#tina is SO fun to draw she is SO fun

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

theyre normal <3

[luminiciant]

first day :D

[the-gene-mile]

still figuring out how to draw these kids

[peppermint-jade]

hey bubby, hey.... new guy?

[nonoqy]

tinza study !!! ☀️

[cottoncandyswisherz]

we'll see

toxicbabydadd!chris x birthdaygirl!reader

warnings: toxicccccc, rough, unprotected sex (dont be dumb) biting, choking, the word 'then' a million times

-

ITS A REAL BITCHES BIRTHDAYYYY

your house is full and everyone's drunk. except you. 

you have to say sober, because you're breastfeeding your daughter aaliyah. 

but you don't have to be shitfaced to have fun, so when you hear your song come on, you tap your best friends shoulder. 

you've had a routine to freak hoe since high school so she knew what time it was. you move through the routine with no grace. throwing ass is not elegant but it's what you do best. 

"WE ATTTTEEE!" she yells over the music.

"AND DIDDDD!" you shout back. 

"IM NOT DRUNK ENOUGH!" and with that, she's gone. off to make herself another drink, leaving you to go to your room to call the sitter and pump. 

but as soon as you enter, you see chris standing in your room, on his phone. he looks up when he hears me. 

"what the fuck?"

"i just wanted to give you your gift and leave."

"so you went to my bedroom?"

"i saw you dancing with celine. i didn't wanna kill your vibe."

you scoff at this and sit on your bed, bringing out your phone. "you killed my vibe when you fucked someone else while i was 8 months pregnant with your baby."

"aight, bro, chill."

"fuck you."

chris walks around your bed and stops right in front of you. his waist dangerously close your face. he places his hand under your chin, gripping your jaw. 

"watch it, mama."

WOOOOOOOOOSHHHHH just like that. panties ruined.

but tina aint raise no bitch so you stand up, roll your eyes and walk over to your dresser to fix your lashes.

"or what, chris?"

"you know what."

"i really don't" you said bluntly. "you don't get to have the whole 'i'm sorry, please let me cum' thing anymore due to the fact that you're a cheating whore that i no longer love."

hearing that must have pissed him off because he was on you in an instant. his lips on yours, his left hand applying beautiful pressure to your throat, his right hand squeezing your ass.

your head grows fuzzy. its like he has crack on his tongue and is intoxicating you with each stroke of it. 

you don't have time to think of the hurt he caused as he moved from your lips, to your neck, then to your chest. 

then he's on his knees. pushing your dress up your hips and kissing down you waist sucking hickeys onto your thighs. 

"you think that shit's funny?" he growls, biting the meat of your inner thigh. "talking shit to me, after i've been trying to get you back for months?"

this made you laugh. "you'll never get me back chris."

he turned you around so your front was pressed against the wall. his fingers gripped the edges of your panties, guiding them down your legs, biting your ass and smiling when he saw the mark of his teeth in your cheek.

"we'll see."

and then he was standing up, your back to his front, and you felt him on your bare ass, his sweats doing  little to hide the effect you clearly had on him. 

you felt his hands grip your hips and move you from the wall to your dresser, so you could see yourself. 

"i want you to watch." he slid his bottoms down to knees, freeing him of his his restraints. "i want you to watch me ruin you." 

and then he was sliding in you with so much force, you jerked forward, throwing your hand up on the mirror to brace yourself. and in that moment you remembered why you'd let him get you pregnant. 

this man was a fucking beast. 

he was fucking you like it was all he could do to stay alive. hard, fast, and so, so, fucking good. he was so deep, hitting the same spot that made you taste purple. all your senses were out the window yet you felt everything he was doing. you felt his hand digging into your waist, you heard his grunts of pleasure, you saw his eyes trained on where you were joined. 

he looked so.... fuck. 

all you could do was grasp at the edges of your dresser and keen for him.

until you felt him move impossibly faster and his fingers reach under you and draw quick circles on your clit. then all you could do was tremble in his arms and reach behind you to push him away because it was beginning to be too much. 

he used his free hand to pin your arm to your back and use it as an anchor, digging deeper in you so you felt more of him than you thought there could be. 

"oh fuuuck-" you gasped. 

"you don't love me anymore mama?" he forced out. 

"chris- shit! please...." you cried out. "i'm gonna-"

"hold it."

"no! please no." you begged. 

"you wanna cum?"

"yes please, chris" you were a mess at this point. eyes rolling back as you tried to do what he'd asked. you knew that if you came before he'd allowed it, you'd never leave this room. 

"do you love me?"

as much as you wanted to say yes, you refused to let him win so easily. 

"no."

this only pissed him off because he shifted from fast and hard to slow, deep, torturous strokes that made your brain go blank. 

"jesus fucking..."

"you sure?"

"i don't know..."

"i think you do mama." his pace on your clit was the same demonic speed as before, confusing your mind. "all you gotta do is admit it and you can come all all over me. i want you to make a mess for me. i wanna feel you all over m-"

"FINE FUCK!" you cried. "i love you."

"that's my girl."

that's all it took for his pace to restart, pounding into you with ferocity. 

"cum, mama. cum for me." 

and you did. you sucked in a deep breath and slammed your eyes shut as you shook on the dresser. 

all you heard was the blood rushing in you ears as you let go of everything you'd been holding for the past 2 minutes. 

"shit, babe. i'm gonna-"

that snapped you back into reality. you did not want any more kids right now so you gathered all the strength you could and turned around, dropping to your knees and taking him in your mouth.

your head rested on the drawers of the dresser as you felt his load shoot down you throat with a moan that can only be described as godly. and when he pulled out of your mouth he pulled you up to your feet by your throat, kissing you with so much passion, you were ready to go again. 

but then he pulled away and gripped your face so you were looking into his eyes. 

"you'll always belong to me, y/n."

niyah speaks rushed as helllllll but hapy late birthday!!! @55sturn

taglist: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @thisisntmattsturniolo @chaossturns

[yannaryartside]

Sydney Adamu; Donna's antithesis

THE BIG PARALLEL: THE QUEEN OF THE KITCHEN

Donna's introduction to the audience is in her kitchen, where she is the leader, the center of the action; all orders come from her, and the dynamic in the family is created primarily by her. She has assigned (indirectly or so) the roles of all the family members that keep the family working in the way it does. She is the queen, the leader—a role she was given by nature.

And what is Sydney's job in the kitchen? The CDC, even when she was a sous, she was already taking the responsibilities of the CDC. She is their queen, their leader in their kitchen—a role she was given by choice.

The writers had given Sydney every opportunity to be Donna so they could show us how much of Donna she is not. Here are my favorite examples of it. 

Donna brings guilt, and Sydney brings grace.

Donna created her daughter's nickname after a mistake she made as a kid (probably when Nat was nervous and afraid to fail her), messing up a recipe.

Sydney gave grace to Tina when she messed up the recipe for the mashed potatoes. Sydney could have used that opportunity to get back at Tina for making her look bad in front of Carmy and all the other stuff. Sydney decided to be the bigger person; God, Sydney was not trying to make Tina own or like her. She just decided that is not what she is. She acknowledged that Tina was trying something new and wanted to be available in case Tina needed help. Sydney gave Tina clear expectations, recognized the task's difficulty, and offered help. Later, she was graceful when a mistake was made, and gave positive reinforcement when the job was well done. We learned then that Tinas was terribly afraid of being displaced or not good enough. Sydney is giving Tina all the things Donna should have given Nat.

Another exmaple of this is when Richie and Sydney are shopping for caulk. She just buys the right one; she doesn't rub it in his face or call him stupid or careless. In all their conversation, Sydney tried to understand more, not put more fire into the pile. Richie recognizes that, and I think this is when he starts to respect her, even a little.  

Donna brings chaos, Sydney brings order. 

Both women have the role of being the center (heart) of the kitchen. Only Donna can touch the food in her kitchen, while Sydney delegates the kitchen tasks to the restaurant employees.  

Donna gives the absence of self, and Sydney brings purpose. 

To please their mother, try to win her love, or just survive the household dynamics, the Berzatto siblings had to adopt behaviors/personalities that were not natural to them. Mickey was at least 18 when his father left; he took the provider position by helping her mom run the restaurant. He also took care of his siblings. He was his ultimate ally in helping the family feel like a family, particularly by always being capable of "dialing a room" to make everyone feel entertained, appreciated, have fun, and be a family. For all these reasons, he was Donna's favorite, and the other two siblings were neglected because of it. Neither Nat of Carmy felt really like she was there for them; she probably didn't encourage Carmy to draw or Nat in anything. Nat and Carmy grew up believing their talents/nature were useless because they didn't please their mom. Neither of them recognizes the things they are good at outside the kitchen: Nat diminishes her husband's compliments on her hard work, and Carmy ignores compliments on his drawings. 

Sydney, on the other hand, can encourage Marcus to follow his passion for baking. She supports Tina in her culinary journey to the point of her becoming the third person in charge. She asked Nat to be the project manager because, in the few interactions she had with her, she perceived (or it was intuition) Nat's attention to detail, caring nature, and responsibility. In the climax of the second season, she trusts Richie to do the calling of the orders when she has no reason to believe he can, and he solidifies his purpose. Sydney "nurtured" everybody's natural talents and trusted them to walk independently. That is what a good parent or leader does. It is such a brilliant subtext. Important to note she doesn't do that with Carmy, because Carmy is her equal, her partner-to-be.

Other ones:

There is also to mention the fact that Sydney was a professional driver, and Donna tried to crash a car in her own house. Talking about metaphors. 

Also, Sydney doesn't indulge in any of the toxic behaviors that the Berzattos learned from Donna, neither Carmy nor Richie's bullshit nor the rest of the staff. Little by little, she fought fire with water, and she won, maybe because she is more like a river than a drop. She had a purpose on her own, an identity, a past that she kept to herself, and a desire to move forward. People started to respect her the more they relied on her and the more she didn't give in to the toxic traits that were ruling them before. They saw the good and followed it.

Sydney may not rely on toxic dynamics to lead her kitchen, but she will not let others take advantage of her. She did not pick on Carmy's slack last season for him but despite him. She doesn't believe that is what she is supposed to do, not only as her employee but friend and possible romantic interest. She calls the bad behaviors/tendencies by it's name. And communicates she won't have it, while also saying she belives in him.

I think most of the audience (besides the ones in this fandom) really doesn't understand how extraordinary Sydney is. If she wasn't as well-written as she is, with defects and fears, people would think that she is the "saint woman/magic woman" archetype, making everything previously broken work in her presence. I also think it is because she is a woman, and women are expected to bring magic and be fixers and helpers. There is also the fact that she is a black woman, and everything that comes with that, but I cannot comment on that, so I am not going to. Just saying she is one of the most amazing role models I have seen, decorated with the price of also being one of the most complex female characters on screen. She is not perfect as a person and has not reached her whole potential, and she wants it. I respect and admire her so much. Even when Carmy seems to have a longer path of healing ahead, I want Sydney to win the most, not just heal. I want to know more about her, her intimate desires, and why is her heart broken. Long gone are the days when women lived on screen to make everybody around them better and happier. All the things she is extraordinary for, the ones I talked about, are not just reasons why Carmy had admired her or fallen for her. She is, for me, a champion preparing for live-defining battles. We know who she is, and we get to discover what else she could be, to grow in her self-confidence, her purpose, and what brings pleasure to her soul. She is considered now the show's co-protagonist.

And I hope in s3 we are in for a journey. She made all the difference. Thank you for reading.

[gnnosis]

i have a theory about the bear & carmy’s artistic talent and no one else (that ive seen!) seems to be talking abt this. gotta get it out there so if it happens i can say i predicted it

carmy is going to leave the restaurant industry. we see time and time again that carmy is not happy in the industry, and maybe never has been. he’s traumatized by the fancy restaurant he worked at. he wanted to work at the beef, but only to be with mikey. he took over the beef because he (felt he) owed it to michael — and because he had the skills — not out of some great love of cooking. he only got to his level of skill out of a self-professed “fuck you” to mikey! carmy’s not happy. “this shit’s not fun for me,” he says to richie. make no mistake — he’s really, really good at it. but he’s not happy. the industry brings out the worst version of him, every single time. the stress of the kitchen turns him into the bear from the 1x01 opening, into his mother.

contrast this with syd and richie, tina, even marcus. even under stress, even with everyone yelling at each other, the kitchen brings out the best in them. they’ve improved their skill levels because they feel they owe it to themselves. richie thrives under the pressure of being a concierge, he’s a new man, he wears suits now. tina is a transformed person because she’s begun to believe in herself (and knows others believe in her). marcus (although thwarted by his own hyper-focus sometimes) delights in the craft of being a pâtissier, creates spectacular, thoughtful dishes — he flourishes.

and sydney. sydney, under stress, opening night, is throwing up in the bushes, like we know carmy did in a job that was Bad for him. but it’s not the stress of the job per se that’s getting to syd, but the pressure she’s put on herself to do well enough that her dad will see the bear as she sees it — her very own place in the industry she loves above all else, a place to practice her beloved craft, to take care of people, to pour everything she has into this one thing. it’s not the job making her physically sick, like it did carmy, it’s the pressure of showing how much she loves the job, of her dad thinking she’s doing well enough to deserve to love and devote herself to it as much as she is. and in the kitchen, under pressure, with carmy locked in the fridge, syd doesn’t panic, doesn’t yell and scream — not really. she collaborates with richie, delegates as necessary, steps up — and leads. she shines.

carmy as a chef is doing what he’s good at, performing the skills he’s cultivated. it might be the only thing he feels he’s good at. it’s all he’s ever really known. but it’s not healthy. it’s killing him. it’s ruining his relationships with everyone important to him. he needs to get out.

i predict that sydney and richie will take over the bear. probably with nat’s help behind the scenes. they love it. it gives them purpose. it makes them thrive.

and carmy… will go to visual arts school. (or simply become an artist. do people still do art school these days? if so… like… he could do worse than SAIC)

i don’t think the show has been dropping all these references to carmy’s artistic talent for no reason. the pants he designed (thom browne’s!), the drawings of claire they mention and then flash during his panic attack, the speculative drawing of the bear he gifts michael in 2x06, and the menu drawings that sydney gushes over. the painting he hates that’s hung in the restaurant? could you do a better one, carm?? in the future, will that get replaced with one of yours, carm??? his artistic talent is lingered on too much to not be indicating something about what carmy really loves. a talent he innately has but doesn’t seem to realize the depth of. what he’d spend his time doing absently before he got caught up in the rat race of the restaurant industry. he talks about art like it’s something he’s compelled to do, like it’s something he loses himself in. a flow state.

carmy can flourish too. it’s just that he’s going to need to go somewhere else to do it.

[soufcakmistress]

new love on the near northside

A/N: haters that ruin the fun will get blessed out and blocked! find someone else to play with, tysm :) this is for all the sydcarmy truthers like me who’ve been in a spiral for two years

Pairing: Sydney Adamu x Carmen Berzatto

“All right chefs, we need to fire four prime ribs, two lobster risottos, and four cream puffs!”

“Yes, Chef!”

“Marcus, 86 the mascarpone for the cherry tart on 20!”

“Heard, chef!”

“Okay I need to see hands!”

The waitstaff gingerly grab the plated dishes from the final station, while Carmy is gently yet firmly reminding them not to smudge the plates as they’re being taken to their respective tables. Dinner service is in an awesome groove right now and Syd is feeling confident tonight. She’s still riding on a high from the last food critic that visited from the Chicago Tribune, who raved over her braised short rib and orzo pasta. There are also other reasons for Syd’s good mood.

“Open your legs, Syd..”

Syd shudders, takes three deep breaths and continues to fire off orders from the expo. The Bear has been packed almost every single night for three weeks. They don’t have much of a waitlist yet, but word of mouth moves quickly in Chicago and the front of house are noticing some repeat customers already.

Carmy joined Syd at the expo, and she can still pick up the scent of his cologne even in the midst of garlic, heavy cream and raw seafood. If she even peeks at him, she’ll lose her train of thought, and that’s the last thing the team needs right now. After having to let go of Josh after his unfortunate episode, her sous Tina has been pulling double time, covering both stations like a champ. She makes a mental note to give her an unbelievable gift and some love this weekend. “How are we doing, Chef? We cool?”

His eyes are so crystal clear and she recollects how he stares through her when they….oh fuck. “Yes, Chef. Runners are getting everything out in a timely manner, and we are turning these tables around. You?”

“Carmy, Carmy, yes—oh!”

Carmy licks and bites his lips and smirks. “Yes Chef. You’re the captain of this ship.” He squeezes her shoulder and goes back to his station as their boucher, Daniela checks in with Carmy about the fat trimmings for their beef.

Fak, Richie and Sweeps were holding down the front since Nat is on maternity leave. Carmy keeps a wallet size photo of his brand new nephew at his station, looking occasionally with a smile. Forty five more minutes before dinner service is over and Syd can finally go puke out back. “Chefs, we’re almost in the clear! Let’s keep up the momentum and sense of urgency!”

“Yes, Chef!”

Every dish is gorgeous. So many painstaking hours reworking the menu. Chaos menu, thoughtful chaos menu, back to chaos menu again. Reviewing and poring over Carmy’s intricate drawings, all the late night sessions, so much money spent on ingredients—it was enough to make Syd’s head spin. Hence why, almost a month since The Bear opened she’s still subsisting on a diet of Tums and Pepto.

She’s eternally grateful for her partners. Nat and Cicero have saved all their asses more times than they can count. Cicero is a hard ass but he adores Carmy and Sugar and has grown to love Syd as well. And of course, the best chef she’s ever had the privilege of working beside is her executive chef, business partner, best friend and now lover.

“Look at you. You’re so wet baby. Fuck—”

~

They’ve managed to keep their love affair under wraps for this long. It’s a struggle not to be able to touch each other when they’re working. Tina and Marcus are too perceptive; they would be found out immediately. Still, Sydney feels like a giddy school girl whenever Carmy corners her in the office as they open the restaurant every morning—both of his hands by her sides keeping her close. He’s so incredibly sexy without even trying and she still gets shy sometimes. He has to pull her chin from her shoulder and make her look at him.

“Don’t run away from me. You know I won’t let you..” And those ocean blue eyes of his again….and his lips are feather light on top of hers. Her knees are ready to buckle and Carmy sensed as much, so he pulls her close to the hardness of his chest and stomach to keep her standing.

She loves how his stubble feels on her chin and cheeks, especially when he drags his mouth down her jaw and lightly sucks on her neck. “Carm, Carm, Carm, oh my god, don’t! If they see me with a hickey when I didn’t have one yesterday, how do I explain that?” Her face is hurting, she’s cheesing so hard.

One hand slides up her chef whites, slipping under her camisole and his agile fingers pinch her nipple while his tongue circles her earlobe. Syd’s learned that Carmy is insatiable. For someone to not be as experienced as he claims—his hands, lips, tongue…always seem to go exactly where she needs them to. “I can’t help it, Chef. You’re just so damn beautiful.”

Syd’s hands roam all over his thick biceps and eventually land in the bushy mess atop his head. Their tongues lave and suck on each other’s and their moans can’t be held back any longer. Carmy pulls her leg up to his hip while he grips her braids, until he hears Marcus and Sweeps come through the back door. They separate quickly and get themselves together. Lusty gazes linger between them and they’re both aching between their legs. Carmy is as red as a beet, and Syd’s lips are swollen from his kisses and nipping. “Right, thank you chef.” Syd walks out first awkwardly with wobbly legs that make Carmy chuckle.

~

Dinner service is over—the kitchen has been scrubbed down, trash taken out, perishables have been stocked away in the lowboys and walk-in, and the back of house staff has skated out. It’s just Carmen and Sydney, in their brand new restaurant. “I’m beat. You got all your stuff right?”

Syd has an overnight bag with everything she needs for a weekend with her babe. “Yes, I do! Are you..ready to go?” Carmy grabs the weekend bag along with her hand and they walk in tandem to his car.

Carmy has been seeing a therapist in addition to the Al-anon meetings and Sydney can tell a difference already. He’s slower to rant and rave and owns up to his mistakes. More eager to hear people out. She’s proud of him—he’s suffered through a lot to make it to this point. They eventually arrive to his apartment and a shower is the first order of business. Syd loves the water pressure at Carmy’s place and taking showers together has been great for their newfound intimacy. They undress each other, Syd pulls her braids up in a high bun, and they just hold each other under the steaming water. This is their time. Away from The Bear. Away from Chicago. Away from the many demands and decisions they’re forced to confront every single day.

Carmy washes her with her pink loofah that’s been made a permanent staple in his bathroom. This is all new to Syd; her heart blooms in her chest at these big feelings she’s experiencing. He’s gentle and doesn’t leave an inch of skin untouched. Syd washes his hair with his expensive shampoo and Carmy’s eyes close in ecstasy. They needed this tenderness. They deserved it.

All cleaned up and fresh, they mosey back to the kitchen for a late night meal. Habits are hard to break. “Spaghetti?” Carmy suggests.

“Yes oh my goodness. Butttt use bucatini instead. And all the cheese.” He smiles in agreement and pecks her on the lips and gets out all the ingredients they need. Julia Child is on in the background on a public access channel, as they converse about the restaurant and Carmy’s nephew and Sydney’s dad and Carmy’s dysfunctional family, the deep loss Syd still feels at the absence of her mom for most of her life. More tenderness.

Pasta is rolled out. Meat sauce is sautéed, seasoned and almost ready. The Shiraz is poured. Carmy can’t stop staring at her in his shirt and boxers. She’s so cute. The pasta boils and he watches her watching the program, fully enthralled. Everything is finally done; he plates everything in his unique Carmy way and Syd audibly orgasms at how the savory flavors meld together especially with the wine.

He grates more pecorino over the pasta and the lull in conversation is comfortable and warm. Not awkward and full of anxiety like with Donna….leaving him constantly overthinking and being afraid to speak. Sydney seemingly knows what he’s going to say before he does and that brings him comfort. They’re in crystal clear alignment on every way and he now knows a semblance of peace.

“Fuck. This is good.” Sydney is damn near scraping the plate, while Carmy is smiling the biggest she’d ever seen from him. They both love when the other eats their food. That sense of pride is undeniable.

“I’m glad you enjoyed, Chef. Anything for you.” He winks at her and she gets bashful and mumbled out that she’s going to take care of the dishes since he cooked. To his surprise, he’s a little more tipsy than he realized from the Shiraz. Carmy drains his glass and pours himself another, while checking Syd’s frame out. His boxers are screaming for relief and a little moan eeks out of him before he can stop it. Thankfully Syd isn’t aware of his moment of weakness.

Carmy swallows and wipes his lips and moseys behind his girlfriend. Kissing and nipping. “I’m almost done here, Carm..” Syd whines a bit at his ministrations and drops the plate into the soapy water.

“Yeah. Not fast enough for me..” Carmy turns her around and leaps with his tongue and mouth first. Her hands are dripping wet but she doesn’t waste a second grabbing his head of wild curls and taking what he has to give. Carmy grabs her legs to wrap them around his waist and Syd can periodically feel him thrust up into her mound, wailing for stimulation that only he can provide.

Their shared affection overpowers the television, and Carmy feels his way down the hallway with his baby in his arms. His love, that saved him in so many ways. He pulls his shirt off, she takes hers off. She takes his boxers off that she had on and she lays on his bed, naked as the day she was born. “Fuck me, Carmen.”

She held in her amusement because his entire neck and face was blood red with the pupils of his eyes blown out. Syd knows that he’s doing everything he can to stay contained, but he knows her better by now—she does what she wants. So she spreads her legs for him and twirls her clit in tandem with a brown nipple. Carmy’s about to explode.

He drops to his knees and explores her love below like it’s never been done before. “Sydney, why do you taste so good? Why do you do this to me..” She relishes in the fact that he’s potentially bruising her with the vice grip he has on her thighs, but yet she’s so afraid that she’s gonna squirt in his face if he keeps gently sucking her clit in and out of his lips like that. His manicured fingers enter her canal one after the other and prompt her to let go. “CARMYYYYYYY!”

His whole chest is drenched, and his eyes are shut tight, his deft fingers rubbing tight circles around her clit with a precision that only an executive chef named Carmen Anthony Berzatto could deliver. Sydney pushed his head away and she’s left trembling with watery eyes. “I-I—i didn’t know I could do that!”

Carmy just smirks and wipes his mouth and drops his pants. Syd still can’t get over him. He has even more tattoos that can’t be readily seen on a day to day basis, he is so cut and muscled and has a cock that should be cast in 24 karat gold. Don’t sleep on the short kings.

“Turn around.” His voice leaves no room for pushback, and she can barely raise up on her knees before he’s manhandling her. He’s learned that he loves doggy with Syd. With her ass high in the air, she is getting impatient as well and reaches behind her to line him up with her slit. Carmy catches his lip in his teeth as he pushes forward and they both groan out a “fuck” that only they could wholly grasp.

On the first stroke, he’s all the way in and Syd fees his sack grazing over her entrance. They’re both in a trance. Carmy has visions of Syd cooking, smiling, cumming, revolving in his mind as well as the score of the last White Sox home game so he doesn’t bust his load quick. Syd can’t get the thought of how intense and sweet he gazes at her. How he commands their team, how his talent speaks for itself, how fucking sexy his jawline is, how big his heart is. How lucky is she? To fall in love with her idol, mentor, boss….and to have him love her back.

The bed is beginning to bounce off the wall. Their volume increases as Syd can’t hold herself up anymore and they fall into collapsed doggy with their fingers interlocked. “I’m so glad you found me. I love you Syd, I love you, I fucking—fucking love you baby!” That set Sydney off for the most expansive and overwhelming orgasm of the night, taking her beau with her over the edge. Carmy’s sweaty forehead lays on Sydney’s right temple—both of them with tears in their eyes.

Carmy kissed every finger tip until their mouths met again, both letting their waterlogged eyes flow free. “I know. I love you too Carmy. We’re never alone.”

“We’re never alone.”

[atthebell-moved]

now you've gotten me curious, if you're interested in sharing, what are your thoughts on the jaiden federation stuff?

tbc i think the ACTUAL CANONICAL federation stuff jaiden has going on is cool and makes sense for her character; my issues, as usual, lie more with fan interpretation.

my issue is the fact that people reacted to the "you helped us" line by thinking jaiden was either a baby raised by the federation and that's why she had such affection for cucurucho (completely stripping her of agency and quite literally infantilizing her) or that she was cucurucho's mom which. if i have to explain how that's a sexist assumption i think there's no hope for this fandom.

why did i not see a single post talking about her being a scientist or a federation worker who helped create the cucuruchos? why was the IMMEDIATE assumption that she must have some familial relationship or that she was either a brainwashed, engineered child (and yes, i know the theory existed before this, but i have the same exact issues with it pre-reveal she was involved with the federation) or a mother figure, rather than someone who helped make the damn things? i have genuinely not seen a single post talking about her working as a scientist for the federation pre-memory loss, which was my immediate assumption and is the most likely theory!

i find it frustrating because to me it's yet another obvious blindspot for this fandom that people took a story reveal about an asian woman's character and made her into a literal baby. like people pull infantilizing shit with jaiden all the time, and they do it to other asian women ccs (namely tina, who gets it so bad it's unreal), but this one is so blatant it feels like a parody.

i get that drawing the characters as cute kids is fun. sure, whatever, kidfic and whatnot is great if that's your cup of tea. but the choice to leap to a theory that involves jaiden being an infant lacking any agency and that her (very cool and i think very significant!) personal choice to have sympathy for cucurucho despite the rest of the island's fear and distrust gets ignored in favor of that feels awful. jaiden chose to take her character in a really interesting moral direction, and instead of respecting that choice, people decide she must have been raised by the federation, because that's the only way she could be stupid/emotional enough to sympathize with cucurucho.

idk. people can do whatever they want, and im not saying any individual who likes that theory is a misogynist jackass on purpose. i just think the amount of people who immediately leapt to that theory is weird and sucks because of all the reasons i listed above.

[punk-in-docs]

🕷️ Vanilla Tobacco 🕷️

Eddie Munson x Reader

10.9k words

Summary: Based on one of my favourite Eloise songs- this pure mush but please believe me on the life of my dog, the next piece to follow this with smut is coming in so fast I may get whiplash- watch out- also

Thank-youuuu all of you for being such angels and commenting on my stuff all the time it’s honestly amazing. I know I’m a lazy bum and I need to reply to your astounding comments. But pls know I do see each one and it’s just what makes this all so worthwhile to see how much you all love Eddie X Pencils.

Your morning had been hell on wheels.

You slept through your alarm. Stubbed your toe stumbling out of bed in your rush to get dressed. Burnt your tongue on your too hot coffee. Ended up being late for home room. And now you’ve been lumped with an art essay. Perfect.

Self directed. Six thousand words on a particular art movement of your choice. Which somehow made it even harder to pick-

It’s pokey glass shards stabbing into the already festering wound in your side that was your day.

This would mean you’d be surrendering your lunchtime to this honey of a new project which was due in a week. If you got the books and notes gathered for it now, it would be a great help and a load off further down the line.

You trudge out of class, and back down to the hallway to your locker, with an armful of textbooks and sketchbook. A free period now that you’d spend the entirety of in the library.

In the absence of a certain jingly jacketed, metal head, the music you’ve got blasting through walkman headphones right now, is the only soothing thing that’s helping your scratchy mood stay buoyant.

Well. That and one other salient thing-

You can’t help but draw your thoughts back to yours and Eddie’s movie night. That memory certainly lifts and delights. Wraps up your stomach like being bound in sunny butter-yellow silk.

Being tangled up on Eddie’s terrible scratchy orange couch with wandering hands, seeking more, and so much making out it was like you were kissing each other’s lips raw. Seeing Eddie with those beautiful lips all bitten pink certainly tugged on your guts in the most horny way.

You devoured the pizza together, and he’d tasted like hoppy lite beer and salty pepperoni - licking the greasy cheese mess of it off the corner of your lips. Smiling with oily pizza grease fingers gripping your chin.

You’d laughed so much your ribs hurt. Prodded fun at the gore of his selected horror movies - awed by his taste too. Agreed on the worst and best parts of grainy black and white eerie tones of night of the living dead. The ham acting. The swelling suspense.

He’d grinned with the way you’d squirmed and jiggled and scrunched up your feet in unease at the bit in Nightmare on Elm Street. When Tina grabs Freddy’s face and the whole thing slips into her hand in a bloody rubbery landslide, revealing raw teeth and bulging eyes, scarlet black chasm of a nose.

I love this movie. But I freakin’ hate that bit.

Eddie curls around you tighter. Beaming. Chuckling dryly. Ringed fingers splaying over your hip. Nose nestled in the back of your neck.

Squeamish much, pencils?

Shut up

You both watch as Tina cups at the four claw marks in her stomach as she’s tumbled around the bed and jerked up to the ceiling. Crawling sticky blood up the flowery walls.

You hide again with an ‘Ick.’ Which prompts you to twist around and face him. You don’t do well with blood.

He very kindly lets you shield your eyes behind his hand. Rings warm on your skin.

Freddy’ll have to get through me first. Don’t you worry.

I’ll never let you sleep again, Munson. I will blast the loudest Motörhead in your ears. Okay?

Okay sweets. He winked.

You’d flown into swooning bits at the recollection of how you’d spent a great deal of time on that date, horizontal with Eddie’s warm nose buried deep in your neck. Or his tongue in your mouth. Spit wet lips, hoppy beer breath, and grinding hormones.

Later, much later, after two beers, his teeth and lips were plucking hickie’s at your collarbones and under your jaw. Mainly to distract you from Wes Cravens gore. But, funny how even when the movie ended, neither of you seemed to notice.

Too busy scrunching your hands in his messy hair and kissing him back hungrily. His hands smoothing up your back. Your legs curled open over the cradle of his skinny hips. Grinding into the clutch of yours. His hands were blazing hot on your ass where your skirt was rucked up. Fingertips slipping just-so, under the edge of your panties.

Whenever you hummed or moaned it made him smile. Made his hips jerk to yours. You were grinding on each other like this world would end soon. Entirely composed of rutting feel-good hormones for each other.

He pulled back because he was definitely popping a boner in those skinny jeans and you can’t lie either - you’re wet - you’re both very flimsy underwear barriers away from doing some very x-rated things.

He begs you that he doesn’t wanna be cumming in his pants like a ninth grader. You can’t deny with his hips grinding you like that it wouldn’t take much for your orgasm either. But, you both agreed, that for now, you’d keep it to second base.

All bets are off next time though, Pencils.

Deal. You grin back.

He sighed happily, blushed as a matter of fact, as you nudged a kiss under his ear.

You made out and ate and cracked jokes and chatted for what felt like hours. You tired the moon with your talking - and kissing. So much sparky hot kissing it stunned your lips numb.

You’d never get enough of the taste of Eddie. Smoke and beers on his tongue. Fake snap of chemical apple from his shampoo. Some distant lingering cedar and vanilla cologne that was definitely Wayne’s and had definitely been put on to impress you-

Hewalked you out to your car when time came for you to go. Leaving felt like a ripping pain. Like tearing layers of skin away. You kissed for ten minutes before you even managed to fumble blindly behind you for the door. He kissed you up against the door. Next to the door. All over you with your hands sunk and lost in his hair.

Don’t go I’m not done yet. As he cupped your face and waddled you up against the door - again.

Traffics bad this time of night, Pencils. Give it five if I were you.

I’ve heard a really bad storm is closing in.

Every time you levered apart, he was spinning you back with “Okay but how about one more, y’know, for the road…”

Then proceeded to melt you into another thought-stealing kiss.

Made you laugh into it when he palmed your car keys right out your hand whilst you were distracted by his tongue. And fully launched them over his shoulder.

They landed with a jingly thump over his shoulder on the malt brown carpet. He wrapped his arms around your waist even tighter. Muffled your protests onto the silky bed of his tongue. You moaned and curled your arms around him again.

Thinking of Eddie was definitely one part of your day that didn’t suck. That didn’t scrape rock bottom. It actually lifted you off your dragging heels a bit. Laced a spring in your step that you were careful not to let creep out too much around others.

You lose yourself to that, and into the jagged punk carnality, and let it be known Billy Idol’s sneering roar of a voice was a balm to you.

What didn’t help was that when you came to your locker, Linda was stood against it with the nuclear warhead of a mega-bitch that was Carol P.

They’re gaggled close and smirking about something. There should be a cauldron between them for the amount of shit-stirring and poison slinging they do. You’re thankful you can’t hear it. You turn up Rebel Yell just that tad louder.

Carol was the worst when it came to high school hierarchy. Not only an asshole but determined to drag that festering quality out of everything she touches. Withers the people she considers below her like dead leaves. Thought because she was giving blowjobs under the bleachers, and playing spin the bottle since seventh grade, that it somehow made her the epitome of cool.

You think that much like Linda, its just wearing a mask to cover over the craggy potholes and ultimate shallowness of their personality. They turn into mean, bullying people. Dog eat dog world of high school. Eat or be eaten and these are the pedigree girls with shiny hair, sharp teeth and bitchy smiles.

Really they’re just entirely composed of vanity and rot. Shallowness and arrogance entwined.

Linda barely acknowledges your emergence, as you open your locker and swap out an armful your books for the ones in your hands from an earlier class. You kept your headphones on, muffled the world away to rock music.

A hand shoots over your shoulder and annoyingly jerks on your headphones. Tugging them down the back of your head with a clatter. Making your heart flash fast at the jump of it.

You turn with a glare and see Tommy. H jaunt up to his girlfriend. Giving you a stupid grin. Sneering words back at you. “S’up, Pencil neck.”

Pencil Neck. Mother Mary. Those were some of the ingenious little pet names they had picked out for you.

Because you haven’t had sex and you aim for good grades, apparently this makes you worthy of freakdom in their rabid eyes.

Linda purses her lips a little. Smiles like it’s funny, them calling you that.

Carol barks out her shitty grating laughter. Tilts her head at you and those loose Farah Fawcett auburn curls dance around her snarky face. Popping neon pink gum and looking sly.

Tommy loops his arm around her neck. They stand and eye you like you’re something amusing. Freak show in town. Roll up for tickets.

“Original.” You bite back as you reach for your books.

“Ooh.” Tommy chirps at you. “Not in a friendly mood, are we.”

“My tolerance for vitriolic jackasses is limited.” You narrow your eyes at the pair of them.

You detest the way Carol scans you up and down. Judging your hand me down plaid, jeans and sneakers like you got them from a yard sale. Thinking you’re cheap trash, with a trampy single mom.

Just cause her manicured and caustic mother was the sales rep for a big cosmetic company, and she lives on the gleaming streets of Loch Nora, that it made her perfectly able to peer down her nose at the lower echelons.

She pops her gum with a snap looking at you. Then doesn’t even deign to pay you any attention. Looks towards Linda. A decided bitchy ally.

“You’re coming to the house party at Josh’s tonight, right, Martelli?” She grins as she chews loudly. Wet gummy clicks that get on your nerves. Raking an annoying knife up your spine.

You turn to your locker and ignore the bunch of cognoscenti assholes. You were ashamed to say that included your once fond friend among them.

“Sure I’ll be there.” Linda shrugs like it isn’t a golden gilded invitation handed over, direct from the Queen Bee herself.

“You’re gonna bring Jonny right?” Carol leers. Smile filthy. Like she wants to be the one sucking face with him, as opposed to her own boyfriend currently slung off her shoulder.

“If he can sneak out. His dads being a real dick at the moment.” Linda tells with a glum pouty tone.

“Sneak him out. It’ll be so fun. We got tonnes of beer. There’s bound to be some wet n’ wild fun in the pool.” She grinned all bright and naughty. Sticking her tongue out.

House party on a Tuesday night. These dicks really had nothing better to do than suck face, trash the place, or hump. Make a mess like silver back gorillas parading around in the zoo in their natural habitat.

Tommy decided to drag you back into this razor blade and lemon juice studded conversation. Oh joys.

“Probably not Pencil neck’s kinda evening.” He pouts sticking his lower lip out.

“She’s gotta be back in her convent by 9. Wimple on. Back home with her trampy mom like a good little girl.” Carol mocks in laughing. It’s shrill. Brings to mind a hyena.

Somewhere along the line, the fact your mom was mostly absent and single had become the butt of a joke to these people. Because you don’t live on Maple Street or dress like a Pat Benatar wannabe. You defend your ground in your paint spattered clothes, tatty jeans, and oversized hand-me-down plaid from Charlie, and tees from the goodwill.

It stung like acid each time they swiped and spit nasty words aimed at your mom. Needles pushed under your skin when they sniped their mockery.

You rose above it and grit your teeth. Even though it made you want to start swinging clenched fists. Real tempting to shove the wrong end of your paintbrush in carols stupid eye some days. Splat paint on her expensive jacket or jeans. Knock the books out her hands for once. The dream.

Tommy chuckles along. Carol loves pushing your buttons. It’s her defining character trait. Slamming down on them til they crack into spiderwebs like broken porcelain. It’s all she does best.

“I’m amazed you manage to walk like that what with your head being all the way up your ass.” You slam your locker and turn to talk to a very silent Linda.

“See you after third.” You offer blithely. She barely meets your eyes. Doesn’t answer. She shrinks down. Dumbly clings to her own silent cowardice. Shoves her hands in her pockets and looks at a scuff on her shiny white cavalier boots.

“Got bible studies?” Tommy jumps in quick to say.

You roll your eyes over, let his comment go unmatched. You didn’t have the energy for these two.

You heft your books into your arms and walk away. You hear their laughter and more snideness rips it’s razors at your back as you leave. More insults you don’t care to listen too.

You blast more Billy to blot them out. Forget about their stupidity as you head to the library. You hate the way they slide under your skin like it’s nothing.

You push through the doors and pad through the winding warren of the shelves. Thick carpet tiles muffled your steps. The overly harsh lighting almost buzzed above you. Students hunched hushed over tables, or scanning the stacks. A low thrum of noise and activity compared to the teaming hallways.

It’s a soothe for you. A harbour for you to switch your brain into a slow gear, push it into focusing on something else.

You find a table and set out your books and sketchbooks. Loop your bag on the back of the chair and get scouring through the arts section. You find a stack and pile it against your chest. Take them to your table and hunch over a legal pad. Madly brainstorming ideas for what you wanted to pick.

You settle and let the onslaught of your morning grow quiet. Meld as one into pages and passages. Art Nouveau with its goddesses, natural flowing forms and it’s mimicry of flowers under arched curves. The limpid neon minimalism of Dan Flavin and his light installations. Hockney and his searing blue pool paintings.

There’s so many influences crashing through your head. You skip from book to book. Unable to decide. Tapping the end of your pen against your chin. Raking hands through your lose hair.

You’re curled over a punk art book, looking at the ripped Jamie Reid images, jagged text and rude political satire sprayed and bastardised with paint drips, when something soft hits you on the side of your head, grazing by, and skittering down to your desk. Bouncing off your hand.

You twist back in your seat. Bewildered. Scanning the stacks and there’s nothing save for the usual soft footed librarians drifting around, with their glasses chains, sensible skirts, and hushed voices. The same few quiet kids sat at their tables, dotted around. Unmoved.

You frown and turn back around to the crumpled paper. You smooth it out and make out the chicken scratched words etched there. It was a note.

A love note. Etched in Violet sharpie. It sets a blaze in your chest.

Hey sweet cheeks. You look hot hitting the books. Making me jealous that they’ve got your undivided attention.

Signed it with an E with little sprouting devil horns coming off the top - as if he really needed to identify himself.

You smile when you suddenly feel the tickle of long dry hair feathering it’s tips at the back of your neck. Ringed hands drape for your shoulders. Cold rings even through your worn flannel. Smoke comes with him. Fresh too. He’d just had a cig break you’d guess. Reds curled new on cold leather and carried along with apple.

How was it the worlds nosiest metal-head with his jangly wallet chain and apparently limitless racket, could sneak up on you in absolute silence.

Materialising out of nowhere, like a suddenly gathering storm. Subtle as an earthquake. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. Inhaled deep like he was trying to drag you in via his mouth alone.

“There’s my little bookworm.” He hushes. Voice all trying-to-be-low and hissing. Rumbling down on your skull. Nuzzling his nose to your hair. Coconut. That Amber and Lavender perfume of yours. Clean luminosity of honeyed notes, and the plain spice of hearty lavender that drifts off you.

It’s dizzying. Consuming. He’s missed it the way a man could miss food and water.

“You threw paper at my head.” You faked mild insult.

Eddie leans up on his sneaker tip toes to peer over your head and catch onto the book that has you so engrossed.

“You looked very invested. How else was I supposed to get your attention.” Comes a clever curl of a grin.

It makes little flecks of gold stars shine and shimmer in those inky eyes.

His hand that landed heavy with a whump on your shoulder, curled up a knuckle and played with an idle curl of your hair. Cool fingers leaving sparks where he touched the nape of your neck.

“What are you doing in here, anyway? You know this is a library don’t you.” You tease him. Rotating in your seat. Gazing up at him. “Books. Studying.”

“Mistook it for something else. Won’t make that error twice.” He tells with that signature clever grin.

“Although it does have you in here, so I automatically like it very much, indeed.” He preens.

Your smile makes his spine slope into fuzziness and tingle all warm. Where his hand is on your shoulder, you edge and curl your fingers over his own. Lacing them through.

He wasn’t gonna be a complete letch and admire the way the twist of your body gaped the buttons of that oversized green and navy plaid you wore. Teased him with the silky valley of skin running downwards from your collarbones. Sternum. Bra. Tits. Your tits.

Okay he wasn’t gonna look, but he’s certainly thinking about it.

Those sweet slips of collarbones he’d been sucking and mouthing for eons long just the other night and was that-

That’s a hickie on your neck. From him.

His stomach trips and crashes into feral frenzy knowing he’s the one to have placed it there, in a rabid fit of horny hormones. Horizontal on his couch with hands all stuffed in tops or jeans, roaming in places that felt so so good.

Tongues fat with kissing and mouths smashing together, raw. Charred bodies grinding. Your fingers edging his stiff jeans zipper. His squeezing your tits through your top. Delightful touches that burned bliss through you like biting electric bolts. The muggy heat of breath on lips.

“That big beautiful brain of yours at capacity yet?” He asks. Swaying into the back of your creaking hard chair.

“I’ve yet to hear a pinging noise indicating it’s full.” You decided. Tapping your pencil down on your book.

“Can my bookworm take a break?” Eddie asks with a conspiratorial looking grin. You tip your head back and meet his gaze.

That ‘my’ warms your belly right though like bad cheap whiskey.

“Why would that be?” You ask cheekily. All lowering your lashes and peering all coquettish.

“Cause if you’re not at capacity yet. I think there’s a little more to learn.” He teases and his smile is all dirty dimples and schoolboy cheek.

He whirls back from your chair and pauses at the walkway between two bookcases. It hooks a smile right out of you when you watch him jerk his head in that particular, enclosed, direction.

Your smile grows, crawls across your lips and you keep your butt planted in your seat. “Gee. I don’t think I know what you’re getting at.”

“Need me to spell it out for you?” He asks with narrowed eyes and a wide wide grin.

You lean in said chair and cast your eyes towards the librarians. Who coincidentally have their backs turned to you. One at the desk, the other helping a freshman locate a physics book.

“I don’t know. Maybe if you could find it in book form and read it to me.” You rile. Poking him with a stick.

“Sure. Where’s that Biology section at.” He leans in and bites his lower lip and grips your sleeve. He doesn’t grip your skin with his rings. Worried they’d dig. Even when riled he’s still gentle.

Scrunching up his nose all silly as he’s yanking you out the chair. You laugh softly as you swing off the thing and slink after him.

You both pad silently down the row of bookcases. Eddie tugs you along to the end. Nestled into the crook with paper spines and a shelf digging in your back. The touch on your sleeve travels up your arm, he’s holding your forearm and then impressively smooth, he’s cupping your hip. Slings a finger in your jean belt loop - keeping you tethered to him.

“You going to reinforce a lesson for me. Munson?” You ask.

You rest your hands on his t-shirt. The almost threadbare black sabbath one that you could barely read the scratchy logo on it anymore. It’s almost flaked away. All that’s left is this beaten old black tee that hangs softly in creases off him.

“Yup.” And he pops the P. Staring at your lips. Thumb rubbing soothing circles on your worn plaid stomach. Soft aged flannel. “Gonna reinforce my brains out.” He decides.

“They say repetition is the best way to learn.” He adds. Flirty brow raised. Body flush to yours. Wrapping you in leather smoke and apples.

“And please don’t go hurting yourself on my account. I won’t allow it.” You say as you smooth a hand over the crazy hair beside his jaw. Stroking your fingers under that handsome cut of a jawbone.

You feel his nearness like a gut punch. Every damn time. Has you squirming in every single good way you can muster. This crush blazes so fiery strong. It’s swallowed you whole whilst you weren’t looking. You were too busy watching him smile.

You tip to him. Tilt to him. Up on your toes. Arms going for his neck. Circling around as his hands smooth across your belt loops and cup your hips. He rolls your bottom lip between his. Sucks you into this sloppy kiss as his hands cup you sacredly.

The moment you’ve both been longing for.

You’d never grow tired of kisses like these ones. It left a chasm when you pulled away from his lips on your date. And now again, finally, it’s like a cool clear sip of spring blue water after years of thirst.

Eddie nibbles your lower lip and it draws an unexpected squeak out of you. Plush and tongue and molten. He pulls back and his spit shiny smile liquifies your insides. Warm air puffs over your lips. “Careful pencils. Gotta keep it on the down low in here.”

You half heartedly whack at his chest with an open hand.

He sways with it. Sways into you. Barely noticed your nudge. He catches it with his own fingers, twining into yours. Through yours. Knuckles slot together. Fused. Your hand in his. He brings it up and rests your hand on his neck.

Drunk hazy eyes cast all whiskey puddle brown in yours. Soft as butter and he melts into you again. Nose brushing alongside yours. You taste like the fruity sour bite of chapstick and he’ll definitely chase some more of that fake nectar sweetness, thank you very much.

“How can I be expected to keep quiet when you kiss me like that?” You ask. Tilting in again, legs knocking into his as you press your lips to his in a slow smooch. Long, languid. Taking the kiss off his slanted mouth, honey smooth.

Your hand follows his lead. You cup his soft neck. Thumb brushing the join of his jaw. His hands rearrange themselves. Wandering to settle neatly. One bunching an arm around your waist. The other cups your head. Tilts your mouth to him so he can take and take and unleash on you more of these amazing, demanding kisses.

You should be caring how loud your making out is. Sloppy mouth sounds and little grunts he makes mixed with the thrill of your moans. It rises just a little above the din of the buzzing lights and the swipe of book pages being leafed over.

When you part again you gasp for breath and your knees are stunned into weakness. Your bodies are so close it’s pretty damn evident that soon you’ll be making noises you cannot hide in the whisper quiet library.

It didn’t help that the swelling hunger for more is prodding between your legs. As urgently as his own must be in those tight jeans. Every kiss is laced with a hunger that could proceed sex if you let it.

You really want to let it. You’re so ready to let it.

You exhale onto each other lips when you next part and take a huge pull of breath. Warm whispers sealed to mouths. Bodies tangled. Sure a book was jamming your spine, and the shelf behind you was not exactly sturdy. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered that wasn’t Eddie’s kiss bruised mouth aligned on yours.

“We should probably have another one of those date things soon. Don’t you think?” You ask. Fingers sneaking to his cheek to just touch his skin. A little stubbled.

“You reckon?” He smiles all slanted. Eyes twin honeycomb suns. You stare, stuck into them.

You’ve never seen such warmth leak out those expressively deep carob-eyes. You look at the entirely too long flick of his lashes: the raw pinkness of his cushiony lips. Entirely unfair how he was so pretty. It should be outlawed for a boy to look this pretty when kissed.

Really it was a danger to your health. Your school work would certainly suffer. Your essay sat screeching to be started from your desk.

“I really reckon.” You nod. Eddie swoops in and smooched a boyish charming peck onto your mouth almost in thanks. Pulls back from you with a wet smack.

“If you didn’t say it, I was gonna have to insist.” He teases. Stretches out the last word to almost a hiss so you know he means business.

You bite your lip. “Ok Mr. forceful. What did you have in mind?” You smile. Leaving your arms around his neck. To not touch him would be a stinging agony.

“Anything. So long as we can do this for a good 95 - 98% of the evening. I’m willing to negotiate on the exact percentage.” He asks. “But I would ask you wear that chapstick again.” He requests, no holds barred on the flirt, nudges his lips sweetly to yours.

The flick of his tongue on your lower lip makes your brain twirl and cloud. So naughty.

You kiss him quick. Yank his jacket. Pull back to speak which he pouts at you a little for.

“We could go see a Movie. Go to the arcade. Get ice cream. Go to the old quarry and 420 blaze it, and stargaze. The options are endless.” You say as your fingers find his and twist through. Knuckles stroking those worn metal rings.

“Arcade sounds good. Ice cream is a must.” He says, a little reticent. No one has ever asked him on a date. Much less delved into what he actually wanted to do on said date.

“Arcade and Ice cream it is.” You fix with a grin. “You’re easy to please.”

“Yeah but when it comes to ice cream toppings I’m very picky.” He sneaks forwards and kisses under your jaw.

You have to bite your lip cause he knows how it weakens you. Your gasp from the other night when he slipped his lips all over your jaw is etched interminably in his brain. His tongue traces a hickie he knows only all too well how it got there.

The tip of his nose brushes into anther hickie he’s just given to you. Devil boy. He knows very well what effect it has.

“Whipped cream, Cherries. Lots of cherries, sprinkles. The works.” He whispers all muggy hot into your neck.

“Gotta have cherries. Pencils.” He rasps inbetween heavy plucked kisses on your skin.

You shiver all over with the innuendo. He feels it ripple through you. The way your skin pimples with pleasure that pops, stringing along your veins.

You dig your nails into his hands cause holy shit. Every time you kiss you creep closer and closer to the idea of just slipping your hand inside those ripped jeans and going to town- that barrier of your willpower is being worn paper thin with every caress.

“All the cherries you want, pretty boy. Maybe afterwards we could take a, uh, scenic route up to skull rock and be fools, fooling around.” You smile.

It’s dizzying to him. That idea. Better than Colombia gold spreading all vibrant verdant green and dozy through his lungs.

“I’ll bring the jester hat, Mi’lady.” He flat out grins. It’s borderline Munson manic.

“Perfect evening.” You summarise. Shaking your head and eyeing his lips again.

“Perfect date.” He adds on. Biting his lower lip.

“My god. We’re corny. Even meatloaf would refuse to write a mushy ballad about us right now.” You joke. Hands still looped around his neck. Like hell would you wanna let go.

“Need some help with that essay?” He offers. Closing in for your mouth again.

“Mmhmm need all the help I can get.” You whisper. Barely a brush away from his gorgeous lips.

He kisses you again and it’s stunning. Births a wild jungle of fiery mush and kicked butterflies to rioting life in your belly.

“I promise to be such a huge help. You may not even need those books babe. Don’t you know I’m so brainy it’s unreal.” He wheedles at you.

“I never doubted your big beautiful mind even for a second.” You admit. Holding his chin as you lean in and kiss him solidly once more. Coaxing a lovely sounding whine from the back of his mouth when your tongue swipes his lip.

You drag him back out into the open. He goes - somewhat willingly.

Slips himself into the chair beside yours. Hands splayed over your books as he twirls a pen in his hand as asks you probing and philosophical musings about art.

Cubism. I’m sorry. C’mon? Those guys must’ve been on seriously good pills, man.

How about Constructivism then? You ask.

Gesundheit, pencils.

He scrawls some more devils and live hearts with your name, and leafs through another thick old book. The yellowed pages crack with age.

I got a new twisted sister tape. You should hear it.

I like watching you study. It’s freakin hot. You’re so brainy.

Hey, this chicks kinda neat. She looks like a character from Lord of the Rings or somethin’. He decided as he pawed over an Alphonse Mucha picture.

My favourite too. I love the way he uses colour. It’s dreamy.

You’re dreamy.

He laughs when you bite your lip and look bashful.

He will not stop shooting you a flirty smile as he doodles idly on your legal pad. Swirls big loopy letters of ‘I Love Eddie.’ And ‘Hellfire rulez’ and lots of demon faces, and skulls with horns. Lightning bolts and leathery bats.

His restless hands cannot be stilled. He steals a scrunchie from your bag, and it sits looped on his wrist next to his chain bracelet. Lilac borders leather. He makes no intention of giving it back. Magpie manners.

You make a face at him, asking how you’re supposed to tie your hair up for still life class after school.

“I like it loose and wild.” He says as he skims his eyes over your hair. Thumbs a piece back by your ear so sweetly.

You crook a brow. Smile tips lopsided.

He seems to realise that what he said can be taken an alternative way. “Well, no I uh, didn’t mean it like that.”

Your laugh spins his head into adoring craziness.

“Alright. Alright.” He consoles you by picking a W.A.S.P pin out his denim vest and leaning over to stud it into the collar of your plaid. Tongue bitten between his teeth as he concentrates. Fingers brushing your neck. Skin on skin contact leaving kicks and flutters that shoot stars in his wake.

You look down at it. The shiny metal gleaming in the buzzing light. “Okay, that is a worthy consolation.” You offer.

He makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you spend more time leaning into him and trying not to laugh too loud over discussing movies, favourite arcade games and music, than you do actually choosing your essay topic.

When the bell rings for next period you actually detest the thought of scurrying away to your Math class. Yet, Equations and trig beckoned.

Eddie walks you out the library. Opens the door all charming, waves a hand to gesture you on through first, like a true gentleman. You thank him and glide past with your books clutched to your chest.

The hallways are bustling but emptying fast. You twist back and tell him you’ll catch him later. Maybe at lunch.

He smiles that wide trouble-stroked grin. Clutched your hand and leaned down all showy to kiss the back of it and shoot you a dirty flirty wink, before he too whirled away.

You smile and it lingers on your lips even as you part. The press of it makes your whole arm come alive. You watch him for a scant moment before walking off down the corridor the opposite way.

You both look back over your shoulders after about five meagre steps away. Eddie gives you a melting grin, you return it. All eyelashes and beaming.

That grin said a lot. Dead giveaway. The hand kiss. The lingering and swirly body movements, not ever wanting to pull apart. Spoke volumes to those who bothered enough to really look and see it.

The feminine flash of a lilac scrunchie on Munson’s wrist. The telltale purple splotches of hickies hiding just below your collar. The heavy metal pin punched through your collar all shiny. Winking like a far off star.

Far enough down the hall that neither of you paid any notice, Jonny Lopez shut his cloud-grey locker door and leaned against it. Lake blue eyes swam cold. Watching the Freak practically skip away.

He saw him kiss your hand. Saw him pull you close by the corner of your plaid, reeling you in, and all warm smiles backed in flirting familiarity. Watched you beam back, and linger to chat a moment. Your hand laid on leather lapel, brushing at his chest.

It didn’t add up. It’s coming out odd to him. You and the Freak? Close? Since when?

He frowned and tugged his backpack on his shoulder.

Strange sight, that.

~

“Okay. Please please please for the love of god and on all things holy, don’t get weird.” You call out to your mom as you trudge down the stairs.

Not yet coming to the bottom but you could hear her rifling around in the fridge. Billy Joel’s Anthony’s song clunking out it’s piano notes from the stereo in the kitchen that she always has on when she makes dinner

Which is a strong term for when she just scrounges and grazes stuff out of there like a jackal. When she’s so dragged by jet-lag, she only has the energy to slam some pop-tarts in the toaster and throw back a beer for an evening meal.

She was most definitely not a baked ziti or a casserole mom. She overcooks tater tots, or survived on boxed mashed potatoes and a can of limp greens with some breaded frozen chicken.

More than once she’s resorted to a bag of chips for her dinner. Now you know how she stays so trim. And it’s true what she says about your older sister Charlie being the cook in the family, cause that trait had seemed to have skipped you and her, altogether.

After long haul flights like these, she’s usually all set to scarf a meal down in dribs and drabs and grab a beer, to fall asleep with, as her TV soaps blare on. More than once you’ve had to rush in and stub a Newport gold out her dead asleep hand. More than once she’s burned holes in the couch. Covered them up with a crocheted blanket.

Right now, she’s humming and tapping her toes as she eats cool whip out the tub with a spoon. Stood there in her indigo bootcut jeans and oversized cable knit sweater that slid off one shoulder. White and fluffy.

“Alright.” She calls back slowly. Digesting your words. “Colour me intrigued…” She turns the music right down for this. For whatever this was-

You round the kitchen doorway. And it becomes obvious.

Your wearing a dress, and the oversized box-back leather jacket that once upon a time, belonged to her. With rhinestones on the back that spelled out ‘rock n roll’ with a flaming skull underneath. You’d paired it with a red dress that clung and a nipping big white leather hoop belt stretched around your middle. Sneakers and white socks on your feet. Silver wet n wild on your eyelids. Liner and mascara. Your hair all fluffed and kinked

“You’ve joined a rock band? I want front row tickets. I like the jacket. Very Joan Jett.” She grins wide. The flash of that pearly perfect smile. No whiff of how it was hers that you’d poached for the evening.

“No.” You explain.

Her eyes pin you down. Widening under her shiny bangs.

“Intrigue.” As she lopsidedly and untidily stuffs more groceries into the fridge.

“Linda is dragging you to a… club? Or another trashy house party?” She asks.

“Wrong, again.”

“Ok, connect some dots for me cause I’m lost here.” She waves her hand at you as she unloaded tubs of ice cream into the freezer. Peanut butter chocolate chip.

“Don’t get weird.” You point a finger at her. She holds her hands up in surrender.

“Well, weird is my wheehouse kid. My basic operating system.”

“Mom.”

“So intense tonight.” She grumbles all chirpy.

“I actually have a date.“ You lay out.

She looks right at you as she lets the fridge door slam shut. Mouth gaping.

“A date?” She checks.

“Are you a parrot now, or what.” You tease.

“Look at you. Hiding your light under a bushel.” She beams. Hands on her hips.

“Boy or girl?” She asks, blinking.

“A boy. Mom.” You offer up. “But thank you for that.” You wave your hand at her.

“Hey. No judgement here babe. A date. My god.” She looks floored. Hand laying on her chest floored.

“Yes.” You respond. “Well. Actually to be honest, It’s kind of our second date. We had a movie night at his place last week.”

“Second date huh.” She waggles her brows at you like a dirty minded frat boy.

“Well, tell me how it goes. You can leave out all the gross- y’know.” Bringing her hand up to her face and making obscene wet kissing, slurping smacking noises. Cooing at you across the kitchen.

“You are four years old.” You narrow your eyes at her. She grins.

“Do you need me to feed you and put you to bed before I go?” You jest tiredly as you walk to the hall. Check your hair yet again in the mirror.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just be sticking my fingers in the electrical sockets and running with scissors here, totally unsupervised.” She jokes. Picking a rogue hair off the back of your jacket.

“Guess I’ll just have to sit on the couch and watch reruns of Golden Girls on my own. Eat sad Beefaroni and be a tragic spinster mom.”

“Do so quietly.” You wave off.

When you move to get your shoes: she follows. You have a shadow, apparently.

“So this booooyyy- honey tell me about the boy.“ She grins all giddy. Leaning against the door and swaying her body like a preeny high school girl.

Like she should be twiddling pigtails with a lollipop in her mouth. Candy saccharine sweet.

“Is he on the team?” She seeks. And then gasps. “Is he gonna give you his letterman jacket if you get cold?” She clasps her hands and her voice teeters all high and romantic-like.

“Yeah. Then he’s taking me and Rizzo to the sock hop in his Studebaker and then onto some racing for pinks.” You joke with her archly.

“My god. You got your penchant for dragging sarcasm from me.” She pointed out. Unhelpfully. Shoving you half heartedly in the shoulder for being smartly rude. Beer now in her other hand as she drapes herself against the kitchen doorway.

“Not a letterman then?” She scrunches up her nose. She knew well of your distastes.

“If he was I wouldn’t be touching him even with gloves on, and ten f oot pole.” You insist as you make sure you’ve got everything in your purse.

“Less Steff McKee, more Duckie. I got it.”

You smile at the way she’s phrased it. Whatever Eddie was he was definitely way more Duckie territory.

“So he’s not a jock, alright. That narrows it down. Is Duckie atleast cute? Or am I gonna have ugly grandchildren.” She asks.

“Mom.” You hiss with skated laughter as you fluff your hair in the mirror. She winced suddenly.

“It’s not Keith from the Arcade is it? Cause he’s always been sweet on you. You went in last time and I swear he was drooling over you in your Talking Heads tee.”

“It’s not Keith.” You answer nicely. You liked Keith, but he could be sleazy, and a catty kind of mean, and had a bigger chip on his shoulder than you when it came to the preps and jocks.

Plus he would literally date any girl with a pulse that breathed his way. Besides, he was way way deep into crushing on Nancy Wheeler territory.

You exhale into the mirror. Wondering if the sweet sheen of lipgloss was too much. If you should rethink these earrings. You’re a mess. It’s all whirling around a stubborn coil of packed nervousness in your stomach. A fever twist.

“What you kiddos getting up too? Something salacious? Gonna knock off a liquor store? Go to Wild biker parties with lots of vomiting and sex?”

“We’re going to the arcade and grabbing some junk food. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll have time to work a teen pregnancy or a vomit sex party into the mix.”

“Now see here, Mama didn’t raise no quitters.” She salutes towards you with her beer before she swigs back a sip. You know she can’t resist delving a little more into the nitty gritty details.

“What’s he like. Your Duckie. Blonde, tall, short, fat, thin, dark, athletic. Is he in the chess club? Is he trouble? Does he have a motorcycle or a criminal record?” She’s tapping your arm with the back of her hand as she keeps thinking of more things to ask you.

“All good if relentless questions.” You temper her rambles. “You may need to cool it with the Pretty in Pink references.” You chuckle.

“Spill spill.” She encourages.

“Less chess club, more DND club.” You tell her. Fiddling with the earrings. Definitely deciding to take them out. Untangling them from your hair.

She’s gets very excitable about that prospect. “Is he nerdy hot…” She gets close and rasps at you all low.

“Yes. The orthodontic headgear from his braces, combined with his pressed slacks, Mmmm, really gets me going.” You lie.

She smiles wider. You’re all snippy sarcasm and fluffing hair and you keep peering past her at the banana yellow cat clock with the wagging tail and rolling eyes in the kitchen.

“You’re nervous.” She hits the nail right on the head. Rubs your arm up and down. Cups your shoulder.

You let out a deep breath. “Correct.” You tell her.

You can’t lie to your mother. She’s a human lie detector when it comes to you. She’ll sniff it out of you like those bomb dogs at the airport. One whiff and she’s all over it.

“You must really like this mystery nerd Huh?” Shecomes over and strokes the hair spilling down the back of your neck.

You meet her gaze. You scrunch your nose with a kinda giddy smile you can’t hide bursts across your face. “I really do.”

“Why haven’t I heard anything about him you sneaky thing… you been holding out on me? I mean, I know my being out the country isn’t conducive to mother-daughter late night talk over a tub of ice cream… but-” She wonders. Idly playing with the bangs framing around your forehead. The soft yellow light from the cheap yellow flicks off the fine French manicure sleekly and pretty pink on her nails.

“Recent development. I haven’t been holding anything back from you. Promise. You’d root it out even if I did. Not to mention the guy turning up on the doorstep would be a big tip off.” You suppose.

“There is that.” She nods. Standing her beer down on the hallway table. Coming up behind you and idly rearranging your hair where you’d mussed it.

“Any pearls of wisdom I need to give you? Do you need the talk again of where babies come from.” She plays around.

Give her ten ways to say something serious and she’d still be clowning around.

That actually makes you laugh. You meet her solid gaze in the mirror. It’s so warm. It’s like sun skating on emeralds. The crinkled corners of the eyes that are entirely more hazel than yours.

You’d always thought she was the pretty exception. Pearly smile. Dazzling eyes. It didn’t help that Charlie got her stunning silky hair and piercing eye colour too. You got the frizz and the freckles and the big hips. The hair that more belonged on a wiry messy dog. That never laid nicely or did as it was told.

“Is my hair bad? I used too much product. It’s too frizzy. ” You wince as you ask her. Faffing with it still around your ears.

“No. Baby. It isn’t.” She tells you softly with a grin that’s circling somewhere proud and awed. She puts her hands on your shoulders.

Growing up she taught you that women didn’t need to be only pretty to get by. She’d remind you how you were stunning in your unique way and it was entirely up to you what way you made it.

When toxic high school mixed with the uncertain churning of puberty, she was there to reinforce the idea that you could be brainy, and take up space, and spit and shout, bare your teeth, and throw punches and be gritty, all that- be a fierce Amazonian of a woman. Be wonder woman. Be a sultry sizzling Marilyn. Be whomever you wanted-

“You gonna let me meet Duckie when he gets here?” She asks.

“Well, actually, I was gonna lock you in the attic.”

Her mouth gapes. Offended. “What, like I’m suddenly a Kennedy.”

“Tough choice when you’re a Kennedy. How do you even chose which one in the family to hide in the attic.” You ask dead serious.

She closes her eyes and exasperatedly makes a fist with one hand.

“Ok, kid, we’re veering off topic here. Can I meet him, please? C’mon I will only say two embarrassing things tops.” She grins. Holding her fingers up to signal the two things.

“Don’t explode all over him with questions. He’s nice.” You promise.

“Baby, he’s dating you. Of course he’s gonna be nice. I like to think I raised you with standards.”

“You did think I was dating a jock up until two minutes ago.” You level at her.

“Touché my sweet.” She holds a finger up and gives you an invisible tally mark.

“No interrogations either.” You add.

“I’ll put my interrogation lamp away. And no explosions. Promise. Internal implosions only.”

“Try not to be- y’know? Your usual level of insane?”

“Why. He’s not here to date me. I shouldn’t have to hide my eccentricity in the comfort of my own home.” She mocks, looking evil.

“Good grief.” You sigh as you double triple safety sure check you’ve got everything in your purse. Candies. Lip smacker. Money. Coin change for the arcade machines. She leans over and peers into your purse

“Condoms are in the bathroom cabinet by the way.” She winks before tipping back more beer.

“Right. No to that.” You snap. “Go get in the attic. Now.” You tell her with no evident humour. Snapping your fingers and pointing up the stairs.

She pokes her tongue out at you in a very mature move.

You twist to the direction of the door when you hear a clunky rumble of something that was definitely a van engine, music all shredding shriek and rock heavy, easing to a stop. And then the thump of a door.

She practically inhaled all the air in the house when Eddie does one of his fumbly music-riff knocks on your front door. Deep Purple, you reckon.

“I think your nerd hath arriveth. Mi’lady.” She beams.

Claps her fingers together in overdone excitement. Trying to gawk through the blurry glass in the front door to make out his general shape.

Fuck. Now this is all so real and your stomach is clenching, doing those gravity defying swoops like it’s trying to take off without you.

You fluff your hair one last time and step to the door across the spongey purple entryway rug. You take a deep breath. Palm clammy and slipping on the doorknob. You twist it open.

Eddie breaks into a sunshine stroked grin the other side when he sees you. It melts you. Makes something inside glow coal hot at the sight of him again.

He’s wearing his jacket with a Van Halen tour tee. Faded wings of an eagle and band name crackled on old wash grey. The usual ensemble of chains and ripped jeans. But you see the new sight of fancy polished combat boots.

Wayne had made him sit his bony butt down for five seconds and polish them before he whirled out the door to come get you.

“A man takes pride in his shoes when taking a young lady out on a date, Edward.” As he gruffly handed him a shoe brush. Gestured with a lit red in the other hand.

Full name. Serious. Scary.

“Listen I need to get going if I’m gonna make it out of the Victorian Era on time.” Eddie sassed. Elbow folded up. Checking his Casio.

Wayne pushed the brush into his hand. Slammed the silver pot down in front of him. The claggy thick smell of polish coming from the well used army tin he had sat on the counter. Face as stoic as an Easter Island head. He wasn’t taking any bull.

“Less cheek. Get buffing.”

“Child labour has been outlawed you know.”

“Not in the Victorian Era it hasn’t.”

Eddie did as his Uncle ordered. Now here he is.

Smelling like cologne, cigarettes and the unmovable sticky tinge of dark boot polish. Hair having had a briefly tangled

liaison with a comb.

He’s chewed gum the whole way here worried about his smoky acrid breath. Piece after piece shoved into his mouth. Sharp spearmint spiking the bed of his tongue. It didn’t settle the squirming worms in his stomach. Nor the tap of his newly polished shoes in fidgeting.

“Hey.” He smiles. Nervously tucking his hands in his back pocket. His jacket jangles. The chain around his hip and his bandana sways with him as he stands on your porch.

“Hey yourself. You look nice.” You beam back. There’s an undeniable allure in your pretty face. Honey gold smile skated in shiny gloss. He equates to something like pure magic.

“Ditto, Pencils.” He smirks. Veiled flirt. Not letting himself get too eager with it. His eyes flick up your dress, down your legs, and back up.

Holy shit. Good doesn’t even begin to cover how you look right now.

You also cannot ignore the lingering looming presence of your mom as she practically leaps into his eye-line behind you. She’s utterly vibrating with excitement. You can sense her just jiggling with it.

She sidles up behind you and shoves herself into the gap you’ve left in opening the door.

Whatever he was expecting of your mom, he certainly didn’t imagine this whirlwind of a woman behind you.

She’s young too. Must’ve had you in her late teens. Not stuffy. No silent husband like a fixture in an easy boy chair in the living room. Silently scathing with disapproval. She’s not sporting a beige cardigan and a constant threat of neighbourhood watch association snobbery. Sneering at Eddie on her porch like he’s a flea infected stray, yowling at her door.

There’s no way in hell anything resembling stuffy could cling to this woman.

Fierce hazel eyes traced with crows feet, shiny dark hair all free-wild and choppy. She’s old movie star kinda striking. That Colgate grin touted about in the 1950’s. One he recognises as the one that closely and genetically mirrored yours.

Boot cut jeans and a pearly smile and a big fluffy sweater and denim jeans. Entirely mad and friendly and she’s only met him two seconds ago. Some punchy shredding ZZ top blasts from the kitchen and something tells him that’s all her taste too. As well as pair of violet rhinestone cowboy boots sat by the doormat. Whacky.

He thinks how wildly accurate it is that this busy bright, kinetic energy ball of a woman, raised an unconventional and awesome girl like you. That’s no leap there.

“It is so nice to meet you. Duckie.” She out and out grins. You give her one of your looks.

Eddie chuckles. A little lost. “Duckie?” He asks.

“Her grip on sanity is loose at best.” You explain.

She elbows you in the the hip as she takes the grin down to a less terrifying notch. “Ok. Ugly grandchildren are struck off the list. He’s adorable. Look at those Bambi eyes.”

You really wish you had locked her in the attic. She’s exploding all over the poor boy.

“She’s loopy when she’s off her meds. And around new people.” You sigh to him. It gets an easy smile. Buffs the nervous look away.

“Mom this is Eddie. Eddie, I’m so sorry, this is my Mom.” You introduce. Skating a hand to the woman chomping at the bit behind her shoulder.

“Don’t you say sorry for me.” She slithers her arm through the gap you’ve left in the door. Fluffy jumper all cable knit bobbled and fuzzy. She’s a wave of zingy energy smelling like smoky Newports and designer Yves Saint Laurent perfume.

He shakes her manicured offered hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. She’s told me only good things.”

“Then she’s totally been lying. Edward. A pleasure. I’m Veronica but please don’t call me that, everyone calls me Ronnie. Awesome awesome shirt by the way.” She beams as she peers around the door. Releasing his hand from hers. “Like your metal huh?” She asks.

She perched her hands on the doorframe and stuck her head into this pick up between the two of you.

“Only with my oxygen, food and water.” He jokes. A little of his truer wide smile comes sneaking out. Now he knows there’s no need to stand on awkward shuffly doormat ceremony with your parent.

Because he knows he isn’t a meet the parents kinda guy.

He’s the guy parents ring Principal Higgins about. With distaste sour, and judgement nastily spewing off their tongues. He’s tatted, he’s a cheap weed seller, he’s crazy and scraggy weird, and he lives in a trailer park. Stamp mark of future-convict hovered heavy and eternal over his head.

He’s a jump out the window, hide in the closet kinda guy. No one would ever bring him home all hair combed and sparkly clean, pressed button down, to mom and pop, for a meatloaf dinner. Cause he’s no one to be proud of.

Yet here? Perhaps in the eyes of the most unconventional mom in all of Hawkins, something has shifted.

Something feels like it’s been spun off its axis and set down wrong, cause this bubbly woman is smiling at him and excitedly prodding her daughter out the door to go on their date. And maybe she is insane. As you said.

Talk about falling down the rabbit hole. Punctured through the splintered looking glass. He’s not high, but he could swear on seeing white rabbits and mad hatters right about now. It’s fucking nice. He’d never have expected this funky curveball in coming to pick you up.

“Edward? Eddie?” She asks.

“Eddie is fine.” He offers. Nodding, as he slips his hands into his pockets. Self conscious move, even though he didn’t need to be.

She widens her smile. “Where abouts you from? I know DND club and the fact you’re a white male in high school. Other than that I’m out. She’s been stingy with details.” She jerks her thumb at you.

His tongue shrivels up. She’s tolerated him so far. Maybe this is the sour turning point that will tip the introduction on its head.

“I live in Forest Hill’s with my Uncle. My folks, uh aren’t around.” He tells with a tone she can tell is used to receiving nasty scratchy criticism. Eyebrows raise and moods change when he’s said that before.

She nods. Her smile doesn’t leave. Doesn’t even drop.

“Honey. I grew up in paradise trails mobile park in Sloan Nevada. Don’t sweat it. Doesn’t make us lepers.” She shrugs.

Like it didn’t just wash a whole wave of unease aside in his chest.

“People in this town seem negatively charged when I tell them that’s where I live.” He admits with a big clown smile. Your heart bleeds at the true reverence in his tone.

“People in this town, are snooty assholes.” She chuckles wisely.

Debbie Harry is throatily singing one way or another from the stereo in the kitchen now.

“You done grilling my date?” You ask her with a sickly smile.

“If you stick around, there will be a follow up round where I fetch your baby pictures. And invite him in for a beer.” She threatens. Eyes widening. Kubrick crazy.

“Bye Mom.” You say as you step out the door to join him on the porch. She catches it where you’ve left it open. Calls out as you stand in the clear night listening to the cicadas hum and the street lights buzz and blink into sleepy orange. You leave her chuckling.

“Wise move. Now scram before I dust off my pipe, And my old ‘what-are-your-intentions-towards-my-daughter’ queue cards.” Your mom winks at you.

“Enjoy your night, crazy lady. Go feed the cats.” You answer, calling back over your shoulder as you sling your hand into Eddie’s lapel and pull him across the lawn.

“Let’s get away from this house of lunacy.” You tell him.

He stumbles after you waving a goodbye to your mother. Almost tripping over his boots.

“Home by midnight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. No 420ing it without me.” She calls out to you.

Eddie chuckles as you bring him down your front lawn. Sneakers brushing the grass alongside the gentle thuds of his foot falls. Your hand migrated to holding his.

“That’s your mom.” He states. Sounding dumbfounded.

“I know. I should’ve warned you. She’s a whole new spin on the word eccentric.” You offer.

“She didn’t bark at me to get off her porch like I’m some stray, Pencils. That’s a hell of an improvement versus the reaction I thought I’d get.” He says as he looks down.

Avoiding stepping on the dandelions that are scattered across your lawn all yellow and happy. Just trying to grow upwards and peep at the sun.

You slope your fingers through his. He looks up and gazes at you as you fall in step.

“As insane and untethered to planet earth as she is, she’s really not like other moms around here. She likes you already, probably on sight of the Van Halen tee.” You tell him with smiling weight to your meaning.

His grin lopes across his face.

“She’s cool y’know. No stuffiness. No essence of church on Sunday is the law and green bean casseroles.” He nods. He likes it. He really does.

“She had my sister Charlie when she was a teenager. Me a couple years later. Possibly too young for the likings of the pissy bible study moms in this town. She dropped out of Berkeley. Parents chucked her out. She worked three crappy jobs whilst raising us and coping with my deadbeat dad, always hoping for a little better and, being, well, as you saw, entirely unhinged.” You gestured to your house.

“And…” You add. “She’s not a green bean casserole person. She stinks at cooking even by her own admission. Thankfully, we have Charlie for that. She’s the domestic one.”

Eddie smirks. His smile is pure warmth. “You guys are close, though. Tight knit. It’s cute.”

“I love that she’s not a run of the mill mom. Growing up, others didn’t tend to be as kind about it. They see a single parent, they immediately go to trashy, trampy, drunk, who doesn’t give a shit.” You roll your eyes.

Genuine hurt backs your voice though. “They set her and me aside cause we’ve always been different. We don’t have tonnes of money or a fancy house.”

And who knows that better than Hawkins own freak?

He squeezes your fingers. Warm rings all marking their usual grooves in your skin. A thorough loving squeeze that makes your heart go pattering all soppy in your chest.

“People are assholes. So I’m reliably told.” He parrots as he brings to you both to the passenger side of his van. Rings clack on the handle as he gets the door for you.

You stand and smile. “People are assholes. Look at the unfair bad rep they give you.” You point out.

He shrugs. Smirking. “What can I say? My handsome face and awesome personality protects me from total infamy.” He grins all

cheesy.

Yanking open the van door with a hand and turning his palm up to you.

“Here now, I was prepared for a little infamy. Munson. Are you telling me I’m gonna be disappointed?” You smirk as you step up close.

Eddie’s poor little rabbit heart flashes fast with the way your dress is kinda, pretty well low cut. And skimming and squeezing every beautiful curve. When you step close he can smell perfume and cherry gloss and all things sexy sweet.

You’re looking at him directly. Eyes smouldering under your eyeliner and wet n’ wild silver glitter. Angling for a kiss that he’s happy to give you til his lips damn well fall off.

He leaves the van door open. Steps you back just a little. Nudged your hips back to the body of it.

“Think I’m flirting with bad company here.” He smiles. Traces his nose along yours.

“Doubtlessly. Wanna back out now?” You ask in a husky whisper against his mouth. Hearts racing. Pulses whipping fast. Lust stirs.

His chest may implode but he’d be fine with that. Atleast he’d die kissing you. What a way to go-

“Yeah. I’m running for the hills here.” He teases. Cupping your neck and gingerly laying his fingers over your hip. You stroke hours through his long black vines of soft tousled hair.

Then he’s leaning all the way in to kiss you properly, so firmly and urgently on the mouth. Languid spearmint tongue tasting sharp and delicious, playing with your lower lip. You tug him in by his leather collar. Loving the way his body leans against yours. You moan softly.

Maybe you should’ve taken the freakin condoms after all?

Beyond the kissing, you barely hear your front door whine as it’s cracked open. Your mom hollers across the lawn with her beer in hand, and makes the dog down the street bark it’s damn head off.

“Gross. Get a room!”

You pull apart and he can’t help bursting into a smile.

“Let’s leave here. Please.” You ask of him. He can’t contain his blushy laughter.

~

My taglist for the JQ babes; @ceriseheaven @indouloureux @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @munsonswhore86 @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-tittie @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos @2clones-1kamino @edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @creme-bruhlee @bkish @wayward-rose @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-levi @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx @s-u-t @alyssaaaaa-r

[butchsophiewalten]

There was another space last night. Only found out about it this morning and apparently they mentioned a dog animatronic named Ringo. Could you do a recap on it?

OK twitter space recap again. Just for clarity, a lot of these answers are effectively verbatim, but have been chopped down for clarity and to remove some less relevant information.

-Someone asks what the hardest part of making an episode is and Martin goes 'Fucking, coming up with what's gonna happen in it.' And talks about how like, if TWF4 took three years to make, half the time was just preproduction and him figuring out what the hell was going to happen. He talks about how TWF4 was originally going to be a return to form for the series, and then one day he woke up and thought about it and was like "this is fucking shit." and that's when he decided to make it more cinematic.

-Someone asks if TWF4 will have Spanish subtitles, and Martin says no, because writing the English ones was a pain and he doesn't want to go through that again.

-Somebody asks who Martin would cast for Brian if The Walten Files was a live action series, and Kyle extends the question to 'Who would you cast for Everyone?'. They spend the next while just spitballing answers, which I've condensed here:

Kyle thinks it'd be fun to cast Jack as "Weird" Al Yankovic, and Martin thinks that's funny. He doesn't know who he would cast for Jack. Martin says Brian would be "The guy from Whiplash", who is Miles Teller.

Martin says Derek Collins would be Michael Mckean, but Kyle picks Clancy Brown.

Kyle says Charles should be Adam Driver.

Martin says Felix would be Michael Douglas as he is in Falling Down, and says that he's always thinking of him whenever he goes to draw Felix.

Martin says Sophie would be Ally Sheedy as she is in The Breakfast Club, and how Allison Reynolds (Ally Sheedy's character in The Breakfast Club) was in part inspiration for Sophie's character. Secondary pick Martin gives is Mia Goth, but says they aren't the same in the face or the mannerisms, just that Mia Goth would make a good portrayal of the character because she's such a good actress.

Martin picks Shelley Duvall for Rosemary, saying again that they don't really look alike, but that she'd do a great job portraying the character. Kyle says a young Jane Kaczmarek would make a good Rosemary, too, and Martin mentions that he could also see a very young Carol Burnett, "...because she has a very smile-shaped smile."

Martin says that they aren't at all the same physically, but that Tina Parker would make a great Susan. Inspired heavily by her role in Better Call Saul.

-Martin hems and haws for a bit about who a good Jenny would be, saying that it's difficult, because she has such a particular face. On the topic, Kyle brings up how fans so often portray Jenny as "chubby", and how that's really impacted how he thinks of Jenny as a character, where he imagines the fanon version of her before even the canon one.

Martin agrees like, "This kinda influenced the way I draw her. I've been drawing concept art for Jenny recently and I noticed I've started drawing her a little chubbier. Not to the extent of the fanon, but the way I look at the character has changed a lot because of the way the fandom draws her... But I could definitely see Jenny as a chubby character, she just has that vibe." (<-Mostly paraphrased)

-Martin and Kyle say they both keep running into a funny problem where they google Charles using his full name, and wonder why all of the results just call him 'Charles Walten Files', forgetting that his full name is not public information yet.

-Martin says that if there was anything he would change about The Walten Files, he'd make Bon less adjacent to Bonnie from Five Nights at Freddy's. He says he wishes he'd made Bon a dog named Ringo, and that the name "Ringo" has a specific lore reason behind it (Unrelated to. The Beatles.)

-Martin talks about how when he first named Bon's Burgers, he thought he was being really clever, because in French "Bon" means "Good", so it was like calling it "Good Burgers".

-Someone asks what Martin would rename Bon's Burgers to if Bon's name had been different, and he says he'd call it "Wonderland".

-Martin gives a story about him actually seriously injuring himself opening a can of Palmitos, slicing his palm open and needing to get stitches, but how the main thing he was worried about was it keeping him from releasing TWF4 on time, and how he was really scared of the fan reaction of like, 'he always fucking does this, he always delays the episode', before he talked to some friends and calmed down about it. This all happened like less than a week ago. He tells everyone not to worry to much about it, that he's still in some pain, but he's fine.

-Someone asks about the "Bontest", the contest where people could submit their original characters to appear briefly in TWF4, and Martin says that he plans to work on it last, as a reward for himself.

-Someone asks if a Welcome to Bon's Burgers remake could ever happen, Martin answers: "No. I would have wanted to, but I'm really trying to stay, like, legally distinct from Five Nights at Freddys. So no more Welcome to Bon's Burgers, ever."

-Martin asks Kyle, "Is Charles mean? or nice?" and Kyle says he thinks Charles has like. Fun Uncle energy. That he's the sort of person you'd maybe think was mean, but that he's ultimately pretty silly and laid-back. He calls him the type of person to doodle in the margins of his work.

-Someone asks if Boozoo is a magician or a ringmaster, and Martin says that he is both. When he's not on stage, he falls into the ringmaster persona, but when he's performing he's doing magic tricks and the like. He switches between both.

-"Boozoo has a mechanism where he can take off his hat, and there's a very tiny plush rabbit in his hat"

-"Will we ever get to know how Jenny and Sophie met and/or became a couple?" "Yes. We will see it in the series, I have the whole thing planned out. Yippie!"

-Martin talks about how when making WTBB, he went through a phase where he really hated Banny, and took her out of the game. Then he was like, fuck, I need a new girl character, and that's why he created Sha.

-"Who has been your favorite character to develop personality-wise and role-wise?" "Felix Kranken. I fucking love but I fucking hate Felix kranken... I feel like the viewer keeps indirectly giving Felix chances, like, to make things right. And you will see how he uses those chances."

-Someone asks for a Felix Fact, and Kyle jokes that he smells bad. Martin says he disagrees, and that he thinks Felix smells like car air freshener.

-Actual Felix Fact: He loves Louis Wain's paintings, and has many in his office. Martin says he really connects with the story around them, and that he also feels a deep connection to cats.

-"How many takes did the phone call in BunnyFarm take to get right? Was the wavering in Jack's voice before he got angry intentional?" "It took three takes and yeah, yes it was. I did one take that was like, screaming angry, and another one was very whispery, and then i got the version that was used." They talk for a bit and then Martin goes "I think Jack here like, works best when he's not like, exaggerated, but you can tell that he's on the verge of just-- punching you fucking skull, but he doesn't like, explode. And it's this tension of like, when will we see this character like, genuinely lose his mind, yknow?"

-Someone asks if Bon could ever learn to like or be nice to Banny, and Martin says that if the showstoppers had any kind of linear story then he would probably grow to be nicer to her eventually, but because they're in like an episodic thing where everything resets, he's just gonna hate her forever

-Linda Lore: This isn't necessarily canon, but Martin kinda imagines that she'd move out of hurricane after only a couple of weeks because it's such a ghost town, so she moves to Nashville end ends up starting a family there and having two children.

-My question! I asked Kyle and Martin what musicians/bands they listen to. Kyle lists Gorillaz, Tally Hall, and Tenacious D. Martin lists MF Doom, Tyler, the Creator, and Canserbero.

-Martin mentions an incident with Bon's Burgers where a guy showed up and stood on a table demanding to eat pizza, and stayed there for 20 hours demanding to eat pizza.

-Martin imagines a funny scenario where Charles' car breaks down on the way to work and Jack gives him a ride. Charles asks to listen to some music, and Jack starts playing "obscure 30s music", and Charles is like, "what the fuck?", while Jack is bobbing his head like he's listening to heavy metal.

-Someone asks if there's any Autistic characters in The Walten Files, and Kyle brings up his personal headcanon that both Sophie and Jenny have autism, but that Jenny has it comorbid with ADHD. Martin mentions that it's actually canon that Charles has ADHD, and how it was one of the first things he decided on for his character.

-Kyle specifically asks if there's any Walten Files characters Martin can imagine being Autistic, and Martin gives a long answer I've written out as follows:

"Okay, so, this is really complicated, but the episode 5 draft is finished, and I sent it to Eva, and- this episode has a bigger focus on Sophie, episode 5, and I think a lot of things- Eva- I talked a lot about it with Eva, and she mentioned how Sophie, was like, had many many traits that imply that she is autistic.

And, while I said yes, that the intention was to like, sorta allude to it? I would never confirm it because I wouldn't be able to represent it properly. I would never be able to fully represent it, because it's not an experience I've gone through. But there's a lot of like, unintentional double meaning with Autism, with like, what's going on in her head and how like, she behaves, in a way?

But I feel like, from what Eva told me, from her experience as an Autistic person, she told me it was a really good representation, for like, the character. Even if it wasn't intentional, because she's never represented as like, mentally unstable, or not fit to, like-not competent... But you can still see some of her personal struggles in her behavior."

-They talk for a while about how Kyle likes to think that Boozoo is gay, but he's not especially a fan of the relatively popular ship between him and Bon. Martin says that a better Boozoo ship idea could maybe be Pete the Hippo, provided that the recasted his VA.

-On the same topic, Martin agrees that Boozoo and Bon would be a bad ship idea, because he doesn't like the idea of Bon being with anybody who he treats poorly, and how this is the reason why he really tries to be nice to Sha, even if he isn't especially good at it. Martin mentions that the thing that really makes Bon like Sha is that she's the one person who can really tell him off, and for a while he was a little scared of her.

-Martin talks about a funny showstoppers story he's thought of, where Banny gets a crush on a girl from school and Boozoo and Sha help her work up the courage to ask her out, but the girl is just so unapologetically mean to Banny and totally breaks her heart, and so all the showstoppers come to defend Banny, and they go and beat up this teenager on her behalf.

-Someone asks for a "Susan Fun Fact" but typos it as "Susan Gun Fact". Martin says that Susan would think that the American attitude towards guns and gun control is one of the things most wrong with the United States. Kyle says it'd be funny if she was the type to believe that, but then own a gun anyway.

-Martin says that he really loves Susan's voice, and thinks it's so perfect for her character.

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Menaces of Metropolis

One would have to be rather foolish to be a criminal in Metropolis, a city protected by the Man of Steel himself.  Nevertheless, sometimes villains just got to villain and Superman has faced off with many a rogue.  And for every Lex Luthor and Brainiac there has been equal number of lesser caliber menaces who have made Superman an enemy.  Here are several of the more prominent lower tier cads who have made trouble for the Last Son of Krypton.   

Bruno Mannheim

A ruthless gangster, Bruno Mannheim was the leader of the criminal organization known as Intergang, responsible for nearly all organized crime in Metropolis.  Following the arrival of Superman, however, Mannheim’s operations became severely diminished.  The Man of Steel foiled many of Intergang’s schemes and Mannheim became desperate for some means of gaining an upper hand.  As such, he eagerly accepted the aid offered by the mysterious agent of Apokalips known as Kanto.

Even with the aid of these advanced weapons, Superman managed to prevail.  A disappointed Kanto fled back to Apokalips and Mannheim made the fateful decision to go with him.  There the mobster was made to bow down to Darkseid as his new lord and master.  

When Darkseid planned his invasion of Earth, Mannheim was returned to Metropolis so that he could assist in the attack. Mannheim was ordered to set off a meltdown at an off-shore nuclear power plant.   The mobster did as he was told yet Darkseid left him behind to be caught in the explosion.  

Actor Bruce Weitz provided the voice for Bruno Mannheim with the gangster first appearing in the fourth episode of the first season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘Fun and Games.’   

Joey

A thief and mobster, Joey had the good sense to stop operating in Metropolis following the arrival of Superman.  Although Lex Luthor was able to coerce Joey to pull off a heist in that he had a secret weapon to neutralize the Man of Steel.        

Equipped with jet packs, Joey and two accomplices staged a daring rooftop robbery, stealing engraving plates from the federal treasury.  Superman arrived as expected and Joey led him to a construction site where Luthor had planted a piece of Kryptonite (having discovered the substance’s ability to greatly weaken Superman).  

Joey was ordered to simply do in Superman and be done with it, but his eagerness to show up the hero got the best of him.  Superman was able to draw Joey far enough away from the Kryptonite that his strength returned.  

Joey ended up apprehended and Luthor was ultimately unable to use the Kryptonite to be rid of his nemesis.  

Actor Thomas F. Wilson provided the voice for Joey, with the goon featuring in the fifth episode of the first season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘A Little Piece of Home.’   

Tina

A young intern at the Daily Planet newspaper, Tina possessed a compulsive affinity for metal.  At some point she met the super villain known as Metallo.  A being composed of metal was overwhelmingly alluring to Tina and she became dedicated to him, willing to do whatever he asked.  

Using Tina, Metallo hatched a scheme to do in his arch foe Superman.  A news story had run identifying Jimmy Olsen and ‘Superman’s Best Pal.’  Tina accepted Jimmy’s invitation to go out on a date resulted in his being abducted by Metallo. With Jimmy as bait, Metallo was able to draw Superman out.  Fortunately, the villain had overestimated his ability to take on the Man of Steel and Superman prevailed, defeating the villain.  Afterward, Tina was arrested for her part in the scheme.

Actress Dina Sherman provided the voice for Tina was the young ne’er-do-wells featuring in the eighth episode of the third season of Superman: The Animated Series,’Superman’s Pal.’  

Luminus

Edward Lytener was a former LexCorp engineer and a gifted inventor. When LexCorp was under investigation, he became an instrumental whistleblower. Lytener’s intentions here were less than noble, as he was primarily interested in impressing Lois Lane whom he was greatly attracted to. 

The whole matter turned out poorly for Lytener.  He was fired from LexCorp and became something of a pariah in the scientific community. Furthermore he failed to  woo Lois, who went on to a win an award for journalistic excellence. In anger, Lytener attempted to assassinate Lois. 

Superman thwarted the effort to kill Lois and Lytener was apprehended.  While incarcerated, Lytener was recruited by Lex Luthor to enact a plan to kill Superman.  With the technologies provided by Luthor, Lytener broke free from prison and took on the super villain alias of ‘Luminus.’  He set forth a diabolical scheme to render Superman vulnerable by utilizing pirated satellites to filter the sunlight over Metropolis.  With the aid of Lois and Jimmy Olsen, Superman was again able to prevail and a defeated Lytener was sent back to prison.  Some time later, the villain took part in a mass break out yet was swiftly defeated and recaptured by the Justice League.  

Actors Robert Hays and Nicholas Guest each provided the voice for Luminus, with the villain first appearing in the seventh episode of the second season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘Target.’

Amy and Trouble

A pair of juvenile would-be gangsters, Amy and Trouble acted as agents of Intergang after the outfit was taken over by Granny Goodness.  Equipped with advanced weaponry, the two assisted Granny in a scheme that entailed using a gravity ray to cause a comet to strike earth (naturally Amy and Trouble were unaware the plan was to destroy the earth).  

Granny’s scheme was thwarted by Superman with the aid of Supergirl.  Granny fled back to Apokolips while Amy and Trouble were arrested.  

Actress Julia Kato provided the voice for Amy; with Scott Menville voicing trouble.  The two delinquents first appeared in the twenty-seventh episode of the second season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘Little Girl Lost, Part I.’  

Earl Garver 

A brilliant scientist who worked at S.T.A.R. Labs, Earl Garver's lack of scruples resulted in his being fired.  Desiring wealth and revenge, he stole a radiative isotope which he fashioned into a bomb that could have leveled a sizable portion of the city.  Carver then attempted to hold the city ransom, demanding an exorbitant fee.  

Superman’s initial effort to stop Garver resulted in the scientist sustaining a head injury that left him in a coma.  With Garver comatose, Superman and the authorities had no way of determining the location of his bomb. In a desperate gambit, Superman and Detective Sawyer recruited the aid of the Parasite who was able to absorb Garver’s memories through touch.  

Unfortunately, Garver’s ego was stronger than that of The Parasite and the scientist was able to take over the Parasite’s body making him an even more formidable threat.  Thankfully, the Man of Steel was able to persevere; Carver was defeated and the bomb was dealt with.  When the evil scientist finally woke from his coma, he found himself being transported to Riker’s Island Penitentiary, where he would spend the remainder of his days.  

The terrific Brian Cox provided the voice for Earl Garver with the villain featuring in the thirteenth episode of the first season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘Two’s A Crowd.’  

Prototype

The LexCorp Police Battle-suit was invented by engineer, John Henry Irons, designed to assist police officers who were facing an increased number of criminals possessing metahuman powers and advanced technology.  The project was green-lit and funded by the Metropolis Police Department and the decorated police sergeant, Corey Mills, was selected to act as the prototype’s pilot.  

At first, Sergeant Mills excelled using the suit.  It’s functions were quite impressive and Mills and Superman even worked in concert with one another in tending to a building fire.  As time went on, however, use of the suit began to negatively effect Sergent Mills’ mind.  John Henry Irons was worried that this might happen and even tried to convince Luthor that the suit was not yet ready, yet Luthor disregarded the concern.  

Mills worsened and after he had savagely beat a group of criminals, he was placed on medical leave and forbidden from using the suit.  

Unhinged and in the throws of withdrawal, Mills stole the suit and went on a rampage.  This led to a tremendous battle with Superman.  The Man of Steel was nearly defeated by the battle suit yet prevailed after using a downed power cable to short circuit the prototype.  

Actor Xander Berkeley provided the voice for Sergeant Mills with the battle-suit appearing in the twenty-first episode of the second season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘Prototype.’  

Detective Bowman

Kurt Bowman was a corrupt police detective in Metropolis.  Greedy, lazy and completely lacking in morals, Bowman was assigned to investigate an attempted murder of Lois Lane and proceeded to do almost nothing to protect Lane (fortunately, Superman was able to help Lane bring down the responsible party).  

Some time thereafter, Bowman murdered a wealthy woman and framed an innocent man for the crime.  The man he framed was sentenced to be executed and, having realized his innocence, Clark Kent worked desperately against the clock to exonerate him.  Kent succeeded and the innocent man was freed.  Detective Bowman’s guilt in the murder was made evident and he was subsequently charged, prosecuted and sentenced to the death penalty.

In the days leading to his execution, Bowman obsessed over how Clark Kent could have possibly figured it all out.  In the last moments of his life, the answer finally dawned on him.  The only possible explanation was that Clark Kent was actually Superman.  He had discovered Superman’s true identity yet it was too late to tell anybody.  The execution proceeded and the villain took his last breath.  

Actor Eddie Barth provided the voice for Kurt Bowman, with he corrupt detective first appearing in the seventh episode of the second season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘Target.’  

Lizzie and Big Susan

A pair of ambitious crooks, Lizzie and Big Susan attempted to abduct the celebrated fashion designer, Lana Lang in the hope of demanding a huge ransom. Grabbing Lana at a fashion show, the pair took her from a back room and tried to flee via an elevator.  The plot was foiled when Superman appeared.  Realizing they had no hope of defeating Superman, Susan ripped the jewelry off Lana's dress and kicked her out of the elevator.  The ploy did not stall Superman for long.  He easily caught Lana and then dislodged the elevator off its tracks and left the two criminals to the police.

Actress Lauri Fraser provided the voice for Lizzie while Valri Bromfield voiced Big Susan.  The two hoods featured in the eleventh episode of the first season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘My Girl.’  

Agent Kurt

The mysterious Agent Kurt ran a secretive program for the United States military called ‘Project Firestorm.’  The program aimed toward cultivating individuals with metahuman powers to act as living weapons to be utilized in covert operations.  Kurt’s prized subject was Claire Selton whom Kurt had codenamed ‘Volcana.’ Kurt actually loathed metahumans and was quite abusive toward Claire.   

Project Firestorm was eventually shuttered and a released Volcana turned to crime to get by.  Kurt sought out Volcana and abducted her.  His plan was to sell her to a foreign military so they could dissect her in their own efforts to weaponize metahuman abilities.  Fortunately, Superman rescued Volcana.  In the ensuing fracas, she caused a fiery explosion that claimed Kurt’s life.  

Actor Peter Gallagher provided the voice for Agent Kurt, with the rogue operative featuring in the first episode of the third season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘Where There’s Smoke…’.

Reverend Howell

Amos Howell had been a traveling preacher who happened upon an alien spore that infected his mind.  He went on to become the herald of the extraterrestrial parasite known as Unity.  This parasite could infect organic beings through tentacle-like appendages and Reverend Howell traveled the Midwest on a mission to infect as many people as he could, adding each individual to Unity’s collective until the whole world was consumed.  

Reverend Howell presented Unity as a kind of religion that would bring peace and a lock of conflict to one and all.  After coming to Smallville, he infected Jonathan and Martha Kent.  Kara Kent could tell something was different about her aunt and uncle and she Superman investigated the matter.  It led to a tremendous battle between Unity, Superman and Supergirl.  The heroes managed to prevail and the Unity parasite was destroyed.  With his master dead, Reverend Howell was freed from the creature’s spell.

The always fun Stephen Root provided the voice for Howell/Unity with the menace featuring in the tenth episode of the third season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘Unity.’  

Mantis 

A one time general in Darkseid’s army of Apokolips, Mantis was a fierce warrior with ambitions to rule.  Following Darkseid’s apparent death, Apokolips fell into civil war and Mantis left the planet for Earth, believing he could conquer this world. 

He arrived in Metropolis and quickly faced off against the Man of Steel with the aid of Captain Atom.  After a fierce battle, Superman activated Mantis' Mother Box and Captain Atom blasted him into the resulting boom tube. Superman destroyed his Mother Box, leaving Mantis with no means to return.

Actor J.K. Simmons provided the voice for Mantis with the villain first appearing in the ninth episode of the second season of Justice League Unlimited, ‘Question Authority.’  

Karkull 

The dreaded Karkull was a demonic Lord of the Inner Pit, a creature from another dimension who possessed vast powers and craved utter destruction.  The beast had escaped the Pit into the realm of mankind and was eventually vanquished by the magical hero known as Doctor Fate.  Fate trapped Karkull within the Tablet of Lorta where the creature remained for over a century.  

The beast was accidentally released by a thief who had come across the artifact and read its inscriptions out loud. Freed once again, Karkull ran amok throughout Metropolis and threatened to destroy the world.  A reluctant Dr. Fate aided Superman in battling Karkull and the creature was again defeated and once more trapped within the Tablet of Lorta.

Actor Ted Levine provided the voice for Karkull, with the villainous creature featuring in the twentieth episode of the second season of Superman: The Animated Series, ‘The Hand of Fate.’   

[readingadream]

A Twisted High

Pairing: Bang Chan X OC Alexa/Alex

Summary: Alexa's favorite thing is Ice skating and hanging out with friend's. Chris's favorite thing is Hockey and working for the family business. What happens when these two get paired up for a school project and become each others new favorite thing.

Genre: Mafia Au, Hockey Au,

Warning and Tags: Drug use, violence, eventually smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 1,756

Chapter One

Alexa’s POV

"Alexa. Hurry up or both of us are going to be late," I hear my dad yell from downstairs. Frantically I look at the time on my phone and scream. Oh shit we really are going to be late. I jump out of bed and get my clothes on. I find a random pair of pants and t-shirt and start scanning the room from left to right looking for my backpack, finally spotting what I was looking for under my clothes on the floor. I grab it and run down the stairs, grabbing a piece of toast from my dad and smiling as I ruffle his hair. 

"Sorry, I couldn't find my backpack. Now we're waiting on you. Let's go old man," I say, giving him a teasing smile and making him raise his eyebrow, heading to the car. 

Mornings are the only part of our days were we see each other, with him being a firefighter and all. So it's nice. Always my favorite way to start a day. I could easily drive myself, but then we wouldn't have this time together. Though, sometimes I would enjoy a morning to myself. 

"Do you have practice? Need to know where I'm picking you up tonight. I'll be off early," he asks, starting the car and backing out of the driveway. I look at him confused. Grabbing my extra brush I hid in the car, I start to brush my hair.

"Yes, I do. So I guess that means to pick me up at the Ring. But why are you picking me up?" Usually I just walk or get a ride with Jayde, because dad is usually working. So it's weird that my dad is going to pick me up today. This can't be good.

"So we can go to the station for the job fair, silly," my dad replies, giving me a dorky smile. I give him a fake smile but roll my eyes. I love my dad and appreciate what he does for me and our town, but I just don't want to be in his field of work or anywhere near it… which he just doesn't understand.

"Okay, sounds good. I get done at about 5, is that too late or should I skip practice today?" I say unamused looking out the window. I think about how I will actually have to tell him and break his heart that I wanna go into Event Planning.

"No, that is fine. It's not too late, don't worry. Now have fun at school." Finally we made it to school. I lean over the console and give my dad a kiss on the cheek. Getting out of the car I make my way to the front and wave bye to my dad. 

Walking into the school I head to my locker. Placing my books inside, I hear a bang next to me.

"Why does everyone like Tina? They need to get off her ass, she's a bitch," Chantel whines leaning against the locker next to mine. Laughing, I look across the hall at Tina who is twirling her hair and flirting with the football team.

"I don't know, but why do you care? You have your college boy. It's not like your man is over there with her" I say, turning back to my locker and away from Chantel with furrowed eyebrows, visibly disgusted.

"True, but my cousin is." Glancing back over to Tina who now has her hands in Chris's hair. Chris is the one guy every girl wants but no one can have no matter how hard anyone tries. I used to have the biggest crush on him, but I stopped trying a long time ago, unlike most.

"He doesn't look comfortable, poor guy," I say, which was mostly drowned out by the squeaky swing of my locker door as I closed it. Pulling out my phone, I check my messages and read a reminder from my coach about the hockey team that has practice in our rink, and will be there after our practice. 

"Yeah, yeah, poor Chris. He's the dumbass that went over to her," Chantel snarled. "Anyway, can I go to the ring with you after school? I need a break from the fam and I can like, draw or do homework or something while you skate," Chantel asks, interlocking her arm with mine as we walk to the bathroom.

"Yeah, sure, but you can't really run away from the fam because your cousin and his friends have practice." I pause to focus on putting on my lipstick. "But we can't hangout after practice."

"Oh, Okay. But why not after?" She looks at me with curious eyes. 

"Job fair at the station, so my dad is picking me up. I mean, we can hangout and you can come with us. Oh! That’s actually a great idea," I say with a wink and nudge her, making her giggle, secretly hoping she would want to and come save me.

"So I'm guessing you haven't talked to the old man about the apprenticeship? Or about RDSF? Or, I don't know, your real dreams?!" Chantel says giving a disappointed look, ignoring my question. But how do you tell your parents that you don't want to be like them and that you don't want to help people the way they do?

"How can I? He was so excited and happy about it, but I'll tell him after, don't worry. Who knows, it might even be fun. I could meet my future husband," I laugh finishing up a light layer of eyeshadow on my face. When I finish, I top it off with a wing liner and then some chapstick. Chantel and I head out to go to our classes which sadly, we do not share together. But I do share it with Chris and my other friend Kinsley.

"Well at least you have classes and practice so you don't have to think about it for a while." As we make our way down the hallway passing by some students, most waving at Chantel. Now, I'm not popular, but I do a lot of clubs and interview a lot of students because I’m in the yearbook. So I know everyone, I’m just not close with them, only Chantel and Kinsley. Chantel, though, is friends with everyone. We've been best friends since elementary. It's crazy to think that if we didn't meet then we probably wouldn't be friends now.

"I guess you're right," I nod in agreement. But then I started to worry about the job fair. 

"Always remember that." Both of us giggle and are about to part ways to our first period. We see Chris make his way over alone for once, he's usually with his crew of hockey boys or some girl.

"Hey cuz, Alex," he smiles and nods at me with that beautiful smile as he walks into the classroom.

"Enjoy class with my annoying cousin. See you at lunch unless you have it with Kinsley today." Waving goodbye, I walk into class and take my seat. I love science and it’s my best subject so having it in the morning is pretty nice and makes getting up easier sometimes. 

"Hello class, we will be discussing an upcoming group project. Before you get all excited, I have already chosen the pairs." Great, I never get someone I know or would like to work with. After Mrs. Ferguson named some students, I then heard my name. I look up waiting to see who I will be paired up with. To my surprise, I hear Chris's name right after mine being called. I look over to him already staring at me giving me a smile and an eyebrow raise. I just shake my head waiting for more instructions from the teacher.

“Okay, there are all your groups. Now, onto the whole project. You and your partner will find and collect 50 flowers each. I want you to write every detail about the flower, the animals around, and how fast it grows. Then you guys will have to present it to me and I’ll press them and put them in a journal.” Mrs Furgeson finishes off the last instructions to the assignment.  As I write down the notes for the assignment, I hear a hiss and turn around to see Chris. 

“So I guess we got to do this together. Can’t wait. I’ll get your information at the rink tonight.” I just nod my head and go back to writing my notes. But I hear a scoff coming from Tina next to me in front of Chris. I just wink at her and go back to my notes. The project seems to be easy, which is nice.

When the bell rings, I grab my bag and make my way to the door being the first one out. I didn't want to deal with Tina and her jealousy. I then head to my second period class. Before I make my way to Kinsley at our normal meeting spot, I feel a sharp pointed tap on my shoulder. I turn around to be greeted by the fakest smile.

 "Alexa, I love your shirt today. It's so cute. Did you do something with your hair?” I hold in a laugh as I can see in Tina’s eyes that she is in pain talking to me right now. I roll my eyes, turning back around knowing that she'd throw a fit that I wasn't bothering to give her any more time out of my day… which I was correct, she did get upset. I felt her pull me back and sadly was facing her again. “Don't turn your back on me when I asked you a question, that's rude.”

I faked a smile, shrugging my shoulders as I looked her dead in the eyes. “And touching me without permission isn't? If I wanted to speak to you more, then I would. Though I don't want to. Why would I waste my time when I have class to get to?” The look on her face told me everything. Tina was pissed that I spoke back, that I wasn't giving in to her fakeness.

Watching Tina turn away and storm off made me snicker as I turned to go meet Kinsley at our spot before class, but now we wouldn't have much time left since the wicked witch of the west wanted to try and be nice and waste the time I did have. All because she was jealous of me, I'm sure.

Series Masterlist

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[sillyfairygarden]

fairy once more 🌹 my c!hannah design is complete, full design process is under the cut :)

wrow it has been like 1.5 yr since my first c!hannie drawing 😭 ourgh i love her sosososo much. i really went back n forth on whether or not to actually complete this design, due to my... complicated and strenuous relationship with the dsmp... but after talking it out and going through these pieces i wanted to do it justice one last time :)

without further ado here is a (near-complete) history of my c!hannahxxrose design. i have included text descriptions since my handwriting is notoriously doctoral (bad):

DESIGN EVOLUTION:

In the beginning the design was very simple, and leaned heavily into the popular fanon. [pointing at image of c!hannah with leafy, thick foliage leaves from fall 2021: this was drawn before the event where c!hannah got her wings, aka i'm psychic teehee]

(i didn't really know much about her character, so these aren't tied to the canon and got scrapped!)

[pointing to a design of c!hannah with fairy wings from early 2022: this simple dress was a staple in my early design...]

Post-Elytramaggedeon:

her wings! i think when she lost them, it really drew me into pinning down a design for her. i toyed with the imagery of torn, tattered wings, but then turned to a more melted look. i love the multicolour spread of her wings, through over time her wing shape changes from a butterfly wing to a more dragonfly/fairy-style.

i toyed with the idea of her wings being torn off completely, but at the end it was more true to the imagery to have these massive, multicoloured wings, useless and tattered.

[text beneath a c!tinarose piece from march 2022: first time drawing c!tinarose B) very uninspired outfits. also, why does c!tina have little wings??? The line "he ripped your rings, my little fairy :(" lives in my head rent-free. I wasn't happy with how this came out.]

[text beneath a c!tinarose piece from july 2022: genuinely one of the best pieces i've ever done. c!tinarose nation 4 lyfe ✌️ Really nailed the melty, shredded wing design here!

Design Exploration:

While working on those [above] pieces in 2022, i started exploring different ideas for my c!hannah design.

[text pointing to a sketch from september 2022, where c!hannah has a large, tree-like arm: in this, c!hannah is a flower nymph whose body is apart of nature--the tree arm is borne! i LOVE asymmetrical designs. In my notes, i wrote: 'she draws her energy from nature to heal after losing her wings- in return, nature returns to claim her body... as time goes on, the bark grows.]

Concept: pre-DSMP design:

[text pointing to a sketch of c!hannah kneeling, hair wild with flowers and covered in climbing vines: a rosebush who becomes a girl-in her early days, she is more plant-like than human girl! i loved this hair. so fun.]

Introduction of Armour:

[text beneath multiple drawings of c!hannah from summer 2022, where she is wearing armour: in these sketches, i was feeling the urge to draw some armoured ladies-and so c!hannah became my victim!

i'm always craving sleek, feminine silhouettes in my armoured designs, without turning into battle corsets and bikinis.

at the same time as this, i was in the brainstorming/conceptual stages for other dsmp characters, and i wanted c!hannah to be unique from the generic, full-netherite design.]

Final Design:

A year and a half after my first art of her, and i collected the varying design elements from past pieces into one final concept!

Knightly yet feminine, strong but still wearing (literally) the scars of pain. I wasn't confident in ever finishing this, but then i heard that she gets her wings back after the 2023 """finale""" of the smp... it was time to bring closure to this character design that i have poured a whole part of myself into. This was the final sketch.

[text near a sketch of c!hannah's final design: flower spirit, mix armoured with flowers (utena core).]

for the final piece itself, i wanted to reference the colours of hannah's minecraft skin, while still adding that fantasy-knight element. the wings are trimmed, but still retained that beautiful, multicolour melty look. her tree arm is finally blossoming and blooming with pops of colour, to signify regrowth after the trauma of losing a piece of herself. her insignia is not for any nation, but for herself.

References:

The works of these illustrators greatly guided this design. Additionally, my peers and other artists who have drawn/interpreted c!hannah before <3 feminine, strong designs are so beautiful!

[not pictured are the works of JC Leyendecker, Jasmin Darnell, CLAMP, Thores Shibamoto, and my dear friend zma. their works orbit my head like a ceiling fan whenever i put the pen to paper <3)

a few things didn't end up making the cut (the cape from the final sketch, her other forms and ideas for pre-SMP, etc) but at this point, i am really excited to just stop looking at this piece LOL. it has been staring at me for forever. im very pleased with it and touched something special at seeing my own abilities, ambition, and concept designs grow within my own work. even if no one reads all 213445345 words of this, it's a wonderful capsule of the work i put into this design and im quite pleased.

aneeeways if any1 read this far i hope u like it 🙇 ok im going eepy now gnight ^^

[bettysupremacy]

The Cheerleader Curse pt. 2

summary When the party gets too much, somehow you end up face to face with a familiar metal head

w/c 1.2k

a/n I only tagged people who specifically asked for pt 2 <3 could be read as a stand-alone! also idk how I feel about this writing of mine

In the end, you had gone to Tina’s party.

The kids plans tangled, they messily read We want Steve to take us.

So currently, sitting firmly on the cold marble island, you watch Carol pour you punch. Warm and stingy, it splashes over the sides messily, drawing a trail of liquid down the cup, onto the counter, where it puddles into a stain.

“You’re making a mess.” You nudge Carol with your foot. She turns, hair wild, cheeks tinged pink.

“It’s a party!” She grins, sloshing the drink towards you. “They’ll have more to clean than some punch.”

Your nose scrunches defiantly at the pungent smell wafting from the red cup. “This is rancid.”

“It’s good!” She coaxes. “Y’just gotta get used to it!”

“Used to what?” Tina pops into the kitchen, wearily frowning at the messy countertops.

“The punch.”

“Oh,” Her eyes roam away from the mess, and back to yours. Giggles start to peel at the sight of your face. “You’ll never get used to that.”

“Thanks,” You frown. “But no thanks.” Your fingers gently slide the full cup away from you.

Carol glares, shiftng Tina into something of a reprimanded little sister. What? She mouths, shrugging and looking away.

Regretfully, she slinks out of the kitchen.

Carols eyes make their way back to you, laughing softly when you push her face away, palm smooshing into the fat of her cheek. “What’s up?”

“Huh?”

“What’s up?” Carol repeats, teasing smile playing. Her eyes scrunch. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

You cringe at her bluntness. “I’m having fun!”

A shriek of a laugh slips from her lips. “You lying bitch!”

“Am not!”

“You’re totally miserable!”

You laugh at her exaggeration. “I’m totally fine!”

She shrugs seemingly fine with your fraudulent answer. Dropping the interrogation, she picks at your jeans in the contentedness of the silence.

“Y/N?” Carol gently frowns, fingers kneading into your knees.

“What?” You look up at her attention.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” You repeat, startled at the bluntness that edges her voice.

“Are you waiting for someone?” She pushes, “You’re shifty.”

“Shifty?”

“You keep looking over there.” She shakes her head in the direction of the front door. “You can’t already be plotting your escape.” She lightens with an easy smile.

You stop, guilty and caught. “I’m just tired.” You heave a sigh, warm minty air hitting Carol. “Can I get some air? Outside? I’ll come back in. Play beer pong with you.”

She smiles, satisfied with your honesty, concerned with the look in your eye. “Yeah, babe,” She breathes. “Don’t go far.”

You nod, smiling at the way she pats your knee before you drop off the counter.

Tommy strides to Carol, arm dropping over her shoulders heavily. The couple watches you head out. “What was that about?”

Carol sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, and shaking her head.

Outside is cool, but humid. The chill seeps into your skin, then warms it with the warm air seeping through the open windows of the house.

You walk further, further than you know Carol would like you going, but not far enough to leave the yard. It’s as quiet as it can be with a party alive 30 feet away. The bass still tingles your toes out here.

You walk to the side of the house, desperate for more of the chill that slowly works into your fingers, but you’re not alone. You back up, conscious of Carols warning, scared of the figure in front of you. Tall and long limbed, it doesn’t face you as you slowly back away, scared to grab its focus.

But you’re foot catches in the tiny rocks, and a rough inhale catches his attention. Ragged and sharp, it startles him over the thrum of music.

The boy flicks ash away from you, then, ultimately drops the cig to the ground, smashing it meanly with his boot.

“You okay?” He can’t decide wether to help or not. You hadn’t much liked him the last time you’d met.

“Yeah,” You choke back, the gravel sticks into your palms that crush down. “M’great.”

He drops down to his knees decidedly, helping you ease the weight of your hands off the pavement. With great heaviness, he takes your hands into his own to inspect. Gravel sticks where blood licks your skin. He hisses through his teeth.

The first good look at his face shows the worst. It’s Eddie.

“That hurts.”

“Yeah,” You frown.

“Should we go in?” He murmurs, thumbing at it curiously. “Find a first aid?”

You look up at him, lips parting softly as you take him in. He’s much more pretty in this lighting. Pretty features softened by the haze of party lights shining in from a window.

His thumb snags as he brushes rubble from your palms, snagging again when you pull back in shock. Sucking through your teeth, the haze of his pretty lips breaks, and the expression on your face reels him back.

“I can clean my own hands and drive my own kids around, you know.”

Vaguely, he registers he’s embarrassed you. “I know.”

“So I don’t need you to be doing that for me.”

His mouth opens to answer, but you don’t let him.

“So next time Dustin needs a ride I’m fully capable of doing it myself.”

Wait.

“Wasn’t that tonight?”

You pause, stumped by his memory. Selective, you think. “Yes,” You allow. “It was, but-“

“So what are you doing here?”

You huff at his interruption. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Sure you do.” He scoffs, standing. His knees ache fully from the crouch.

You scoff back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He starts, brushing his hands against his rough jeans. “I gotta go pick them up since you’re occupied.”

“I said I had it covered.”

“Who’s covering it for you?” His sarcastic tone irks you. “The cab driver? You drop them off with a $20?”

Wow, you think, he’s a dick.

“Steve has it handled, thanks.” You stand, dully aware of the throb in your hands.

“Harrington?” He laughs meanly. It cracks at you. “Oh, yeah, they’re in safe hands.”

Your arms cross coldly. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Whatever,” He snarks, turning towards the backyard. “I have shit to be selling.”

“Whatever,” You snark back. “It’s not like I wanted your help anyways.”

You turn on your heel, straight to the front door. The closer you get, the closer you feel the bass thrumming in your skin.

“Fine!” You hear him yell, it’s lost and muddled from the loudness of the party.

“Fine!” You shout back, hoping he heard it over the ruckus that’s sure to file a noise complaint.

Dully, you feel tears bubble up, angry and embarrassed. Maybe you wanted his help. You swipe at your dry cheeks roughly with your knuckles, pushing into the party. It’s amazing you hold it together so long, though by the time you reach the downstairs bathroom, Carol is standing there waiting. Word travels fast and crying girl towards bathroom spreads quicker.

She doesn’t have to ask, pulling you in tightly.

“Stupid boys,” She murmurs, hand in your hair. “Stupid, stupid, boys. Don’t let them get you you.”

You think, startled at her knowing-

“What happened to your hands?”

@astermath @armydrcamers @eggo-segual @strangerstilinski @avitute @munson-enthusiast @agirlsguidetolove