#this is why reblogs are important

[mystra-midnight]

thank you for reblogging my love!

Holy Roar

summary: eddie watched your face—the way your mouth twisted and tears dripped from the corners of your eyes because of the over stimulation. he listened to your wild breaths and felt how your body begged for mercy while your soul screamed for more, more, more.

tags: 18+ only. unprotected sex; p in v. praise kink. pet names; good girl, sweet girl, baby. overstimulation. mentions of squirting if you squint. teeth-rotting fluff. eddie being a simp for his girl. soft!eddie but also hints of mean/dom!eddie.

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: eddie might not be religious but he's pretty sure heaven is between your thighs. requested by anon, thank you so much. <3 i needed a reason to be sappy and sweet today after all the drama going on. also, for the record. this was meant to be a drabble but evidently i have no self control.

Eddie Munson wasn't religious, but he did believe in heaven.

He'd swear up and down that he'd seen heaven, and no one had been able to convince him otherwise. The truth was, when he was buried in the tight warmth of your pussy with your arms wrapped around him, he could hear the sound of angels singing. It was a beautiful melody, a crescendo that rang in his ears and brought him to tears.

When he was with you, wrapped in the velvet embrace of your walls, his face hidden against the slope of your neck, the world would melt away. Nothing else mattered in those moments. He wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t a freak; he was just Eddie, and you were just you, and when he moved in you, the holy dark moved too.

And when you came, trembling and twitching beneath him, with pretty moans and whimpers pouring from your kiss-bitten lips, it was like he was born again. When he watched your features twist with rapture, he saw the world through brand new eyes—eyes that were filled with the vision of only you, an angel come to life beneath him, your holy light shining so brightly that he wasn’t sure you were real.

He often had to remind himself that you were.

Sometimes Eddie had to pinch himself just to convince himself that you weren't a beautiful, haunting illusion about to slip through his fingers. It was why he touched you with greedy hands at every opportunity. He touched you because he could, gripping the fat of your thighs, the curve of your hips, the pudge of your stomach, your tits, your cheeks, and your hands.

He was never cruel. Firm, yes; mocking, sometimes, but he could never hurt you. Eddie would hold you with strong hands that never stilled unless he was pounding into you, forcing unholy moans from your pretty mouth.

And unless he was kissing you, his tongue in your mouth, twirling and dancing with yours, he couldn’t stay silent. Eddie loved to whisper sweet nothings in between searing kisses. He would growl in your ear while carving his way to your guts. He would babble mindlessly as he chased his orgasm, fucking you through one, then a second, and then a third.

Some nights he was wild and untamed, whereas others he was kind and gentle.

No matter what, it was always a religious experience.

And tonight was no different.

Eddie had you on your back with your hands pinned above your head; he was holding both of your wrists in one of his larger hands. Your legs were around his waist, and the heels of your feet were pressing into his backside to draw him deeper as he rolled his hips and found that sweet spot that made you sing. Tears ebbed at your lash line, and he chased each one that fell with an eager tongue.

It was a cool evening in Hawkins, Indiana. Sometime past ten, a light rain had settled over the town. Eddie could hear the pitter-patter of droplets as they hit the roof of the caravan, the slide as they cascaded down the awnings, and the splatter as they hit the ground. The window was open, and a cool breeze was playing with the curtains, leaving his sweat-slicked skin goosepimpled.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured. His voice was rough and heavy with lust. “Can’t believe you’re mine,” he continued, mumbling the words against the slope of your neck, where he scrapped his teeth over your racing pulse. You arched beneath him when he dragged a ringed hand down your body, cruising from your throat to your chest, where he paused to brush a thumb over your peddled nipple before tugging on it a little meanly.

He listened to the way your breath hitched and the needy moan that tumbled past your lips when he moved his hand lower to the apex of your thighs. Eddie Munson was a simple man who loved you in this state—cock-drunk and floating in the clouds.

He loved to watch you come undone for him. He loved the way your back would arch, the way your muscles would tighten and flex, how you pulled him in and pushed him away when the pleasure mounted, and the way you couldn’t seem to get enough air while riding each orgasm. He couldn’t get enough of you; he was addicted to you.

“Bet you’re sensitive, baby.” Eddie said, gliding his pointer and ring finger on either side of your clit, which was still buzzing from the last orgasm he’d pulled from the depths of your soul. He felt you twitch beneath him, heard the sharp intake of breath, and heard the muffled whine that escaped your pretty mouth. “But look at you—still s’fucking wet. You’ve soaked the sheets, girl. But you're gonna cum again, aren’t you? Good, I need to hear those pretty sounds.”

He posed it as a question, but he wasn’t asking. Eddie took advantage of your delirious state, licking a long, wet strip up the column of your throat and moaned deeply as he savoured the sweat-slicked taste of your skin. Eddie didn't care that you were sweaty, that you were dishevelled, or that you were making a mess of his sheets. He cared that you were here and that you were beneath him.

He watched your face as he rolled his hips, his cock piercing through your velvet walls and his balls slapping against your ass as he drove deeper. Your lips parted in a perfect 'o', and you squirmed, straining to close your legs only to find his slim waist holding them open as a familiar heat sparked to life between your hips.

“I can’t.”

He said the words with you, as he already knew that you would say them. Eddie Munson was a menace that ruled your life, and you were a marionette on a string, so sweet and eager to please him. He could play you like a fiddle. He knew what words built you up and which ones sent you tumbling down again. As though to prove this, he circled his fingers around your clit, slick with arousal, left, then right, then spread them again, trapping your clit between his fingers with just a hint of pressure.

You keened loudly, throwing your head back and exposing your throat—an invitation that he quickly accepted. Eddie smeared hot, wet kisses along your skin, listening to the whimpers and whines that spilt from your lips as he rubbed your nub, enjoying the way you tugged at your wrists and writhed beneath him. “S’too much, Eddie. Eddie, please, please.”

You sounded so pretty when you begged; your voice was breathless and ethereal as you begged for something you couldn't decide on. Mercy or more—you didn't know.

But he did.

"You can," he replied. Eddie buried his face against your neck, his hot breath balmy against your skin, as he nuzzled his nose below the curve of your jaw before sucking a dark mark into your skin. "Just one more, I promise, baby, then I'll let you rest." It was the devil's lie, one that came easily from his tongue.

Eddie Munson was an addict, and you were his drug of choice. In truth, he knew that he would be going to hell, so he was going to enjoy heaven while he could. He kissed you without warning. Hard, slowly, thoroughly, just because he could. It made you moan and made your toes curl.

“Need you to cum again—fuck—just one more, that’s all I want."

“Mhmm, okay,” you whimpered, high-pitched and breathless, as he moved his fingers in tight circles around your nub, switching direction once, then twice. And then he moved. Eddie sat back on his haunches, threw your legs over his shoulders, and pulled you closer so that he could drive deeper, until you felt him in your lungs.

Your obedience and willingness made him smile. Eddie licked your calf, his teeth scraping teasingly at your ankle. Your pussy clenched hotly around his aching length. "You're such a good girl, aren’t you? S’fucking pretty, s’fucking sweet. Fuck, I love you,” he rambled, lost in the moment. The taste of you swimming in his mouth and the sight of you flooding his eyes were too much for him to bear.

You were beautiful; an angel trapped it in a rhapsody of pleasure—all his. Eddie pulled out slowly, your velvet heat clutching at his cock. He watched with wide and wondrous eyes as your hole clenched and winked at him, but it was the combination of pre-cum and slick dripping from you—the way it slid down the crack of your ass and joined the mess you'd made of the sheets—that broke his resolve.

The groan that clawed up the back of his throat was something feral and all-consuming, calling to something buried inside of you. Your answering whine was desperate. Eddie grabbed your jaw, his thumb dragging over your lower lip, so that he could watch the blissed expression in your eyes as he filled you again, hard and to the brim. "Look at you, girl, so cum-drunk that you're leaking on my cock. My pretty, perfect girl."

Time began to slow down. Heat slithered like a snake through your veins, slow to start as it set your body aflame, and then faster, striking with venom and fangs until your eyes rolled so far back that Eddie was sure you'd see your own brain. You were in a trance, and it was no one but Eddie’s fault.

You couldn’t answer him, even if you had wanted to. Each time he fucked into you, his cock spearing through your walls and reaching the depths of your being, the air was forced from your lungs, leaving you breathless and floating higher in the sky. He left a trail of wet kisses along your ankle, lapping at each bite with an eager tongue while he found your mound with the opposite hand, thumb swiping left and right, then, round and round, your clit.

The piston of his hips didn’t slow when you pushed against his abdomen, nails scratching the surface of his skin as though you wanted to burrow beneath it and live there. Eddie watched your face—the way your mouth twisted and tears dripped from the corners of your eyes because of the over stimulation. He listened to your wild breaths and felt how your body begged for mercy while your soul screamed for more, more, more.

“Too much, Eddie,” you gasped, all breathless and sweet. Eddie smiled down at you, a beautiful lopsided grin that had the snake in your veins pulling tighter. It was so tight now that you thought you might die—that your bones would break and your heart would give. But the look in your eyes—that sly come-hither stare—told him you needed that release almost as much as you needed to breathe.

"You're going to be a good girl and cum for me, yeah? You're squeezing my dick so tight, baby, you're going to fucking break it.” Eddie chortled. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripped from his nose, and landed on your chest as he bent to brush his mouth against yours. Your legs fell from his shoulders, knees coming to rest in the crook's of his arms as he shadowed over you like a perfect machiavellian devil.

His lips smashed against yours in a kiss made entirely of tongue, teeth, and saliva. It was messy, sloppy, and desperate, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when you finally parted. Eddie was lost, chasing his own release that was hurtling towards him like a semi with its brakes cut.

And then it happened, all at once and without warning.

One moment you grabbed at him, clawing at his back and pulling on his hair, and then you were breathless, your limbs locked and your head thrown back. It was like the sky split open and a bolt of lightning speared through you, connecting with that sweet spot Eddie was abusing, only to arch throughout your body. You came screaming his name, and it was the sound of heaven, and he rejoiced.

"You're so good to me, sweet girl," Eddie said. His lips left a trail of blistering kisses from your chin, down your jaw, and to your neck, where he hid his face against your sweat-slicked skin. His breath was wild and balmy as he panted against your skin. His muscles twisted and knotted as the force of his impending orgasm grew. "I'm going—fuck—I'm going to marry you. I'm going to put a ring on your finger and buy you a fucking house."

And he meant it. If there was one thing on God's green earth that Eddie Munson was completely and irrevocably certain about, it was you. He was going to make you his wife. He was going to give you his name. He was going to give you his kids.

He felt you grab him again, your nails reclaiming their position on his shoulders as the world started to fade into background ambience. A haze overcame his vision, glowing orange from the fire raging within him. And then the tension in his body broke, ricocheting through him with the force of a hurricane.

Eddie speared through your walls one last time before settling deep within you, so deep that you could feel him pressing against the back of your throat. His weight above you was like a weighted blanket that is smothering but comfortable. It kept you grounded while you ride the coattails of your orgasm. Eddie came with a guttural groan, his abdominal muscles flexing as he filled you with thick ropes of his seed.

Seconds slid into minutes before he withdrew and collapsed to the bed at your side. The sheets were a mess at the foot of the bed, and the sound of the rain was louder now. The room smelled like sweat, sex, and fresh rain. You were both quiet as you floated through the clouds, content to lay side-by-side and let the silence bloom. There was nothing either of you had to say—the moment was already perfect because, while Eddie Munson wasn't religious, he did believe in heaven.

And with you, he felt born again.

tags: @hideoutside

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Why the “why” is important…

The Autistic Teacher

[iwasbored777]

Only true Trolls fans love this baby girl, y'all can't call yourself Trolls fans if you hate her

[ssruis]

Her dancey dance…

[mumblesplash]

heartbreaking: this viral post is saying things you completely agree with in the most irritating way possible

[lilis-palace]

Friendly reminder after the DX11 updates

I’ve updated all my sets for DX11 compatibility! Some sets, like the Biedermeier and Wainscot Wonderland sets, have received a complete overhaul. This means you’ll need to replace the files to enjoy the improved content.

If you’ve previously included these sets in your saves or along with the tray files of a build, you must revisit those folders to update them. Alternatively, you can tag me and link my original CC, as my T.O.U. states.

This is why I strongly discourage reuploading my content.

EA breaks something with every update, so CC sets can quickly become broken. Hope this doesn't require further elaboration, I wrote a whole post about it some months ago.

Some creators tend to revisit their old sets to improve their quality. When you include obsolet CC, ppl who download these files won’t experience the latest, best quality work, and this can harm the creator's reputation.

It means a lot, when we get positive feedback and engagement on our little projects. When you reupload these artworks, we miss the chance to connect with others. And after all, this is what keeps us going.

If the reuploaded CC is broken, and cause glitches, frustrated ppl may start to blame it on the creator and on the content, which is again bad for the artist.

Thanks for understanding and for supporting artists by downloading directly from them! It really helps us doing our best while staying connected with the sims community. 🌈✨

Feel free to reach out if you have any questions, and happy simming!

[spookytuesdaypod]

incomplete list of girlies who should’ve kissed each other on the mouth in death proof ❤️

[atopvisenyashill]

why do you think jonsa is happening tho? jonerys is different bc they are going to be enemies, but i don’t see what jonsa does for the story

so let me first lay out roughly what i think is going to happen should jonsa become canon. I personally love going down meta and graphic spirals, so I'm including links to other people’s theories/explanations/graphics of events too - also I would like to shout out @istumpysk because half these metas and gifsets were stuff I found on their blog initially, and also was the one who really convinced me that jonsa is less of a crackship and more of a contender for an actual canon theory, and from there i really found my niche in this fandom. specifically this meta about jon being the mummer's dragon is what pulled me out of my "we're never getting twow and if we do it's just gonna be that stupid dany has jon's magical baby while tyrion watches, then they all die theory" slump and lit my brain on fire again. let's goooo:

The Ashford Tourney Theory - Something Shady goes down at the tourney Petyr has planned that requires Sansa to make a quick getaway, and likely causes her to run into Brienne while fleeing. This theory for me is about hinting at Sansa's romantic future, allies, and how she's getting the hell out of the Vale: both the dark haired, Not Targ Looking Targ Prince that is the son of A Great Prince That Never Was being her romantic endgame but also it's about Brienne (/Dunk) getting her the hell out of there and becoming Sansa's number one ally and protector (with Sansa's number two being Bronze Yohn!! But he's not fleeing with her - if he helps her get out of the Vale, it'll be to cause a distraction or a fight so Sansa can slip away unnoticed. Bronze Yohn is coming with the knights of the Vale later to help defend his girl!).

The Girl In Grey - Out of options on where to go, Sansa & Brienne makes a long, fast, and dangerous trek to the only family she knows is still alive: Jon Snow at the Wall. No, I don't think Alys Karstark is the girl in grey on a dying horse; I think she's a red herring, the same as the scene where Sweetrobin destroys the snow castle, and that the real girl in grey (who slays the savage giant) is Sansa. Melisandre says that she sees "Jon's sister" but doesn't specify more than that, or how she knows it's Jon's sister, even - why would she assume Alys is Jon's sister and not some random Northern girl? Why was she so sure that it was his sister? It's because Alys isn't the girl in grey, it's Sansa, her horse dying because she's traveled halfway across the continent with Brienne and Pod, desperately trying to keep ahead of the dozens of people hunting her down.

The Blood of Winterfell - Sansa and Jon will reclaim winterfell together. This one is similar to above; just like Alys was a red herring, the scene where Sansa rebuilds the castle has a lot of foreshadowing (imo) but that isn't the moment in the prophecy Arya hears. The Savage Giant is Littlefinger, the castle of snow is Winterfell, and Sansa is going to liberate her home alongside Jon and what's left of the Northern lords.

Stone and Snow Remains - THIS is where Sansa and Jon will fall in love while fighting for the North. This is also the part where you lose a lot of people, because they think the evidence is real weak sauce but like, I also think the Jonerys "evidence" is weak af too (and no wonder, we have at minimum 2k pages left to get through!!). There's several believed foreshadowing points to this one, bare with me for this weird ass formatting because I can't do sub bullet points on tumblr:

1. Sansa's linking of snow with love and affection - "drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks...She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams." along with her snow maiden and snow knight.

2. Bael the Bard and the Rose of Winterfell - the chapter where Sansa gets her period for the first time, Cersei refers to it as “flowering” a dozen times, linking being a maiden (a young girl, not quite of age or just barely of age) to flowers and several people refer to sex as ~plucking. Also notice the one who stole her from KL is Lord BAELish.

3. Aemon the Dragonknight & Queen Naerys - Sansa compares herself to Naerys, Joffrey to Aegon, and wishes for an Aemon, among the many similarities between her life and Naerys'. Jon not only calls himself Aemon, he has a deep connection with a different Aemon Targaryen. And if you’re thinking “Sansa isn’t Naerys, X is Naerys” I would remind you that Sansa as a character existed first, George purposefully had her compare herself to Naerys, and parallels don't belong to just one character.

4. Jenny of Oldstones and The Prince of Dragonflies - there's honestly a lot of parallels between them but like the Aemon/Naerys parallel, the Jenny/Duncan one stands out to me.

5. Janos Slynt - I mean. Iconic. This was the scene that made me first think about what their relationship could be in the future and there’s a reason Jonsas fixate on it. It’s about Sansa being desperate for a hero and the hero she dreamed about being Jon the whole time. 6. Societal Alienation - There's the bastard parallels here, the "it would be so sweet to see him again", the "Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa." It's about how Jon, through circumstances of his birth, finds himself alienated from the rest of society and reconnects with his prim and proper sister Sansa, who finds herself alienated from the rest of society as well but for vastly different reasons.

Robb’s Will - Howland is going to show up in the North, along with Maege and Galbert, with some WILD news about why Jon can’t rule Winterfell. There’s a lot of contention around this. Bran probably shows up around this time too, and Arya gets to the Riverlands to discover Lady Stoneheart and give her the gift of mercy. This is where all the inheritance stuff is going to happen and I have no idea how it's going to go down besides it's going to be messy as all fuck.

The Pact Of Ice And Fire - Jon & Sansa get secret married bc they’re in love, not siblings, & jon is the only man she trusts not to steal her claim. This isn't the only possible foreshadowing instance of a marriage either - some believe the Sandor/Sansa scene during the Battle of the Blackwater is foreshadowing as well (personally I feel that's a bit of a stretch but I wanted to include it anyway).

Jon As An Envoy - I talked about this in my "what's Jon's ending" a little but I believe Jon will act as an envoy for either Sansa or Bran to Aegon VI, essentially playing out a similar story that he does in the show with Daenerys. By which I mean, Jon is not the King because the ruler themselves do not go as an envoy, that’s stupid and dangerous, but he goes as an ambassador for Sansa or Bran, to treat with a new claimant to the Iron Throne that is gaining support - Aegon VI & Jon Connington. They will probably clash, Jon will probably have yet another identity crisis, there had BETTER be gay incest subtext, then Aegon dies, and Jon has his sixth quarter life crisis in a row.

“King” of the Gift - again, something I touched on in my Jon meta is that I think he’s going to have a hand in resettling the Gift. Personally, I think it's likely that Jon leaves to protect the claims of his siblings (see: Duncan and Jenny) and goes to the Gift to help resettle it to keep out of the way. This ending is typically referred to as the "bael the bard" ending but i like to think of it as the "brandon's gift" ending instead - though he is not physically with his family, Jon feels fulfilled having confirmed his family loves him through reclaiming Winterfell and marrying Sansa, being reunited with Arya, and being given the Gift by Bran. Sansa claims her children were fathered by a wolf.

So…what does all this do for the story?

Well, in my opinion, several things.

I think the main barrier here is that most people in the greater fandom describe Sansa's story as ~growing past childish wants~ and Jon's as ~rejecting love~ and I do not agree with either of those takes even a little bit. This is where (imo) the dividing line between Jonsas and the rest of the fandom is. I don’t think the answer to Sansa’s question “will anyone ever marry me for love” is going to be “nah" - that's not just a sad story to me (wanting to be married isn't childish! craving intimacy and understanding isn't childish! it's also not wrong for a child to be childish!), I think the idea that Sansa (or Jon) will not find another love just doesn't line up with how George approaches his story. Who Sansa's husband will be has been such a big question, and her story is so heavy into the more romantic tropes like courtly love and chivalry and the line between politics and love and identity, that the question of Sansa's hand in marriage will be plot relevant. I also think it's kinda naive of people to pretend like George isn't very interested in the sexual dynamics of the characters he writes about (yeah, sure, no woman needs a man but "needing a man" is not what this is about. look at everything this man wrote in F&B and tell me he is going to write a female character that longs for sex and desire and doesn't get it!).

After AGOT, nearly every time Sansa thinks about marriage involves her longing for love but believing she will never get it because a man will only ever love her for her claim. Giving her a man - like Jon - who not only will not steal her claim and in fact has defended it twice over already, who will love her for who she is and not what she can give him, is a really important aspect of her story in my opinion.

As for Jon, I am even more firmly against the opinion that his story is about rejecting love; Jon’s story is about wanting to be a good man, to measure up to his father ~despite~ his bastard blood. When Aemon asks if Ned would choose honor over love and Jon stubbornly says yes, Jon is wrong and it’s important to not forget that. Ned has never once in his entire life chosen honor over love; he chooses his daughter’s life over his honor, he chooses his sister & her son’s life over honor, he chooses Arya & Nymeria over honor, and on and on!!! Ned chooses love at almost turn but none of his children know that just yet - look at Robb choosing Jeyne’s honor over his own and how upset he is at the idea that Ned would be disappointed despite the fact that Ned would have understand Robb’s decision! Jon's whole arc is tied up in realizing that it is not wrong or dirty to feel and choose love, passion, and desire and if he never has another romantic arc again, I think you lose the second part of that lesson which is "you are responsible for how you act when you feel love but that doesn't mean that simply choosing love makes you a bad person."

There's also the fact that George has talked a lot about "who lives, who dies, who gets married" and yet we have not one marriage at the end of the show AND there's not a lot of guesses at what "who gets married" means besides Jon/erys (and even if Jonsa doesn't happen, I simply do not see Jon/erys happening. they are not similar enough, they will not be in the same space for long enough, and they are on wildlly different trajectories for their story, they are not getting married let alone having sex). I think Jonsa fits that bill very well.

These various theories - from Sansa being queen, Jon living in exile, The Ashford Tourney Theory, the secret marriage, every one of them - are ideas and themes that I have really been thinking about for about 12 years now. I think Jon and Sansa's relationship could fit with the themes in their stories, the overarching themes in the books, and my own personal opinions. I think it gives George a great opportunity to delve into the courtly love aspects he enjoys so much, as well as delve into inheritance, legacy, legitimacy, honor, incest (yes, that too), and above all, what George himself has said the whole series is about - love. The human heart in conflict with itself is what I think Jon and Sansa as a romantic couple does for the series.

[alithographica]

y'all wanted pvp enabled on tumblr, I think that's exactly what this awful new note preview feature is because it's really making me want to fight people

[malk1ns]

Seeing people talk about how there’s “no good hockey RPF anymore” and “I guess there are some fics but nobody is posting or active” is really kind of insulting? There are lots of good fics being posted every day, and really good active sidgeno writers…just because it’s not who used to be super active doesn’t mean there’s nothing going on or nobody worth reading, following, and getting to know?

I don’t know it’s kind of hurtful to see people say that like…we’re right here! If you don’t read what’s getting posted and you don’t follow the links back to our blogs you won’t know I guess, but we’re here, I promise! And I think we’re pretty good!

[mystra-midnight]

you as so so sweet thank you so much for following and reblogging!! 😍🥰❤️

Leash

summary: in which eddie gives you a gift

warnings: mostly fluff. nothing explicit is described in great detail. mostly sfw.

words: 1k

notes: inspired by this post by @inklore and also by the party dialogue between ironbull and vivienne in dragon age: inquisition.

You're sitting on the bed in his trailer, feet tucked under yourself, as you look in the little compact mirror you'd fished out of your purse. The light of the van was dim, washing the room in an orangey-yellow glow, but it hadn't hindered your vision as you examined your reflection.

There was a lingering bruise on the side of your neck, just below your ear. It was fresh, only a day or so old. Eddie had sucked, licked, and nibbled your neck while you came on his cock so hard that your bones turned to jelly. Even now, your stomach did a funny little spin at the thought of it. Butterflies winged wildly through your veins as moisture pooled at the apex of your thighs.

And he hadn't touched you since.

You tried not to worry about it, but you always did. Sometimes you worried that Eddie would wake up one day and realise how incompatible the two of you were with your polar-opposite lifestyles and upbringings. You'd been born into the upper class—the latest phone and brand new car for your seventeenth birthday kind of upper class.

Eddie had been born into the lower class—the work for a living, calloused hands, and struggling to make ends meet lower class. He fought through his life, in school and out of it, for the things he had.

That was what made this so special.

He'd bought you a present; he actually bought it for you, he hadn't not stolen it, and he bought it with real money. Although that money wasn't exactly legally obtained, he even had the receipt to prove it.

You stroked your fingers along the choker that was now settled around your throat. It was made of leather, double-lined, and double-layered. The first layer was at least an inch and a half, maybe two, thick and lined with soft padding so that it didn't chaff. It overlapped over your trachea. The second layer was smaller but overlapped at the same point with a buckle, keeping it snug and secure around your neck. And there in the centre, dangling at the hollow of your throat, was a round steel ring.

You dragged your lower lip between your teeth as you caught his eye. Eddie was standing in front of you with those big brown eyes that made your heart do summersaults in your chest. You swallowed, feeling the choker tighten briefly from the motion.

Your nails caught at the choker as you let your hand fall into your lap, along with the other one and that now-closed compact mirror. He was looking at you like a lost puppy, like you'd hung the stars in the sky. You smiled up at him, your sweet metalhead.

"Do you like it?"

"It looks like a collar," you said softly, fingers rising once again to stroke at the stiff material. You almost regretted the words the moment they slipped past your lips, afraid they might upset him or insult the gift he’d given you.

It had only been a few months since the first time you’d been in detention together. That was the day Mr. Henderson slipped out to speak with the principal for a few moments. You’re not sure exactly how it happened; one moment you’d both been silent, then you’d been slipping him money and he’d been slipping you an overstuffed bag, and then he’d been slipping you tongue, and you’d been moaning.

You’d separated before Mr. Henderson returned and were back in your respective seats. You’d rubbed your thighs together to stifle the damp heat between them, and you had ducked your head to hide the kiss-swollen lips.

The rest was history.

"It’s a choker, sweetheart," Eddie explained, stepping close to you so that your knees brushed against his. He captured your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping your face up to look at him.

You squirmed in your seat on the bed beneath the intensity of his stare. "I know, it just looks like one," you said, your voice failing you as he slid his fingers across the curve of your jaw and then down your neck. Eddie rubbed his thumb over the dark bruise he'd sucked into your neck softly and tenderly, then found the ring of your choker.

The bed dipped with his weight as he placed a knee on the outside of your thigh. He hooked his finger through the loop as he placed the other knee on the bed, straddling your lap.

He tugged gently on the ring, pulling you against his chest. Your hands settled on his hips, nails scraping against the denim, and then pushed up beneath his shirt. "Eddie," you said his name in a whisper, a little breathlessly, inwardly cringing at how desperate you sounded. He forced you to look at him, holding your gaze with his own dark hues when you tried to look away in embarrassment.

And try as you might not too fall, you fell into the depths of them as though you were falling from the sky, tumbling through stars and galaxies until there was only him and you.

And his lips caught you before you could hit the ground. Eddie kissed you soundly, without urgency, as though he had all the time in the world for you. He cupped your cheek with his other hand, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone, keeping your face turned up to him in his elevated position.

When he drew back, your eyes were glossy, and your lash line was shining with tears. He gave the ring of the choker a rough tug, making you swallow. "You don't need to worry, sweetheart. I have no intention of trying to leash anyone." He joked, though even after only a few months, you knew that was something his kinky brain would probably enjoy: you on your knees, a leash in his hand to bridge you together.

You blinked up at him with a blissed smile. "I never worry, Eddie." You encircled his wrist with your own trembling fingers, not letting him remove his finger from the ring. You gave him a rough pull, dragging him down atop you as you lay sprawled on the bed, feet now dangling off the edge.

He reached out with a hand, ring-clad fingers spread wide on the bed, to support himself and keep most of his weight from settling on you. "A leash can be pulled from either end."

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Why the “Why” is Important

The Autistic Teacher

[essektheylyss]

I am absolutely agonizing over pov and narrators for this draft that I am literally nearly done with, and it did make me wonder how much importance other writers give these things. So I am running a poll.

To preface, the following notes and elaborations on the options:

"Crucial" would mean that it has a significant impact on your writing process up to and including impacting your ability to progress.

"Important but not crucial" would mean that you consider it, and it does have an impact on the story you're telling, but it does not significantly hinder your process.

"Inconsequential" would be something like, you kinda just pick something and go with it, and do not find yourself rethinking that later.

I ran out of room with the options regarding one or both being important at the start, but that can be either crucial or merely important. If you mess around with your pov or narrators within, say, the first 10% of a draft, but don't really worry about it once you feel like you've settled on something, these are the options for you.

If you feel so inclined, elaborate in the tags on what kinds of things you weigh when you think about one or both of these! I'm curious!

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Great Thai Communal Wardrobe Advent Giveaway!

I've currently collected/documented 45 items of clothing (and accessories) that have reappeared in various Thai series over the past four years - these are only the ones that have been discovered, I'm sure there are more.

These 45 items are spread over 38 shows and are worn by 78 different characters (mains, sides, and random extras).

At the most, one item has been worn by 8 different people in 6 series, several have been used 3-5 times, but the majority have only appeared in two different shows (so far!).

There has been one recent show which has featured 15 items of clothing which have been worn in other series! The next highest number is 11 in a show which aired last year. And then the 3rd and 4th spot go to a show from two years ago (with 10 items) and one from this year (with 6).

I have currently ordered all the items by the number of times used and then by air date (with the highest and earliest first), but once I start posting them I will add any new discoveries to the end of the list (from 46 onwards).

And I'd like your involvement to post them!

Between now and Nov 15th send me an ask or a DM with one of the following requests to either have the item dedicated to yourself or you can gift it to another blog. (Anon is also fine but I'd suggest using an obscure emoji so you can identify yourself).

You can request:

A random number in the list (1-45)

The name of a particular show

A specific character or actor

Something funny or stylish or that I think you might like

A specific item (if you have a pretty confident idea of one that exists)

And a specific date you would like your post published if you have one (I'm mainly trying to decide what order to publish them all in)

A point to note: I've already published number 3 and number 6 (although the latter is now wrongly-numbered 😥 so I might consider editing the original post...again).

My plan is to post two a day from Dec 1st in the run up to Christmas, like an advent calendar, so I've set the deadline for requests early enough to give me time to organise the posts (since work does get in the way sometimes).

And if you do spot any more shared clothing across series, do let me know!

Tagging some people in case you're interested and to help me spread the word: @grapejuicegay @celestial-sapphicss @twig-tea @rocketturtle4 @waitmyturtles @respectthepetty @chickenstrangers @ranchthoughts @slayerkitty @colourme-feral @blmpff @telomeke @nothingsbetterthancoffee @lurkingshan @ephemeral-hiraeth @thegalwhorants @hughungrybear @i-got-the-feels @icouldhyperfixatehim @dragonsareawesome123 @sparklyeyedhimbo @first-kanaphan @italianpersonwithashippersheart @shouldiusemyname @gabrielokun @ghoststookournightmares @morathicain @nongnaopat @lamonnaie @natalias-pierogi @mysterygrl20 @nahaluk @callipigio @multifanofmultifandom @dramarec @cangse-sanren @williamrikers @justafriend-ql @heretherebedork @forcebook @non-binarypal7 @aprilblossomgirl @morkofday @brazilian-whalien52