#this should make at least 85% sense

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

rewatching thinking out loud & i'd honestly forgotten how moving reece's performance was in it...

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so it's exactly 10 days after what i added to @cherrychapsticksteve's post, and it hasn't left my brain SO! Murphy, this is for you. i hope enjoy this full version!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 7,536 | rated: T

-🎸-

Eddie's chest heaves as he sprints farther into the woods.

It’s not the first (and certainly won’t be the last) time he runs from Hawkins’ finest. This time, Hopper and Callahan had busted him after he ran a stop sign (it wasn’t his fault, okay? He had to change the tape and didn’t see the sign or the patrol car stopped at the damn cross street).

The ‘failure to obey traffic signs’ was the least of his problems though, not after his damn lunchbox dropped out of the van when they asked demanded he “Take a step out here, Munson.”, and the last crumbs of the stock he’d gotten from Rick the week before last spilling out at Hopper’s feet.

They get him in cuffs, of course, but the second they turn their backs on him, he fucking books it.

Hands cuffed behind him, wallet chain jangling around his hip in time with the zipper of his jacket hitting the lowest button of his vest, both officers are wheezing way too soon after he starts playing getaway. He twists and spins out of the way of their grasps, but Callahan gets a second wind and nearly catches him, so he bolts; Tears off past his van and into the woods.

He's got some sense of where he's going, they busted him on Cornwallis and it should be a clear cut through the forest past Loch Nora and to the park, but it's even darker as he gets under the treeline. The fading twilight blocked out by the canopy above him.

Still, he took off into the woods on the west side of the street so as long as he keeps going straight, he'll be fine. 

Joke's on him though, nothing about him has been straight since before he came to live with Wayne (since he was born if what his science teacher Mr. Clarke once told him is to be believed), so it's no fuckin' wonder that he's gotten off course.

He dismisses it at first, the gradual incline he's following at more of a jog than a sprint now, but when he hears sirens go off way too close and he finds himself crashing into a meticulously trimmed backyard, it makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is why of all the gallivanting through the woods he'd just done, over and under fallen logs, rocks, through bushes and thickets, that his feet betray him on the half inch concrete lip of patio he hadn't yet slowed himself enough to avoid altogether.

The toe of his sneaker clips the very corner, his feet try to right themselves, but he's already hurtling toward this person's inground pool. 

In the split second he's falling, Eddie's brain does three things almost simultaneously: 1) realizes that whoever's house this is, there's only one light on. an upstairs window that must be a bedroom. Good. Maybe then he can pick himself up after this what-would-have-been super embarrassing fall and get the fuck back out of their yard without them noticing.

2) It has enough sense to turn his body to the left to take the fall onto the concrete on his shoulder instead of his face, though it means he'll definitely be rolling into the pool now. Damn. 

And 3) a simple thought of 'Aw, fuck.'

What his brain didn't account for was the edge of the pool. And that it should have considered its boney housing's downward momentum in the fall.

His temple collides with the edge where plastic meets stone, and Eddie Munson, freshly concussed and all but dead to the world, falls into the water.

-🍦-

The night Steve Harrington officially meets Eddie Munson is like every other.

At home, alone, waiting for it to be a reasonable time to go to bed. 

He’s leaning his desk chair back on two legs, his feet propped up on his mattress, flipping through the new June '85 edition of Vogue that came in the mail that day addressed to Linda Harrington.

Halfway through reading about Eric Stoltz in that new movie Mask (and seriously debating somehow guilting his parents into sending him one of these watches for a late graduation gift because shit that's a nice watch), he hears a splash from outside his window.

The sound makes him jump from how unexpected it is, and he would've for sure tumbled ass backwards off his chair if the wall hadn't been behind him.

He jumps up and yanks open his blinds to look out at the pool below.

There are fresh ripples weaving across the normally still top, and a shadow of something bubbling up from the bottom.

His guts twist up immediately; of course, it could be just some stupid deer, but it could also be any number of insane hell creatures, one of which had once used his pool as it's front door before.

"Shitshitshitshit," Steve snatches up his bat from under the bed and launches himself out his room and down the stairs in record time.

By the time he gets to the edge of the pool, the ripples have dispersed significantly, and the..whatever it is.. at the bottom is releasing bubbles slower than ever.

It takes about a second more for him to parse out the very obviously human shape crumpled under the water and--is that blood?

Steve dives into the water directly across from the bright red smear on the plastic lining.

His eyes burn with the chemicals, all he makes out of the person is a pale face and dark hair.

He hooks an arm under theirs and across their chest, and pushes up from the bottom.

Steve finds a foothold in the shallows and powers over to the stairs as fast as he can, pulling the limp man up onto the concrete.

He gets to work on them immediately, checking for a pulse, checking for breath..nothing.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck!" Steve starts compressions on his chest, counting in his head before sucking in a deep breath, pinching the guy’s nose shut, and sealing his mouth onto the blue lips below him.

Nothing.

"C'mon Munson," Steve starts counting compressions again. "Don't do this to me, man." It surprises him that this is when his brain pairs the pale features and dark denim to Hawkins' Super-Senior, but it's him alright. The vest is a giveaway, though he definitely looks like a completely different person without his bangs hanging over his forehead, or that dumbass grin he has when he's going on some tirade at lunch.

Steve closes his lips over Eddie's once again and this time, it works.

Eddie pitches forward, spewing chunky water all over the ground in front of him.

Steve supports his back as he does, "Shit, man, let it out, let it out." He looks down then, finally realizing Eddie's arms have been completely incapacitated by a pair of cuffs this whole time. 

His breaths are ragged, gagging while he takes in shaky breaths.

He continues to pat Eddie's back, smacking his palm over some demon-looking thing on the back panel of his vest.

"Breathe, Eddie, you got it." The older boy's dazed gaze turns to him then, "You back with me?"

"Harrington?" it comes out a wheeze.

“Hey Munson, you okay?”

Eddie looks around at Steve’s yard, to the pool, “Yeah I—Yeah..” he looks back at Steve, “What happened?”

“You fell into my pool, dude.” he chuckles, “I pulled you out and you weren’t breathing.”

“…huh.”

That pulls another snort out of him. “Yeah, ‘Huh.’.”

Eddie looks off into the woods, then back to his face. “And what happened before that?”

Steve pulls lightly on the cuffs. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t–I don’t know what..” he glances around, panicked, “I don’t know why I’m in cuffs, I–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay man. You’re okay.” Steve rubs gently over the same spot he’d been patting, “Let’s get you inside, alright? Get some food maybe?”

Eddie takes a couple more breaths then nods, “Yeah…yeah okay, Harrington.”

He leads Eddie inside after he’s calmed down a bit more, sitting him down on one of the chairs at the breakfast nook and dashing quickly to the laundry room off the kitchen for a towel.

"Eddie, hey, y'gotta stay awake." he says, wrapping him up and giving him a light shake, "I'm gonna make you something to eat soon, but I wanna get you outta your cuffs first. Can you tell me how to get them off?"

"Yea-yeah," Eddie smacks his lips dryly, thinking hard, "Do you have a bobby pin?"

Steve studies him while he quickly searches his brain for where the last time he might've seen one. He's still dazed, still out of it (which is fair, honestly, he almost died after all), and is starting to shiver despite the towel.

He goes to the sink and pours a glass of water. "I think my mom has some. Let me help you drink some of this, and we’ll get you upstairs, okay?" he says, turning back to Eddie and keeping his voice soft, as if he'd scare him off if he spoke any louder.

Eddie's face scrunches in confusion, so he continues, "I’ll get you out of those cuffs and into the shower so you can warm up."

He watches Eddie’s expression morph as he registers what was said to him. His eyes go hooded, his cheeks tinge pink, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Y'wanna get me naked, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his own cheeks prickling with heat. Eddie's hot okay? Objectively. He doesn't have to be into guys to know that. And flirting is flirting.  Sue him. "Shut up man," he laughs.

He holds the glass to Eddie’s lips and lets him drink as much as he wants, then sets the glass down on the table. He pulls gently on Eddie’s bicep, hooking an arm around the other man's waist, under an arm, and when he finally feels like he's got a good enough hold on him, they head to the steps.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, Eddie mumbling to himself the whole way. Steve hears a grumbled "Naked..", something that sounds like "..Gotta be dreamin',", and his own name, drawn out as if in disbelief "Steeeve Harrington...".

Finally, they make it to the master bedroom and Steve deposits Eddie on the edge of the bed. He immediately falls over onto his right side.

"Ow! Shit.. that fuckin' sucks."

"Your shoulder?" Steve asks, grabbing up a pin from his mother's vanity and turning back to the still damp man on the bed.

"Yeah, I–I must've fallen onto it before I went in." Eddie reasons, "Also, my head hurts."

"I bet," Steve nods, climbing up behind Eddie, "Now, you gotta tell me what to do here, man." he turns the cuffs slightly where he can see the little keyhole. "I've never picked the lock on a pair of cuffs."

"Ya don't say..'' he drawls sarcastically, "Just put the pin in my hand and I'll do it.”

Steve watches Eddie's fingers fiddle with the bobby pin; twisting it every which way while he feels out which side is which, which end of it he wants, prying it open with only a couple fingers, twisting into his hair, the pads of them ghosting along his lips, how they might feel opening him u--

Steve jumps up off the bed, causing Eddie to complain about the movement fucking up his concentration or something.

He ignores him, heading into the ensuite to start the shower.

Holy shit.

What in the actual fuck was that? He shakes his head, hard, willing his brain not to think those thoughts again. He is not gay or anything, everyone has thoughts like that sometimes. Tommy said so.

After starting the water and grabbing a new towel from under the counter, Steve takes a breath and steps back out into the bedroom.

He lets the breath out in relief when he sees Eddie's hands separate from the other, one palm pressed to the left side of his face and his other hanging loosely in front of him off the edge of the bed.

His soggy white Reeboks have also joined him on the bed, feet dangerously close to the pillow.

"Up n’ at 'em, Munson, gotta get you cleaned up." Steve calls, relishing briefly in making Eddie jump in surprise. "Can you get up on your own?"

Eddie groans, but slowly lets his feet drop back down to the floor.

Steve is back on Eddie's side of the bed before he's upright, offering a hand.

His open palm is puzzled at for a few long seconds, then Eddie places his hand in Steve's.

"Okay, up we go," he pulls Eddie to his feet, singing his arm around the other man's waist again and pulling Eddie's arm over his shoulders.

"Dizzy." Eddie complains.

"I know, I know," he soothes in return, "It's this way."

They shuffle into the bathroom and Steve lowers Eddie onto the closed lid of the toilet.

"We gotta get you out of your wet clothes, okay Eds?" The nickname slips through his teeth, but Eddie doesn't seem to mind it, nodding slowly.

Steve kneels in front of him, "Shoes first. Can you get your jacket and vest off for me?"

“Pushy, pushy,” Eddie teases, starting to pull his jacket off, “You really wanna get me naked, don’t you.” 

“Oh yeah. I am just itching for ‘pale, scrawny asshole’.” Steve deadpans in return, unlacing Eddie’s sopping sneakers and placing them in front of the counter.

“Oh now you wanna see my asshole? Buy a guy dinner first, Stevie.”

Steve tries to ignore the soupy feeling in his stomach at the nickname. It’s not even a new one, Tommy’s called him that before too and it never made his guts all squirmy like this.

It’s gotta just be because he and Eddie aren’t friends like he and Tommy had been.

That’s all.

But that’s not all, is it? His brain betrays him again, taking only half a second to imagine going on a date with Eddie, taking him to dinner, a movie, whatever. Taking him home, giving him a kiss goodnight.

The scenario is imagined, but the swirling feeling in his stomach is all too real.

He’s felt this before, the nerves and excitement of taking out a girl he really likes, getting to talk to her, get to know her, the possibility of getting to kiss her (and maybe more) at the end of the night.

But now it’s Eddie Fucking Munson that his gut’s all soupy for. Does he like Eddie? Does he want to Date him?

Steve feels his face heat up, his knees feel wobbly despite being on stable ground, his stomach erupts in butterflies—aw fuck. He likes Eddie. 

“Be careful with this, Harrington, It’s worth more than you’ll ever know.” Miraculously, Eddie managed to get his jacket off with the vest still wrapped around it. He passes the bundle gingerly over to Steve, like it's breakable.

He looks down at the crumpled clothing in his hands; he can see a couple patches that are hand-sewn into the denim, a broken zipper on one of the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket that has been pinned shut, a single button worn shinier than the rest. He believes him.

“I’ll take care of it, promise.” Steve says, placing the bundle up next to the sink gently. “Now, do you need help with the rest?”

Eddie immediately looks like he’s going to say no, but he seems to think better of it. “Uhm, can you help with these?”, he pats his legs, “I’d do it myself, but they’re gonna be a bitch to get off since they’re all wet and I’m still dizzy and don’t really want to bend over to pull off the bottoms but–y’know what just forget it, I’ll—”

Steve interrupts his rambling, “Eddie, it’s fine! I offered, didn't I? Help me out?” he gestures to Eddie’s zipper with his chin and starts to pull at the legs of Eddie’s skinny jeans. “I don’t get it man, why squeeze into these–”

The jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle pulls his focus, his eyes darting up to catch a flash of the buckle being undone. He averts his eyes, but a split second later, his brain registers what he’d seen and his gaze snaps back to it.

“Handcuff buckle? Really?”

“Don’t diss the buckle, Stevie,” Eddie chides, working the buckle loose. It continues to jingle as he works at it.

“How good of a buckle can it be if you can’t even get it undone?” Steve says, getting the second leg of Eddie’s jeans pulled down under his heel.

“It keeps me virtuous.” Eddie grits out, then huffs out a “Finally..” as the mini handcuffs fall open.

It was a bad moment to be done with what he was doing. Because Steve looks up just as Eddie unbuttons his fly and pulls the zipper down.

Steve shoots up off the floor, “Need some help standing up?” He asks, trying to cover for his minor freak-out. Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself up, “Don’t let me fall okay? I’m still feelin’ kinda…loopy.”

“Sure, man.”

So Steve stands there, gaze averted politely, as Eddie shimmies his jeans off and pulls his shirt off over his head.

He leaves him to it after that, pointing out the shampoo and soap, where he’d hung the new towel for him, and escapes to go find Eddie some new clothes.

He fishes a pair of black sweats out from one of his drawers, a pair that had been too small for him since sophomore year, and a plain black undershirt. He grabs up his personal favorite hoodie too, a Hawkins High Swim one, and a pair of thick fuzzy Christmas socks Mrs. Henderson had given him this past year.

After agonizing over whether or not to grab a pair of boxers too (he does, a new pair from the back of his top drawer), Steve wanders back into the master bathroom and deposits the pile on Eddie’s vacated seat.

The frosted glass door and added steam cloud Eddie’s form, but Steve can see the vague outline of him, standing just at the edge of where the water must be falling.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie says softly.

It’s after he’s gathered up Eddie’s chlorine scented clothes that he notices, thinking belatedly to grab the discarded towel off the bed on his way back downstairs, but when he turns to grab it, he’s stopped short by a darkening stain puddled up on one end.

Right where Eddie’s head had been.

It all clicks. The smear of blood on the edge of the pool, Eddie’s complaints of his head hurting, of feeling dizzy and lightheaded.. And now Steve’s left him standing on his own in a hot-ass shower?!

He’s not sure how he heard it, but there’s a soft “Steve?” called out from the bathroom before a loud thump echoes out into the bedroom. 

-🎸-

At first, the shower felt fan-fucking-tastic, but not long after stepping under the hot, wonderfully pressured stream, he’d started feeling (even) more light headed.

He takes a deep breath, and leans on one hand at the back of the shower out of the spray while his head clears enough.

Operating in much the same way through the rest of the shower, he scrubs himself down, washing the chlorine from his skin and hair, wincing slightly when he stretches his shoulder the wrong way and when he scrubs over his right temple. There’s a knot there. Great.

He continues through the motions, taking as deep of breaths as he can, but rinsing the shampoo out of his hair is what does it. His arm stretched up, the more concentrated steam, the tilting back of his head…he bobbles forward out of the stream, hand on the wall again.

Where the hell is Steve? He’s gotta get out of here, gotta turn off the shower..somehow? Eddie’s vision blurs. Fuck.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.” Steve says, back in the room as if summoned by Eddie’s desperate thoughts.

‘C’mon coward, ask him for help! He’s right outside the door!’

“‘Kay.”

‘No! Damnit!’ He’ll be fine, he just needs to breathe again, needs to sit down..

“Steve?”

Then he’s out (again).

-

When he comes to (again), he’s back on the bed, under the covers, and still kinda damp. And dressed.

“What the fuck?”

The bedroom door opens then, and he tries to sit up. Shit, why is he so sore?

He blinks away the fuzziness in his eyes only to see Steve goddamn Harrington hovering over him.

Steve pushes him back down onto the pillows. “Oh no nono you don’t. You stay right there.” he chastises.

“What the fuck, what happe—” The memories of the last couple hours roll over him all at once, along with heavy mortification that presses him further into the pillows. He covers his face with his hands, “Jesus H. Christ..did I pass out in the shower?”

“I’m sorry Eddie,” 

“Sorry for what? That I’m a klutz?” he mumbles out from under his palms. “Don’t think that’s your fault, Harrington.”

“You’re not a klutz, dumbass, but you do probably have a concussion…” Steve snarks back, and Eddie feels the mattress sink beside him, “Though I don’t know, maybe you always pass out in the shower?” 

Eddie can’t help but laugh. He scrubs his face a couple more times, then drops his hands “Only in the showers of my own personal saviors.”

He swears Steve’s face tinges pink at that, “Well aren’t I a lucky guy.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m dressed, and last time I remember, I wasn’t..” Steve’s face is blazing red now. “I think you must be, if you got a look at the goods.”

He waggles his eyebrows teasingly when Steve glances up at him, “Shut up man, I didn’t look at your junk any more than I had to.”

Eddie sputters at that, “How much looking is in your definition of ‘had to’?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “You passed out in my shower man, I had to get you out didn’t I? And I’m not about to leave you cold and wet so..I wrapped you up in a towel and got you up here.” he gestures to the bed, “Got you dressed and under the covers so you could sleep somewhat comfy while I made you something to eat.”

Eddie continues to eye him suspiciously, “So you got into my pants and then got them on me? That seems backwards…and sounds kinda fishy, Steven.”

“Oh my god..” Steve throws his head back in exasperation and scrubs his own face with his hands. “I got your pants on while you were still wrapped up in the towel, asshole, now do you want something to eat or not?”

“Wow…the kiss of life, a personal scrubdown (“I didn’t scrub you down!”), and now I get breakfast in bed? If I’m dreamin’, don’t wake me up.”

“Your dreams include getting concussed and passing out?”

Eddie shrugs, “To be fair, there’s usually less clothes and more making out, but I’m holding out hope.” He waggles his eyebrows again and Steve’s face flushes red, scoffing lightly 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He feigns being shot in the chest, hamming it up and falling limp further into the pillows, “You wound me Steven, am I to be laid up for the rest of my days? Does his royal highness not believe in true love’s kiss?”

“I’ve already kissed you once, dumbass, Is that not enough for you?”

“It musn’t be, for my head and heart still ache!” he continues to bemoan, flailing a hand to his forehead. He’s honestly not quite sure why he’s still keeping up with the bit, painfully straight jocks like Steve don’t normally take well to his dramatics, and he’s not keen on getting punched right now.

But Steve doesn’t punch him. He laughs. 

He laughs and says “How ‘bout you eat something first, and if your head and heart still ache after that, I’ll give you a smooch.” Steve says, standing from the edge of the bed.

Eddie gawks at him, but allows himself to be helped up after his stomach growls loudly not a second later.

Steve walks down the stairs in front of him half-sideways in case he decides to pass out again, then helps him up onto a stool at the Harrington’s long kitchen island.

“I made eggs and toast, but I can get you something else if you like?”

Eddie’s stomach rolls at the thought of eggs, “Just toast, thanks.”

Steve nods, and passes over a plate with plain buttered toast stacked at least a half a loaf tall and a new glass of water. He takes a slice gratefully and munches on it slowly.

Suddenly, something clicks. “Wait, rewind, concussed? You think I might have a concussion?”

“You hit your head didn’t you?” he asks, rounding the counter with a plate of his own and perching on the stool next to him.

“Well yeah, but concussion?”

Steve shrugs, “I mean, I’m not 100 percent sure, but you definitely hit it pretty hard,” he gently pushes the hairs of Eddie’s right temple up and back, touching the fingers of his other hand to the knot he’d felt in the shower earlier.

“Sorry,” he says when Eddie winces, “There was a cut there too, but it wasn’t that deep so I cleaned it up and used a couple butterfly strips on it. Definitely looked worse than it was, but you said you didn’t remember what happened, that your head hurts, you’re dizzy, and I’m guessing the thought of eggs made you nauseous didn’t they?”

Eddie blinks at him once, twice, “I think I have a concussion.”

Steve barks out a laugh, tossing his head back with it. He looks back down at Eddie, still grinning, and time seems to freeze for a long moment.

Steve Harrington’s always been attractive, okay? And Eddie is only a man. The soft swoop of Steve’s hair, messy and flatter than he’s ever seen it in any normal circumstance, but it still looks good, the moles he can see scattered across his neck and arms and legs that Eddie’s always seen a big ol’ ‘KISS HERE’ over each, the relatively new softer smile he’d seen after Hargrove showed up and King Steve was tossed from his throne..

Eddie’s been so gone on Steve for so long already, and now he’s literally saved his life.

He never thought he’d ever want to be the damsel in distress, but now is, and he’s here, and Steve Harrington is his knight in shining armor.

It’s not just the possible concussion making his head swirl.

“Thanks, Steve.” he says, coming back to the present again–was he always this close? Do not look at his lips, Munson, stay focused. “Never thought this’d be how I’d ever be in your house though.”

Steve’s eyes flash to somewhere below his nose (‘Wait.. did he just–’), then he takes his hand away, dropping it back to his lap from where it was all but wrapped around the back of his skull. He didn’t even register that Steve was still holding him (‘Fuck!’).

“How d’ya think you’d ever be here then?” he asks, taking a large bite of runny egg.

“Oh y’know me, peddler of wares for any manner of frivolities my liege may hold.” He attempts to give Steve a bow, but gets dizzy almost as soon as his head tips forward.

Steve’s hands reach out to steady him, but drop when Eddie sits back up. “Yeah I didn’t get any of that.”

“Party favors, Steve-o, pills, ganja..all that fun stuff.” Eddie continues on at Steve’s understanding expression, “That’s what got me cuffed earlier.”

“Ah, so you do remember.”

“For the most part. They wouldn’t’ve even pulled me over if my tape hadn’t ended. I was trying to swap it out and ran a stop sign.”

Steve snorts, “What, did you try to bribe them with drugs?”

“I wish; that'd’ve been a much better story,” Eddie laughs, taking another bite of toast, “My stash fell out at Hopper’s feet when I got outta the van.”

Steve winces, “Bad break, dude. So what, you just decided to run? Why not before they cuffed you?”

“I dunno, man, I just bolted into the trees. Those old men couldn’t’ve caught me if they tried.”

“So you got pulled over, got cuffed for having drugs in your car, evaded capture by running through the woods in the dark, fell into my pool shoulder first,”

“Well I rolled into it, actually. I tripped on your patio, couldn’t catch myself on my hands, obviously, so I fell onto my shoulder first and kinda skidded slash rolled into the pool. Must’ve hit my head then too.”

Steve winces again, “That’s why the “Sorry” earlier.. I saw that blood on the lining and I didn’t even check where you could be bleeding.” He shakes his head in disappointment, “I shouldn’t’ve put you into the shower like that, it’s not good for you. And I know my way around a head injury.” Steve mutters.

“Sportsball will do that to you.” Eddie nods, grabbing a second slice of toast.

“It wasn’t basket–” he sighs, “Nevermind, is there someone you need to call or anything?”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. “Trying to be rid of me already, Harrington?”

Steve waves him off, “Nah. Your clothes are still in the dryer.” he says, standing up and passing around the island to the far counter where a phone book lays open. He picks it up and brings it back to Eddie, “I looked up Munson in case someone would be wondering where you are, but the only Munson here didn’t answer. A Wayne Munson?”

“My uncle,” Eddie explains, “He wouldn’t, not at this time of day. He’s already at the plant for the night.”

“Ah.”

“You can just give me a ride home, we stashed a key on the porch.” he tries to stand, pushing through the dizziness.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here, Munson. That’s an order.”

Eddie sinks back into his seat.

“Concussions are tricky, you know; You have to check on the person periodically while they sleep to make sure they’re not getting worse. If there’s not going to be anyone at home with you, you’d better stay here.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Eddie gives him a two fingered salute, and relishes in the feeling of making Steve smile again. 

-🍦-

It was easier than he thought it'd be to convince Eddie to get back to bed, this time in the guest room across from Steve’s own bedroom.

He’d thought the surprisingly charming weirdo (he was apparently already smitten with) would fight him on it, but he’d followed him back upstairs without complaint after a third slice of toast, though he had gotten a bit woozy about 2/3rds of the way back up.

“What, no smooch? I have to settle for common drugs?” Eddie grumbles as Steve shakes a couple Tylenol into his palm. Steve just rolls his eyes, ignoring him (and the giant swoop of his stomach), “I’ll be up for a little while longer, I have to get your shit outta the dryer and get ready for work tomorrow, so I’ll wake you up before I go to bed and wake you up again in the middle of the night.”

Eddie takes the offered glass of water from him, gulping down the pain meds, “I’m gonna be super grouchy at you, you know.”

Steve smirks at him, “I know, but it’s gotta be done.” He takes back the glass and sets it on the nightstand. 

Eddie’d nodded through a long cracking yawn, smiled, then murmured a light “G’night Stevie.” that made Steve’s heart squeeze.

“‘Night Eds, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Steve, however, did not get to sleep as easily, lying awake in his room after waking Eddie the first time. 

He set his watch to wake him in three hours to check on Eddie again, and he’d already wasted a good half of it staring at his ceiling and thinking in circles about everything that had happened, everything he’d felt and thought about the town freak sleeping across the hall.

He’d started with gathering all of it up and trying to cram it away to some corner of his head and leave it there, lock it away from even himself, but to no avail. The…he supposed you could call them feelings...for Eddie had grown much too big already for any one of the lock boxes in the back of his brain.

Then he’d tried to rationalize them again like he had at first. Tommy had told him, very confidently, that everyone has gay thoughts sometimes, it’s normal to realize when a guy is just objectively attractive. To realize you’d totally hit that if you had the chance. 

Harrison Ford was the first person Steve’d brought up during that conversation, and Tommy agreed. So that was it, Eddie Munson was just the same as Harrison Ford. He’d definitely sleep with Eddie if there was ever a chance.

And was there? There’d always been rumors about Munson, at least since Steve’d started at Hawkins High, maybe even before, but were they true? How would he even ask that? “Hey Eddie, heard you might be..y’know..into guys and I think I might be too. Do you maybe wanna do something about that? Together?”

Yeah. Not likely.

And Eddie hasn’t looked at him any different than he ever had before, at least not in the handful of times he’s caught the older teen looking at him across the cafeteria or from down the hall.

Should he just..start flirting and hope for the best? What if he doesn’t like it and decks him for it?

Steve scrubs his face again, this is so much easier with girls.

…And that’s another thing, what about girls? He still likes girls. A lot, actually. So is he even allowed to like Eddie? He reasons it’s at least possible to because he does like Eddie. Wants to date him too, but that’s definitely not allowed.

He’s no closer to figuring out what he’s supposed to do when his watch beeps to life again.

Sighing, he throws his covers off, stands up, and sneaks across the hall to Eddie’s room.

“Eddie..hey! Eddie!” Steve whispers, gently shaking him awake. Eddie’s bangs are sticking straight out from his forehead, the rest of his hair fanned out in a mess below his head, his morning breath already starting to form…how can this be so damn attractive?

“Mmm…Hm?” Eddie’s eyes squint against the low light filtering in from the hallway, “Steve?”

“Hey, how are you feeling? Is your head feeling better?”

Eddie sinks back onto his pillow and lets his eyes fall shut again. “Uhm, it hurts, but less than it did earlier.”

“Good, that’s good.” A split moment of bravery comes over him then. “How about your heart?”

“Still aches,” He slurs sleepily in response.

Steve’s bravery and Eddie’s wakefulness fade with each second, so before they’re both gone, Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “See you in the morning, Eds.”

-🎸-

When Eddie wakes up the final time the next morning, it’s on his own and from an amazing dream involving an epic battle, injuries, and a healing kiss pressed to his forehead by a soft-haired paladin.

He sits up, already significantly less dizzy than he’d been last night, and chugs down the glass of water Steve must’ve left last time he was up here. 

He gets dressed slowly, grabbing his freshly de-chlorinated Iron Maiden tee and trusty black jeans from the neatly folded pile on the nightstand. 

He’s wondering where his jacket and vest are when the sweet smell of breakfast hits him, “Oh, fuck yeah,” he says aloud to himself like a loser.

Eddie pulls on his socks, mismatched but bundled together anyhow, and steps out into the hall.

Steve’s voice filters up the stairs with a mouthwatering buttermilk smell, “Good morning Mr. Munson, I’m sorry if I woke you.”

What time is it anyway? Eddie winces internally on Steve’s behalf if it’s anytime past 8. 

“My name is Steve Harrington, sir, and I—” Steve sighs, “Yes sir, that Harrington.”

Eddie actually winces this time, halfway down the stairs now.

“No, no no, of course not, no trouble at all Mr. Munson, I’m calling because of Eddie.”

Oof, nope, that’s not gonna help ya, Stevie.

“I didn’t—no, not complaining about—no, he got hurt an–”

Eddie can hear Wayne’s voice through the phone now, even from where he’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think he might have a concussion and—no, no! I wanted to let you know so you can—”

He decides to save Steve from the Wrath of Wayne and walks around the corner into the kitchen. He holds his hand out for the receiver, and Steve gratefully passes it over, turning back to his waffle maker (a whole-ass waffle maker! Lucky sonofabitch…).

“--And if you don’ tell me righ’ this minute how he got hurt–”

“Calm down, old man, I’m fine. Though I think Steve would’ve denied me waffles if you went on any longer.”

“Theodore Munson, you tell me what’s goin’ on right this second.”

“Whoa! Full name privileges are revoked for you,” He jokes, unable to resist riling up his uncle more. He pulls the cord around the corner and back into the hall, “Wayne, seriously, I’m fine. I just fell into Harrington’s pool a little. No big deal.”

“No big deal huh? Why’n the hell were you concussed in Loch Nora?”

“It’s a long story, but short version is I fell into Harrington’s pool and smacked my head. Steve made sure I was okay, and,” he cringes, “and Hopper might show up on our doorstep in the next couple hours.”

Wayne heaves a long sigh, “Goddammit, boy.”

“It’s all good, I’ll be home soon. I’m gonna pilfer some breakfast and get Steve to drive me home.”

“Wait, wha’happened t’yer van?”

“Okay, bye Wayne! See you soon!”

“Theodore Wayn—”

He breathes a sigh of relief when the phone is back on its cradle.

“Your uncle is scary, man.”

Eddie turns back to Steve’s voice, sitting on the same stool he did last night. Steve passes him a plate with two large golden brown waffles.

“Nah, he’s a big softy. He just worries ‘bout me.” he picks up his fork, digging into the fluffy waffles. They are unfairly good. “Thanks for breakfast, Steve, this is great!”

“You’re welcome man, y’want strawberries?”

They eat quickly, it was later than Eddie thought and Steve has the opening shift at his new-ish job at Starcourt’s ice cream parlor.

“Oh, um.. Ice cream’s good, right?”

Steve grimaces, “I feel like it’ll be very not good after this summer. Plus I have a dumb uniform I have to wear.” he gestures to the backpack he’d grabbed on their way out and tossed in the backseat.

They’re in Steve’s BMW now; his shoes and vest are still kinda damp and he’s gonna have to re-condition his leather jacket after the damn chlorine got to it, but that’s a problem for Future Eddie. “No college for you then? I honestly figured you’d be outta here as soon as you walked across that stage.” 

“I uh, didn’t get in.” Steve says, “Dad decided I should get a job at Scoops to teach me a lesson or something. As if I didn’t feel bad about not living up to his expectations enough already.”

Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say to that, but his silence seems to make Steve nervous. “It’s whatever though, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you, sorry.”

“Hey man, it’s cool, sounds like King Harrington of Hawkins expected a lot of the Prince.” They’re turning into the Forest Hills trailer park now; Eddie has a fleeting thought about how he’s finally made it to where he’d been heading last night, and something about how a twist of fate (of feet?) diverted him to a whole new course he hadn’t expected, but was glad had happened.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, don’t think he appreciated the Prince parading around pretending to be King prematurely, huh?”

Eddie grins at him as the wheels crunch on the gravel pad outside his home. “A savior and a Prince is better than a King any day.”

He gets a grin in return, then it falls slightly as he glances up at the trailer. “Well, here you are, Munson. It was, uh, weird? But nice to meet you…Officially, anyway” he tacks onto the end, “Just don’t accidentally fall into my pool again.”

“Hmm, I dunno Stevie, it was nice to be pampered.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle up again when he laughs, “How would you rate your visit to Casa Harrington, sir? On a scale of four to five stars?”

“Hmmm.. probably a 4.7 out of five.”

“4.7?! Ouch Eds, that hurts.” Steve clutches a hand to his chest, “After all the waffles and wakeup calls,”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for those wakeup calls.”

“4.7…” he mutters again, shaking his head, “What would’ve given me a full five then?”

“Well you gotta lay off the wakeup calls for starters,” Eddie says, starting to count on his fingers, “More options for toppings at your waffle breakfast bar,”

“You had strawberries and chocolate syrup! What more do you need?!”

Eddie continues on as if he hadn’t heard him. “There was no lifeguard on duty, my towels weren’t warmed up for me, I believe I was promised a True Love’s kiss at some point and never got it, the concierge antagonized my uncle—”

He’s interrupted from his rant by a quick press of something to the corner of his mouth.

He whips his head around and Steve’s face is mere inches from his. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his eyes are wide (and they’re hazel, how’d he not know that?!), “Did you just—”

“Eddie! Get your ass up here, now.” Wayne calls from the porch, causing them both to jump.

“Better get goin’ Eds.” Steve whispers, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I–” he glances down at Steve’s lips, he has a few seconds, right? Enough time to—

“Eddie!” Nope.

His eyes stay trained on Steve’s nervous expression while his hand scrambles for the handle. He finally finds it, all but spills out of the car, and closes the door behind him once he’s out fully.

Without any more preamble, Steve backs out of their driveway, and leaves the park.

-🍦-

Steve doesn’t see Eddie for a couple weeks, wasn’t even sure Eddie would want to see him again after that stupid move he pulled, but when he finally does, it’s just before closing on a random Wednesday at Scoops.

“You missed, Harrington!” Eddie calls from the entrance to Scoops. He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Eddie?”

“You missed!” he walks forward at a normal speed, despite seeming like he’d rushed to get here. He’s also shaking his finger at him, chiding.

“Where’ve you been, man?”

“Had to take care of the whole ‘evading arrest’ thing, but that’s not important. You missed Stevie.”

“Stevie?” he hears Robin mutter in disbelief.

“Missed what? I mean, yeah, I missed you too man, but what—?”

He’s cut off when Eddie finally reaches the counter, grabs his face in both hands, and kisses him square on the mouth.

Robin yelps in surprise, but that is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. 

Eddie’s lips are chapped, but they slot along Steve’s so easy it makes his head spin.

After forever and no time at all, Eddie pulls back, dropping back to his side of the counter. “There. A real lips to lips kiss. None of that sly cheek shit, Harrington.”

Steve’s still a bit dazed, “Much better than the first one.” He leans closer to Eddie again, lips searching, but he’s held still.

“Whattya mean, ‘the first one’?”

It clears his head a bit, “Uh, the one where I saved your life? Obviously.”

“That doesn’t count!” Eddie’s hands leave his face, and he misses them already.

“It was lips to lips! Isn’t that what you just said?”

“It was CPR, Steven!”

“I can count it as our first kiss if I want to, Edward.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest.

“My name’s not Edwa—”

The long squeal of marker-on-whiteboard cuts him off, and he immediately flushes red.

Oh yeah, Robin…aw fuck.

He turns slowly to the window behind the counter; a single tally mark has been drawn into the left side of Robin’s YOU RULE / YOU SUCK board.

She caps the marker, sets it down, smirks, and says “Congratulations, Dingus.”

this is also on AO3!

tagging a few of the people in the tags of the original who seemed interested in more! hope that's okay!!!

@inthewychelm @tboyeddie @brbsoulnomming @henderdads @ajs624 @sleepy-steve @eddiesdoeeyes @steddie-island @themeanderingty @hammity-hammer @spicysix @steddieasitgoes @willowworkswithwords @farahsamboolents @shares-a-vest @klausinamarink @fortheloveofgodletmein @sharpbutsoft @perseus-notjackson @zombiethingy @tchackdaw @eddiethehunted @smoothiecas @donttellunclesam @allyricas @living-force @xandriumbat @himbosandhardwear @everything-is-the-answer @sidebarre @m-owo-n @warmsole @occasionaloverboy @whoopssteddiefeels @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @extra-transitional @cecil5683 @makeadealwithdean @huymadovan

[captain-hawks]

trace the outlines of your dreams

jean kirstein x f!reader

summary: Jean saves you in the midst of a bloody battle, and in the aftermath, you both figure out some important things—the impending end of the world be damned. [set during episode 85]

word count: 4.9k

content: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, best friends to lovers speed run, unrequited love? jk its requited, blood + injuries, protective jean, but UNprotected sex, rough sex, jean's big dick, fingering, praise kink, dry humping, light dom!jean vibes, creampie

In the years that have passed since you first joined the Scout Regiment, you’ve imagined a thousand different ways you might possibly die while bearing the weight of that damned winged insignia on your chest.

A thousand ways you’d go down fighting tooth and nail, bloody and battered but with the knowledge that, at the very least, you’d tried to help make a difference.

But after all this time, you still hadn’t thought you’d make your last stand here of all places: cornered in the narrow space between two looming buildings by three of your former comrades—now Jaegerists—struggling to stand on your own two feet and virtually defenseless. 

They advance on you slowly, snickering as your smashed ODM gear refuses to cooperate, not any sort of state to function after how hard you were tackled against the unforgiving brick building mid-air just moments ago. Your gear absorbed a decent amount of the blow, enough for all of the important bits to be irreparably damaged, but not before your head took a hit as well. Warm blood drips down your face, and you blink hard against the wave of dizziness that threatens to overcome your senses. 

The futile step you attempt to take backward has you gritting your teeth, ankle barking in pain, protesting that you’re asking any more of it after the impact your legs took when you landed on the dusty gravel. You consider calling out for the others, but you know they’ll never hear you over the chaos of the battle that’s unfolding, the roar of the Titans reverberating deep in the marrow of your bones. 

Maybe you’ve finally run out of your share of borrowed time. 

The Jaegerists continue to close in on you, snickering at the way you try to steel yourself even in the face of oncoming death, and your mind goes quiet for a moment as you let it settle on one last thought—you hope that if nothing else, Jean lives to see this through to the very end.

He deserves the quiet life he’s always wanted. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

A shudder runs down your spine as a voice full of disdain sends your attention careening back to the present. 

Floch.

The Jaegerists hastily sidestep as the red-haired man swiftly pushes his way between them, blood that you’re certain doesn’t belong to him smearing across his brow as he runs a hand through his hair and offers you a grin that’s downright feral. With a dismissive wave of his hand, his comrades take their leave back to the roof and into the fray of battle. 

“I was upset when I realized that you left me, you know,” he drawls, reaching out to brush his thumb over your jaw.

Your stomach roils, and Floch clicks his tongue when you turn away from his touch, firmly grasping your chin. You can feel the warm, sticky blood his fingers leave in their wake as he continues, “I had a feeling Jean might betray me. But you? How could you?”

The rough feeling of brick digs into your shoulders as he crowds you against the wall of the building, his breath hot against your face. 

Floch was always a little too interested in you, even before things really started to go to hell. At least that’s what Jean always grumbled, anyway. So when you finally, briefly, deigned to give him the time of day, if only to help your fellow comrades pull one over on the Jaegerists before making a run for it, you should have known the volatile man would be anything but forgiving when he realized you’d been batting your eyes and swaying your hips to distract him.

“Get your hands off of me, Floch,” you growl, the anger flaring up inside of you at odds with the rapid, terrified beating of your heart.

Floch blatantly ignores you, choosing instead to run a finger over your bottom lip, and the coppery tang of blood seeps into your mouth. You stifle the urge to gag, knowing how badly he wants you to flinch. 

“It’s a bit sad…how you’ve always followed Jean like a loyal little lap dog. Waiting and waiting for him to notice you, too fucking stupid to realize he’s obviously in love with Mikasa.”

His words hit you like a slap to the face.

Your knees threaten to give out beneath you under the weight of a truth you know you can’t look away from. Not now that someone’s finally said it out loud. 

You really hadn’t thought it would end like this—with a whimper.

“We could have had something, you and I,” he rasps, leaning in so close that his lips nearly brush over yours. “If only you weren’t so busy drooling over Kirstein’s dick.”

“I would have never picked you, Floch. Not now, not ever,” you whisper, eyes boring into his with one last shred of defiance as the world beneath your feet begins to ripple, your body feeling the effects of the blood loss from your head wound.

Something dark flashes in Floch’s eyes. “Kirstein probably won’t even realize you’re gone when I’m done with you. What a shame.”

You suck in a breath as he reaches a hand down to grasp a blade, willing your body to rally just enough strength to surge forward and tackle him. At the very least, you could go down with a fight. 

…but when the quiet, familiar whine of a wire and the deliberate crunch of boots along gravel is followed by the one voice that you know the cadence of by heart, you realize that you won’t have to. 

“Get your fucking hands off of her.”

A blade gleams at Floch’s neck as Jean Kirstein steps up behind him, your best friend’s eyes burning with rage. You can’t help the sob that rips from your throat when his expression softens ever so slightly when he steals a glance over at you, though his jaw ticks when he notices the smear of blood the other man left behind on your face. 

For all Jean’s hesitation about this leg of the mission, his uncertainty about his ability to take the lives of his brainwashed comrades, you know that he’ll kill Floch right here and right now. You can see it in his posture, the utter stillness of his body. The way this entire moment feels utterly frozen in time as Floch realizes it, too. 

And even if part of you wants it, wants to live out whatever’s left of what might be your final days knowing that Floch finally got what was coming to him, you know it’s not worth the risk. Not when shouts have begun to ring out from your friends, urging everyone to get to the ship. Not when you know Jean will hold the other man back with his bare hands so you can escape without him, if that’s what it comes down to. 

So it’s the subtle shake of your head that determines Jean’s next move, one that doesn’t involve his blade and Floch’s throat. Instead, with nothing but the element of surprise on your side, Floch is blindsided by the foot you drive between his legs with all your might, white-hot pain blooming from your ankle at the impact. The moment that he drops down onto one knee, groaning, is all that Jean needs to pull you to him. 

“Jean,” you choke out, his name caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob as you collapse into him and fist your hands in his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, protectively wrapping one arm around you as he engages his ODM gear and carries you both toward the docks. And despite all of the chaos unraveling all around you, you swear that you can feel Jean’s heart pounding in his chest just as hard as your own. 

The next few hours after you set off to sea are a blur, your body still shaking with adrenaline as various sets of hands examine your injuries. Everything feels a little fuzzy around the edges, and the most you can really register is the warm press of Jean against you all the while and the tickle of his hair along your cheek each time he growls at someone to be gentle when you groan in pain as they clean and dress your wounds. 

It’s dark out when you finally come to, the fog in your mind parting as you wake up to find your limbs tangled in a scratchy wool blanket. You sit up, the thin mattress creaking beneath you, and rub at your eyes as they adjust to the dim lighting in the room. A small lantern sits perched on a table nearby, illuminating a cup that you can only hope contains water. Exhaling a quiet sigh of relief when you tentatively place it to your lips and confirm your suspicions, you drink heavily, only pausing at the sound of footsteps scuffing outside of the doorway.

“There’s another open room next to Conny’s,” you hear Armin say.

“She’s staying with me,” Jean’s voice cuts in, brokering no room for argument. 

You put the cup down and settle back onto the bed, watching as the sliver of light from the outline of the door grows when Jean carefully steps into the room, pushing it shut again behind him. 

When he realizes you’re sitting up, he swiftly crosses the room, coming to sit beside you on the mattress.

“You’re up,” he exhales, sounding relieved.

You offer him a small smile, hyper aware of the way his knee brushes against yours, heartbeat thundering when he reaches out to tilt your chin toward him. Vaguely, you wonder if you’re dreaming. 

“Your head finally stopped bleeding,” he comments, eyeing the bandage on your head. 

Right.

Mentally kicking yourself, you meet his gaze, willing your voice to stay steady as you say, “Thanks for saving me, Jean.”

One of his hands finds its way to your leg, fingers softly curling over your knee. “You know I always will,” he murmurs, echoing the promise he’d made to you years ago when you both joined the Scout Regiment. 

In another life, maybe that version of you would be selfish enough to grasp Jean by his collar and kiss him right here and now for those words, pretending you misunderstood their meaning. Words that could mean so much more in another context, were it not for the stark line of demarcation between your feelings for him and the reality of your friendship. 

Maybe you’d climb into his lap and try to make him forget all about her.

Even just for one night.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be thinking so hard after splitting your head open,” Jean comments with a chuckle when he observes your furrowed brows, gently pressing his fingertips to your temple as his attention shakes you from your thoughts.

“Sorry, it’s just been a long day,” you lie, feigning a stretch for good measure.

Jean drops his hand back down to his side as you shift, looking sheepish. “Long week, long year. You’re telling me. I think we both need a vacation.”

You snort, finally willing yourself to ask, “How’s Mikasa?”

Jean tilts his head to the side at the question, eyes narrowing a bit. “She’s fine. Armin’s a little worse for wear, but he’ll heal up soon.”

You nod, turning your gaze to the corner of the room. “You don’t need to stay in here with me tonight if you want to go and keep her company. I’ll be okay.”

Your best friend looks nothing short of perplexed at the clear insinuation in your words. “...why would I do that?”

“Because you…” you trail off, not sure why it’s so hard to verbalize Jean’s crush to his face.

Jean’s fingers brush along your cheek, urging you to look at him. “I what?”

You huff in annoyance, not sure why he’s making you say it outloud. “You and Mikasa…”

“There’s no ‘me and Mikasa’,” he says plainly. 

Heart thundering in your chest, you glare at him before looking up at the ceiling in embarrassment and exasperation. “And there’s not ever going to be if you don’t get it together and tell her how you feel before we all die here.”

Jean clicks his tongue against his teeth, and your entire body goes still at the sudden feeling of his hot breath caressing the shell of your ear, “But she’s not the person I’ve been too much of a coward to tell how I feel.”

What?

“What?” you breathe out, whipping around to face him, the air swiftly leaving your lungs when you realize just how close he is, the tip of your nose brushing against his own.

Jean’s thumb traces your lower lip. “It’s always been you.”

At a loss for words, all you can manage to get out is, “Why now?”

“I used to hope you’d find someone that’d convince you to leave the Scouts and live a safe life behind the walls, something I couldn’t give you.”

Your heart aches at that, knowing that’s the life Jean always wanted, too. The one he left behind knowing how selfish it would be to waste the talent he could offer to the Scouts.. 

And perhaps it makes sense now—the way he’d subtly tried to find ways to hint that maybe you shouldn’t join the Regiment after all, all those years ago. The conflicted look of pain in his eyes the first time you’d proudly worn the Wings of Freedom.

“I didn’t think I could ever be enough to deserve you,” he continues. “Not even now.”

Hearing the uncertainty in Jean’s voice throws you off-kilter; it’s a far cry from the confident man you know him to be. You can’t help but offer him an incredulous look in return, baffled by the irony of it all—he’s the only person you care to spend the rest of your life with, after all. 

Even if this is all you have left—these last few days, hours, moments. 

A choked out sound leaves Jean’s mouth; apparently you said that out loud. “So you’re telling me…”

He cups the back of your head, eyes searching your face.

“...I should have done this…”

His other hand finds yours, fingers lacing together.

“...a long time ago.”

A shudder crawls down your spine at the feeling of Jean’s lips brushing atop your own. It’s a tentative touch, one that you press back into between one breath and the next. And as you sigh against his mouth, your own fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair, Jean stops holding back.

Legs hanging over the edge of the bed, Jean swiftly pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around you as his lips chase yours with fervor. You straddle him, basking in the warmth of his body heat pressing into your own, savoring the rough press of the calluses on his fingers—built up from years of using the ODM gear—as he explores the expanse of bare skin on your back where your shirt has bunched up.

You can hardly be bothered to break for air as Jean’s lips slot against yours, toes curling against the mattress when he licks his way inside of your mouth. He groans as the kiss grows messier, your body arching into his at the feeling of his tongue tangling with your own. 

Once upon a time, you’d exclaimed that nothing could compare to the feeling of finally mastering the ODM gear, the exhilarating rush of clearing rooftops and treelines with such seamless precision. The swelling elation in your chest to finally understand what it feels like to fly.

It’s a feeling that you’ve chased for years, the feeling that’s carried you through each and every battle to this day.

Kissing Jean feels like that—like flying.

But there’s no anchor here. No wires. No blades at your hips nor enemies at your back.

With Jean’s lips on yours, you float untethered, the weight on your shoulders and heaviness of your heart long forgotten passengers left far below as you soar. 

And you let go, freefalling. Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’ll catch you. 

He’ll always catch you.

Jean’s lips part from yours to blaze a hot trail along the curve of your jaw, pressing kisses along your neck. Dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin where your earlobe meets the hinge of your jaw, his voice is rough as he murmurs, “I love you.”

There’s a hitch in his breath when you say it back without hesitation—it’s a truth you’ve always known yourself to feel, even if you could never tell him as much. He pulls you impossibly closer, fingers digging into your hips, mouth seeking yours out once more.

And as you feel his growing hardness beneath you, you can’t help but pointedly rock into the cradle of his lap, a breathy moan leaving you at the pressure of his cock rubbing against you. The sensation and Jean’s own answering moan draw up memories of all the nights you spent imagining this, face buried against your pillow to muffle the sounds as you fingered yourself to thoughts of your best friend right there in your bed in the barracks. 

If your lives still held any semblance of normalcy, maybe you’d prolong this endeavor, taking your time to savor the taste of Jean’s mouth on your own first before anything else, exploring him in bits and pieces. 

But with what may very well be the end of the world looming far too close for comfort, there’s no time for patience. 

“Can I…do you want to…?” Jean trails off, breathing heavily as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, the rest of the question dancing in his eyes as he’s clearly having the same thoughts as you are. 

“Jean Kirstein, if I die without fucking you—”

He doesn’t give you the chance to finish your sentence, cutting you off with a kiss as his hands find their way to your breasts. He’s barely begun to squeeze them before you break apart from him for a moment, slipping off your top and tossing it halfway across the room before grabbing for his shirt as well. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Jean breathes out once you pull his shirt over his head, pausing to take in the sight of your supple breasts before him, running a thumb across one of your peaked nipples. 

His mouth quirks upward at the way you shiver in response to his touch, eyes blazing with hunger when your lips part, silently begging for more. Jean leans in, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and you thread your fingers into his hair, urging him to continue as he shamelessly begins to suckle at the sensitive bud. 

You’re helpless to deny your body’s need to grind down onto Jean’s bulge, your folds pressing into your slick, damp underwear with each thrust of your hips. His lips slide away from your breasts so he can sink his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the feral groan that rumbles in his chest in response to the way you’ve desperately begun to dry hump his cock. 

Fingers trail along the waistband of your pants, flicking them open with ease to gain access to the soft, white cotton panties beneath. Jean nips his way up your neck, pausing to suck at your pulse point as he asks, “Are you wet for me?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he slips a hand into your underwear, a strangled “oh” the only sound he’s able to offer for a moment once he realizes you’re fucking soaked. He swipes three dexterous fingers along your sensitive slit, pulling them out of your pants to marvel at the sticky mess dripping off of his digits before licking each one clean. 

The sight of that alone nearly sends you over the edge, your tight hole fluttering in anticipation. You rock your hips once more, and his eyes glint with a hint of amusement as his hand makes its way back into your underwear.

Jean wastes no time in sinking a finger into your waiting hole, slowly sliding it in and out of you as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the underside of your jaw. Meanwhile, you grasp his throbbing cock through his pants, fingers teasing at the wet spot of precum that’s soaked through the material, and he bucks upward into your touch.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, stretching you open with another finger while his free hand gropes your breasts. You move your hips quicker than the diligent thrusts of his fingers, asking for more, and his chuckle drips through you like warm honey as he obliges your request with a third digit and murmurs, “How’s this?”

The sound of him fucking you with his fingers is downright obscene, the digits squelching wetly with each movement. The pleasure mounting within you has your thighs trembling with anticipation. But as you continue to fondle the outline of his cock, all you can think about is how goddamn big it feels. 

“Jean,” you whine, incapable of stringing together words to appropriately express the sentiment that you’d really, really like him to fuck you stupid with his dick right now.

He cups your face, the tender gesture at odds with the fingers curling and stroking your spongy inner walls. Jean leans in to capture your mouth in a messy, heated kiss, leaving a string of saliva trailing from your lips to his when he pulls back slightly to murmur, “If you want more, you have to come on my fingers first.”

You’ve spent more time than you’ll ever admit fantasizing the dirty, filthy things Jean might say to you while taking you apart, thoughts that have clung to your mind and sometimes forced you to avoid your best friend out of embarrassment for days at a time. 

But nothing can compare to this—the way his rough voice scrapes alive each and every nerve ending in the deepest recesses of your body. The undeniably dominant tone each word is laced with, and the instinctual reaction it viscerally awakens inside of you. 

Jean’s thumb presses into your swollen clit at the same time he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down, and the swelling wave of pleasure in your abdomen finally crests. Your entire body tenses as you moan, riding out your climax on his fingers until the overstimulation has your legs quivering for momentary reprieve.

“Good girl,” he praises, slowly pulling his sticky fingers out of your pants. 

You don’t hesitate to reach for his waiting cock, eager to feel its thick warmth cradled in your fingers, but he gently nudges your hand away, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You huff in annoyance, and he shakes his head, “You’ve got me so wound up, I won’t last like this.”

“You wanna fuck me, Jean?” you coyly ask.

Idly teasing at one of your nipples, Jean’s answering grin is nothing short of wolfish. “You’re so tight, we’ll have to see if you can take me.”

You raise an eyebrow at the hint of challenge in his tone, though if what you’ve felt through his pants is anything to go by, you can’t deny it’s likely warranted.

The bedsheets rustle and the mattress squeaks as you both make quick work of the remainder of your clothes, underwear and pants left forgotten on the floor while Jean kisses and nips his way up the planes and curves of your naked body, his hands exploring each and every dip and crevice with reverence. When his lips finally meet yours once more, his hair tickling your face as he leans over top of you, anticipation curls in your gut at the feeling of what now presses against your naked body.

Your eyes trail down Jean’s chest, fingernails gently scraping over his nipples, and he sucks in a breath as you slide closer to your destination. His thick cock is a sight to behold, hanging heavily between his legs, and there’s not a trace of shame in the way your mouth waters at the thought of him stretching your slick cunt open with it.

As if reading your thoughts, Jean pushes your thighs apart, slapping his fat length against the puffy, sensitive folds of your pussy. Your back arches up off of the mattress of its own accord, and he hums, one hand firmly grasping your hip as the other wipes the flushed head of his shaft up and down your sticky slit. 

His name spills from your kiss-swollen lips, your neck muscles straining from how hard you’re pressing your head back down into the pillow underneath you. And when your drenched cunt greedily accepts the tip of his cock as he notches it at your entrance, pumping a spit-soaked palm along the length of it, it’s all you can do not to spear yourself on him entirely. 

“So eager,” Jean muses, watching the telltale signs of your thinly veiled restraint as he makes no effort to move any further. 

“Jean, please,” you beg, fully aware that this reaction is exactly what he wanted. 

He leans down, mouth latching onto one of your breasts, and you gasp as he slides into you just a little bit further while he traces wet, messy circles around your hard nipple. You grasp a fistful of his hair, finding another reason to be thankful for the way he’s let it grow out as of late as you tug his face up to yours.

“Yes?” he asks, a sparkle of mirth dancing in his lustful gaze as he smiles down at you.

“Fuck me,” you pant out, tightening your grip on his hair.

You hardly have time to appreciate the moan that drags out of him before he kisses you hard, plunging the full length of his cock into your cunt, directly to the hilt. The stretch is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, your walls spasming in protest as all of the air punches out of your lungs. But despite the impossibly tight fit, your pussy greedily takes every inch of Jean’s cock, tears of pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Holy shit,” Jean moans as your pussy clamps down on him, so hot and wet he nearly blows his load right then and there. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Fresh arousal dribbles wetly from your entrance and onto the base of his shaft, each and every nerve ending in your body buzzing like a livewire. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, swallowed up within the warmth of your cunt, his balls hanging heavily against your ass. Jean’s careful as he begins to ease out of you, well aware of the way your walls are so desperately choking his thick length. 

It’s why he’s surprised when you grasp at the soft strands of his hair once more and breathe out impatiently, “I’m not going to break, you know.”

Jean leans in and murmurs against your lips, “What are you trying to say? You like it rough?”

You nod, running your teeth along his bottom lip, “Yeah, Jean. I do.”

Cock now resting at your fluttering entrance once more, Jean groans as he snaps his hips into yours, burying himself deep in your soaking wet pussy. 

“So perfect,” he murmurs as you writhe and keen in pleasure beneath him, your tits bouncing with each thrust as he begins to ravage your hole. “Taking me so, so good.”

“Feels so good,” you nearly sob, head spinning with the pleasure threatening to spill over inside of you. 

Jean’s kisses are all tongues and teeth, filthy and messy as his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Come all over my cock, baby. Please,” he groans. “Please, please.”

He’s begging for it, begging to feel your cunt clamp down and gush all over his dick.

He’s so fucking close, balls seizing up, his entire body straining from the effort to bring you to your climax first.

“Come. For. Me.”

And it’s the desperation in his voice that sends you hurtling over the edge, a bright, searing lightning strike of pleasure like you’ve never known before bursting open inside of you as you succumb to an orgasm that leaves you positively boneless. 

“Inside,” you gasp just as Jean goes to pull out.

His answering groan is the most sinful sound you’ve ever heard as he plunges back into you, his forehead falling against yours while you both revel in the feeling of your walls spasming and contracting against his cock while he fills your cunt with spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum. 

Jean flops down onto the bed beside you after you’ve milked every last drop of his seed from his softening cock, breathing hard, both of you too spent to fumble for something to clean up the mess of cum that lingers between you. Instead, he tugs you against the warmth of his chest, pressing a gentle assault of kisses everywhere on your face but your lips. 

You pout as he pointedly avoids your mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling his mouth toward yours. Jean smiles, the expression filled with unabashed adoration and fondness so stark that you swear your heart stutters in your chest. 

“I’m gonna marry you when this is all over,” he whispers into the scant space between your mouths, each syllable brushing across your lips.

“You promise?”

You can feel Jean smile into his answering kiss.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[multi-level-shipper]

This shit was a fucking acid trip, like most of the game.

Anyway, something that poked my brain was the Infirmary. For all this game's insanity, there were actually some decent roots planted for worldbuilding/ character development.

It seems like the reason the cast ended up in Queen Bouncelia's domain is because they're treating the player as if they have 6 stars in GTA. Seline is no exception to this rule, and that seems to be her motivation for coming down to the lower floor, as she watched us leave in Chapter 3.

Toadster noted in his "Archives" that she was already hiding when brought in, and crying in her shell. She may have been antagonized by a bigger enemy- likely Kittysaurus or Tama/Chamataki (turtle chameleon thing), and she may have gone past the kingdom's walls for sanctuary. (That's just a loose theory, though.)

In any case, at some point she was frightened enough to shut down completely.

This could be some kind of anxiety attack, though there's no way to "diagnose" Seline at this point. Also interesting that Seline felt too afraid to even continue moving around on the lower floors. I think this is meant to speak to just how dangerous the lower floors are- if the giant ass snail is afraid, you should be, too.

Next, Jumbo Josh. Toadster categorizes him as a "Green Gorilla", which in hindsight, weirdly makes a lot of sense.

Firstly, an adult silverback gorilla can bench up to 4,000 lbs (or at least, that's what google told me.) Not that we needed an explanation of why he was able to throw Stinger Flynn, but I can only assume that if we adjusted that number for his size...it probably checks out.

Second, the fact that he walks like a chiropractor's worst nightmare. It took me a second, but I FINALLY realized that his posture is meant to IMITATE A GORILLA. Like, look at this:

DEFINITELY EXPLAINS WHY HE WALKS LIKE A HORSE IN GARRY'S MOD.

And thirdly, Josh's love for vegetables is also a gorilla trait. 85% of a gorilla's diet is leafy greens, with the remaining percentage basically amounting to termites and larvae.

Not too much to say about the Fucked Up Birds, but still! Nice to see them finally displaying a flamingo behavior (AKA their sleeping posture) because they seemed to lean more heavily on ostrich behaviors in previous chapters.

Toadster mentions in his archive for "The Teacher" that she keeps repeating the phrase "I can't be late" over and over to herself after being subdued.

He also notes that the bowling pins "calmed her down," which may not entirely be the case. In Chapter 3, in Banbaleena's "Classroom", each object had an assigned role like Cool Kid and Popular Kid. The bowling pins were meant to be the Bullies.

So Banbaleena is likely stuck in a prison of her own self-doubts right about now, which is doubly sad when considering her insistence in Chapter 3 that she was actually trying to be a good teacher. Either someone placed this idea in her head that she needs to strictly adhere to all these rules, or it's a stress she placed upon herself trying to fulfill her identity as a teacher.

Stinger Flynn gets better as the story progresses. He seems to have an ego to the point where he sees himself as a savior that can't see the faults in his own plans. His initial "safest procedures" plan seemed so obvious to him, but it seems as if he measures success by efficiency rather than the cost of human lives. While he's smart, he's not immune to being wrong, though he has yet to learn this.

He also seems to suffer from some form of depression, or at least intense sadness, and we see this as he talks to Banban in the latest hallucination sequence. Makes sense- his intelligence would make him much more privy to all the horrible things happening around him. It seems as if his high intelligence comes at a high price.

Last note- This might just be a case of recycling animations/rigs, but I think it's cute that Banban shares nearly the same emo pose as Banbaleena.

[th4tsj4zzy]

hoo boy im boutta get controversial

only 50 notes in and im starting to post stuff abt hsr controversy >:) this’ll be about the sparkle/ratio being racist controversy for the first + second part of hsr’s trailblaze mission for penacony

TW: slavery, slurs, racism, “death” (suicide..? 2.1 hsr quest makes this make sense) spoilers for penacony’s 2.1 quest below the cut

ofc, when sparkle was degrading aventurine for being sigonian, i reacted how a lot of people did and was like “cheese and rice, thats kinda racist dude, wtf-“ i was pretty worried bc hoyo’s had a history with not handling racism in plotlines well (see: eremite world quest in genshin) but i wanted to stay optimistic bc theres a different team working on hsr and maybe theyll be better at handling racism in plot. but honestly? after playing the second part of the penacony quest, i really think that they handled the entire thing pretty well.

probably 50% of penacony’s 2.1 quest was aventurine’s backstory, how being enslaved affected him, his family, and the culture of the avgins/sigonians (specifically the latter). his “all or nothing” nature clearly reflects the fact he’s used to betting everything (despite being paranoid about it since he quite literally lost everything before being taken in by the [pretty] ipc [woman, jade]) bc it makes him seem confident and gives him an image of carelessness, benefiting him in the long run of scheming. the only reason im able to draw this many conclusions about him is because of the amount of character development they give him in the quest.

ofc, im not trying to say that sparkle’s (and “ratio’s”) racist remarks were justified; to put it lightly, they’re leaning into a darker shade of morally grey, even without knowing their purposes for saying such stuff. however, i do think that them being racist to aventurine is a major part of the world building for HSR. him being on the receiving end of their criticism makes us suspicious of everyone else, but also makes us root for him a bit, which helps balance out the scales of distrust and/or dislike the viewer should have of all of the characters. in the beginning of the quest, aventurine’s probably receiving a lot more of the dislike/distrust than the other characters, so we need to at least find a reason to root for him if the writers want us to understand his schemes.

also, sparkle being racist to aventurine for being sigonian and him persisting through all of the hardships his plans and his past bring (despite 85% of it being for the ipc and the other 15% for the mere chance to see his family and find the truth, the latter mattering more than the former) is a narrative that brings tears to my eyes. it resonates with me as a minority race, and im sure many others can understand why.

sure, sparkle used a slur for the real life alternative for sigonia and ratio brings up his past as a slave. we all recognize its not right for her to do that and that the writers are pretty harsh for writing the slur in, but its just the same way in the real world. the writers are just showing us reality in a video game. death and murder and enslavement is really harsh that also reflect the real world, yet they also include it. are we really gonna act like saying a slur is above killing people?

[correctthroam]

I read THROAM for the first time in ~5 years. Here's what I have to say.

Volume I: There was so many characters I forgot about when going into the fic. Pete, Jac, Spencers family. I cant believe I forgot them. Pete will always be a fave because everyone hates him and it makes me laugh. The first volume was always my 2nd favorite, I think it still is. overall, the storyline isn't complicated and I like that. Ryan is such an asshole so I dont feel bad for him one bit in any of the fic. Also, I used to say that the bus crash was Brendons fault (I was 13, okay?) But Ryan was just an unstable motherfucker who truly should not be trusted to drive a vehicle of any kind.

Volume II: holy shit. I hate volume two. Not saying the writing is bad but Jesus Christ, Ryan is an asshole. bro literally stalked Brendon after he ran into him at that party like what? I had messaged a friend after finishing volume 2, saying "I'm a really nice person I never wanna make people feel sad, let alone make a whole fictional story about someone being severely depressed and unstable whilst chasing a boy then fucking his bf at the end???" and I think that perfectly sums up how I feel (and always felt) about volume two. other than the fact that I used to say that it was Brendons fault. (I was 13. THIRTEEN) it wasn't his fault. Some parts were, yeah, but it's hard to pinpoint everything that happened on one person. at the end of the day, its a good story I just Hate it (does that make sense) I love it but I hate it? it remains my least favorite purely for the pain it put me through.

Volume III: I love this volume. I always have. Sisky is amazing, we all love Sisky. I will say the iconic song/album references/jokes made me cringe a bit, though. Im not exactly sure what about this fic I always liked so much, I guess you can really see Ryans character growth and finally not be as much as a miserable fuck (he's still unstable dw) Since Ryan is less insufferable, it makes the volume more enjoyable. I like that Spencer and Ryan became friends again, I think it makes the book more enjoyable and tbh I think Spencer rly tied vol 3 together, if he wasn't part of it it would lowk suck. overall, best volume cant wait to host the throam tour where we go to hotel Chelsea then machias.

final thoughts: if I thought throam was 100% good when I was 13, Id say now that I think throam is about 85% good now. (does that make sense pt 2) this fic has sent me back into being 13 and I have been blasting some pretty. odd. (im listening to it rn as im typing this) and listening to this album just makes my life feel more simple. still a solid fic, I think it would be an amazing published book. and I think we can all agree that it would be amazing to see THROAM movies (in our dreams)

Thanks for reading lol

[indiana-jonas]

The two invisible steps before you make something

When I made comic strips in the past I would often jump straight into drawing the first panel. I’d just wing it and then improvise each following panel. Sometimes it worked out.

An improvised strip from my old series “Us with plants on our heads.”

But often it just turned into nonsensical crap.

I don’t get this one myself.

I often started drawing a strip and gave up cause I didn’t know what to do.

I thought I was supposed to be able to fart out great comics with ease. But I squeezed and squeezed. I was too eager. Without being aware of it, I tried to do 3 steps all at once. To continue this (f)art metaphor - before anything comes out of you, you’ve gotta 1. find something you want to eat, 2. digest it, 3. let it come out. The problem was that I hadn’t eaten or digested anything.

To put it in a more dignified way.

The first step is to search,

the second is to make sense of,

the third is to make it.

I used to skip the first two steps, I wanted to get straight into making shit. But that often turned into nonsensical crap, or I would run into a wall and give up.

The third step (to make it) is the most obvious one. Despite it being the most obvious step, I got completely stuck on it because I hadn’t gone through the first two.

If you are reading this, it’s likely you already know how to make something. I think these first two steps are identical no matter what medium you are creating in. So I will take the liberty of not going into detail about how to make something.

Instead of trying to think of products first, what any creative person should try to do is think, search and wonder. Think about real things, notice what makes you feel stuff - what is close to your heart if everything else is stripped away? Ideally projects will emerge from the collection of the thoughts you have collected, or at least be designed/conceived in a way that can package your thoughts as nicely as possible.

Search

There’s nothing quite as uninspiring as a blank canvas. 85% of the time a blank canvas only makes me feel dread or boredom. If you come up with a great idea while looking at a canvas it’s not because you looked at a canvas, it’s despite looking at it. Whatever great ideas I have managed to conjure while looking at that white rectangle has always come from something else - an inspiring movie scene, something from my day, a lingering thought, or a line from a song.

Now I’ve abandoned blank canvases, I never start from one. Neither when I write or draw.

Instead, I live in search of noteworthy thoughts. Regardless of whether you know what a thought will be useful for, jot them down somewhere.

To search is just to live life with a keen eye, ear and heart and to make sure you don’t forget.

When I stare at a blank canvas The Search becomes stressful and I want to avoid it. But in reality, if I admit that The Search is part of the process, it becomes the most peaceful and interesting step of them all. It’s just living with a secret mission - to be human and to find out what’s special about that to you.

And of course you need to make sure you don’t forget those thoughts for the next step.

Make sense of

Now that you’ve been out in the world and discovered stuff, it’s time to sit down somewhere, sift through and examine your haul. You might be overwhelmed by how much is in there. You’ll never be able to use everything. So you just gotta use your intuition. See what stands out, group things, talk with someone - do ANYTHING you want with it until you find what’s hiding there.

Your notes are a collection of countless puzzles. Some puzzles are hundreds of pieces big, others are just one or three. Some pieces fit into more than one puzzle. You don’t know. Often you’ll have to find a few pieces in your head to complete a puzzle, while other pieces might still be hidden out there in the world.

The way to make sense of a puzzle is to try to put it together, or to be literal; try to explain it as clearly as you can. Ask yourself, “how can I prove to someone else that this is true?” And ideally not just make them understand it, but also feel it. That’s the puzzle you gotta solve.

Let me give you an example.

I found myself frustrated that we live life too much through screens and I want to make a Space Deer comic strip. That’s the idea I want to make sense of and the filter that I will examine my idea through.

First I will ask myself, “ok, why is that idea true?”- I think life needs balance, you shouldn’t stare too much of it away through a pixelated representation of it. Then I ask myself, “how should we live then?”- We should go outside and get our boots in the mud more, what we will really remember is probably gonna happen out there. And then I try to think of a situation where I can show as clearly as possible that this is right. I’m afraid this message might be tired or preachy, especially if I would aim the message directly at someone like us (you know, someone who’s currently looking at a screen). Luckily the imagery of my comic gives me other symbols to play with.

So I thought of how I could show that in four comic panels and wrote down this.

Space Deer walks on a desolate planet. They encounter a mars rover. They scream “get out here and live!!” NASA people see Space Deer through their screens.

It’s simple, but it gets the idea across. Normally I would like to make it clear that Space Deer is really out there and living freely, to show what these researches are missing out on. But in the comic we will see Space Deer explore and go on all kinds of adventures, so that’s something I didn’t feel like I needed to put more emphasis on. I trust the reader to make that connection themself.

Sometimes making sense of an idea can be much harder, in this example the idea was an entire puzzle on its own, or maybe I had the remaining pieces in my head already. Sometimes all you need is just one piece in front of you to know where to look for the rest.

Make it

And then of course the last step is to just make it. (Step 4 is to share it. Step 5 is to repeat it.)

I have made decent comic strips despite jumping straight into drawing, or so I’ve thought. Thinking back on it, I just managed to search and make sense of an idea as I was drawing. I didn’t magically skip two steps, that’s impossible. I was just not aware of what I was doing.

Now that I know the steps, I’m much better at understanding why I tend to get stuck in different parts of the process.

In reality these steps are not always as clear cut. They will blend into each other, you might do some back and forth, making sense of and making something is a fuzzy line. This is not so much a step-by-step process as it is a journey you have to go through. It has definitely helped me to be more methodical and intentional about it though. I’ve set myself up in a way where it’s fun for me to get each step done. I might go into that in the future.

If you only take one thing with you from this - I hope it’s that you will be aware of and feel more at peace with the first two steps.

--------

If you found this interesting then you might enjoy these blog posts too.

When you don't know what to draw

I will never find my art style

Lazy imagination isn't bad

Thank you for reading my thoughts!

[zalrb]

PLL 2x01 Review - As Per Anon Request (this has been in my drafts for forever)

I have never before seen so many people in this damn town.

Emily's constantly-trying-to-cry lookin ass.

I love how none of them are acting like Spencer was nearly murdered.

Like, her brother-in-law nearly killed her and she can just have a sleepover? Her parents don't want her with them? Melissa is in the hospital. Like, that family is going through a trauma. WHAT?

"A is not Jenna." "Are you sure?" "A sees everything, Hanna." Spencer's tired delivery is hilarious because she's basically just being like she is BLIND, Hanna.

Emily making sense. "We should tell someone about her, him, it. What's the worse that can happen?" Because really. One of you was hit by the car and the other was nearly murdered by her brother-in-law.

We have SO much to lose. I mean do you, Aria?? HANNA WAS HIT BY A CAR AND SPENCER WAS NEARLY STRANGLED.

I asked for the parents and the parents are just there like idk, maybe Ian tried to kill you, maybe he didn't, but you know the optics are pretty bad so go to a grief counsellor. LOL OK.

It's just sending me that they're looking their kids in the face being like I mean, who knows if Ian tried to kill you.

"There's a REASON why you haven't heard from Ian. It's because he's dead." "Dead men don't just get up and walk away." "We TOLD you someone moved him!" "Who would do that? And why?" Spencer's mom's delivery is hilarious because she's like, listen to yourselves, which fine, but really, why isn't Ian around then, parental figures?

Who is Jason.

Christmas is back!

He wasn't even expelled? He was just suspended? How long was this suspension?

LOL. Mona is terrible but she is a real one, she is a ride or die friend. And Hanna is an awful friend to her.

The camera cutting to the girl gossiping about Hanna walking away so we can see her in the skinny jeans when Mona says look at her bony ass in those jeans is actually diabolical.

Ezra and his psycho killer eyes.

Asking a sixteen year old girl "are we over" at your big age is insane.

Does Toby not have a phone? Text him.

"WHERE IS HE?" Bro, he's dead.

Emily's additions to conversations are 85-90% unnecessary.

LOL they are MINORS, their faces wouldn't be on the front page paper.

Also how are they only seeing the paper now? It's the end of the day.

Also they really need to stop making them say A's messages in unison, besides it being corny af, they never get it quite in unison.

It would be more of a reveal if they didn't show Caleb getting out of the car with Luke. But whatever.

Hanna and Caleb are Forwood-coded.

You're not allowed to look at me like that. And this is the face

But I get it though because I see him trying to do The Stare. It's just ... they don't actually have chemistry and they're not great actors so it's this.

There should be so much more tension and charge here. But alas.

STILL BETTER THAN TSITP.

See... "I love you." "I believe you. But you should probably go." *picks up his bag* that's too easy. That's basically like, "shit, alright. Let me pack up." If you're not going to have her be the one to walk away, which is how a lot of these things go

then have her at least repeat it or have her turn around, but picking up the bag immediately after is unintentionally funny.

I don't know. If my friend's ex gave me a letter to give to them I'd give it to them or at least tell them I had it, but I always found the outrage in scenes like this to be overblown.

It's hilarious how no one on this show acts like they've suffered a trauma. Melissa, you were in a car accident. Spencer, you were nearly killed. So were you Hanna. The only person who complains is fucking Aria.

Topless Ezra is funny to me. Because he's obviously not out of shape, his body is fine, I'm just saying when we got topless Stefan, it was this

and I just hate too much about Ezra and Ezria that this

is just might as well keep a shirt on.

THEY ARE SO BORING.

You. Look. Like. You. Are. Going. To. KILL. her.

You think we should tell the therapist? *conspiracy voice* But guys, what if A is the therapist??

I don't even know what a conspiracy voice is but that was my voice when I said that.

Ian's alive! Or maybe A who has supernatural powers heard you say Taylor and so said Taylor.

Un.serious. Show.

[im-out-of-it]

season 2, episode 4, part 3 “day of wrath” continued (long because I went on a bitchfest so sue me)

66. I always love watching Magnus’s expression when they’re about to summon Camille. this is not something that is easy for Magnus to do but he’s doing it because it needs to be done (I don’t know how to flip it but whatever) (I don’t have a degree or common sense in IT but I tried) (so be nice to me )

67. Magnus looks so devastated knowing he will have to betray Camille

68. ah shit, my poor alec

69. now Alec looks so devastated. okay but Alec couldn’t have known. anyone would have done what he did. Valentine may be a hypocritical bad villain but he is good about making sneak attacks and using his resources. you can bet your ass that anyone would’ve done the same especially jace and clary. they would be too busy ogling each other. (how they are in charge in the books always baffles me) how was Alec supposed to know that a demon sneakily got into the institute? he doesn’t have eyes and ears all over the place

70. Simon, some people get excited about dirt (I couldn’t resist- also don’t like small gifs so I used them both AND I CANT BELIEVE HE IMPROVISED THIS SHIT)

71. yes clary, the institute loves to gossip. it’s boring waiting around for demons to show up

72. Izzy: be fucking grateful for once bitch

73. Izzy is way toooooooo nice to clary. Clary is one of those people that just suck the energy right out of ya

74. Izzy: not everyone can be Isabelle Lightwood

75. too be fair, she makes it look easy 🥰

76. “so maybe you should be glad you have one who wants to try and make things right.” MY GIRL IZZY LEFT NO DUST!!!!!! no because clary is one of thee most ungrateful people around. she’s allowed to be upset at her mother for lying, but Jocelyn does anything she can to protect clary while Maryse has been a cold hearted cunt to Alec and Izzy so just be appreciative for once clary

77. Lydia, I would suggest being nice

78. YEAH THATS MY MAN ALEC

79. meant to post these before (Alec investigates and jace has dreams of ugh clary)

80. Lydia gave it her all so maybe raj will watch his mouth next time lmaooo

81. I don’t see why they didn’t have Alec shoot the smoke but I guess they need Alec to keep suffering and enduring for no reason

82. I also want to point out from a recent discussion I had that Alec did not need to endure all of this. he’s gone through hell from season one and now. he’s almost died twice, sorted through complex feelings, almost got married, and is having my boyfriend is immortal crisis and I’m not. like did Alec really need to go through this? I feel like they wanted it to be almost payback for Alec not wanting clary around and all of the stuff he’s said

83. I’m on board for Jocelyn dying but let’s remember, alec didn’t choose to kill her. the demon finds anger and hurt and it chooses its victim. Alec didn’t go on a plan to kill Jocelyn no matter how tempting it is. and remember, Jocelyn would have been fine if Alec died all for finding clary. she didn’t seem to mind giving him that stone. so I’m just saying, at least Alec wasn’t being intentional about this. and Jocelyn knew what could happen with that stone but she didn’t care as long as clary was protected 🙄

84. I can’t stand this episode for many reasons but it felt like a smear Alec campaign. has this man not been through enough? Maryse practically disowned him, he had all his shit in season one, almost lost Izzy, was constantly betrayed by someone who is supposed to be his brother and bestie, and almost died twice. and I’m no way trying to play the gay card but Alec is in the top five people who go through the most shit but also why is the gay man going through some of the worst possible shit???

85. Magnus izzy Maia Simon also Raphael are included but Alec is constantly getting judged for other peoples decisions, the blame goes on him, he almost dies thrice for someone who wouldn’t save him given the time of day, and he’s got so much hurt and anger inside him. I’m honestly upset they never let Alec process anything. literally he doesn’t marry Lydia and dates Magnus but there’s no time to process because jace leaves so let’s make it all about jace!!!!!!! I love the show for putting Alec first but I’m hurt that he hardly gets to process anything. it’s an upgrade for sure from the books but no one really talks about all he endures

86. and clary does say she’s not upset at Alec but she still blames him in a way. Alec didn’t seek Jocelyn out but she did seek alec out with the stone in episode 2. they never processed Alec’s dark side and I think that’s a shame because Matt is a very gifted and talented actor and I think he would have excelled at that. y’all can fucking quote me- Matt would have killed a more dark serious role. and after all the shit Alec goes through, his villain arc would’ve been warranted and justified at this point. he’s very good at the comedic timing, being serious, changing his character up but having alec go dark alec would have been very fun to watch. I have full confidence that Matt would’ve pulled it off EASY

87. speaking of Matt, I always love his interviews so let’s take a breaky break

88. HE JUST GETS ALEC

89. I’m done gushing for now BUT I CANT HELP IT!!!!!! Matt talking about Alec’s arc because he is summing up how a lot happens in season one and it’s not the books and basically how Alec doesn’t matter in the books. he just really fucking gets Alec more than CC understands Alec. after all, she wanted to kill him off first book and the way she treats the lightwoods shows how much she can’t stand any of them. Matt is a hardcore Malec and Alec and Magnus shipper and I love him for that. he gave Alec the potential he so needed!!!!!!!!!!

90. where the fuck was I?????? oh that’s right, alec just saved Lydia AGAIN but she saved him too

91. trial by mortal sword ⚔️ 🗡️ ah shit

92. I’m going to post the video of Magnus talking about Camille in the next one 🫶🏼

93. poor Magnus having to make one of the hardest choices in his life. Camille saved him and has been an old friend of his. it’s going to be very painful for Magnus to do this. he’s not someone who willingly betrays an old friend and lover but Camille has gotten out of hand. I wish they didn’t get rid of her

94. I mean Magnus is still a human being with thoughts and emotions and who goes through challenges and hardships but valid Simon

95. well last time you’ll see your mother clary, say bye (also forgot this one, slay Izzy)

96. I wonder if Jocelyn knew that clary was desiring jace romantically before she had her heart yanked out (THANK YOU ALEXANDER)

97. because it’s very obvious to us

98. I’m still mad we were robbed of more Alec

99. like imagine a dark Alec arc. instead of seeing jace be saved or clary like a dark Alec or Magnus would have been ten times more fun to see plus Matt and Harry would have killed it but what do I know I’m totally fucking biased

going to stop at 100 and will start part four tomorrow and it should probably be the last one since there’s about 13 ish minutes left

[recurring-polynya]

@fluffnflightillustrations is always asking me for pie crust tips and I never know what to do say because I just..do it. I am there and the food processor is there, and then it is pie crust. Anyway, I was making a pie today and I decided to document the process for posterity.

This recipe is based on J. Kenji Lopez-Alt's food processor piecrust recipe. (he was the same guy who invented the vodka pie crust method but doesn't own the copyright to it, so he can't ever talk about it. Anyway, this one is fine). I've made it a couple of times a year for, I don't know, over a decade.

Here are some facts about pie crust to keep in mind:

Flakiness is caused by pockets of butter surrounded by flour. That's the goal here.

Every pie crust recipe in existence includes dire warnings about how it will turn into particle board if you put in too much water. In one sense, yes, the goal is to use as little water as possible. On the other hand, if you're having trouble getting it to come together, just add some damn water. Every homemade pie crust I have ever made was a million times better than a store-bought pie crust, even if I did add 2T.

If your pie crust comes out bad or you don't notice a difference between store bought and homemade, there is no shame in store bought pie crusts! Life is about figuring out what is worth it to do from scratch and what isn't and that varies from person to person.

I am not a baking expert, I am just a girl who tries stuff s

HERE'S MY METHOD:

Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups (12.5 ounces; 350 grams) all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons (25 grams) sugar

1 teaspoon (5 grams) kosher salt

2 1/2 sticks (10 ounces; 280 grams) unsalted butter (kept in fridge), cut into 1/4-inch pats

6 tablespoons (3 ounces; 85 milliliters) cold water

tl; dr version: 1. Combine two thirds of flour with sugar and salt in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse twice to incorporate. Spread butter chunks evenly over surface. Pulse until no dry flour remains and dough just begins to collect in clumps, about 25 short pulses. Use a rubber spatula to spread the dough evenly around the bowl of the food processor. Sprinkle with remaining flour and pulse until dough is just barely broken up, about 5 short pulses. Transfer dough to a large bowl. 2. Sprinkle with water then using a rubber spatula, fold and press dough until it comes together into a ball. Divide ball in half. Form each half into a 4-inch disk. Wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate for at least 2 hours before rolling and baking.

✨Verbose Version✨:

Getting Ready to Get Ready The first thing I do is measure out the water in a glass measuring cup and stick it in the freezer.

Next, I cut my butter my butter into pats and spread them out on a plate and stick those in the freezer, too.\

You're just trying to get everything cold, not freeze it. This should probably take about 10 minutes? I take this opportunity to clean up my work area and get out my food processor.

Okay, Let's Do It Here's my food processor. It is big and beautiful and I got it for free because a friend of mine who liked to buy himself things moved across the country and didn't want to take it. I think fondly of him whenever I use it.

Combine two thirds of flour (I did 9.5 oz) with sugar and salt in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse a few times to mix it all up. Did I mention that I always bake by weight? You should always bake by weight.

Spread butter chunks evenly over surface, and pulse. I do this in a 3-4 rounds because I want the butter to get evenly covered in flour and not stick to other butter chunks. I toss a few in, pulse a few times, toss a few more, until they're all in there.

At this point, the recipe says "Pulse until no dry flour remains and dough just begins to collect in clumps, about 25 short pulses." First off, it takes a lot more than 25 for me. Second, it never really begins to collect in clumps, it just gets kinda sandy. It doesn't matter, just move on.

Use a rubber spatula to spread the dough evenly around the bowl of the food processor. Sprinkle with remaining flour and pulse until dough is just barely broken up, about 5 short pulses. Transfer dough to a large bowl.

Sprinkle with water then using a rubber spatula, fold and press dough until it comes together into a ball. I drip in some water, fold and press for a bit, drip in some more, fold and press again, etc. At first, I try to use the spatula (and not my hands) as much as possible. Towards the end I switch over to using your hands. It takes a while to start sticking together, but it will! Just keep pushing on it!

According to Kenji, you should not need to add any more water. I almost always need to add more water. You can put additional water in the freezer, if you want, but I just use room-temp. Today, it took 1 extra T. To be honest, I probably didn't need to, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Divide ball into two. If I am making a double pie crust, I split them unevenly, because the bottom crust needs to be bigger than the top. Today, I'm making a pecan pie, which just needs a single crust, so I'm dividing it into half and saving one of the halves for later.

Form it into a rough circle and flatten. I wrap it loosely in plastic, and then roll it on the edge like a wheel, and flatten it further so I get a nice disk.

Refrigerate at least 2 hrs and up to 3 days. (or you can freeze for up to 3 months) That's the end of part one, part two will continue after the chilling.

[luinhealthcare]

Hello lovely Lofty❤️

What would you say is the pros and cons of EMS work?? Or like, things you would say to someone looking to be an EMT?

I have a full time job I don't plan on leaving, but tbh learning about what you do and reading your stories has kind of put it on my heart and I was curious if volunteer EMT jobs are a thing. Like, getting all the training done and then volunteering when I can?

Idk, I was just curious if you had anything to say regarding this😅

I could probably google some of this info but if if you feel like answering it would be appreciated! I value your opinion❤️

Ok, give me just a sec—*SQUEALS excitedly into pillow*

Hello Anon! :D That’s so exciting to hear!! I’m glad you’d rather just do it volunteer, as career EMS pays very little (my nursing job is what keeps a roof over my head, not my EMS one lol), but nearly every agency in my area has volunteers so I imagine it’s the same for your area!

So general pros and cons for EMS:

Pros

Tight knit work crew - These people see some bad things together, and trauma bonding is a thing, so they tend to be pretty close and have a lot of fun together. A note of care, we all have dark senses of humor. It’s a natural coping mechanism for people, and it can make life really funny too. But generally, working with EMS providers is quite fun! There will probably also be things like banquets, cookouts, and other fun bonding activities!

Boo boo bus - Driving is one of my least favorite parts of the job, but it is very fun to drive the truck around with lights and sirens and have the power to stop traffic and go through a red light lol. Super dangerous, but very fun

Knowledge - You learn so much in EMS! Medicine and our understanding of diseases and injuries is constantly changing, so you’ll always learn something new if you keep up with your training. Speaking of which, your agency will provide training opportunities to help you grow!

Patient care - You’ll find that the majority of your calls aren’t actually emergencies, but when you can actually take care of someone who needs you, you’re gonna ride that adrenaline high for ages. I still remember calls from years ago where I actually made a difference in someone’s life, and it’s a thrilling feeling.

Shift style - We work in 12-24 hour blocks, which means you knock out your work week in 2-3 days. As a volunteer your hour requirement would be much less than 36, but you could knock out a 24 hour monthly requirement in a single day if you wanted. Also, depending on a few factors (day vs night shift, busyness of your run area), you could literally just be spending your time chilling between calls. Sometimes I bring video games to work and play the switch because we have so much downtime. At night we get paid to just sleep if nobody’s calling 911.

Cons

Management/staffing - Like most jobs, somehow we’re all cursed with idiots in charge. Obviously this is variable, but a general trend in EMS is to overwork its people and toss them out to sea before they sometimes feel ready. And also like most jobs, we’re perpetually short staffed and everyone gets stretched thin to make up for it. Luckily for you, this shouldn’t be as big a problem because volunteers are usually treated very well!

Patient care - It’s a pro but it’s a con too. 85% of your calls are going to be for things that people should have never called 911 for. Your big pretty Boo Boo Bus is mostly going to be an Uber. And it will get frustrating, and you will have frequent flyers, and some people are not kind at all. They’ll call for your help and then get pissed off at you for trying to help. Anyone who’s worked customer service can relate, I’m sure. You get trained to handle life and death emergencies and then instead you’re picking someone up for a cough they’ve had for three days and you’re wondering when you became their mother/father and have to take the baby to the doctor when they haven’t tried anything to take care of themselves at home or see a less urgent health facility. It will burn you out if you’re not careful.

TMI - Speaking of patient care, get ready to see people at their absolute lowest. Hoarder houses, maggots, abusive households, all that jazz. Another reason for trauma bonding with your coworkers! 👍🏻 (This won’t be the majority of your calls, but you’ll see them)

Physical strain - If you don’t take care of your body, this job will hurt you. I’ve thrown my back three times working EMS; there were times where I was hobbling around like an 83-year-old and I was 22. You’ll be lifting patients of every weight, you’re gonna be contorted in weird positions trying to splint someone, CPR is a cardio exercise in itself (lol), you will probably be sore after some calls like you just went to the gym. Also, we don’t take meal breaks - you eat when you can, and you will become a speed eater very quickly in this line of work.

Mental strain - You’re gonna learn a lot about yourself and others in this work. How do you cope with stress? You will watch people die, you will see suicides and shootings and stabbings, you will watch family hurt each other and grieve over lost loved ones. You will be on edge for the majority of your shift as you wait for the tones to drop, you will be stressed trying to find an address or navigate the road and make sure nobody gets into a wreck with you. Military and first responders are so alike because the stress level and distribution is quite similar - downtime with boredom gets interspersed with spikes of huge adrenaline rushes. Have good coping skills, have a strong support system, take care of yourself. 95% of the people I know on duty are in therapy to stay sane.

Overall, I adore EMS. If I could survive off EMS pay I’d work it full time and do nursing as a side gig for funsies lol. The majority of the work is fairly mundane, but when you get to make a difference boy do you get to make a difference. And you’ll have so many funny stories to share. And the people are awesome.

Hope this helps! :D

[beardedmrbean]

So tired, pops. Got injured at work a week ago, HR is slow, still haven't got an L and I case manager. ER cleared me for a week and that's expiring on Monday. I'm just stuck cuz I don't have clearance to return to work (or even on official diagnosis!!!) or a doctors note. Thanks for listening. I feel so shit right now. At least I got oxy that week. So, yaay.

On one hand comp covers stupidity, so you could purposely run over your foot with a steam roller and you're covered.

On the other hand that's a bad idea I would suggest not doing that, strongly suggest not doing that.

Hopefully you can get a doctor to sign off for you soon, HR should be on the ball making sure that you are clear and free to return healthy and at at least 85% ready since that can bite them in the ass from a legal and financial sense.

Got oxy so it had to be something big, any luck and they'll get you in and either say go home or put you on modified duty for a while.

If not might not hurt to request modified duty, not sure what the job is but most places will have something they can do for all of that.

I'll get you on my prayer list at least, maybe the big guy will intervene in your favour.

[pbandjesse]

I am feeling very nauseous right now and it's made me really frustrated. There is no reason for me to be feeling so bad!!! I think I just pushed myself a little to much today. not even physically really. I don't know. I should have come home earlier I guess.

I slept alright last night. I woke up a few times but I didn't feel to bad when my alarm went off. James was here to give me a hug and then I went to get dressed. James made me a hashbrown for breakfast and I ate that at the kitchen island.

We left for work a little late and of course got all the traffic that brings. I was lucky that even though there was an accident I didn't get stuck in a very bad traffic on 83. But I would get stuck in weird traffic in Hareford. Like right down the street from camp. Didn't make any sense and I still don't know why it happened. It was like 10 minutes! So weird.

I got to camp and got to work trying to put things away in the attic but I very quickly became overwhelmed because it's just a lot. I would end up finding my missing wash basin that was taken during color wars over the summer. Still had my label on it and everything! But at least I have it back now.

I walked that up to the art building. Spent a few minutes unpacking the fire starters I got that I am being lazy about. I also spent a little time shucking corn off the cob that I will eventually make into darts. I don't know why I'm being so lazy about it but it's a task I am slowly doing.

I went back down to the office. Answered some emails. And soon everyone else was coming in.

I got to tell everyone the positive news about the baby's gender and low risk of chromosomal issues. They were all very happy for me and also told me to stop watching TikToks about people's miscarriages and still births. Which is fair. They only upset me.

I had kind of a boring day. I did knit one square. Which brings me to 85. I have broken the halfway point. I am going to have to get a lot more yarn but I'm glad I am making progress. I would lay that out later when I got home. And it was just really nice to see the progress.

I had a few small projects to do for camp. Combing through social media to see where we have been tagged and collecting businesses and emails and other contact information. And then going through the vendor list Elizabeth has been using and figuring out what businesses no longer exist and taking ones off the list that I couldn't find contact info for. If you don't have available contact info I'm cutting you off the list, that bad business.

I had cereal for lunch. Didn't love it. Everyone else left to go to maiden choice for the horse program. But they ended up coming back because Stormy the horse got spooked and it was a whole ordeal. I'm sorry it didn't work out for them. Hopefully next week.

I would poke around online and did some other small tasks but I was really dying. I wasn't feeling amazing. But mostly I was just stupidly bored and I wanted to leave. I would end up sitting with everyone outside. Bonnie brought her dogs. Buddy, who I know, and Rascal, who I had met and was a little nervous Chihuahua mix. They are both very sweet old man dogs. And I was having fun petting them.

Soon though I had run out of steam. I made it to 7 hours. It was time to go.

I went to hunt valley to get French fries. And ate those in the car while I listened to a podcast. The caffeine from the soda and the salt from the fries gave me some energy and I felt a lot more settled.

I went to target next. I was getting greens for Crabcake to eat. And got me and James face wash. And I also got some silly little Halloween things. The mini version of the soft skeleton was an amazing find. I wanted the soft skeleton last year but I wasn't willing to pay for him. But $5 for the little? Worth it and I love her. I kept saying she was baby sized and James said it's morbid but I just said we all have skeletons inside of us, and I currently have two!

I went home and got a good parking spot. And was happy to see Sweetp and Crabcake when I got home. Ruby the Roomba was cleaning away. I would start putting things away. Soaked Crabcake in some warm water because I didn't feel like he was getting enough water time lately. I brought everyone outside. It was a little to bright for me so I laid on the couch inside.

Eventually I would go lay out my knitting to make a plan for what I will still need to buy and make. And then James was home! And I was very happy to see them.

We would hang out. Lay on the couch. James heated up some pizza for me that they made yesterday. We talked about our finances and what next year might look like. Possible new jobs and health insurance. What like might be like. All of that. I am glad we can talk frankly about money. I know it's not super easy for James's family to do so. And I can be pretty laissez-faire about money but it's because I'm just aware what I have and don't buy anything crazy. But we are trying to be more specific with spread sheets. And I think that's fair.

James would go for a walk. I wasn't feeling up to it. My stomach was starting to hurt. While James was gone I took a shower and washed my hair. It did t help 100% but it helped a little.

James would get home and I would deteriorate. Eventually James brought me my nausea medicine. I am hoping it starts working soon.

Now though I am getting ready to sleep. I brushed my teeth without gagging. Hopefully can take my vitamins and also not gag. I am looking forward to sleep.

Tomorrow we have the appointment with the high risk team. I think I get another ultrasound. I am expecting these two appointments to take the whole afternoon. I'm nervous because I have to go alone but James will meet me there. Everything will be okay.

But still wish me luck. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[bug-the-chicken-nug]

thinking A Normal Amount about like a slice-of-life-ish rwby AU about Marrow where he just resigns from the ace ops due to burnout/disillusionment/feeling an unspoken sense of alienation. he's still on good terms with ironwood in this scenario, and ironwood agreed that this was for the best, but there *is* a sort of... awkward tension between them. ironwood feeling like he personally should've done more to help, but not knowing exactly *what* he should've done and what would've worked, while marrow's feeling kind of uncomfortable around him out of guilt.

like i feel like the whole "we're not friends" stance of the ace ops and his "not here to talk about faunus stuff" stance could be connected. (or at least, it makes sense to Me to connect them). He got the message that there's an unspoken rule against talking about it, and just sort of gave up on it, all while sort of wishing they *did* have a friendlier and more open relationship.

and for a good while I didn't understand his Semblance as far as personality implications, but now I'm coming at it from like, the best angle I can personally rationalize for him as a character (which isn't the objective only angle there is, i'm aware, but still) which is that I feel like it's because he doesn't actually like fighting or confrontation, really. he most likely thinks it's cool on a conceptual level, and on some level probably feels like he "should", but in practice, he'd rather not. he *does* feel a strong desire to protect and serve others, but that's not always the same thing. so his power to me symbolizes a sort of avoidant "can't we just all get along" tendency, the power to stop others from hurting him without having to hurt them in turn. a merciful power. one that means well, but also struggles to really get to the root of the problem.

this really has like no plot beyond "marrow learns to be okay with being a 'normal guy' again", but ANYWHO... i feel like he's pretty much forced to slow his life down after the ace ops and kind of beats himself up for it, especially because the slower pace gives trauma a chance to seemingly "suddenly" surface. he gains some weight despite staying active, because he was used to having to eat a lot to keep up with burning a lot of energy, and now he doesn't need to watch his diet like a hawk, on top of straight up not having it in him to do so anymore. plus now he's like, Above-Average Hobbyist Active and not Elite Soldier Active. I feel like he tries security for a bit, but then couldn't handle the fact that it was an Alone With Your Thoughts job like 85% of the time, so he goes back down to Mantle and pivots to a part-time mix of teaching like, self-defense and classes that I imagine are like yoga but more centered around unlocking and controlling Aura, for those with low income (it's no coincidence that it ends up being mostly faunus who attend) there ends up being a like. somewhat sad but kind of funny disconnect between his own feelings of inadequacy/not doing enough/only being able to do this part time, and the reality that this is actually a super popular class. there's straight up a waitlist for it. like half his regulars are barely hiding the fact that they ogle him. (especially because his ass got fatter) and even outside of the thirst, people just genuinely like being around him. He eventually gets a boyfriend when someone from the classes is brave (and persistent) enough to platonically shoot his shot, but it ends up veering hard into romance after a while. because a good third of Marrow's issue was just that he was Lonely As Fuck and didn't even fully realize it, because he was subconsciously stuck in the pattern of "I only hang out with people at work, and when I do, I still feel like I'm not supposed to be friends with them". so in turn, having someone to alleviate that makes him get super attached almost embarrassingly quickly . the boyfriend is just an OC: Jasper Burns, a lynx boy, left leg has a prosthetic below the knee. Despite his name, he actually has a water Semblance. (specifically, he can store his Aura in it long-term, and either he or others can then drink it to utilize the Aura later, although there are limits on storage density, how long the Aura remains infused, and how much you could safely drink at once.) He's in a similar-ish boat of his life getting unexpectedly derailed when he went from an exceptional rookie Hunter to getting fucked up in a traumatic accident, and now using this to supplement his rehab.

He tends to be the type who comes off as cold without actually meaning to be, since he naturally doesn't smile much, and tends to have a short, direct, somewhat flat style of speech. Despite this, I imagine he's also the one to escalate the relationship... even if it takes Marrow a bit to realize, since I 100% imagine it's the kind of thing where Marrow only realizes the date is in fact supposed to be romantic like halfway through. Also imagining that Marrow makes a couple of regular, 'average' Faunus friends, helping him reconnect with what it's like to just be a 'regular' Faunus and the kinds of things they have to go through.

(also it's just really funny if he doesn't tell them he's ex-Ace Ops right away because he didn't want to come off like he was bragging or be bombarded with questions right off the bat, so when they do find out it's like BRO WHAT)

[sketching-shark]

You used to like Bull Demon x Sun Wukong right? Could you do 76 + 85? Could also include Iron Fan or be one-sided if that's more your style

SDFAEGRTHSGRFES I literally got this ask three times so dang anon it seems you really like your Demon Bull King x Great Sage ship! Though I will say from my own end that while I personally see Sun Wukong as aroace, of all the people I have seen Sun Wukong shipped with I think pairing him with his og classic bestie made the most sense (like wow Wu Cheng'en even composed this whole poem about their ferocious fight and how tragic it was that their incredibly close friendship ended in bitterness). ANYWAY, here's an attempt at a Demon Bull King x Sun Wukong story with lots of Princess Iron Fan & the prompts of "Did They Or Didn't They" + "Innocent Physical Contact"

-----

Humans could become gods, gods could become yao, but it was vanishingly rare for a yaoguai to declare themselves equal to heaven. Learning that there was another who would so audaciously dare to rebel against the deities was what had initially attracted the self-styled goddess Princess Iron Fan to the far-away Mt. Huaguoshan. She was a xian who knew herself to be accomplished in both the martial, spiritual, and magical arts, but even with an entire mountain cave court of her own to run she felt that the existence of another who called themself a deity on Earth was well worth her personal attention. There was always the chance, after all, that a Earthly god would sooner or later make an attempt at her home and her life. Such a being, as she knew from her own character, would not be restrained by the same rules that governed the Heavenly entities.

For an immortal of her caliber it was but a short trip to Mt. Huaguoshan. It was as filled with fruits and flowers as its name suggested. It was also a scene or unbridled, yet still strangely ordered, chaos. Thousands upon thousands of yaoguai--a good half of them monkey yao--were everywhere playing, eating, fighting, lovemaking, drinking, and even studying scrolls on a multitude of different subjects under the eyes of attentive teachers, all while others practiced military drills in tight formations. Five of the monkey yaoguai who were clearly working as guards had watched Princess Iron Fan float in. One of them had dashed off as soon as she was spotted--likely to announce her presence to this so-called Great Sage Equal to Heaven--while the other four waited for her to land with polite, if cautious, deference. They greeted her as Lady Immortal, and requested that she wait for their king to come welcome her himself. Princess Iron Fan decided to play along for now. Based on what she had seen of the activity on Mt. Huaguoshan, this Great Sage would at the very least have to be quite the administrator to organize everything from food production to education for all the yaoguai who called this mountain home.

When the Great Sage arrived not long after Princess Iron Fan had made herself comfortable on a stone chair covered with high quality silk and was wondering whether she should attempt the plum wine or assorted delicacies that had been brought out for her enjoyment, he did not come alone. The self-declared goddess found herself grudgingly grateful for the impeccable manners she had been instilled with when she still resided in heaven, as she had almost snorted with surprise and mirth when she first saw the vast differences between the Great Sage and his companion. Princess Iron Fan had known before coming that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven was a monkey yaoguai, but she hadn't expected him to be so...short. His stature and slender frame made the towering, well-muscled bulk of his bull yaoguai associate seem all the more formidable.

It was something that Princess Iron Fan, carefully keeping her face pleasantly neutral though she did, couldn't help but appreciate.

The two yaoguai both greeted her with a level of enthusiasm that shocked the self-declared goddess before they flopped carelessly onto the stone seat across from her, the bull yaoguai settling back with a snort of contentment, the monkey yaoguai using his horns to swing around and seat himself on the bull yaoguai's shoulders. The monkey yaoguai--the Great Sage--stared at Princess Iron Fan for a few seconds from his perch before he gave a short chatter of knowing laughter.

"Let's have a cup of wine each, brother bull! It's best if we start this party of three by assuring our guest that nothing's been poisoned."

Princess Iron Fan felt her face heating in embarrassment from being read so easily. Still, she was a stranger in a strange land, and the easygoing hospitality of the yaoguai across from her signaled that they didn't find anything insulting about her suspicion. Rather, they both leaned forward almost eagerly, and asked her if she had come to be part of the alliance of seventy-two mountains.

She had arrived knowing that the self-proclaimed Great Sage was a monkey yaoguai. She had also gathered tales of the many friends that he made everywhere he had traveled. And if she was being honest with herself, Princess Iron Fan had come not just to potentially scope out a future enemy, but with the hope that she might be able to make a new friend.

Deciding in a flash that honesty was the best policy when it came to forging new and hopefully friendly relations, Princess Iron Fan congratulated the Great Sage for his audacity, and admitted that it was precisely that which had first prompted her, as another self-stylized Earthly deity, to make the trip to his mountain home. The bull yaoguai--who, she learned, went by Niú Mówáng-- had roared in laughter at that, and informed her with a cheeky wink that his sworn brother might be the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, but that he was the Great Sage who pacified it. From there the conversation and wine had flowed quickly and pleasantly. Princess Iron Fan learned many details about the alliance between seventy-two yaoguai rulers and their seventy-two mountains that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, religious name Sun Wukong, had created. She heard story after story of the exploits of Sun Wukong, Níu Mówáng, and the other five members of the sworn brotherhood, and offered a few of her own. Hours flew past in laughter, and while Princess Iron Fan had ended the party by telling a pouting Sun Wukong that she needed to consider matters further before she agreed to be part of his alliance, she could confidently say that their meeting seemed to be the beginning of a delightful relationship. That cheered the monkey right up, his good humor only getting larger when the three immortals were accosted by a pack of young monkey yao that Sun Wukong greeted enthusiastically as his grandchildren. He gave Princess Iron Fan one last wave before he let the horde tug him away, and proceeded to pull one sweet after another out of seams in his armor, the clamor of his grandchildren getting louder and louder as they all begged "Yeye Sun" for some of the treats.

Níu Mówáng watched the monkey and his young entourage leave with clear fondness before he turned back to the self-styled goddess.

"Well my Lady Immortal, what now? Are you planning to return to your own court, or shall we explore those amorous looks you have been throwing my way all evening a little further?"

Princess Iron Fan felt shocked by the bull yaoguai's bluntness into silence, long enough for Níu Mówáng's eyes to grow comically large as he fumbled through an apology for his forwardness, saying sorry that he had so terribly misread her gaze, sorry that he had assumed, sorry that he had-

"Please, you can call me Raksasi. And I think that could be a lovely way to end a delightful day."

The Demon Bull King looked so happy and grateful for her consent that Princess Iron Fan nearly laughed. She couldn't, however, help a squeal of joy and amusement when he picked her up easily and settled her on his shoulders, whispering almost conspiratorially that there was more than one way to ride a bull before setting off at an eager jog for his bedchambers.

Princess Iron Fan had been an Earthly immortal for centuries, and over that time had enjoyed a number of lovers. Yet if she was being honest with herself once again, Princess Iron Fan was coming to prefer the blunt honesty among many of the friendly more "animal" yaoguai over the strange, upsetting mind games that so frequently haunted even the closest of human and godly relations. At the very least, their willingness to express their true desires helped assure that the pain which came with misunderstanding was kept to a few embers, rather than turning into an inferno of raging and confused feelings.

---

It wasn't often that a relationship which had begin for mainly physical reasons blossomed into deep love, but it was a position that Princess Iron Fan found herself in when, years later, the Demon Bull King had greeted her marriage proposal with joyful tears and a bellowed "YES!!!!!" The bull yaoguai had been loud enough that a worried Sun Wukong, his as-you-will cudgel at the ready, had flown into the orchard Raksasi and Níu Mówáng were meeting at with his fangs bared, declaring he could turn their foe into a meat patty. All that fury quickly morphed into joy when he heard what his sworn brother had agreed to, and for all his small stature Sun Wukong was easily able to get the Demon Bull King in a headlock so that he could alternate between nuzzling his sworn brother and tousling his fur with monkey shrieks of delight. Sun Wukong even insisted that they hold at least the wedding feast at Mt. Huaguoshan, even going so far as to bring Princess Iron Fan into that sanctum sanctorum--his personal wine cellar--to convince her of the obvious benefits to choosing his mountain home over her own cave court. Eventually they compromised through the realization that there was no need to have one wedding feast when they could have several. It was a recognition that got that particular monkey off of Raksasi's back as he went to go plan at least five nights of what would be, in the Monkey King's own words "parties that will blow our collective tits clean off."

Raksasi had been happy with her life beforehand, but her upcoming marriage and all the years of friendship and love she had received made everything all the sweeter. She was a powerful xian, loved, respected (and a little feared) at her own court, a firm member of the alliance of now five hundred caves, the friend of some of the most amazing yaoguai she had ever met, and now soon to be married to the great love of her life.

And yet...and yet.

The relationship between Princess Iron Fan and the Demon Bull King had gone through many shifts, yet his relationship to the Monkey King was as strong now as it had been when she first met them. And it was clear to anyone with eyes that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and the Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven had a very close relationship, defined by constant tussling and hugging, loud parties, confidential whispers, and even bouts of them going off on adventures for two that sometimes lasted months, Sun Wukong perched confidently on Niú Mówáng's shoulder as they left the Mt. Huaguoshan cave, waving back at the cheering assembled yaoguai until they had disappeared from sight.

Raksasi knew all about this, of course. Conversation between her and her betrothed often turned towards the great deeds him and his sworn brother had accomplished (as well as their mishaps, if the bull yaoguai thought it made for an amusing tale). As it was, Raksasi had come to appreciate this part of her own relation to the Demon Bull King. Being the leader of her own court made for a very busy life, with many aspects that she had constructed according to her preferences over the centuries and which she hadn't wanted another party attempting to abruptly rearrange under the belief that romance with her allowed for anything. Indeed, her and Niú Mówáng had discussed this aspect of their upcoming married life in great detail, and had agreed that Raksasi's cave court and the Demon Bull King's grassland territory should more or less follow the systems that both yaoguai leaders had already established even after they had officially joined forces. Too abrupt a change could result in chaos for their people and for their personal lives. And that was to say nothing of the fact that they were both yaoguai centuries old, and as such as seen a multitude of relationships among their kind falling apart from too many small annoyances piling up as the years went past. The Demon Bull King and the Princess Iron Fan loved each other, but their love would be like the wind caressing the tree; their lives would be connected, but they would still stand as their own beings.

Raksasi was often left giddy in the knowledge that she had found a lover whose own desires wre so suited to her wants. But the closer her marriage to Niú Mówáng got, the more the intimate relation between her betrothed and the Great Sage Equal to Heaven became a topic of court and cave gossip. The whispers and rumors all around her started to become to intense to ignore. The Iron Fan Princess tried...no, she did trust her groom to not be dallying with another yaoguai behind her back, especially not with one with which they were both friends. But as the rumors continued to circulate over the precise nature of the Demon Bull King and Monkey King's apparently too friendly relationship, after she caught a number of her own court regarding her with pity, Raksasi felt justified in seeking reassurance.

When Princess Iron Fan was alone again with the Demon Bull King, she stopped his amorous touches by telling him about the rumors she had heard, how prevalent they had become, how much it was putting doubt on her and her betrothed's relationship. Niú Mówáng grew wide-eyed and gave a snort of surprise upon hearing all of this. It was, however, quickly followed by a thoughtful hum.

Princess Iron Fan braced herself for what might come next.

"I won't lie to you, honey. You are the love of my life...but Sun Wukong is the first one I ever felt such affection for. He...he was my best and most beloved friend for centuries before we even met you. He's been there for me through some of the hardest times in my life. And, well, you've seen him. Whether he's acting as a general or a drinking buddy, he's...he's magnificent."

Princess Iron Fan felt herself bristling a bit at this language in spite of the countless declarations of praise the Demon Bull King routinely gave to her own glory. She almost wanted Niú Mówáng to stop talking. But she wanted the truth of their relationship even more.

"Did you ever...act on your affection for Sun Wukong? Are...are you still acting on it now?"

The Demon Bull King looked absolutely crestfallen at her question, and Princess Iron Fan felt a pang of terror. She had been so worried about the possibility of her betrothed ruining their upcoming marriage with a secret affair that she had completely neglected to consider how her own mistrust might do the same. But Niú Mówáng eventually but smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, as if in silent apology for how his feelings and actions could have sparked her suspicion.

"Truth be told, I don't think he's ever even recognized my affection. And, well, once I realized that he had never shown that kind of interest in anyone, I got scared that me doing so would ruin what we have." Niú Mówáng offered Raksasi another hesitant, melancholy smile. "Truth is I'm still scared to tell anyone."

Raksasi experienced yet again the warm glow that came from understanding how much someone else trusts you to see something they'd rather have hidden. But even so, she had one more concern that, no matter how foolish it might seem she could not ignore.

"If Sun Wukong was receptive to your affections, do you...would you rather be marrying him?"

The Demon Bull King moved towards Princess Iron Fan slowly, as if scared she would fly away. But she let him pull her into a gentle hug and take a few minutes to assemble his thoughts.

"I love my sworn brother. But I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Princess Iron Fan returned her beloved's hug fully.

"Thank you. For your love, for your patience...and for the truth. I know that it can't have been easy to admit your lingering feelings, not right when we're soon to get married. So know that because you told me the truth anyway, I will treasure all the more."

Reaching up, she cupped his face and tried to pour all the love she and understanding could into her gaze. It was also to buy some time to put together one of her own less-than-standard thoughts.

"So thank you for the truth my love. But know that if...if he ever tells you that he may want to take your relationship further...I wouldn't necessarily be averse."

The Demon Bull King's eyes and nostrils grew big with surprise, but then his faced rearranged itself into an expression that was absolutely lascivious.

"Oh? You'd like our dragon and phoenix to be joined by a monkey? I didn't realize I was marrying such a lecher~."

The Iron Fan Princess screamed in mock fury before giving her love a few gentle swats with her folding fan, condemning him for a mind clearly overtaken by the lust he accused her of. The Demon Bull King just responded with a bellowing laugh and sweeping Raksasi up so that he could nuzzle her face and pepper it with kisses, his whispered words going from naughty to sweet and then back to sensual. The Iron Fan Princess was left both heated and warmed from her husband-to-be's attentions and the promises of the treats he had planned for their wedding night. Yet for her the most wonderful part of all was the blooming realization of how honest with each other they could be.

And to be honest with herself once again, she could admit to jealousy. She had never had as deep a relationship with any of her past lovers as she had found with Niú Mówáng, something that left her both joyful that he had it and terrified that he wouldn't want to be in her life forever. Even if she had nothing to worry about in terms of Sun Wukong coming between her and the Demon Bull King, the reassurance that she was the love of his life soothed the spectre of loneliness that often haunted her thoughts. She was, at any rate, very grateful that she didn't have to confront the Great Sage Equal to Heaven for making moves on her man all while pretending to be her friend. Still, Princess Iron Fan could fully admit that while it was not the same kind of adoration that she and the Niú Mówáng shared, neither Raksasi nor anyone else could deny the loyal fierceness with which Sun Wukong loved the Demon Bull King.

It was something that Raksasi could even feel a terrible gratitude for when, centuries later, the Monkey King had prostrated himself before the entirety of a Heaven he had once attempted to overthrow and managed to negotiate, using himself as a bargaining chip, Niú Mówáng's sentence of death for attempting to hinder the journey to the west down to five hundred years imprisonment.

[narwhalandchill]

i swear no one hates the pale princess and the six pygmies more than anyone that tries to make sense of genshin lore for any extended amount of time

like i am starting to feel at least like 85% confident (among many others) that we might FINALLY have our first fucking semblance of a clue as to what the events depicted in it could even be with the 3rd descender lore reveals bc like. 3rd descender being the light prince just Really clicks with multiple beats in there including but not limited to the specific mention of a "curse" falling the six pygmies from the remnants of the prince like. HUH. when the gnoses made from the 3rd are also described as a curse. and thats genuinely incredibly exciting bc it feels actually plausible.

but. because this book is still the actual worst designed to torture us all. that just also makes everything even more confusing 😭 bc one fairly prevalent thing (that i personally found quite compelling) with pale princess theories was her possible identity as the seelie ancestor who fell in love with a human and led to the downfall of their race. which has always been highkey giving the night mother destroying the moonlight kingdom and cursing the people of the pale princess into an "undead state, lingering at the point between life and death forevermore". like thats Way too on the nose with how the pale princess is literally the light princes lover so. yeah seelie ancestor always a strong contender for that one. but also what the fuck does that mean for the timeline

and dont even get me started with the pygmies like. who the fuck are the pygmies it makes me want to morb. obviously a ton of theories have tried to fit the archons as the pygmies but its always been a little ehhhhhh at least when attempting to fit our current archons as a whole (+ the whole. 6 pygmies 7 archons things). but the pygmies = cursed from the princes remains part is also like. very gnosis aligned after the fontaine AQ reveals so go figure. i hate this shit 😭

i also saw a speculation on the pygmies as the sovereigns given its likely scyllas already kicked the bucket at the point the 3rd descender happened (since he was already dead when the shade of life was creating egeria) so 7 lizards turning into 6 remaining pygmies in the story has no numerical dissonance. but that keeps raising questions still bc of how gnosis coded the princes death and the ensuing curse feels!! i hate this book have i mentioned that already. but i do find it a compelling argument solely on account of how much better the sovereigns would fit the timeline of sth that happened thousands of years ago Especially if the fall of the seelie queen is involved in any form. also read a good point that some of the pygmy descriptions could arguably fit the 2 of the ancient sovereigns slash likely candidates better than any archon, specifically apep for the pygmy only caring for its own garden and azhdaha for the blind one.

but then its like. if the betrayal of the 3rd was by the defeated and remaining sovereigns it kinda makes the gnosis thing another question mark. like we still lack so much info on the connections and the timeline between the stolen thrones of authority, the war of vengeance and ensuing weakening of the POs "functions" leading to the establishment of the vision system and the archon war and where the gnoses fall in all of this. hhhhhhhhhh

so like whether the six pygmies are some assortment of archons or the sovereigns or some other group altogether we are still so utterly clueless its terrible 😭

i think the only real theory that i think ppl should just let die is tsaritsa as the pale princess tho like. lmao aintnoway hoyo will ever make a playable character who has a very good chance of being the obligatory bronya expy be someone with a canon male love interest are you hearing yourselves 💀 its not even that i think itd be like shit writing or sth im just purely asking ppl to be realistic with the unfortunate self imposed limitations of a gacha game developer. though the tsaritsa somehow having a connection to the pale princess and the events of the story (assuming its the 3rd descender debacle) would be very fascinating.

also someone noted that the exiled pygmy taking the princes body to a "tree hollow" may not be literal at all and instead imply the 3rd after being killed and turned into the gnoses being integrated into the irminsul and all ensuing samsara rebirth cycles which.... interesting.

anyway. i hate pale princess and the six pygmies!!!!!