning. No wonder Matt was so sweet, he knew how to treat a woman. Chris on the other hand? Maybe he did at some point. Definitely not now though. 

“Thanks, Jimmy–”

“What did I say!” he exclaims, standing up and ruffling my hair, “Call me J-Dawg!” 

I shake my head with a vicious laugh. “I’m not calling you that.” 

The man shrugs before stalking off towards the garage. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go fix this damn light switch in the garage, keep Trevor company until Matt gets home, alright?” 

I don’t have time to offer a response as I hear the heavy door click shut. My eyes drift over to the snoozing dog, my heart melting into a puddle as I watch his closed eyes flicker with a vivid dream. 

He could be dreaming of going on a walk—a walk with her, a woman I’ve never met—a woman I’d never get the chance to meet. 

Maybe Chris dreamed of her too. Maybe that was why he didn’t typically sleep well. 

“I need to pee, hold on, Trev.” I announce to the dog, slightly shaking my head at myself. Not only is he a dog, but he’s dead asleep. Did it really matter if I let him know? 

As I start to get up from the couch, I freeze hearing his voice. 

“Why’re you in my house? And why are you telling my dog you need to fuckin’ piss?” 

Chris. 

[astrolook]

Degree Theory: Astrology’s Version of Skill Levels (Noobs to Final Bosses) 🎮🌟

You already know your Sun sign, but did you know the degree number it’s at can unlock even more secrets about you? 🤯

Every planet in your birth chart sits at a specific degree (0°-29°), and these numbers add an extra layer of meaning to your personality, strengths, and even life lessons.

Let’s break it down planet by planet—with a fun, no-BS take.

0° – The Cosmic Newborn 👶

"I’m here to start something big."

Planets at 0° act like fresh energy—pure, unfiltered, and ready to shake things up. People with 0° placements feel like pioneers, as if the universe dropped them off and said, "Figure it out!"

🔹 Sun at 0°: You radiate raw, unfiltered main character energy. You’re not here to follow—you're here to lead (or at least dramatically exist).

🔹 Moon at 0°: Your emotions are pure instinct—you don’t just feel things, you ARE the feeling. Mood swings? Nah, mood rollercoasters.

🔹 Mercury at 0°: Words just spill out, whether they make sense or not. Genius or chaotic chatterbox—depends on the day.

🔹 Venus at 0°: You love like a Disney princess—pure, big, dramatic. Also, zero poker face when you’re into someone.

🔹 Mars at 0°: Immediate action. No waiting, no thinking, just punching the gas (and sometimes people).

🔹 Jupiter at 0°: The lucky golden retriever of astrology. You say yes to everything, and somehow life rewards you for it.

🔹 Saturn at 0°: Born responsible. You came out of the womb stressed about taxes.

🔹 Uranus at 0°: You’re the definition of unpredictable. Even you don’t know what you’ll do next.

🔹 Neptune at 0°: You live in your own fantasy world, and reality is just a suggestion.

🔹 Pluto at 0°: Intensity level? Maximum. You were born with a “destroy and rebuild” button.

1°-9° – The Rising Star 🌟

"I’m developing my power."

Planets at early degrees feel like fresh talent in training—raw, ambitious, and figuring things out.

🔹 Sun at 5°: You’re the rising star in your social circle. Humble beginnings, but just wait—you're gonna shine.

🔹 Moon at 3°: Emotional development in progress. You’re learning what feels right and what just feels…ick.

🔹 Mercury at 7°: Brain-to-mouth filter? Still buffering. But your ideas? Gold.

🔹 Venus at 2°: Love is cute, fun, flirty—until you catch feelings, then it’s panic mode.

🔹 Mars at 8°: Your drive is explosive, but figuring out when to stop is the real challenge.

🔹 Jupiter at 6°: Luck works in your favor when you’re brave enough to take risks.

🔹 Saturn at 9°: Learning responsibility early in life, but still finding that work-hard-play-hard balance.

🔹 Uranus at 4°: Experimenting with your rebellious streak, but not fully committing (yet).

🔹 Neptune at 1°: A dreamer who’s just waking up to their spiritual and creative potential.

🔹 Pluto at 5°: Transformation is happening, but it’s not at full power (yet).

10°-19° – The Master of the Craft 🎓

"I know exactly what I’m doing."

Middle-degree planets are strong, balanced, and naturally expressed—not too raw, not too extreme.

🔹 Sun at 15°: Peak confidence. You own your personality like it’s patented.

🔹 Moon at 12°: Emotionally balanced—until someone messes with your peace. Then it’s war.

🔹 Mercury at 18°: Quick wit, great communicator, could talk their way out of a crime.

🔹 Venus at 14°: Aesthetic queen/king. Your love life and your fashion sense? Both on point.

🔹 Mars at 17°: Strategic AF. You know when to strike and when to chill—warrior with a plan.

🔹 Jupiter at 11°: Wise and lucky. Life is a game and you’ve got the cheat codes.

🔹 Saturn at 19°: The mature friend who somehow also enjoys chaos. You handle responsibility like a pro.

🔹 Uranus at 16°: Balanced rebel. Knows when to push boundaries and when to play along.

🔹 Neptune at 10°: Dreams are just clear enough to bring to reality. Manifesting pro.

🔹 Pluto at 13°: Power? Controlled but always present. You scare people (in a good way).

20°-28° – The Old Soul 🦉

"I’ve seen it all, and I’m here to finish the job."

Late-degree planets are intense, wise, and powerful—but also impatient because they’ve been through it all.

🔹 Sun at 25°: You’re a boss, period. No time for games, just legacy-building.

🔹 Moon at 22°: Emotionally deep AF. You KNOW things before people even open their mouths.

🔹 Mercury at 28°: Talks like a professor and a stand-up comedian at the same time.

🔹 Venus at 26°: Love is serious business. No casual dating, just intense connections.

🔹 Mars at 21°: Unstoppable force. You’ve already mastered action—now you’re here to win.

🔹 Jupiter at 23°: Wise beyond your years. You’ve learned all the lessons and now you’re the teacher.

🔹 Saturn at 27°: Life has tested you more than most, but you wear your scars like armor.

🔹 Uranus at 28°: Fully awakened rebel. You break all the rules, but somehow succeed anyway.

🔹 Neptune at 24°: Master manifestor. You make the impossible seem normal.

🔹 Pluto at 27°: Your power is legendary. You were born to make generational changes.

29° – The Fated Degree 🔥 (Final Boss Level of Astrology)

"This energy is my final test."

29° is called the "Anaretic Degree," aka the boss battle of astrology. It’s like cramming for a final exam—the universe is making sure you’ve truly mastered this planetary energy. If you have a planet here, there’s often urgency, intensity, and a feeling of fate around that area of life.

🔹 Sun at 29°: Walking powerhouse. You’ve learned all there is about your identity, and now it’s your final test to own it. Spotlight finds you whether you want it or not.

🔹 Moon at 29°: Emotional sage. You’ve felt it all, been through emotional hell and back, and now your intuition is on god-tier mode. But emotions can feel overwhelming, like you're carrying generations of feelings.

🔹 Mercury at 29°: Brilliant but exhausted mind. Your thoughts race at 5G speed, but decision-making is HARD because you see all the options. Overthinking is your enemy.

🔹 Venus at 29°: Love and beauty master. You’ve seen every possible romantic situation—loyalty, betrayal, passion, heartbreak. Now, love feels fated and no casual flings will do.

🔹 Mars at 29°: The warrior with no off switch. You’ve been in SO many battles (literal or metaphorical) that your go-to reaction is "fight first, think later." But the lesson? Not every war is worth it.

🔹 Jupiter at 29°: Lucky but reckless. You know how to take risks and make big moves, but sometimes it’s too much, too fast. Learning when to pull back is key.

🔹 Saturn at 29°: The old soul who’s been through the wringer. You’ve mastered responsibility, but you might feel like you’ve been an adult since age 5. Final test? Balancing hard work with actual joy.

🔹 Uranus at 29°: Rebel genius. You’ve already mastered breaking rules, revolutionizing ideas, and making history. Now? You need to use that power responsibly.

🔹 Neptune at 29°: Spiritual visionary. You’ve seen through the illusion, lived in your dreams, and touched the mystical. Now, the challenge is staying grounded in reality while keeping the magic alive.

🔹 Pluto at 29°: Transformation overload. You were born into powerful, life-changing experiences. Intensity follows you like a shadow, but your final test is learning to control the fire instead of letting it consume you.

So, What’s Your Degree Number? 🤔

Want to know what your planet’s degrees say about you? Message me for a personalized astrology reading and take a look at my pinned post as well! 🔮✨

[hemlock-dreams]

Hiii loving everything so far

I have a silly question. In the previous posts you write about wade and peter not having intimacy with others for various reasons and that's why they kinda sexualized fighting and violence. My question is: how? I find it hard to get this idea, I mean I know bdsm is real, hurt and pleasure and all, but they obv don't go to level of our boys. How does one hypersexualize violence?

sorry if it's kind of confusing

Good night ^^

It's actually less about BDSM practices and more about association and conditioning. (cough Pavlov) One of the most common pieces of advice you can get in regards to building habits is to create rewarding associations between actions. You can, to a certain extent, trick your brain into connection emotions and action together just by pairing them up.

Peter can't engage in sexual contact with people. And adrenaline and fear are known causes in creating arousal. Every time he has a good fight, his body feels high from all the adrenaline and excitement. Maybe one day, after a good fight, with his body thrumming from all the leftover jitters- he gets off. It's not even because he's necessarily horny, just to get rid of the extra steam.

Then he does it again. And again. And again- until he starts associating the act of fighting and being hurt with sexual release. Maybe he even starts chasing fights because that's the only way he can get off without pressure of performing and feelings of guilt and fear from his powers.

It's not a healthy coping mechanism for the lack of intimacy, for sure, but it's safe.

For Wade, it's both a coping mechanism and a way to regain control of his life. His entire body is constantly in pain, and lets be real, his mental health is a shitshow. Even doing regular things like masturbating probably comes with a big heap of chronic pain. Over the decades, it would be impossible not to link them.

And most people can't stand Deadpool for a regular relationship. The closest he gets to consistent physical contact is probably through fighting. His entire life is pain, and he's getting hurt anyways- But if he goads people, if he pisses them off enough to swing his way, then he can get hurt on his own terms. He doesn't have to wait to be dealt (another) shitty hand, he can rig the game.

That feeling of finally having control of his circumstances is the biggest turn on.

So his hypersexualization of violence is actually more emotional than physical, unlike Peter.

And ofc, obviously, these are fictional characters so we can push these feelings to the extreme. (I don't think most people can condition themselves to liking being stabbed, no matter how much they microdose on stabbings lmaoo.)

Hope this helps!!!

[pencilpat]

The Scout RED v. BLU sketch pages were fun, I might keep doing that until I run out of steam. Take some Snipers.

Like the Scout ones, some brief related headcanons below.

RED:

-Likes bugs a lot. Will go out of his way to pick up and play with even the 'ugliest' or most dangerous ones. Fond of roaches and beetles. If he could wake up tomorrow and be a beetle, he'd finally be content with life.

-Smokes, both tobacco and weed. He tries to not smoke too much weed though, because if he smells like it he would be easy to track down during battle. Tobacco really helps his nerves and paranoid thinking.

-Sewed animal teeth onto his own hat. He likes his hat a lot, it was a gift from his father. Hunting also reminds him of spending time with his dad & mum, and he likes to go hunt birds to cook, or to go fishing to pass the time off work.

-Enjoys a GNC look sometimes. Considers himself a bit of a girl too, but doesn't really know how to express that to the people around him. "I'm probably nonbinary but I've got a job so idrc about that rn."

-Pierced his ears himself. Has longer, unruly hair that he contains with ponytails and braids. Is very tan because of spending so much of his time outside. Generally dresses in darker clothes during work, as it makes him feel like he blends into the shadows (even though it really makes him stand out a bit more). Always has a slight smile, like he's making fun of you in his head.

-Rarely seen without a weapon of some sort on his person. Also pretty much never seen without his sunglasses on.

BLU:

-Peeked through the brain-scooping-induced veil once and realized he had the same face as someone on the other team. So they scooped his brain even more til it got muddled up. Now he gets frequent, intense migraines and struggles with his balance, and with limb control on his left side. It mostly affects his legs, meaning he can still snipe with good accuracy. He sometimes uses a cane if he feels particularly weak that day.

-Hates his face but can't remember why without his head pounding. He can barely even see it, it feels like. Like a big pixelated mass where it should be. So he covers it a lot, especially during battles and missions.

-Hats make him feel more anonymous. Ranges from very cool ones to the dorkiest bucket hats you've ever seen.

-Likes fishing and nature walks to look for birds. Also goes hunting in the tundra around the BLU base pretty much daily. It's good stress relief.

-Plays guitar, pretty decently too. Also good for stress relief.

-Uses a bow and arrows about as much as he uses his rifle. He hand carves his arrows, wood carving is a very satisfying hobby for him.

-Always seems a little pallid and grey in the face. Especially compared to the deep tan RED Sniper has.

-Cuts or shaves down his hair regularly, only lets it grow back a little. Clean-shaven unless he's doing terribly that week. Has a couple scars that stick around even after respawning. Wears bracelets and necklaces often, though less so during work. Only smiles when he's alone, and in general behaves coldly towards his team.

-Doesn't smoke or drink. Hates the feeling of an altered consciousness.

-Paid his own money for a gun he thought looked better. He's getting tired of being on the losing team all the time.

Bonus

[honeyscara]

❝not a joke ❞ — Shoyo Hinata

-haikyu{manga spoilers}

Synopsis: childhood besties to lovers, hinata is finally back from Brazil and things take a turn when he's back.

C/w: fem! reader x timeskip!hinata, no smut in this part but it's suggestive

~4.2k words, this is part 1

You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater as you stood near the arrival gates, your heart pounding in anticipation. It had been two years since you last saw Hinata. Two years since he had left for Brazil, chasing his dream. You had kept in touch—video calls, texts, the occasional voice note—but nothing could compare to seeing him in person again.

Then, finally, you spotted him.

The moment he stepped through the gates, your breath hitched.

This wasn’t the same scrawny, hyperactive boy who used to race you to the convenience store or challenge you to impromptu volleyball matches at the park. No, this Hinata was different. He stood taller, broader, his frame filled out with muscle in a way that made your stomach flip. His tanned skin, sharp jawline, and confident stride made it clear—Brazil had changed him.And damn, he looked good.

Your legs moved before your brain could catch up. "sho!"

His head snapped up, and the second his eyes landed on you, his entire face lit up. "___!"

In an instant, you crashed into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his strong ones curled around your waist. He lifted you off the ground effortlessly, spinning you once before setting you down, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"You're real," you mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing him tight. "You're actually here."

Hinata pulled back just enough to look at you, his wide grin never faltering. "Of course I’m here! Did you think I was some clone?" He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you felt a lump form in your throat.

You smacked his arm playfully. "Shut up, you know what I mean."

Hinata chuckled, his grip on you tightening for a moment before he finally pulled back just enough to look at you. His bright eyes searched your face, as if making sure you were real too.

"And you haven’t changed at all!" he teased, ruffling your hair like he used to, though there was something softer in the way he did it now—more affectionate than playful.

You swatted his hand away with a pout. "Speak for yourself! What happened to the little tangerine I used to know?"

Hinata grinned, flexing his arm exaggeratedly. "Turns out playing beach volleyball in the sun every day does wonders!"

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, big shot. Let’s go—your mom’s been texting me every five minutes asking if you’re here yet."

His eyes widened. "Oh, crap. She’s gonna kill me if I don’t call her right now."

With a laugh, you grabbed his wrist and started dragging him toward the exit. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through you, a reminder that he was really back. No more time differences, no more lagging video calls. Just him. Here. Now.

As you walked side by side, Hinata glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "I missed you."

Your steps faltered slightly before you caught yourself. The words were simple, but the way he said them—soft, sincere—made your heart stutter.

You swallowed, pushing away the sudden rush of emotions. "Yeah, me too, Sho."

~

The next day came quicker than you expected, and as you got ready, a strange mix of excitement and nervousness settled in your chest. It shouldn’t have felt like a big deal—you were just taking Hinata out for the meal you’d promised. But something about it felt… different. Maybe it was because you weren’t kids anymore. You had both grown, matured, changed. And though Hinata was still his usual energetic self, there was a newfound confidence in him that made your stomach flip.

You smoothed down the floral dress you’d picked out—simple, cute, just short enough to feel a little daring but not too revealing. With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your bag just as the doorbell rang.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

And Hinata froze.

His brain seemed to short-circuit for a second as he took you in, eyes widening slightly before he quickly cleared his throat.

"You…" He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off whatever had just come over him. "You look—uh—wow."

You raised an amused brow. "Wow?"

A faint flush crept up his tanned cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean—you look really nice! Like, really, really nice."

Your lips curled into a teasing smile. "Thanks, Sho."

And just like that, his usual grin returned, though his heart still hammered in his chest as he stepped aside for you. What the hell was that? You’d always been pretty, but for some reason, tonight, seeing you like this, it felt like his heart might actually leap out of his chest.

~

The restaurant you picked was a cozy little spot, nothing too fancy but perfect for catching up. The two of you settled into a booth, ordering your food while slipping easily into conversation. Hinata had endless stories about Brazil—the intense training, the beautiful beaches, the culture, the food. His eyes practically sparkled as he talked, his excitement infectious.

At some point, between bites of your meal, the topic of dating came up.

"So," you leaned back, stirring your drink with your straw. "Did you see any hot girls in Brazil? You know, sitting on the benches watching you play?"

Hinata smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh yeah, plenty."

You hadn’t expected your stomach to twist at his response, but it did. You forced a laugh, taking a sip of your drink to mask the unexpected pang of disappointment. "Wow, look at you. Living the dream, huh?"

He grinned but didn’t say anything right away, just watching you with a knowing look. Then, after a beat, he leaned forward on his elbows. "I was just teasing, you know."

You blinked. "Huh?"

Hinata chuckled, shaking his head. "You looked kinda sad for a second."

You quickly waved him off. "Pfft, no way. I was just surprised, that’s all."

He didn’t seem convinced, but he let it slide. Instead, he tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his expression. "What about you? Did you like anyone while I was gone?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Please. No guys would go for me."

Hinata frowned. "What? That’s not true."

You gave a half-hearted shrug. "It’s fine, really. I mean, I guess I just wasn’t anyone’s type. Maybe I should start carrying a sign that says desperate and available might speed up the process." You laughed at your own joke, but Hinata didn’t.

Instead, his brows furrowed, and he leaned in just slightly, voice softer now. "You know, if any guy didn’t see how amazing you are, that’s their loss."

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around your glass.

He said it so naturally, like it was just a fact. Like it wasn’t something that made your heart stutter in your chest.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The way Hinata looked at you—earnest, unwavering—made your usual ability to deflect and joke disappear. You swallowed, breaking eye contact as you toyed with the rim of your glass.

"Well," you said, forcing a chuckle to lighten the mood, "good thing I have you to boost my ego."

Hinata huffed, shaking his head. "I’m serious." His voice was firmer this time. "You’re funny, kind, and you’ve always been there for me. I don’t get why some guy hasn’t already swept you off your feet."

Your heart pounded against your ribs. He said it so casually, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t making your chest tighten in a way that felt dangerous.

You tried to brush it off with another laugh. "Guess I’m just too intimidating."

Hinata snorted. "Yeah, right." Then, after a beat, he grinned. "Maybe guys just think they don’t have a chance with you."

That caught you off guard. "What?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "I mean, think about it. You’re cool, you’re cute—maybe they’re just scared to confess."

Your breath hitched. Did he just—?

Before you could even process it, Hinata stretched his arms over his head, completely unaware of the effect his words had on you. "Anyway! Doesn’t matter. If they’re too dumb to see how great you are, then they don’t deserve you."

You stared at him, something fluttering in your chest. He was still the same Hinata—loud, a little clueless, always brimming with energy. But sometimes, just sometimes, he said things that made you wonder if maybe he saw you differently than he used to. And maybe… maybe you were starting to see him differently too.

As the two of you stepped out of the restaurant, a sudden downpour greeted you. The once-clear sky had turned dark, raindrops pelting down hard against the pavement.

"Ah, crap," you muttered, pulling your arms close to yourself as a chilly breeze followed. "I didn’t check the weather."

Hinata groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Me neither." He glanced around before perking up. "hey, my place is closer. No one’s home either so you can stay over...maybe?"

You stared at him for a second before smirking. "Hinata Shoyo, are you trying to get me alone?"

Hinata choked. "Wha—?! No! I didn’t mean it like that!" He flailed his arms, face heating up. "It’s just—y-you always used to come over when we were kids, right? It’d be like a sleepover! But, uh, not in a weird way! Just—y'know—so you don’t have to walk home in the rain!"

You stared at him, amused by how fast he was unraveling.

He cleared his throat, still clearly flustered. "I-I have a spare pair of clothes you can borrow! So you don’t get sick!"

You bit back a smile, watching him trip over his words. "Relax, I’m just joking with you."

His shoulders slumped with relief. "Don’t do that to me," he whined.

You laughed, nudging his arm. "Alright, alright. Let’s go before we get completely drenched."

Hinata huffed, pulling his hoodie up. But as the two of you started jogging toward his place, you couldn’t help but feel that same strange flutter in your chest from earlier. Because as silly and panicked as he got… he still wanted to take care of you.

By the time you reached Hinata’s place, you were both soaked. Your dress clung uncomfortably to your skin, and Hinata’s hoodie was drenched, his damp hair sticking to his forehead.

"Okay, yeah, this was a terrible idea," he admitted between breaths, shaking out his arms like a wet dog.

You laughed, hugging yourself for warmth. "I told you we should’ve just called a cab."

"Where’s the fun in that?" He grinned before stepping aside to let you in.

You walked through the hallway, the familiar scent of Hinata’s home wrapping around you like a nostalgic hug. It felt like stepping into the past, except… everything felt different now.

His bedroom door was slightly ajar, and you peeked inside.

It was almost exactly how you remembered it—volleyball posters, random clothes on the chair, and his bed a little messy but still welcoming. The only real difference was the trophies and medals on his shelf, a testament to how far he’d come.

As you stepped inside, your fingers ran over the edge of his desk, your mind lost in memories of all the times you had spent in this room, whether it was watching dumb videos, challenging each other to games, or just lying on the floor talking about your dreams.

Then—

"Boo!"

"AH!" You jumped, spinning around just as Hinata burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.

"Hinata, you idiot!" You smacked his arm, but he barely flinched, too busy laughing at your reaction."Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t resist!" He grinned, holding out a towel and some dry clothes—a worn T-shirt and a pair of shorts. "Here, you can change into these."

You grabbed them, still glaring. "I should make you suffer for that scare."

Hinata smirked. "Oh no, are you gonna steal my bed and make me sleep on the floor?"

"Tempting," you muttered, looking down at the clothes. His T-shirt looked big—big enough that it would probably hang loosely over you. "Guess I’ll be swimming in these."

Hinata chuckled. "Better than staying in that wet dress."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, making your way to the bathroom. The second you shut the door, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

This felt… weird. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made your heart race a little too fast. You’d stayed over at Hinata’s plenty of times as kids, but this was different. You weren’t kids anymore.

As you changed in the bathroom, you realized with a sigh that your bra was just as drenched as your dress. There was no way you were putting it back on as it clung uncomfortably to your skin, cold and heavy with rain. You hesitated for a second before deciding to go without it, pulling on Hinata’s oversized t-shirt instead. The fabric was soft, slightly worn, and it smelled like him—fresh laundry mixed with something undeniably Hinata.You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to make yourself look somewhat presentable before stepping out.

When you stepped out, Hinata glanced up from where he was towel-drying his hair, and just like before, he froze. His brain short-circuited.

At first, he had just been prepared to tease you about how his clothes practically swallowed you whole. But then his gaze caught on the way the loose fabric draped over you, how it shifted with your movements, and...oh

You weren’t wearing a bra. The way the thin material did absolutely nothing to hide the erect peaks poking out from underneath, and the soft swell beneath it.

Hinata’s face went up in flames.

Oh. Oh.

He ripped his gaze away so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, suddenly finding the most fascinating spot on the floor to stare at. Don't look, don't look, don't look—

But it was too late. That single glance was already burned into his brain, and no amount of panicked mental screaming was going to erase it.

"N-nothing!" His voice cracked, and he gripped the towel in his hands like it was a lifeline. "You just—uh—you look comfortable!"

You smirked, completely oblivious to the absolute war happening in his head. "What, jealous that I pull off your clothes better than you do?"

Hinata let out the most unconvincing laugh of his life. "Y-yeah! I mean, no! No way!" He could feel his ears burning, and he desperately tried to focus on literally anything else. "S-so, uh, movie?"

You stretched your arms over your head with a yawn, completely unaware of how his eyes almost flickered down again before he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stare straight ahead.

"Yeah, sure," you said, flopping onto the couch beside him.

Hinata grabbed the remote, fingers fumbling as he picked the first thing that appeared on the screen. He had no idea what he just put on. It could’ve been a horror movie, a documentary, or a three-hour-long ad, and he wouldn’t have noticed.Because no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about the fact that you—his best friend—were sitting next to him, wearing his clothes, and making his heart race in a way that felt far too dangerous.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Hinata—still reeling from his internal meltdown—mindlessly pressed play on whatever movie popped up first. Big mistake.

Because barely fifteen minutes in, the screen suddenly shifted to a scene that made both of you freeze.

Heavy breathing. Slow, lingering touches. Clothes slipping off way too easily.

Oh. Oh.

You choked on your own spit. "Hinata—"

Hinata, already red as a tomato, practically threw the remote in his panic, scrambling to grab it again. "I—I DIDN’T KNOW! I JUST CLICKED SOMETHING!"

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to burst into nervous laughter. "Oh my god."

Hinata, on the other hand, looked like he was fighting for his life. He was stiff as a board, eyes darting anywhere but the screen. "I’ve never watched this with you before!" he blurted out, as if that somehow made this less mortifying.

You raised an eyebrow. "So, you’ve watched this alone?"

Hinata nearly died on the spot. "THAT'S NOT—!" He smacked the remote until the screen finally blessedly went black. Silence.

Then you lost it, bursting into laughter while Hinata groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is the worst."

Still giggling, you leaned back against the couch, wiping a tear from your eye. "Oh my god, Sho, that was so bad."

Hinata groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. "I swear on volleyball, I didn’t mean to put that on."

You smirked, nudging his arm. "So you have watched that kinda stuff alone, huh?"

"STOP," he whined, throwing his head back dramatically. "I’m already suffering."

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was, cheeks still red, ears burning. You’d never seen him react like this before—it was… oddly cute.

After a moment, Hinata huffed, crossing his arms. "You didn’t exactly change the channel either, y'know."

Your face heated up. "HEY! I was shocked! I wasn’t expecting to see—" You clamped your mouth shut, shaking your head rapidly. "Nope. Not finishing that sentence."

Hinata snorted, finally cracking a grin. "Yeah, let’s just pretend that never happened."

You nodded. "Agreed. Now, please pick something safe. Like, a cartoon. Or a volleyball match. Something that won’t make us want to die."

Hinata grabbed the remote again, determined. "On it. No more accidental… that."

But as he scrolled through the options, a single, dangerous thought crossed his mind...Why was it so easy to picture watching something like that with you… and not just as a joke?

As Hinata scrolled through the movie options, his mind was still stuck on what had just happened. The sheer embarrassment of it. The way you had looked at him, teasing but also—maybe—just a little flustered too.

And then there was the part that was really messing with his head… the part where, for just a split second, he’d wondered what it would be like if—

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not going there.

But then, you stretched beside him, adjusting the oversized shirt you were wearing—his shirt—and the movement drew his eyes right to where the fabric clung to you. His throat went dry.

And as if the universe wanted to make things worse, you turned to him, tilting your head. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah!" His voice cracked, and he quickly looked away, staring so hard at the TV that he was surprised it didn’t catch fire.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You sure? You’re looking kinda nervous."

"N-no! I’m fine! Totally fine!" He forced a laugh, but the way his knee was bouncing gave him away completely.

You leaned in a little, resting your chin on your hand as you studied him. "Hmmm… is it ‘cause of that scene?" Hinata froze.

A slow, knowing smile spread across your lips. "Oh my god," you whispered, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you still thinking about it?"

"I—*NO!" he practically yelled, face burning hotter than the sun. "Why would I—?!"

You let out a low hum, clearly enjoying his reaction way too much. "I mean, I get it… it was a lot," you mused, voice just a bit too playful. "Not really something we’ve ever watched together before, huh?"

Hinata swallowed hard. "Nope! Definitely not!"

You traced random patterns on the couch, pretending to be lost in thought. "Kinda makes you wonder, though…"

His brain screeched to a halt. "*Wonder what?!*"

You grinned, leaning in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart stutter. "What it’d be like to watch something like that… on purpose."

Hinata nearly died on the spot. His whole body tensed, his mind scrambling to process your words, but all he could come up with was pure, unfiltered panic.

"WHAT?!" His voice shot up so high it cracked, and he practically threw himself back against the couch as if that would somehow put distance between him and the very questionable situation unfolding.

You bit your lip, clearly enjoying every second of his meltdown. "What?" you teased, tilting your head. "Just saying…curiosity is normal, right?"

Hinata's brain was short-circuiting. His hands clenched into fists on his lap, his ears so hot they could probably fry an egg. "Curiosity—?!" He gulped, shaking his head furiously. "Nope! Nope! I refuse to be a part of whatever weird mind game this is!"

You just laughed, plopping back against the couch. "Relax, Sho. I’m just joking with you."

But that did not make him relax.

In fact, if anything, the damage was already done. Because now, no matter how hard he tried, his brain was not letting go of the thought. Watching something like that with you.On purpose. Or worse...you and him doing— no. Absolutely not.

Hinata swallowed thickly, shifting uncomfortably. He was so screwed.

You shifted closer, resting your chin on his shoulder, pretending like you weren’t feeling the heat creeping up your own neck. "Shoooo," you dragged out his name, voice laced with amusement. "Why are you so red?"

Hinata tensed like a live wire, jaw clenched, hands gripping his knees like they were the only things keeping him grounded. "I—I'm not!"

You let out a small hum, eyes flickering to the way his ears were practically glowing. "Liar," you whispered, your breath brushing against his skin. He jolted, his whole body stiffening like you’d electrocuted him.

You smirked. "Ohhh, you’re totally flustered!"

"No, I’m not!" Hinata shot back, turning to face you—big mistake. Because now, your faces were *way* closer than he expected, and for a split second, neither of you moved.

Your heart pounded. His eyes flickered down—to your lips, to the slight curve of your smirk—before snapping back up to meet your gaze.

Dangerous. Very dangerous.

And you did what any reasonable person would do when faced with this much tension. You attacked. Your fingers darted out, finding that one ticklish spot on his side, the one you knew would break him.

"AH—HEY!" Hinata practically yelped, twisting away, but you were relentless. You pushed forward, giggling as you dug your fingers into his ribs, his stomach, anywhere you could reach.

"Admit it!" you laughed. "You’re so flustered!"

"*N-nohoho—!*" Hinata was losing it, squirming as uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of him. "Stohop! It tickles"

"Never!"

He tried to escape, but you were quick, dodging his weak attempts to grab your hands. He was laughing too hard, his strength betraying him.

Then, suddenly—

Hinata snapped.

With a burst of energy, he lunged forward, grabbing your wrists and flipping the whole situation on you.

You let out a surprised gasp as your back hit the couch, Hinata looming over you, pinning your wrists above your head. His breathing was heavy, his hair slightly disheveled from all the movement.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.Your shirt had ridden up way more than either of you had realized in the chaos, exposing the smooth skin of your stomach, the subtle dip of your waist. His hands were still pinning yours above your head, but his eyes—traitorous, stupid eyes—lingered a second too long.

Too long to be normal. Too long to be ignored.

And you noticed.You sucked in a sharp breath, your chest rising and falling a little too quickly. "Shoyo…"

Wow...this took a while and it's not complete. Second part coming soon which is gonna be smut so mdni!

[newttxt]

hi quip! i really like your one piece comics and i am curious how you do them! i'm not good at comics and want to be better at drawing them! how do you learn how to make comics?

thank you!

uh oh... im afraid u have caught me at the perfect crossroad of "bored at work" and "unrelated task ive been meaning to do but keep putting off."

this is long. i hope you like reading (and grayscale progress pics). and of course!!! disclaimer before we begin that this is just how I, personally draw comics. there is no "right way."

quip's comic-making process!

Switching my typing to make this more legible...

My process can kinda be broken down into 6 steps:

Brainstorming

Thumbnailing

Sketching

Panels & Text

Lines

Tones/Colors

1. Brainstorming

My brain is a leaky sieve on a good day, so I sloppily jot down ideas in my phone notes the moment I have them. This helps me when it's time to draw too, because if I feel art blocked, I can look through old concepts and see what catches my interest.

Otherwise, I love drawing for other people's writing. :) And if worst comes to worst, doing manga/comic page redraws in my style teaches me new things every time.

Once I have my idea, I'll usually make a bulletpoint list of "plot points" or "story beats" I want. Then I plan the comic with this format that I've adapted from a tutorial I read once. I'm going to use my most recent comic (original comic post) as an example.

I start in the third column, writing notes of what I'd want to see in each panel. I also include the dialogue (in this case, I didn't have to write the dialogue! it's from the fanfic linked in the original comic post!). I usually write the whole name like [Luffy:], but at this point I've drawn so much of these guys, just the first letter works.

I like to handwrite these notes to get an idea for how much text I'm putting in a single panel.

After I describe all the panels, I go back and separate them into pages. I can't tell you how to know how many panels to a page. It's whatever works for you. I just kinda know about how big each panel will be, and so I can feel when I'm probably running out of space. (Also. You can change things later. I don't in this example, but I add/drop pages/panels all the time.)

2. Thumbnailing

Thumbnailing—as the name suggests—should be done tiny. Too tiny to accidentally get sucked into details.

This is about marking down blobs where items/characters go, and figuring out the paneling. I'll draw and redraw these a bunch of times too.

This is also the most time-consuming/brain-working part for me. If I were in a zine that did progress percentage, I'd try to finish thumbnailing around the 50% mark (but I'm also a moderately fast artist, so your mileage may vary).

I think the terrible quality makes them charming, actually. I really like how silly they look. :')))

I will add, when you draw your "page" rectangle, make sure it's the same proportions as your actual canvas for the final image. You want an accurate idea of how much space each panel will take up, especially if you have a lot of text.

3. Sketching

This is my most recent change to my usual workflow, and it's saving me a lot of time. I make my thumbnails a bit bigger (each one about half the size of the final canvas), and I sketch these basic body forms right over them.

It just helps give me placement for my actual lines!

I usually draw these in a paleish color so I can lower the opacity and not get distracted by them while lining. The random darker parts are to either help keep two forms separate (like when two characters have their limbs all over) or to better define sections that were too sloppy/poorly proportioned.

I also think this helps my poses stay looser, because I have more dramatic/wriggly shapes that aren't too bogged down by proportions yet.

Sidenote: I CANNOT show this here, but sometimes this is when I take videos. Of myself. I prop my phone camera up and shoot a video of me acting each panel. :/// It looks really dumb, but it also shows me fun body language ideas like hand gestures, expressions, weight distribution, etc. Just pretend you're an overdramatic cartoon character, and try not to worry about your roommates or mother walking in on you doing odd things. (You can also use the video for anatomy reference later, but I usually just capture the vibe and don't try to copy the actual video frame.)

4. Panels & Text

Oh, boy. So, the panels are usually just straight lines (though it's fun to make creative exceptions, like a round panel to mimic looking through a spyglass), but there are some fancy rules that I don't strictly adhere to.

I believe (I have no technical training in this. Take everything I say with a grain of salt) the vertical gaps (between two side-by-side panels) should all be a consistent width and the horizontal gaps (between two panels on top of each other) should be another. The vertical ones? Should be thinner? Because you want the eye to easily glide between them, whereas the horizontal gaps should be a visual barrier to keep you from jumping ahead. Just something I've vaguely noticed.

There are lots of fun "default layouts" you can look up. Or keep it a consistent grid. I think it's fun to sometimes have characters/objects sticking out of panels and overlapping others. This is just a matter of taste, creativity, and inspiration. (Read Witch Hat Atelier... It has some of my favorite paneling...)

You may also notice I have already done the speech bubbles. This is, to me, a crucial step. This helps me catch early if I don't have enough room for all the words. It also lets me plan the art in each panel with the speech bubbles in mind. There's nothing worse than working really hard on a panel, and then you realize there's no room for the bubbles.

I also try to lay them out in a way that guides the eye! Even without art, can people tell where to go next? Better yet, if I want people to look at panels out of order (aka not left to right, in my case), can I use the speech bubble path to make them? Here's just a vague example of what I mean.

As an added bonus, doing speech bubbles early also allows me to be lazy! :) Ignore the comic; I'm not supposed to post it yet oops,, There's a whole lot of drawing to do on each comic page, and I am not wasting my time on stuff that will be covered up. So yes, if I hide my bubbles, there are a lot of unfinished lines trailing off into nothing. (As a bonus, if there's a part of a character you're struggling with—and it won't look weird to do so—you can move speech bubbles to just hide the problem area yayyy)

Making the actual bubbles could be their own whole tutorial, tbh, but there are some general guidelines I use.

Zoom out when you choose your font size. You want to know how it will look to the average reader, so it isn't super teeny tiny or way too big. You generally want to keep the same text size for all your pages/bubbles.

When I draw bubbles, I try to size them about one vertical letter height (and some change) around the words [left side]. This isn't always the case though, because humorously large or funny shaped text bubbles can convey different feelings [right side].

On Procreate, I set my bubble lines to Reference and just drag-and-drop the white fill on a separate layer below the lines. (Remember to turn Reference back off again when you're done, or your fill bucket won't work right when you're drawing.)

To get the white outlines I use to keep the bubbles from cluttering up the art, I literally just Gaussian blur an all-white copy of the lines + fills... and then I copy and merge it 5 times until it's opaque enough. This is a terrible way to do it, but it works for me. :')

5. Lines

This is the part that I can't tell you how to do. I literally just. Draw right over my wacky sketched body forms. Boom. Comic drawn.

I'll make three suggestions:

Don't focus on making every panel perfect. Give a little extra love to big ones or ones you want people to linger on. Otherwise, know that people are typically speeding through the art. It's way more important to focus on storytelling than art technique. In my opinion, a good story that's told well will always be better than a beautiful one told poorly. (Some comics are beautiful AND well-written... Alas, I am just a hobbyist who needs to get the ideas out of my head at top speed.)

Put your background lines on a different layer. Put your foreground lines on a different layer too, if you have those. Basically, I try to keep the main part of each panel (usually a character or object) on my lines layer so I can erase background/foreground/etc lines to ensure clarity/focus.

You can make background lines lighter colors too. I have too many numbers sorry. (1) Background. The stuff that's farthest away. Lightest lines. Few details; more focused on shapes and the suggestion of a background (I'm not good at backgrounds). (2) Midground. Same distance away as the characters are. Lines can be black. (3) Also midground, and also the same distance away. But they're very detailed, so I lighten them so they aren't so distracting. (4) The characters. Black lines for focus. For people who haven't seen the comic, I swear they are just hugging. This is SFW. D:

6. Tones/Colors

Do not. Do NOT ask me. I don't understand colors. I hate working with them, but I try because I want to improve. I hate doing anything beyond the simplest grayscale shading. Please go elsewhere for your coloring/tone advice. This is how my color picker looks 95% of the time. I have pre-set "percentages" of black that I got by lowering the opacity of a black layer and just color picking it. I don't even know the exact percentages I used. Good luck out there. Be better than me.

7. Sharing

This is a bonus step that I didn't mention earlier, but it's actually the most important of all of them.

You need a friend. Or maybe a groupchat or discord. A family member or coworker if you're really close like that. I don't know.

Find SOMEWHERE you can spam wips and be cheered on. Drawing comics takes a while, especially if you're trying to tell longer stories than I'd dare to attempt. If I don't force someone to praise me for every line I draw, I shrivel up and die.

Also if and when you post online, add alt text. I'll admit I'm the first person to complain and drag my feet on this, and I literally use a screenreader myself when my eyes hurt (strong prescription glasses wearer). Comics should be accessible, because stories are fun and everyone should be able to enjoy them.

***

Learning???

And I guess lastly, how do you learn to make comics? Two steps: 1) read them and 2) make them. This is the tragedy of creating things.

1) Reading them: I grew up reading comic strips, western serialized comics, and webcomics. I've always loved graphic novels too. Then in late middle school, I started reading manga (Death Note and Haikyuu were my first two), and now I'm trying to read more webtoons (sorry im so slow bree)!

I also... mass-consume doujinshi, thanks to proxy mailing services and bilingual friends/Google Translate/knowing some Korean. (I have an entire bookshelf of doujin, actually,,)

The thing is, it's not usually enough to just read comics. You also need to be thinking. :/ I notice paneling, comic devices, clever comedic timing, etc. as I go. It's just a lot of studying/learning while also enjoying the story.

2) Making them: You just have to start. :( Even if you think they're "bad." My first comics were actually just drawings placed randomly all over the page, connected by speech bubbles (yay... I was already practicing how to place bubbles to lead the eye around the page...). I was going to post a pic here, but I'm a coward. Backscroll my account and you can find some older ones though.

I also know my art in general improved dramatically when I did ten comics in ten weeks for my friend's fic. Don't do this. It hurt my hands/wrists. But do practice in moderation.

***

If you actually read all that... I hope it made even a modicum of sense. And maybe it was even helpful? Just know at the end of the day, there is literally no right way to draw a comic.

And if you aren't ready to go for it yet, you can start by just adding a couple speech bubbles to your illustrations or doodles! It's a way to add storytelling and dialogue writing to things you may already be making.

Yay. I love comics. :))))

[themeraldee]

Sweet Valentine

[Masterlist]

| 3.8k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Fluff. Some silly banter. And a whole lot of kissing and cuddling. Homelander is still Homelander (i.e. thoughts of murder occur on a daily basis, though not aimed at reader). Teeny tiny bit of Homelander trying to get frisky ('trying to' being the keyword here)

Summary: After a week of being spoiled with gifts leading up to Valentine's, you treat Homelander to a surprise of your own.

Author’s Note: This was meant to be done for Valentine's but hey at least it's still (barely) February!

Written for @discowizard88 for this request🩷

That’s just his rotten fucking luck. 

Marketing thought it would be a good idea to book his entire week full of appearances, shows, interviews and commercial shoots because they didn’t think he had anything better to do. Fucking imbeciles. He has you now.

He’s been looking forward to this day for months. Throughout your first year together Homelander’s been counting down all the occasions, events and celebrations that he’s not really had a chance to cherish before. Maeve was never the type to accept his grand, downright scripted, romantic gestures. Their last celebrated Valentine’s she all but laughed in his face when he brought her roses. Needless to say, they’ve not celebrated any consequent Valentine’s from that year on out. 

But you’re different. You appreciate it, you appreciate him. You turn downright giddy anytime he showers you with gifts and love. He was more than ready to smother you in love on this day. It’s a day for lovers, after all, what good would it be if he wasted that opportunity.

He planned it all out. Valentine’s day was gonna be big. As if you could expect anything less from him. And while the gifts kept coming, so did the TV appearances and commercial shoots.

It took one blink for the entire week to be pretty much over without him getting to participate in many of the activities he had planned. 

Homelander hasn’t felt this frustrated in a while. While he tried his best to move the schedule around, Madelyn was adamant about the importance these event had on his image and he couldn’t do much but grit his teeth and comply lest he upset her. But why doesn’t she see how important this is to him? Isn’t it obvious? 

He feels his eyes twitch. His smile becomes tighter, strained. Easily turning from his TV smile to the threatening grimace it truly is. These fucking photoshoots are beneath him. As if he doesn't have anything better to do than to stand here for hours until they've taken thousands of photos of him.

His irritation rises with each click of the camera, each flash blinding his eyes. He barely notices the way his eyes subtly heat up over the sound of ringing his ears. He's seconds away from blasting a hole straight through the camera lens and the photographer's brain. The urge to let go is strong, so strong in fact he can already imagine the bitter scent of burning wafting through the air.

Only thing that takes him out of his irritation is a subtle vibration against his leg signaling a new message. He instantly knows it's from you, nobody else gets texting privileges. Heat blooms in his chest. Just the thought of your attention brings back a genuine smile. 

He graces the crew with a smile that really is meant for you.

“Sorry folks, I gotta take five.” His lips are stretched into that awkward thin-lipped smile and he puts his hands up in a faux-apologetic gesture. He steps off the backdrop to the side, already fishing out his phone from the hidden pocket he had the costume department sew in. They carved out a space in the fake musculature of the suit so it fit right in without leaving an awkward rectangular outline in what's meant to be a skin tight suit. 

He unlocks his phone, greeted with the sickly sweet photo of the two of you. Sometimes this joy feels like his little secret. A vindictive joy against the odds. 

Come to the cabin when you're free. I've got a surprise for you ❤️

Even a simple message from you causes the weight on his chest to drop, dissolving his anger immediately. 

Aren't you a saint? Unknowingly you've just saved the entire studio. And they don't even know how grateful they should be that he has you. 

And with a promise like that he can't really stand to have one more photo taken. He slips his phone back into his pocket, turning around with a swish of his cape.

“Whoopsie-daisy, gonna have to cut this short, the city calls for my help. You know how it is, the criminals just looove to push their luck. Anyway, you got enough right? Yeah? yeah I thought so." He makes some broad gestures with a solidifying thumbs-up as if he was committing to a deal and salutes with a, "Alright. Laters.” He talks fast enough to shut any critical comments down before they even have a chance to spill from their worthless mouths.

With a quick glance to the corner of the room where Ashley is already standing anxiously arrow-straight, he doesn’t need to say anything to know that she will fight and bargain to save the situation to the best of her meagre abilities. However the fuck she does is not his problem, not like he needs to explain himself.

He doesn't wait to see the other people’s reactions, already eager to lose the watchful eyes of the crew and the camera lens. He downright stomps his way out of the studio and at the first glimpse of the bright blue sky he takes off, kicking off the ground with an obnoxious boom that rattles the foundations of nearby buildings.

He’s giddy with excitement. As he rips through the clouds, the wind pulling his hair back, slashing through the gelled cast, he can’t take that smile off his face. The adrenaline-like rush he feels in his gut over your surprise is new. It’s exciting! He doesn’t remember the last time somebody treated him to an honest-to-god surprise. A proper one at least. None of the slimy corporate schmoozing.

He reaches the location in record speed, just under seven minutes—though it still feels like forever. But the excitement clouds his vision and suddenly he’s barrelling down the atmosphere, seconds away from performing one of his ostentatious landings and exploding the ground around him. He catches himself last second, putting his heel first as an emergency break.

His landing is clumsy. He staggers as soon as his foot hits the ground, kicking up the leaves around him into the air. He regains his balance at the last tremble of his foot, sparing himself the embarrassment of a failed landing—one he hasn’t experienced since the lab days.

God, now look at his pathetic simpering self.

Literally falling head over heels because you blew your whistle. Like a needy puppy he races to you, zipping through all obstacles, unwilling to lose a single second of the allocated time he gets to spend with you.

The sweetheart you are, you’d probably praise him for it anyway and kiss his boo-boo away. That thought alone makes him rethink the fall. Not that he can actually get scraped by a measly rough landing. Though, maybe the extra attention is worth the damage it would do to his ego. 

“Woaaah, you okay?” Before he’s had a chance to look around and lock his eyes on you, you’re in his field of vision by your own doing. Quick footsteps, muffled by the leaves covering the ground become louder and louder until you’ve got your arms wrapped around one of his, helping him up. As if he actually needed it. He’s so charmed by the way you treat him as if he were fine china.

You give an awkward little chuckle. “Don’t want you getting hurt because of me.” 

Overcome with surging emotions, Homelander pulls you closer, both of his hands cupping your cheeks as he gives you a big sappy kiss. It’s as much a hello as it is a I love you with all my heart. 

Now that his heart is satisfied, for the time being at least, he lets you go. Immediately tempted to dive in for more after he sees your flustered face, all giddy twitches to the corners of your lips as you look everywhere but him. Almost embarrassed that somebody might see you two kiss so passionately.

Yeah, he can’t let you go without more. He pulls you in again, and this time his kisses are silly. Loud with a wet mwah each time he presses a kiss to a different part of your face. Your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin and lips don’t stand a chance. This time his kisses do force flustered giggles out of you, a squeak or two after he squishes your cheeks with his numerous kisses. Good luck keeping count with him around.

Oh how he missed you. This week has been nothing but one item on Vought’s itinerary after another and his hunger for you and your love has been growing each passing second he spends in your absence.

You finally manage to push him away, the rapid-fire smooching already getting you ticklish and wobbly. Not that he wouldn’t catch you should his affection be too much for you. Of course then you really couldn’t escape the descent of affection he had to give. 

But he’s a merciful god, and he lets you create some distance. Satisfied, he watches your giggles slowly die out as you look every bit in love. “Hey,” you finally break your loving eye contact and you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Hey, you.” He echoes, his smile equally fond, eyes crinkling with genuine joy.

“You got here very quickly.” You note. Both a little impressed and suspicious. He’s very aware of the way your thumb is rubbing over his glove. Though dulled through the leather, each stroke makes his heart gain a little momentum.

“Well, you know,” he waves his free hand in the air, “the shoot was just wrapping up. I left as soon as I could. Wouldn’t wanna miss our secret little rendezvous.” The fact that he was close to burning down the studio is a little detail you don’t need to be privy to. Though at this point, you can probably tell. 

“Speaking of,” Homelander continues. “There you go, summoning me to a quiet, middle of nowhere, cabin in the woods. Mind enlightening me what’s all this about? What kind of naughty plans has your pretty little head cooked up that require total isolation, huh?” His grin is sharp and he by no means hides the immediate thoughts running through his head.

“First of all, this is your cabin. Not some middle of nowhere. Second of all, get your mind out of the gutter—now.” Even through your scolding you giggle, grinning at him as you walk backwards, dragging him with you.

Turning just around the end of the cabin presents a sweet sight. On the soft grass lies a picnic blanket, adorned with a woven basket, a colourful spread of food, pillows, and even a bunch of roses. As if taken straight from a romance novel. 

Except, this is real. Unlike most of his previous love life.

“Tada! Happy Valentine’s day!” You let his hand go and you raise your arms in the air at the reveal. Right along with your pretty glittering smile. The joy of this moment feels unreal. Is this really happening? Is this really his life these days? He can’t remember a time when he last experienced a joy this pure that wasn’t with you.

“W-uh-what? You put all of this together?” He’s a little shell-shocked. After a busy week, filled with more work than time with you—much to his displeasure—this feels like an oasis. He’s been parched all week, dragging through the desert that was working for Vought and here you come, rescuing him with the most delicious sip of water. Well, more like a whole reservoir of it.

“I had a teeny tiny bit of help but yeah,” you pinch your fingers together to show just how little help you’ve had.

“I had to make it a secret! And you’ve been treating me so well all week, I had to have a little surprise for you too.” He can’t tell which one of you is more excited. You look more excited with your near ‘skipping to the picnic blanket’ attitude, but his heart is hammering against his ribcage with this overwhelming joy he’s not felt in a while. He still so easily gets disarmed by all the ways you show your love. This is just another cherry on top of what feels like an infinitely tiered cake that is your relationship. Each time he thinks you surely don’t have more to give, you go and add another tier or another cherry. Sweeting his sour life, one moment at a time.

“Come on,” you walk—no, skip—back to him, aiming to grasp both of his hands. Homelander catches you right before you manage to, one arm around your waist, the other supporting the back of your head and just like that you’re yet again caught in the web that are his kisses. He presses his lips firmly against yours, waiting for you to relax, letting him have his way with your now-parted lips. With pleased little sighs and long hums in between, he renders your legs into a jelly-like state, supporting your weight effortlessly.

“I love you,” he breathes out heavily when he finally pulls away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“I love you too,” you catch your breath. The smile you offer up steals his heart a hundred times over, while the sped up pitter-patter of your heart soothes him. You’re just as enamored by him as he is by you.

“Let’s enjoy this together.” He lets you take his hands this time as you walk him to the picnic. You sit down first, carving out a space for the two of you, impatiently patting the area next to you. Homelander takes care to move his cape out of the way while not knocking anything over or covering anything up.

“I hope your calendar is free the entire weekend because I brought a lot of food, drinks, blankets and movies and I plan to spend all this time spoiling you.”

“I thought it was the gentleman’s job to spoil his lady.” He looks at you fondly, one wouldn’t even recognise him like this. Though most haven’t earned this reaction from him. You have. 

“What can I say, I’m all for gender equality. So just let me spoil you for once.”

“Alright then missy, let’s see what you’ve got.” He’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow. 

While you reach for the furthest tray filled with all sorts of sweets and finger food, Homelander looks around at all that you’ve prepared, curiously picking up an iced cookie.

“Are these… our initials?” He asks after he inspects the heart shaped cookie from each side before biting into it. They’re clearly custom made with the love for each other in mind, but the idea of you ordering these from a bakery makes him chuckle. What’s next, are you gonna get him to carve out your initials into a tree?

Well, he definitely could.

Maybe, he should. 

He could carve out your initials into the moon if you asked him to. 

“Cheesy, I know.”

“Sweet too, just like you.” 

“I take it back, you’re a whole league ahead of the cookies.” You deadpan.

“Come on babe, when else if not on Valentine’s day? Cut me some slack.” He was gonna put the rest of the cookie down, not wanting to overwhelm himself with too much sugar but seeing his initial all alone now that he’s bitten off your letter looks too sad for his liking. He pops the rest of the cookie in his mouth, wiping off the crumbs with his glove. 

“Now, now. Don’t get too full on cookies. I’ve got more for you.” You pluck a chocolate covered strawberry from a tray. “Here, open up.” You hold the chocolate covered tip of the strawberry close to his lips, waiting for him to take a bite. It’s only appropriate for a man of god-like status like him to be fed and worshipped by his love. You always fill that role so well. His most devout one. 

He bites half of it, letting you eat the rest. You put the green top back onto the tray when you’re done with your portion.

“You know I’ve never had those before.” He says after a thorough tasting session.

You have the audacity to look at him like he’s grown another head.

“You’re fucking with me. You’ve never had chocolate strawberries?” Your face scrunches in disbelief as you speak over a mouthful of goodness.

“I’ve had chocolate. I’ve had strawberries. Obviously. Just never together.” He shakes his head a little, acting as if you’re the crazy one.

“Wow. Okay. We’re gonna have to explore this bizarre list of things you’ve never had before.” Indulgently you go for another one, and he takes another mental note of your likes.

When he says nothing you prompt him with, “Well? What’s the verdict? Is it everything you’ve ever imagined?”

“Did you make them?” He asks, confusing you, instead of actually answering your question.

“No, I picked them up from the same bakery I got the cookies from.”

“Okay good, well, it’s not my favourite. Sorry to disappoint you there.” He clasps his hands together as he looks at you with a terribly fake apologetic smile.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Were you about to lie to me if I said I did make them?”

He sputters, blowing a raspberry as he looks away, pretending to just be scoping out the place.

“Who, me? No, never!” He feigns innocence without actually putting any of his acting chops behind the gesture.

“You ass!” You gently smack his chest. “What didn���t you like about it?” Now that you know he’s not a fan, you eagerly hog the tray, scoffing down one strawberry after another.

“The taste is fine enough. It’s the texture that’s all wrong. Mushy and crunchy at the same time is just, bleugh.” He shakes his head a little bit as if disgusted, acting all dramatic. He’d happily be seen as silly and dramatic if it gets you to laugh as joyously and heartily as it does this time.

When your chuckles die out, you call him out. “Fussy. Oh well, more for me.”

He takes his time. Watching over you closely as you enjoy your sweet little red treats.

“You know what would taste better?” 

“Hmm?” You hum absentmindedly, putting the tray away after discarding another leafy top.

“You.” He pulls you down to his level when your hands are free, lying you across the top of him.

You yelp at the sudden pull. After you settle on top of him a little better, you mumble. “I taste just like the strawberries!” 

“Mhm, but you feel a hell of a lot better. C’mere.” Just like that, he’s kissing you again. His hands can’t decide where to hold you so they slide around your back, your hips—stealing a cheeky squeeze of your ass, shocking a little nip to his lip from you—and all the way around your neck, head and arms. His hands are just as greedy for you as his lips are.

And you were right. You do taste like strawberries and chocolate. The hint of sweet and delicious alongside the taste of you that he so loves. You don’t take his kisses as seriously. Giggling and wobbling on top of him.

You pull away with a burst of giggles at the awkward position. You’re almost spread entirely across him, limb to limb. Body part to body part. It’s admittedly a little silly looking. Like two people making snow angels on top of one another. But still, the effortlessness that comes with the sounds you make, swells his heart with fondness.

You reach your arm out into the woven wicker basket and pull out a can of whipped cream.

“Well if you don’t like the chocolate ones, I’ve got some whipped cream for you.” Except instead of covering one of the fresh strawberries, you squirt a dollop of cream at the tip of his nose.

Homelander’s bewildered at your child-like actions. Especially so, when you lick the cream off with a disgusting slurp.

“Welp, now you’ve done it.” He easily wrestles you for the can without needing to use even an ounce of his strength, twisting the two of you around. 

He manages to knock over some of your pretty trays but he can’t force himself to care. Now when you’re underneath him.

You look so pretty like this.

Happily taking your place underneath him, cheeks puffed up with your laughter, lips in a constant wide grin. Your happiness around him makes you the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He has to stop himself from descending on you with another avalanche of kisses, instead opting for continuing this playful little wrestling match you got yourselves into.

Homelander squirts the cream in a line over your lips, licking and kissing it off in between the laughter that still shakes your body. He leaves your lips leaving all sticky and improperly cleaned. This distracts you well enough for him to draw a line from your neck to your cleavage.

With a scandalous shriek you try to push him away. “Oh my god are you crazy, not out here!”

You squeak even more when you feel the cream land in between your breasts, spreading across your skin as it slowly warms up and turns liquid.

“There is literally nobody out here. I’d hear them.” Or well, let’s be real. He’d burn their eyes out for accidentally seeing you in a mildly compromising position, he wants to add but chooses to keep the moment sweet for your sake.

Obscenely, he licks up all the cream he covered you with. No matter how much you act as if this is the filthiest thing he’s ever done. There are plenty more filthier things he’s got planned with this whipped cream. Suddenly you’ve opened up a whole world of possibilities he hasn’t thought of before.

Thinking he’s already got you hook, line and sinker as soon as his tongue hits your skin, he’s in for another surprise when you don’t give in as easily. You manage to snag the can from his hand right before he gets any further.

“If you want to continue this, we’re gonna have to pack all of this up and take it indoors.” You threaten as if you were scolding a child.

"Fine. We can stay here." Finally, with a huff, he drops his advances, instead dropping his weight on you for a second before readjusting your position. Really, he’s glad that you have a mind of your own. Which isn’t something he can say for most of the people he’s surrounded with.

“See, this is nice.” You pull yourself up a little so that his head rests on your stomach. You take a deep breath, exhaling slowly and he enjoys the slow rise and fall of your torso. To have someone so alive and eager with him really feels like the best Valentine’s day gift. That sickly sweet dimpled little fruit could never compare.

So yeah. It is nice. Really nice.

Your fingers cradle through his locks, gently breaking apart the hair product the styling team piled on for his photoshoot. He hums his pleased approval into the softness of your stomach, nuzzling himself into you.

Shenanigans can always wait. Now, he has this. And the rest of the weekend to catch up on all the time lost.

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

@infinetlyforgotten | @rafecamsgirlll | @nervoussystemss | @hom3landr

@mrsdesade | @nommingonfood | @littlegaaby | @jokesonyoupup

@natliecole | @misatxox

[raileurta]

I don't know of you take suggestions but I saw one of your posts tagged chaos God miko and my brain decided to go what of that was a bit more literal.

Imagine a miko who got exposed to trace amounts of dark energon, not enough to do much damage but more then enough to establish or perhaps reawaken a mental link with unicron.

Imagine a miko who grows up drawn to chaos and mischief, becoming more energetic the more hectic things become and becoming lethargic and tired when things become to peaceful. A miko who always knows things she shouldn't and seems to see your very soul. A miko who grows up lulled to sleep by an ancient voice in her mind telling her stories of distant worlds and singing about the death of empires.

Unicron is only half awake but that is more then enough to chat with his little one and peer through her eyes at the creatures living on him. It's more then enough for him to grow to love his little one as much as a being like him can love. So much so that he decides to take a page out of his brothers book and make her his champion.

The process is slow and painful, it will take years and unimaginable misfortune for her to grow into herself but that gives her more then enough time to seek out the one being on the planet who just might understand her, besides she's curious what her "cousins" are up to.

I do take suggestions!

Your brain is very big and genius right now

The idea of Miko being more chaotic then she already is a pretty scary one lol. Especially if she has some god like powers.

(Finally getting around to answering this months later 😅)

Anyways I imagine she just comes around a bit of dark energon maybe like a spoonful at a really young age. Miko I feel like as a kid would be that person to just eat random stuff. So yeah she ate it. Miko gets very sick from this and is in the hospital for like two weeks. She's mostly unconscious during it and in her dream-like state chats up with Unicron. He's hella confused about this random child and tries everything he can to scare off.

It doesn't work.

So reluctantly he has to deal with her in the mind void. Idk what would be the initial thing that would bring them together (probably extreme violence) but they do become sorta friends. Unicron would deny this though and just says he sees Miko as a pet. Even after Miko is unleashed from the hospital she still regularly visits him in the void. She would learn all types of things from him and vice versa. She teaches him about human stuff, seasons, school ugh, any hobbies she's into, and the horrors of the Internet. He teach her about Cybertronians history, the worlds he's seen, how to make dark matter, his beef with Primus, and horrors beyond comprehension! All around it's a great learning experience for the both of them.

Miko would grow up to be an intelligent but kinda disturbing being. Growing up with the god of chaos and evil in your brain will do that. She would know how to press all the right buttons to set off the prey drive in your brain. Miko also probably at one point or another killed someone too. That person would have obviously been a dick though; she's still got some form of morality.

The process of her becoming a champion would definitely be slow. And torture but worth it in the end. I imagine though she's got cute little horns on her head. She would use magic to disguise them. Maybe some wings too, nothing she can fly with but they're there.

Miko would learn of the transformers and definitely head on over there much to the disagreement of Unicron. I think the matrix would signal to Optimus "Bro watch out for that girl her vibes are seriously off." Optimus doesn't exactly know what's going on but he's keeping an optic out.

This came out more rambley than usually meh.

[forgetfulfish]

I originally posted this as a reply to a reblog but I'm posting it here anyways:

The spiraling horror of the way the tasks get more and more mundane is brilliantly done. The viewer sees Gabby's situation and they're jarred by how screwed up it is. Severance for personal and selfish reasons. Then they emphasise the reality of this kind of existence so blatantly with Wellington Gemma's "I was just here", going to the dentist over and over again.

This image of the ultra rich handing off uncomfortable things goes from childbirth, to the dentist, to airplane turbulence. People so devoid of humanity they would in a literal way slice off a part of their own self and use it to avoid all pain and discomfort. However, the airplane amps it up a level of bizarreness, because that's a discomfort that is already fully avoidable. Countless nervous flyers every day take a sleeping tablet on a flight. Checking out of the concious world on a flight is already an option, so what's the appeal? That one could stay awake and converse and keep up appearances while on the flight? There's no possible reason that isn't entirely based on keeping up appearances. There's a whole other more ethical way to avoid that discomfort right there. The situation has spiraled from selfishly avoiding pain and locking that poor innie in the cabin 3 times, to the Wellington Gemma that ensures endless dental procedures to allow an outie to avoid even the most routine and trivial uncomfortable procedures, to keeping a person eternally on an airplane to avoid showing any even perceived weakness or fear. We've seen what having only the severed floor does to the Lumon innies, even with other innies around and diconnected from the outside world. Now scale that down to an airplane but there's nobody who understands you and you're never really anywhere always in the sky. Always expected to socialise with outies like you aren't even an innie. Gabby's innie wouldn't admit to being one, she put up a front, it's a reasonable jump to assume that's what will be expected of them.

And then they show the Christmas room. An innie created to avoid writing thank you notes at Christmas. A person who exists solely so that one would not have to go to the effort of actual human connection. But it goes deeper than that, this is a task one could pay an assistant to do for them. Any person who doesn't give a damn about thank you notes and can afford an optional brain surgery like severance could probably outsource this task with ease. Heck, a thank you note is something you could just forego entirely. But no, they think that one must keep up an appearance of gratitude, of a hand written thank you note, and they see no issue having one woman write forever so that they can have that. And this one scene hammers home the goal of keeping up appearances because the innie is expected to return their spouse's declartion of love. The innie must behave as the outie spouse would. A big cultural holiday that's meant to be about spending time with family is turned into her constant suffering all in the name of the outie avoiding being even slightly inconvenience having to perform a kind gesture. And what better framing for the corporatisation of human feeling than Christmas, a holiday famously intensely corporatised.

We went from singular rich lady selfisly offloads her suffering, to avoiding routine medical procedures by having a person go through them endlessly, to having somebody locked eternally in a vehicle simply to save face, to creating an innie to avoid anything that is even mildly annoying and in doing so turning what should be a relatively mundane task for the outie into an infinitely stretching never ending hell for an innie.

The viewer sees the horror of Gabby's innie's situation and the show just takes it lower and lower and lower. Absolute doom spiral of situations and motivations. Quality storytelling.

[vir-tanadahl]

This is a scheduled post, so I’m not officially back. I have seriously debated stepping away from all of my vir tanadahl accounts and just signing off.

Honestly, when I made that post, I had no idea what to expect—but I definitely didn’t expect someone to tear my writing apart, color-code their complaints, and make a spectacle of everything they thought was wrong with it. It wasn’t just criticism. It was beyond criticism. It felt like a public shaming for not being a better writer or storyteller. 

…I’m not some aspiring author. I just write for fun. Fanfic was supposed to be an escape, a way to just write without stressing over world-building or getting every little detail perfect.

I write because I have ideas about the characters that I think are interesting…and that maybe others would find them interesting too.

I’m sure some people don’t like my writing—maybe they find it too cold or too structured—but for me, it feels soothing. It just makes sense to my brain. I know it’s not the best, and it’s definitely not something meant for legitimate publication.

I write that way because it’s what I’m used to. It’s the kind of writing I have to do every day. I have to document things professionally, where there’s an expectation for everything to be formal and structured. It’s just how my brain has been trained to put words together.

I obviously struggle with making things more concise when it comes to creative writing.

The point for fanfics relates back to community and giving back to the community. 

I don’t think people realize how much harm these call-out posts are doing to the trust between writers and readers. They’re creating an environment of doubt and fear. the exact opposite of what fosters creativity. Like having to worry about “big brother” watching over my shoulder. 

And, uh… man, that whole thing really messed with my head. I’ve tried to write since, but I just freeze up. All I can think about is those stupid color-coded highlights, like a giant, flashing reminder of how bad my writing is.

Honestly, I just end up feeling ashamed that my writing isn’t better, which is such a weird place to be. Even when my writing was objectively worse (seriously, some of my earliest stuff on Ao3 was rough), I never felt ashamed of it. Embarrassed, sure. But not shame.

I could see how much I had grown in just the first two years I started posting. And I could see how much I’ve grown from 2017/2018 to my writing now, even though I was no longer active in the fandom. I kept writing, just not creatively. I was am really proud at that growth.

I put so much time and effort into those fics. I tried to make sure every detail connected, that everything felt cohesive. I really, really tried.

But somehow, it wasn’t until that person decided to literally lay it all out, color-coded and everything, that I started feeling like my writing wasn’t just average—it was something to be ashamed about.

And I’m sure some of you are probably shouting at your screens right now, telling me not to let one person’s opinion get to me.

And you know what? You’re right—I shouldn’t. But shame is a powerful emotion, and once it settles in, it’s not so easy to shake.

Especially when it is so easily to color code all the flaws for the world to see. 

Ironically enough, that was the fanfic I was already struggling with. I hated that fic. I never told anyone because I knew how many people were enjoying it and looking forward to it. But the truth is, I was so insecure about it the whole time.

I’m pretty sure I kept telling people it was “challenging.” The reality is I was miserable writing that fic. I was struggling to figure out to describe everything.

And of course, that one person just had to find the one fic I was already insecure about—the one I was really struggling with—and then went out of their way to make it very clear that, yeah, I struggle with writing. (Tbh, I do find it is mildly amusing how that happened and have to laugh a little bit about it.)

I’m mostly feeling ashamed right now more than feeling scared, but I do oscillate between them. Which is what that person wanted me to feel, to feel shame, cause they thought AI wrote my stuff…so they treated it like shit…and nope. All me…

And I’m trying really hard not to let the shame win. That’s why I’m still going to stay off Tumblr and most of my other socials connected to vir tanadahl, for now, while I work through this barrier with my writing.

I’ll end this post with this: I’m pretty determined not to let shame win. Naming it, sharing it—it helps. Hopefully, in the next few weeks, I’ll be back… or at least back to posting my writing on Ao3.

In the meantime, feel free to read these:

This one is from the Legal Research Center from the University of San Diego titled ‘The Problems with AI Detectors: False Positives and False Negatives’ updated in January 2025.

This is an announcement from Vanderbilt University titled ‘Guidance on AI Detection and Why We’re Disabling Turnitin’s AI Detector’ from August 2023.

This one from Illinois State University titled ‘Why Don’t AI Detectors Work’ that was updated sometime in 2025 because there is a citation from a publication from 2025. 

I found this statement from Illinois State University website interesting:

A January 2025 study shows that AI detectors remain consistently inconsistent, sometimes getting close to accuracy but then delivering different scores on the exact same files in subsequent checks. 

Thanks to everyone who let me borrow their brave for a little bit. It really helped me find my own.

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 &TEAM BEING DOWN BAD FOR YOU . . !

ot9 &team — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : yes :) ☆ — &t masterlist

note : most of these are before you and the members start dating ! i need to work on my intros for each members they get kinda repetitive but this scenario was so fun to work on ! i tried to make the younger members ones more cotton candy sweet :)

K :

K liked to think of himself as a composed and confident person. He was used to keeping his emotions in check, never one to be overly flustered or obvious about his feelings. But when it came to you, that composure was long gone.

He was so down bad for you, and the worst part? He wasn’t even subtle about it.

You could ask him for literally anything, and he’d do it without hesitation. Need his jacket? It’s already around your shoulders before you even finish your sentence. Want food? He’s buying whatever you like, no questions asked. You casually mention liking a certain song? It’s suddenly at the top of his playlist, and he might have memorized the lyrics just in case you ever bring it up again.

The teasing from the other members was relentless.

“K, do you realize you stare at them like they hung the moon?” Fuma pointed out one day, catching him red-handed as he zoned out while watching you talk.

K blinked, quickly looking away, trying to play it off. “I do not.”

Nicholas snorted. “Bro, you do. It’s embarrassing.”

But nothing was more embarrassing than when you unknowingly made it worse. Like when you flashed him that bright, happy smile, or when you casually touched his arm while laughing at one of his jokes. Every single time, his heart betrayed him, beating so fast it was ridiculous.

The biggest down bad moment, though? The time you absentmindedly called him cute.

“You’re kinda cute when you concentrate,” you had mused, watching him frown in focus while trying to fix something on his phone. You said it so casually, not thinking much of it, but K? Oh, he short-circuited.

He sat there, phone forgotten in his hands, staring at you like you had just told him the deepest secret of the universe. His ears turned red, and for the first time, he had no idea how to respond.

“Uh…” His brain scrambled for words, but they simply didn’t come.

You just laughed at his reaction, completely unaware of the absolute meltdown you had just caused in his head.

At this point, everyone—including the members—knew K was head over heels for you. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever work up the courage to confess, but one thing was certain: if you asked for the world, he’d find a way to give it to you.

FUMA :

Fuma liked to think he had a decent amount of self-control. He was calm, collected, the dad of the group—he wasn’t the type to get flustered easily.

Except when you’re around.

He was so smitten for you, and he knew it. The members knew it. You, however? Completely oblivious.

Fuma had a habit of spoiling you without even realizing it. If you so much as looked at something for too long, he was already making a mental note to get it for you later. You mentioned craving a certain snack? He’d somehow have it with him the next time you saw him. One time, you casually said you were cold, and before you could even register what was happening, Fuma was draping his jacket over your shoulders like it was second nature.

“You’re gonna spoil them,” Yuma teased, watching Fuma hand you your favorite drink—one he went way out of his way to get.

Fuma shrugged, like it was no big deal. “They deserve it.”

If that wasn’t down bad enough, the way he looked at you definitely was. He had this soft, almost fond gaze whenever you spoke, like he was memorizing every little detail about you. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved? The way you absentmindedly played with your hands when you were thinking? He noticed everything.

And then, of course, there were the moments where you unknowingly made it worse.

Like that one time you leaned against him while laughing, your head resting on his shoulder for just a second too long. He barely managed to keep his cool, but the other members? Oh, they noticed.

Nicholas smirked. “You good, man?”

Fuma cleared his throat, forcing himself to act normal. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

The truth? His brain was screaming.

But the moment that really took him out was the time you casually ran your fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his face while laughing at something dumb he said. You did it so naturally, like it was nothing, but Fuma? He froze.

“Your hair’s soft,” you had mused, completely unaware that he was actively trying not to combust on the spot.

From that day on, Fuma knew one thing for sure: if you ever asked him for the moon, he’d find a way to give it to you.

NICHOLAS :

Nicholas prided himself on being cool and composed, but when it came to you? Yeah, no. All logic went out the window. He was so obviously in love with you, it was almost painful to watch.

It started with the way he hovered around you. He was always nearby—never in an overbearing way, but enough that the members started pointing it out. If you moved, somehow Nicholas just ended up next to you. If you needed something, he was already handing it to you before you even asked. It was almost instinctual at this point.

“Nicholas, you do realize they have hands, right?” EJ teased after watching him open your drink for you.

Nicholas just shrugged, like it was no big deal. But the truth? He lived for those little moments. Any excuse to be close to you.

And then there was the staring. Oh, the staring.

He wasn’t even subtle about it. You’d be talking, completely in your own world, and Nicholas would be watching you with the softest, most lovestruck expression—like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

The other members definitely noticed.

“Dude, blink,” Yuma muttered, nudging him when he caught Nicholas gazing at you again.

Nicholas snapped out of it, pretending he wasn’t just caught, but the smirk on Yuma’s face said otherwise.

You were completely oblivious to all of this.

Like that one time you playfully messed with his hair, ruffling it before grinning up at him. “You look cute like this.”

Nicholas blacked out.

His brain completely short-circuited, and all he could do was stare at you, mouth slightly open, while his soul ascended. Meanwhile, K, who had definitely witnessed the whole thing, was wheezing in the background.

And don’t even get started on the time you borrowed his hoodie because you were cold. You hadn’t even asked—just grabbed it off the couch and pulled it on like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Nicholas nearly malfunctioned.

“You—you can keep it,” he blurted out, voice slightly higher than usual.

You tilted your head. “Huh? But it’s yours.”

“It’s fine. Looks better on you anyway,” he muttered, pretending to be unbothered while actively fighting for his life.

Yeah. Nicholas was down bad, and at this rate, the only thing worse than his obvious crush was the fact that you still weren’t getting the hint.

EJ :

EJ wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve—at least, not this obviously.

It started with how attentive he was. He always seemed to notice the little things—if you liked a certain snack, he’d somehow have it on hand. If you were tired, he’d quietly adjust his pace to match yours. And if you so much as shivered, his jacket was already draped over your shoulders before you could even register the cold.

At first, you chalked it up to him just being considerate. EJ was naturally kind, after all. But the others? They knew better.

“Dude, just admit it,” K sighed one day as he watched EJ carefully set aside the last slice of cake for you.

EJ blinked, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You literally cut it perfectly and put it on a separate plate for them,” Nicholas deadpanned. “If that’s not down bad behavior, I don’t know what is.”

But nothing exposed him more than the hoodie incident.

One evening, you grabbed his hoodie off the couch, pulling it on without a second thought. “Hope you don’t mind,” you said, giving him a little smile as you adjusted the sleeves.

EJ forgot how to breathe.

Mind? Mind?! You were standing there, looking ridiculously good in his hoodie, and you were asking if he minded?

“You can keep it,” he blurted out, way too fast.

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

He nodded, trying to act cool despite the warmth creeping up his neck. “Yeah. Looks better on you anyway.”

Fuma nearly choked on his drink from how shameless that was. Meanwhile, Taki was staring in open disbelief.

At this point, everyone was just waiting for you to catch on. Because EJ? Yeah, he was too far gone.

YUMA :

Yuma liked to think he was subtle, that his feelings for you weren’t that obvious. But anyone with eyes—literally, anyone—could tell he was completely, hopelessly down bad.

It wasn’t even like he was trying to be obvious. It just happened. His feet automatically carried him to wherever you were, his hands moved before he could think to help you with the smallest things, and his brain? Completely shut down whenever you gave him even the slightest bit of attention.

“Yuma, are you even paying attention?”

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. You had been saying something—probably something important—but all he had been doing was staring at you, completely lost in his own world.

“Huh?” he blinked, trying to recover. “Yeah, totally.”

“You were staring again,” Harua snickered from beside him.

Yuma immediately kicked him under the table. “Shut up.”

And then there was the art museum incident.

You had offhandedly mentioned wanting to go, so naturally, Yuma casually suggested making a day out of it. But the second you stepped into the gallery, he realized his mistake. Because you? You looked way too pretty admiring the paintings, eyes full of wonder as you took everything in.

“Do you like this one?” you asked, pointing at a piece.

Yuma was about to respond, but then you turned to look at him, tilting your head just slightly—and suddenly, he forgot how words worked.

“It’s… yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nice.”

Nice? This was a work of historical significance, and that was the best he could come up with?

Meanwhile, Nicholas, who had been third-wheeling the entire trip, just sighed. “Dude, you’re so gone.”

Yuma knew that. And yet, every time you looked at him like that, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

JO :

Jo liked to think he was good at keeping his emotions in check. He wasn’t the type to wear his feelings on his sleeve—at least, that’s what he told himself. But everyone around him could see the way he completely melted whenever you were around.

It wasn’t just the way he stared at you like you hung the stars in the sky—it was the way he acted. The way he automatically saved a seat next to him no matter where you were. The way he’d subtly pass you the last piece of whatever you were eating together, pretending he wasn’t starving just so you could have it. The way he would get completely and utterly useless the second you did something even remotely affectionate.

Like now.

“Jo, can you hold this for me?” you asked, handing him something without a second thought.

Big mistake.

Because the second your fingers brushed against his, Jo felt his entire body malfunction. His brain short-circuited, his ears turned red, and suddenly, he forgot how to breathe.

“Jo?”

No response.

“Jo, are you okay?”

Still nothing.

Nicholas, watching from the side, sighed dramatically. “Yeah, he’s gone.”

And then there was the time you casually called him cute.

“You’re so cute, Jo,” you had laughed, nudging his arm.

Jo immediately stopped functioning. Like, physically froze on the spot. His soul might have left his body for a second.

“Cute?” he echoed, blinking rapidly as if his brain needed a reboot.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “It’s adorable how you always take care of me.”

At that moment, Jo had to actively fight for his life not to melt into a puddle on the floor. He turned away, covering his face with his sleeve, hoping you wouldn’t see just how red he had gotten.

“I—uh—thank you,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Meanwhile, Taki, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, snickered. “Bro, you are down horrendous.”

And honestly? Jo couldn’t even deny it.

HARUA :

Harua had always been a little shy about his feelings, but it was so obvious that he was completely smitten with you. His eyes would light up whenever you entered a room, and you could practically feel the weight of his gaze when he thought you weren’t looking. He would try to act all cool and collected, but you could see through his little act.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said one day, almost bashfully, when you caught him staring at you from across the room. He quickly turned his face away, but you could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Like what?” you asked innocently, enjoying how he got flustered.

“You know… like I’m the most interesting thing in the world,” he mumbled under his breath. He couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew he wasn’t hiding his feelings very well, but he didn’t care. You made him feel things he’d never felt before.

It wasn’t long before Harua started finding every excuse to be close to you, always lingering near you during group activities. He loved the way your laughter would fill the room and the way your presence made everything feel a little bit warmer. Even though he was a bit shy, he never wanted to leave your side. He would even playfully complain about it, but you could tell it was because he couldn’t stand being apart from you for too long.

“You really like me, don’t you?” you teased him one day, when he was once again standing a little too close.

“Is it that obvious?” he laughed nervously, brushing his hand through his hair. You could see the nervous smile on his face. “I guess I can’t hide it anymore.”

You smiled softly, enjoying the way his usual composed nature melted away around you.

Harua didn’t need to say much. His actions spoke louder than words. His lingering gaze, the way he was always looking for ways to help you, and the way he never wanted to be far from you were all clear indicators of just how much he adored you.

TAKI :

Taki had never been subtle when it came to you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to hide it. It was just impossible for him to keep it together when you were around. If there was one thing that was undeniably clear, it was that he was totally down bad for you, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Whether it was in rehearsals or when the group was just hanging out, Taki was constantly looking for little ways to get your attention. It could be as simple as making sure you had a snack when you were a little hungry, or making a joke to make you laugh—whatever it took to make you smile.

One day, during a break between practice, you were all gathered around chatting. Taki had this soft, almost dreamy look on his face as he watched you talk with the others. But as soon as you turned to look his way, his expression snapped to one of sheer flustered panic.

“Are you okay, Taki?” you asked, catching him staring.

His eyes went wide, and his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “H-huh? Me? Of course! I was just… thinking about something important,” he stammered, but it was clear to everyone that his “important” thoughts had nothing to do with anything other than you. He cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact and pretending to focus on anything other than you.

But his little habit didn’t go unnoticed. When you got up to stretch, Taki was quick to move closer, making sure he was always within arm’s reach—like he needed to be near you. He’d “accidentally” bump into you, offering you a nervous smile when he did. It was so obvious to everyone else, but Taki? He was just doing his best to stay composed, even though his feelings were practically written all over his face.

Later, when you asked him to help you with something minor—like holding your water bottle for a moment—Taki’s hands nearly shook as he took it from you. “Of course! Anything for you!” His voice was a little too eager, and he immediately regretted sounding so desperate, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Thanks, Taki,” you smiled, completely unaware of how flustered you were making him. But for Taki, it was moments like these that made him feel like he was on cloud nine.

No matter how hard he tried to play it cool, his heart would skip a beat whenever you were around. Every time you smiled at him, or every time your hand brushed against his by accident, he could feel his feelings grow even more. It wasn’t just a little crush anymore—he was completely and utterly down bad for you.

And even though he was a little embarrassed, Taki didn’t mind one bit. As long as he could be near you, as long as you were happy, he was the happiest he’d ever been.

MAKI :

Maki always thought he was good at keeping his emotions in check. But then you came along, and suddenly, everything changed. He tried to stay cool, pretending to be his usual laid-back self, but the way you looked at him, talked to him, made his heart race in ways he couldn’t control.

At first, he tried to brush it off. He’d tell himself, “It’s fine, just don’t let it show,” but it was getting harder every day. He was down bad, and he knew it.

When you walked into the room, Maki’s attention would immediately snap to you. His smile would widen, and even though he tried to act casual, his heart would skip a beat. It was as if the entire room could disappear, and it would just be you and him.

One day, while everyone else was chatting about something, Maki found himself zoning out, his eyes trained on you. The way your lips curved when you smiled, the way your eyes sparkled with that quiet intensity—it drove him absolutely crazy. He tried to stay focused on the conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you.

You caught his stare, and for a moment, you just looked at him, confused but also amused. “Maki,” you said, snapping him out of his trance, “you’re not even listening, are you?”

He blinked, a little flustered, but tried to play it off with a half-smile. “Of course I’m listening,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “Just… thinking about how great everything is going.” But his voice cracked, and he cursed himself inwardly for it.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but Maki could feel the heat rushing to his face. He couldn’t figure out how to act normal around you anymore—everything was different. The way you made him feel was so intense, it almost overwhelmed him.

Later, when you and Maki were walking together, you casually mentioned wanting to grab some food. “I think I’ll grab something from that cafe down the street later. You want to come?”

Maki’s stomach flipped. He knew it wasn’t anything more than a casual invitation, but the thought of spending time alone with you made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come,” he replied, trying to act like it was no big deal, but his heart was already racing at the idea of just the two of you being together.

As the day went on, Maki found himself stumbling over his words more often, trying not to stare at you every chance he got. He’d tell himself, “You’ve got to be cool. You’ve got to be chill,” but his body just didn’t listen. Every time you laughed, every time your hand brushed his by accident, he felt like he was losing control.

When you both sat down for your meal, Maki tried his best to keep the conversation light. But every time you looked at him with that warm smile, his thoughts completely derailed. “You’re really cute when you’re not acting all serious,” you teased him at one point.

Maki felt his face heat up. “I’m not serious! Just… focus on eating,” he stammered, trying to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. But inside? He was a mess. He was so down bad, and he knew it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. Until then, though, he’d keep trying his best to act like he wasn’t completely and utterly in love with you.

Word count : 3531 | serapharua, 2025.

[beachbunnyofficial]

growing digital gardens

Recently I watched video on growing a digital garden - As a musician I tend to fixate mostly on creating but I’ve noticed that magic ideas don’t come from the void but are an amalgamation of thoughts, inspirations, conclusions, and experience. Art and life exist not only in the finale but throughout the entire process. The idea of a digital garden is meticulously observing the links along the way. Perhaps the goal in this explicit awareness is the hope that the products of our consumption can find their way into a song, a painting, a film, or a poem. Trace amounts of a photograph might mutate into a stage dressing, a line from a movie might spark the idea for a novel, or the name of a character might come to you from eavesdropping at a restaurant. You have a direct cause and effect documented somewhere - and it’s for you. I tried to breakdown some music I’ve been listening to this month and capture what I’ve learned about my taste, and how it’s effected writing the upcoming record

🩷 Things I really like in songs 🩷

-lyrics that are vulnerable but not hyper specific

-metaphors that are relatable but not the first thing you think of (maybe the third thing)

-fast (but not necessarily quick)

-sudden changes (tempo, instruments, key, drum pattern)

-I like pauses

-big choruses

-I like when guitar riffs loop & I like when the loop repeats at some point in the song

-I like songs where I can’t explain what instrument I’m hearing

-I like when someone uses a sample that’s so random it actually tickles my brain

-I like contrast. Sad song happy sound. Happy song sad sound

-I like when a song makes me use another one of my senses

-dark bass lines

-I love record scratching

-I like when a song makes you consider

A lot of Beach Bunny has existed in that world of contrast on a visual basis. World building is something I care deeply about but always feels like a new language at the beginning. When a new era comes into frame it’s usually deriving from some other source in my life outside music. Honeymoon was built on skating in the parking lot, wearing glitter on my eyelids to class and ending my first real relationship between midterms and finals. Emotional creature stemmed from pandemic escapism, finding love again, an affinity for retro sci fi movies, and learning music production.

Tunnel Vision takes place is a valentines lala land under a cotton candy sky. All the songs focus on a relationship with myself or a relationship with the world. As I’ve mentioned before I love contrast and what’s more opposite than Barbie pink nuclear warfare or a lace heart lobotomy. Creating a romantic world visually was inspired heavily by 2012-14 tumblr - a place where us teens could mourn together in niche communities and project our deepest insecurities onto movie stills. I also pulled references from 1950s films and photographs of the immortalized squeaky clean suburbia. Turning 27 filled me with existential dread and the best way to digest a complex phenomenon is to romanticize it. The lyrics are unfortunately doomsday, but at least there’s something pretty to look at