#we have every type of ball in existence

[femenaces]

In need of recommendations for unusual or creative cat toys. My cats are spoiled and have grown bored by the ones they have

[zzencat]

Your Future Spouse As A Mythical Creature + Qualities - ⏳

Welcome to the spooky season folks!! Thought this would be a pretty lightweight and goofy type of reading as we settle in. What are your FS’s qualities? Toxic habits?

Choose wisely. Applicable to future lover or spouse.

Warnings: super long read, suggestive comments (bordering NSFW), some exaggerated details for the fun of it (but the theme and characteristics are still consistent otherwise), toxic tendencies

🥀 THE RITUAL: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

———————————————————————

Pile 1 | The Werewolf

Perfectionistic as hell, likely a planner

The horniness comes and stays fellas…

Extremely careful before decision making, yet impatient (more mentally)

Hides what they really feel. Has a hard time expressing their emotions through words, so your person (well, half-person) shows you instead

Might be wealthy or does very well w/ business or business partners

ALWAYS thinks before they act

very PRIMAL tendencies; will bust major nuts when persuading you to be bred…literally. the need to breed you can become suffocating as it seeps into small actions of daily life. will never stop bugging you about it. eventually, these efforts will increase and become more desperate (but hey, if you like that, go for it 😳)

^^the thought of having a family with you gets them down real bad

EXTREMELY overprotective and possessive over how revealing your clothes might be. don’t be surprised if they finally let you out of the house after you choose to wear a hazmat suit

• will do anything for you!!!! provide food, shelter, money… as long as you depend on them, they feel at their highest.

•^^ this can also indicate an incessant need for control and control over you as well

• typically chooses the safe route; sticks to routes they’re already familiar with and practicality

•^^polite with people or at least acts like a civil person, but is easily misjudged regardless

• kind of old school and can be boring; follows reserved traditions very well

• actually is a beast in the sheets, but prob only does vanilla positions

• is very, very hesitant about letting you go out at night and will bust balls to get you to stay inside

• can get overly paranoid over small things that can potentially harm you

slow, sensual, deep lovemaking sometimes—rough and wild, sloppy and fast at others—just totally unable to control themselves. this is bc they exercise so much control during the day that nights leading up to the full moon, or on the night of, are relentless. Also likes doin’ the dirty in the kitchen (i also see boiling soup and an apron if those have any significance)

grumpy in the morning hahaha. grumpy when you order them to do anything for you, but they’ll do it anyway

When they love, they LOVE. Extremely big hearts and easily empathetic, but never/rarely shows it

for some reason, your fs has a solution or piece of advice for every problem in existence

strong or bold looking, big and broad, intimidating, or a very tall person. might have a resting bitch face

a very good listener

• full moons are equivalent to menstrual cycles where their senses are heightened by tenfold, sensitive to everything in their surroundings (ex: ears perk up to sounds as unnoticeable as leaves rustling…), more emotionally reactive, a ceaseless desire for sex everyday—which gets worse as the full moon approaches 🙈—hastier movements, increased moodiness and appetite, goes out hunting more often. 50/50 have a messier diet or a more strict one

• structured or routined day to day

• has probably talked/will probably talk about raising a family with you at least once, becoming more adamant about it over time

• can seem very insensitive or come off as an asshole at times

• EXTREMELY observant; almost nothing gets past their eyes. It’s almost like an intense OCD thing. Pretty sure a lot of FS in this pile are control freaks or have very specific triggers

• can smell when you’re aroused. if you deal with periods, they know exactly what phase you’re in and keep track of monthly cycles. this is also how they can keep an eye on your fertility and “breedability” levels. likely to show clinginess during these times and try to make moves on you. (it’s a manipulation tactic, don’t fall for it!! 😳)

•^^when you get aroused, they get aroused. they’ll decide to make a move depending on the circumstances

• they have good control and discipline over themselves in general. But they’re still prone to control issues, esp over other people, or obsessiveness

Definitely an overthinker. They don’t like to be vulnerable emotionally. It’s very hard to get close to this person, and even harder to open up

doesn’t care about your “flaws” and doesn’t notice until you point them out; will be genuinely surprised to hear you have insecurities, bc to your fs, there’s no such thing. they don’t understand how you could feel that way about yourself or certain things about yourself

In some kind of leadership role (in work, relationship, or the home) or in a high enough position to give and support. Dominant in the sheets—stubbornly prefers to be

Loves to travel or would travel more if they could

Extremely adaptable and an all rounder; does well under pressure and in uncomfortable situations/environments

Likes bantering and stirring things up on purpose sometimes. Sometimes they’re feelin kinda bratty and will instigate. They fight just to fight. They’re usually quiet, reserved, or introverted

• deep down they know this and they’d even admit it to you if you asked, but they’d be totally onboard with you never going outside again and just staying in the house (it’s a possessive wolf thing maybe)

• you might not know at first, and they might not show it evidently, but they love sad karaoke songs or sad songs overall

Primary love language: Acts of service, physical touch, quality time, and gift giving

• *sniffs you with suspicion* “…that’s not my scent…”

• standing watch over you when you use a knife to cut vegetables — says, “are you sure you don’t need my help?” at least 5x in 2 mins, and still doesn’t leave after that

• stare wars with birds on a pole bc they felt offended by the birds staring first

• randomly, abrupt howling on some nights

“You take what I give you”

Acts as your personal bodyguard- will actually fight anyone for you

• loves to smell around your neck area- that shit kinda tickles tho

• (if your werewolf is male): “change out. that’s too revealing. you know men are dogs.” (lmfaooo? says who, the werewolf??)

• scolds you like a damn parent because you went outside at night for a few minutes to get some fresh air

• massages your thighs and feet

• physical contact is a must for them when watching movies with you

—————————————

Pile 2 | The Vampire

• “I ‘vant tu zuck yur blud.”

• a bit of a vanity monster (as most vampires are.) they like the way they look, and also care about how they present themselves to other people and most importantly, looking hot as hell in front of you, maybe too much at times. but from your pov, they really don’t have to try. they’re just naturally…wow. Breathtaking. HOWEVER!!! They use it to their advantage.

• Actual sass-squashes. They’re sassy and for no reason, but you can’t take them seriously when they are 😂😂

• intentionally AND unintentionally funny. like those characters on Disney channel shows that are like “oh yeah? try me” and then some bigger, buffer person comes in and they flinch a little. if you squint, you’ll catch a gulp in there too. it’s funny. endearing even. but they gotta own up to their mistakes and tone down on overcompensating. If there’s one thing they do, it’s to make up for what they don’t have.

• L-O-Y-A-L….by the time they get with you, at least. they might’ve had an…interesting reputation in the past. they might seem selfish bc of it—which is partially true. they can charm people to get what they want. They might/might have had a history of partying, hella socializing, hanging out w/ friends whenever they could (haha get it? hanging out? yk…vampire stuff…)

A total charmer and a flirt. They like to bicker and tease you; playful,, sometimes it’s cute…others, kinda annoying

• if you talk to this person seriously and in a calm and diplomatic manner, they’ll get a little defensive, yes, but A LOT less so than if you were yelling and screaming at them outright. if you both just sit down on the edge of the bed, tilt your head to a 45 degree angle and show your concerns, they’ll reflect and maybe deflect here and there, but they’ll think about it throughout the day.

• I think this person goes through varying phases of heat. (Prob not even the right word here but-) By that I mean, sometimes they wanna get down and dirty for 30 hours straight or just session after session after session nonstop—OR they take what they need and leave for a couple hours, come back again, take, and leave. This is odd at first, but it just comes with the moodiness they inherently have, possibly sticking to them from the past life. They might have suffered with commitment issues, and I don’t mean them per se, but the people around them that didn’t know how to love: family, friends, anyone that was close and left abruptly or never showed love. (Made me a lil sad there...)

• Love is complicated. They didn’t believe in it before and was confident they wouldn’t ever. But when you ask them “What do vampires think about love? Are you allowed to love?”, they turn their heads, take a moment to skim over your face in silence. Love…is what I’m feeling with you. They want to admit this, but vampires can’t feel. Would you even believe them? They don’t even know what love is. They don’t even feel heartbeats anymore, but for some reason, when you look into their eyes like that, there’s a different kind of pulsing. A surge of desire that courses through them, screaming at them to keep you forever. They can’t ever let you go now.

•^ This leads us to possessiveness. They are…*phew* VERY possessive and very dramatic/petty/easily sulky about it. You’ll lose your mind over it. If you do something as simple as shopping, they will follow. Too insistent and stubborn not to. What if you encounter another vampire living among the humans during the day, and suddenly, said vampire wants you too? Sure, they get burnt with a bit of sun, so what? They’d evolved enough to wear a million layers of sunscreen and a million layers of clothing over that, all dressed up like a moving heap of clothes. They care about how others might see them like this, of course, but in moments like these, they don’t care when you’re on the line.

• they’ve never really had their emotions looked at carefully or taken care of. It’s always just been brushed off, not only by themselves but by others as well. I personally wouldn’t doubt if they claimed to never have had real friends or friends that cared about the inside substance rather than the outer. Your fs just seems like they’re trying to fit in, be accepted and validated. You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance, but as you gradually get to know them, you’ll find that their heart is barely being held together by makeshift glue.

Very in tune with their inner divine feminine energy,, not afraid to tap into it and explore that side more

Not that emotionally developed but has major potential to with the right teacher

Nurturing and caring, but might be materialistic or putting too much importance on the material/physical pleasures. Truly lives for the fun of it

Works hard, plays hard—and will shamelessly chase you

Knows exactly what to say and do that will rile you up. Knows all of your weak spots physically

Down to try anything and everything with you, no complaints

Sensual and passionate personality and in the sheets

Super open minded and curious, easygoing and has no expectations. Makes a lot of jokes too.

Daring, optimistic, brave and believes in no limits (but bc of this, they can be seen as naive or have an innocent nature inside.) Gets in half-fights/arguments w/ people for fun

A total switch in bed; can and literally will do/try anything

Now, dare I say…the FS for this pile have the best rizz and sex game

Some fs in here can get too naggy

They have a great fashion sense or an overwhelming appreciation for fashion, beauty, or aesthetics, and is more than willing to be involved in your fashion styles

Red flag moment: solves problems in your relationship w/ sex so that yall will just forget it and move on

In hindsight, this FS is so flamboyant or charming that you could get lost in what they’re trying to express. They’ve got very fiery energy (betting rn that they have extremely prominent fire sign placements).

P.S. yeah after writing this out and reviewing the format, seeing all the back and forth…pile 2 FS def has a perfection mask thing going on. They wanna make themselves appealing in one way or another, or the consequences will just break them into pieces. The last thing that they want is to be alone.

————————-

Pile 3 | The Fairy

Alas, we’ve gotten to arguably the most healthy future spouse here out of the 3 😅 (and the most intuitive)

Introspective as hell and wise. Helps you with really anything

They’re ok w/ being alone; most introverted of the piles

Positive, hopeful, and optimistic when it comes to others. More pessimistic when it comes to themselves.

Balanced and a good mentor; suuuper patient (a lot of times to a fault)

Learns from their losses and mistakes and becomes a better person, improving almost immediately

Mediator type of person, but will defend you against others in argument—which they’ll win btw

They don’t like seeking help from others—if anything, your FS is usually the helper—even when they can ask for help right in front of them- even if it’s recommended to get help, they still won’t do it

Hella infj vibes tho (if you’re into mbti)

Every show of love is their love language. Bonus points if they wear matching clothes or secretly write poems to you that they’ll never tell you about

This future spouse group has the cheesiest and the sweetest person

Your person can lead a life more flexible financially than the other 2 piles

Also an all rounder! But thinks that they aren’t perfect when they literally are; struggles with their own low self-esteem so they try to build other people up

Putting others before themselves is second nature- they ALWAYS prioritize you or others; extremely selfless

^^Now, each fairy got a different role and purpose. The reasoning for your fs being overly selfless and self-sacrificial varies. The easy answer? Insecurity. Second? Obligation or a sense of duty. The list goes on…

They’ve got that Triple A Threat: Amazing Ass Adaptability. Your person has been thru quite a bit, hell and back. Sometimes, life just likes to mess with them for no apparent reason 🤷🏻‍♀️)

They’re always ready to face challenges; Incredibly strong person. They’ll be with you thru thick and thin!!

Strong sense of justice and equality. OH- and also they like traveling or would like to travel more!

A literal inspiration and hope (yes, with sparkles on top.) Not only do they inspire others, but your person—no matter how rock bottom you get—will never leave you.

gets jealous and easily possessive but doesn't wanna show it (shit's still pretty obvious tho)

The type that babbles their heart out when they get comfy with you. They don’t get like this with just anyone

Likely likes museums and art. Things that the media typically deems boring, weird, or unconventional your FS will prob find interesting. They like to look into deeper meanings and interpretations.

In bed, they’re pretty vanilla and soft. But are open to exploring things that aren’t too wild (like our vampire up above)

(Take this bit very lightly: I see that this person has grown up or has been around “broken” people their entire life, so they feel they need to take responsibility on behalf of those people. They might be some kind of counselor, mentor, or therapist. They’re prone to blaming themselves if situations take a bad turn or go unplanned. I’m also hinting here that some of your FS might have a savior complex, and not on purpose. They might always take some kind of leadership role or something directly beneficial to people- nurses, camp leaders, etc…)

They will take all of the burden so that you don’t have to

If your FS had any weirdo or pervy habits, it’d probably be compulsively stealing your panties or building a shrine with locks of your hair on it 😵‍💫 (which hopefully I hope doesn’t happen. I heard in some fairy folklore, they steal babies, like flying away with the newborn-in-a-basket typa thing- and for no reason too! Don’t let them steal yo babies now!!)

———————-

**Ending Teddy note:

As always, thank you so very much for tuning in with us! I hope you have a spooktacular Scorpio season as we are soon heading into it (depending on when you’re reading this), but really you can read this at any time. Rmr to take everything with a grain of salt! Take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. Stay safe out there and rock on people 🤩🤩 Feedback is very much appreciated in any form as it’d help me grow as a reader :)

*This is for entertainment purposes*

[cavegirlpoems]

So many TTRPG people, like yourself, seem to exist in a world where players don't actually enjoy the campaigns they're in, and don't actually like playing with the people they play with, and your whole approach to game mechanics seems like it's about trying to bribe these people to continue playing at a given table.

i have no idea where you get this idea from, I play a bunch of different games - including freeform text rp, fest larps, parlour larps, regular tabletop campaigns, longform play-by-post games and narrative wargames - and I have a lot of fun doing it. I wouldn't be a game designer if I didn't actually enjoy games. The thing is, if you study game design and ttrpg theory seriously, you think about the intent behind design decisions. Game design doesn't just happen by accident, the designer put a given rule in for a reason. So, you ask yourself why the designer made the game the way it did, and what they were trying to achieve.

A significant tool for game design is considering the feedback the game provides; what behaviours that ruleset rewards and what it discourages. (You can apply this analysis to other games, too, like video games). When I'm talking about a bribe, it's in that context; how does the game reward you for doing things, and what things does it reward. (For example, 'scrabble' rewards you for playing words with weird letters in them by making those letters worth more points.)

The thing is, ultimately, every game relies on a simple proposition; that if you volunterily use its rules, you will have fun. You don't need to follow the rules, and you can have fun without them, but the idea is that using the rules will let you have more fun, or a different type of fun, than if you didn't. (For example, throwing a ball around is a bit fun, but if everybody agrees to follow the rules of basketball, you get a different experience that a lot of people prefer). So, the only bribe you're making on the interpersonal, out-out-of-game level (unless something weird is going on) is "if we play this game it will be fun". When I talk about bribes and incentives, it's *inside* the game, after we've all agreed to the game's proposition of "if you use the rules, you will have fun".

Now, what counts as an incentive varies by game. Some, like Warhammer 40k, are challenge-based, and have ways to keep score of success and victory; here, things that signify overcoming the challenge are your incentives; how you get a high score, how you win, etc. Others, like most ttrpgs, are creative-based. What constitutes an incentive within the game's structure is less precisely defined. By and large, though, these incentives tend to be things like increased agency within the game fiction, space for creative expression, and experiencing and learning about more of the game fiction. (In this structure, 'being more mechanically powerful' can be thought of as a way of granting a player more agency, because their actions are more likely to succeed and result in the outcomes that they want. If the mechanical growth is lateral as well as vertical, then how to get more powerful is - itself - a venue for creative expression in what to prioritise, which is also a reward).

In the same way that you have the adage that 'restrictions breed creativity', the same goes for Fun. Limiting your scope from anything-goes freeform by voluntarily agreeing to use a set of game rules can produce similar results. Voluntarily limiting your agency in the fiction according to a set of game rules produces a friction that players of roleplaying games find enjoyable to push against. In this context, a reward structure within a game serves the useful purpose of signposting which direction you should push to get the fun kind of friction. A game which limits your options, and then gives you more options when you engage with certain behaviours, is telling you that those are the intended behaviours. Likewise, a game that limits your options even further when you do something is encouraging you not to do that. This is because game designs are not neutral and universal, they exist to create specific experiences. A game that rewards you by giving you more space for creative expression when you get in a fight - and gives you less space for creative expression when you avoid violence - is one that wants you to engage in violence, because it's designed to be a game where you have fun by fighting. This isn't bribing the players to sit down at the table and play the game; that has already happened outside the context of the game. They have already agreed to the game's offer of 'if you use these rules, you will have fun'. Rather, this bribing is within the game-space, the games mechanics encouraging the players to engage with it as intended, in the way that will be most fun. IE: these incentive structures are a tool the game uses to achieve the promise it makes; they guide the players towards the fun that they volunteered to have. Hope that makes sense. * * * Now, your initial ask is a weird take that's entirely unrelated to anything I've posted, and - particularly from an anon account- oddly antagonistic. I don't know if you're genuinely confused about game design, or arguing in bad faith. Either way, this probably doesn't merit the small essay I've produced, but have one anyway, it's always fun to clarify my ideas in written form.

[ghost-proofbaby]

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

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully. 

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly. 

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones. 

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning. 

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances. 

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.” 

“What if it freaks him out?” 

“It’ll be fine.” 

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?” 

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum. 

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing. 

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.” 

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute. 

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.” 

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct. 

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes. 

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more. 

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song. 

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.” 

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago. 

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie. 

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room. 

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child. 

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room. 

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment. 

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days. 

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has. 

“No fucking way!” 

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it. 

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony. 

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat. 

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck. 

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.” 

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.” 

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?” 

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.” 

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.” 

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads. 

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won. 

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?” 

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun. 

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them. 

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious. 

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin. 

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake. 

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body. 

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man. 

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught. 

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?. 

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-( 

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots. 

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Unimportant. 

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND:  Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice? 

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons. 

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at. 

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone? 

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying. 

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face. 

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?” 

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.” 

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine. 

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.” 

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin. 

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?” 

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.” 

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care. 

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his- 

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk. 

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment. 

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite. 

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg. 

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight. 

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been. 

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.” 

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone. 

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you. 

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.” 

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon. 

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python. 

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.” 

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder. 

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time. 

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.” 

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is. 

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth. 

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk. 

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now. 

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first. 

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly. 

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.” 

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left. 

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice. 

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight. 

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder. 

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume. 

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this. 

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with. 

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend. 

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.” 

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways. 

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent. 

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.” 

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.” 

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy. 

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it. 

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-” 

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up. 

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy. 

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.” 

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering. 

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise. 

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built. 

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?” 

“No.” 

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.” 

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.” 

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly. 

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly. 

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you. 

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this? 

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off. 

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?” 

And for a second, you almost do. 

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.” 

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why. 

You’d started this without even considering the consequences. 

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?” 

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this. 

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down. 

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!” 

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars. 

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it. 

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest. 

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin. 

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt. 

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?” 

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens. 

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple. 

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples? 

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.” 

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?” 

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin. 

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend. 

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity. 

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree. 

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well. 

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind. 

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-” 

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?” 

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and- 

Wait. 

Eddie was smiling. 

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together. 

He’s just smiling. 

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression. 

“Yeah.” 

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe not. 

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.” 

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?” 

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.” 

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles. 

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious. 

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.” 

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.” 

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.” 

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism. 

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken? 

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief. 

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from? 

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple. 

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.” 

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.” 

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.” 

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you. 

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing. 

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him. 

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front. 

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.” 

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?” 

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on. 

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.” 

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.” 

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely. 

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.” 

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him. 

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it. 

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to. 

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already. 

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat. 

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it. 

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is. 

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that. 

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster. 

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment. 

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation. 

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics. 

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.” 

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.” 

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine. 

“Eddie.” 

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret. 

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him. 

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile. 

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone. 

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible. 

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely. 

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at. 

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?” 

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.” 

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?” 

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.” 

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.” 

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?” 

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains. 

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.” 

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage. 

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT? 

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?” 

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.” 

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur. 

“What do you mean not yet?” 

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck. 

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake. 

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?” 

“Oh, fuck me.” 

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings. 

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat. 

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish. 

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S? 

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother. 

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?” 

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-” 

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession. 

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus. 

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it. 

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles. 

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones. 

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind. 

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap. 

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut. 

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed. 

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.” 

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him. 

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?” 

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back. 

“Almond croissants.”

[ultravioletrayz]

KINKTOBER

╰┈➤ DAY FIVE: PUBLIC SEX + EXHIBITIONISM w/ HOMELANDER

Being with Homelander, you've quickly become America's doll. Little girls admire you, men ogle you, women envy you. You embody perfection— a sweet and pretty adornment for Homelander that Vought eagerly showcases to reinforce his heroic persona, while quelling concerns over his volatile nature by presenting you as his anchor to humanity's virtues.

Meanwhile, Homelander finds himself enamoured with your sweetness, a stark contrast to his usual entourage of adoring yet superficial admirers who fall into his orbit like moths to a flame. Though, he doesn't let you know of his smitten thoughts. He's concerned that if you actually knew the power you had over him, over everyone, you would lose yourself to the fame like so many of his other conquests tend to do. And he can't have that. You're just too precious.

Instead, he treats you more like a plaything, a placeholder for the kindness he's supposed to be conveying as a hero. That's why he drags you along to every interview, photoshoot, advert, convention, filming... he needs to flaunt you. He needs to show the world that he's the type of man that can score such an innocent girl, and subsequently portray a sort of gentlemanly image.

That gentlemanly image is non-existent now.

"If you keep fucking squirming, I'll call up some of these pigs to have a turn, huh? Just take it." Homelander grits out against your ear, strong hands keeping your cute dress bundled up as he thrusts into you from behind, the image blown up in size on the big screens around the convention hall. One innocent question is all it took for Homelander's resolve to snap. A mere "why are you so shy?" from a fan directed at you, to which your sweet boyfriend insisted on proving everyone wrong by showing off how much of a cock whore you are.

The audience are all cheering Homelander on with vigour, reeling at the raw display of masculine power. It's degrading, watching hundreds of people through teary lashes looking back at you as your tits bounce and your thighs quiver, your own slick running down your skin for all to see. But some sick part of you like it. Likes being seen as Homelander's toy. It's fucking exhausting pretending to be so cutsie every day, when all you want is to get your cunt stuffed with some thick, supe dick.

"How about I knock you up?" Homelander groans, hips rutting up into you with even more ferocity at the thought of getting you pregnant, of the changes your body would endure as his potent cum takes over you, makes you his alone.

"Clap if you think I should give America's sweetheart a baby!" Homelander calls out, balls grinding against your sopping pussy as he gets off on the applause of his adoring fans, almost cumming right then as he observes the uproar of encouragement.

"You heard them, honey. Gotta give the people what they want, don't we?"

eughhhh

[tinylilacbun]

Rafe from s2 two, with the sweetest reader, who is completely crazy about the idea of nedding to be in control of *something* in his life, and little reader being his safe place because he gets to take care of her, he is going al psycho and just about to act impulsive again but then he remembers he has her, so everything is going to be fine, he tells himself🤧

Rafe stands on the balcony, pressing the balls of his hands into his eyes to stop himself from crying after just hearing from his dad how 'he fucked up everything'.

"Man up..." He mutters to himself, a choked sob escaping him.

His attention gets drawn to a phone dinging nearby multiple times, glancing to his left he sees Wheezie's phone laying on a table. After checking that no one's there he walks over to grab the phone, looking at all the messages from an unknown number.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who it is, his anger and frustration building up again. Sarah, the golden child. Every time it's about her and it pisses him off. This whole ordeal with his dad a few minutes ago was, again, just because of her.

A moment of hesitation passes as he thinks about confronting Sarah, to make sure she keeps her mouth shut about everything that happened. He's about to message her back over Wheezie's phone but he stops, he isn't in the right mind to act rational and this could all go south quickly knowing that somehow Sarah always manages to rile him up simply for just existing.

"No, no..." He mumbles, erasing what was about to send and delete the messages all together, blocking the number he places the phone back on the table.

Rafe steps back again just in time as Wheezie comes out. "Have you seen my phone?"

"What?" He turns to her.

"Have you seen my phone?" She repeats and Rafe sighs, acting all nonchalant.

"No I haven't seen your damn phone."

She groans and is about to leave, stopping in the doorway. "Oh, and Y/n is here. Said she'll wait in your room."

He visibly relaxes at the mere mention of your name, nodding his head he walks past his sister. "Thanks."

He makes his way to his room, opening the door and quickly locking it behind him his gaze softens the moment his eyes lock with yours, your bright smile and the happiness radiating off you just by seeing him.

"Hey baby." He smiles a little, striding over to you he cups your face in his large hands, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. "What y'doing here, hm?"

You frown at him. "You forget? You said we make disney night today..."

"Nah, 'course I didn't forget. It's- I was just wondering that you're here so early. Even went to get your favorite snacks yesterday." He says, letting go of your face he walks over to the dresser and opens a drawer, pulling out various snacks and throwing them on the bed beside you.

Rafe chuckles at your wide eyes from seeing all the sugar, knowing he'll have one hell of an energetic little on his hands but he couldn't care less right now. Your happiness is all he needs right now.

You're practically his therapy, it's funny how regressing is your type of dealing with all the stuff you go or went through but somehow heal him as well by letting him take care of you and making him feel appreciated for the things he does, unlike his dad.

The only thing he hasn't messed up yet surprisingly is his relationship with you. You're still looking at him like he's the only person on the planet, the only one you can run to when things get rough and Rafe relishes in that fact. It makes him have control of at least something.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when he hears you talk to him, holding up a bag of gummy worms. "Help pwease."

With a smile he walks over to stand in front of you again, taking the bag and ripping it open, dropping a few worms onto your awaiting palm before popping one in his mouth as well.

"So, what should we watch first?" He asks, grabbing the remote from his bedside he lays down beside you with his arm behind his head.

"Mmm...Beauty and the Beast!" You grin.

"A'ight, whatever the princess wants." He searches for the movie, huffing out a breath when you collapse beside him, letting you snuggle into his side with your lamb plushie tucked under your arm.

As the movie starts playing he wraps an arm around you, his cheek pressed against your head. "Y'know I love you, right? More than anything..."

You lift your head to look at him. "I love you too daddy. Mm, more than my lamb."

"Damn, that's...that's gotta mean something."

As long as he has you by his side everything will be alright, in his eyes at least.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity

[midnight-bay-if]

"If silence claims the waters of Midnight Bay, death has come to stay."

"Every day, I miss him, and every day, I’m scared that I’ll miss him less. That one day, I’ll wake up, and I won’t remember how his hair would stick up in odd angles in the morning or how black he liked his coffee. That the bedtime stories he would read me before bed no longer guide my morals nor parse their wisdom in his voice..."

If you ask me why I still seek revenge, this is what I'll say: I will not forget.

Because nothing could be more terrifying than the idea of time passing without my father's death having any justice or resolution, and years down the line, I’ll be sitting in this diner with you, but we won’t be talking about my dad at all anymore."

Come on. Let's kill the killer.

Demo: Out Now (45,000) words.

Simon/Simone [f/m] Task Force Leader. Human Simon/Simone comes from a wealthy family with a long history of government service and civil partnerships. Simon/Simone is somewhat of a black sheep and is estranged from a large portion of their family. After a bout of teenage rebellion, Simon/Simone find themselves enlisted in the military to ‘correct’ their behaviour. However, with a penchant for leadership and a tactician's mind, they are recruited by a strange, secretive organisation with questionable goals.

After two more victims of 'The Bay Slasher' are found discarded on the bay, Simon/Simone drives themselves and their team into town, on orders from their mysterious higher-ups, ready to put away this killer for good. But cases such as these are never simple, and even more so with a far too clever and far too perceptive P.I. hot on their heels.

Rain [non-binary] The Mediator. Supernatural type; Pixie Rain grew up in a very wet biome of the world associated with fairies, pixies and elementals. After a great conflict, Rain was practically herded into the arms of a greater power, who guided them into the arms of Simon/Simone, who became their new leader.

When Simon/Simone tells them that one day, they will be going to the practically derelict town of Albach Bay to catch a dangerous killer, they shrug, smile, and pack their bags without a second thought. It doesn't take long for them to realise this isn't a typical case, even by their standards.

Taj [f/m] The Infiltrator. Supernatural type: Qita Taj is part of an ever-shrinking community hidden well in the Egyptian underbellies. Qita are a humanoid cat race native to Egypt and were once revered by humans at the dawn of their civilisation. However, that reverence began to fizzle out when a greater power, deciding their people had become too powerful,

After a great conflict, Taj is captured and 'recruited' to join a mysterious organisation dedicating themselves to maintaining balance. Taj is ultimately led to Simon/Simone and becomes the final member of their specialised team. Showing great resistance at first, eventually, Taj learns to accept and respect Simon/Simone, so when their leader declares they are to travel to the backwater town of Albach Bay, well... Taj comes along. Though not without reluctance.

Nazu/Naera [f/m] Supernatural type: Demon Nazu/Naera is a demon prince/princess from Hael. During a terrible conflict, their great power was muzzled as punishment for their part in the war. They've been seeking the people responsible so they can regain the power they lost.

Their search has lasted more than a decade, but now... Now they find themselves in a small, human town where sin oozes from every shadow, beckoning every passer-by to partake in its debauchery. To top it off? They can hear their power singing to them. It's close. Heh... They might even end up liking it here.

Umbra [f/m] Supernatural type: ??? Umbra is an anomaly. Nothing about them is real. None of it should exist. Every facet of their being has been strung together out of sheer will and barely held together by a thread. One wrong touch and they may fall apart, like unravelling a ball of yarn or pulling apart a puppet on a string.

So, why? Why do they exist? Simple.

They exist for you.

RO's appearances:

Simon: Broad-shouldered, athletic build with reasonably short black hair and light warm skin. He has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Simone: Athletic build with long black hair (typically pinned up) and light, warm skin. She has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Rain: They have a slim, petite build with flawless tawny skin, which is amplified by their pale blue hair and matching pale eyes. They tend to opt for a more colourful wardrobe in the pastel range.

Taj (male): He has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark, curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. His ears and tail are matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (He keeps them hidden underneath his clothes, which are often oversized to hide this face.) He also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking his body.

Taj (female): She has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. Her ears and tail are a matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (She keeps them hidden underneath her clothes.) She also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking her body.

Nazu: (As a human)He is very built with dark skin, which ensures his almost luminescent amber eyes stand out. His long, dark dreads are usually pulled up in a bun. Nazu tends to opt for clothes designed to tantalise, as well as show off the hair dusting his chest and arms.

When in his usual form, he also has large horns that curl out of his head, with a more reddish hue to his dark skin. Plus, the whites of his eyes will turn black.

Naera: (As a human) She is very curvy, opting instead to amplify her femininity in human form. Her dark skin ensures her luminescent amber eyes stand out. Her long, dark hair is in tight braids that flow down her back. Naera will opt for clothing designed to tantalise, teasing her assets in a flirty way.

When in her usual form, her horns curl out of her head, with a reddish hue to her dark skin. Plus, the whites of her eyes will turn black.

Umbra (male): Tall and lean build with black shoulder-length hair that contrasts against his pale, almost ghostly skin. He tends to have dark circles under his equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through his left brow. His clothing usually consists of a black leather jacket, black pants and black combat boots.

Umbra (female): Tall and slim build with long black hair, half up in a pony, that contrasts against her pale, almost ghostly skin. She tends to have dark circles under her equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through her left brow. Her clothing usually includes a black leather jacket, plaid skirt and black combat boots.

An urban fantasy/romance IF based in the fictional town of 'Albach Bay'.

Customise your private investigator: choose name, gender, appearance, sexuality, skill set and personality.

Play as male, female, or non-binary: straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, as well as aromantic, asexual, or aro-ace.

Late 90s setting with limited technology, so be prepared to wait ten minutes for your PC to boot up.

Roleplay your private investigator how you want to. My intention is no 'game over' screens. There are no wrong answers in this game.

5 main companions to befriend or romance, each with their own personalities and stories to tell.

Collect evidence in your notebook as you scour the dilapidated streets and beaches of Albach Bay for clues to finally catch your father's killer for good.

Revenge is best served cold.

Rated 18+

[woso-dreamzzz]

Pets

Hardersson x Child Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Rocky the Rock

"Morsa," You say one random day off," Why does Sam have Helen?"

Magda looks up from where she's working on her laptop. You're sitting by the coffee table on the floor, cross-legged as you make your farmyard animals enact something that really reminds Magda of the book Animal Farm which is a little disconcerting but she's trying really hard not to focus on.

"Huh? Helen the cat?"

You nod.

"Well, Sam's got Helen for companionship. Helen's her pet cat."

That makes you frown a little bit. "Why?"

Magda shrugs. "Some people want a pet to keep them company. Some people have cats like Sam, some people have dogs or hamsters or other little things."

You go silent for a moment, you head bobbing up and down in a nod. "Okay," You say," Can I go play outside now, Morsa?"

Magda leans back in her chair to look out the window. It was meant to rain later on today and she didn't want you to get a cold but, thankfully, the sky is clear.

"Do you want someone to kick a ball at you?" Magda asks as she helps you slip on your coat.

"No thank you, Morsa," You say, practically vibrating to be let out," Just going to play."

"Okay. If you get hurt, yell and I'll come out, alright?"

"Okay!"

Magda types away at her laptop for a while as you play in the garden. Every so often, she drags her eyes up to check on you but you're just poking around in the gravel.

When Pernille comes home, you're still there and Magda is still typing.

"Where's Princesse?" Pernille asks before she drops down to steal a kiss.

"She's outside," Magda replies," Hey, Pernille, what does it mean when a kid starts asking about pets?"

"What?"

"Well, she was asking about why Sam has her cat. I said it was for companionship."

"Magda," Pernille says fondly," I love you so much sometimes."

"Sometimes? Not always?"

"You know what I mean. You're so oblivious sometimes."

Magda frowns. "Huh?"

"She's planting the seed in your mind," Pernille explains," So when she asks about getting her own pet then it's not out of nowhere."

"But we can't get a pet!" Magda says," We're moving soon!"

Pernille laughs. "She's probably angling for one when we go back to Germany. She's very smart."

"It's sneaky! Oh my god, are we going to have to start buying pet food?! And vet bills! I don't think there's a good vet near our new place and-"

Magda's mouth snaps closed as Pernille rests her hands on her shoulders. She's giving Magda a pointed look tinged with amusement.

"Magda," She says," Calm down. We're not getting her a pet."

"Oh." Magda blows out all her air. "We're not?"

"No. We'll be much too busy and Princesse's still very little. A pet would just add stress onto everything."

"But she wants one."

"And I want a three course meal and for Sam's whole existence to stop being a threat to Princesse's wellbeing but I'm not getting any of that anytime soon."

Magda laughs. Her hand reaches for Pernille's hip, dragging her closer until she's comfortably sitting on Magda's lap. "I can make you the meal. I'm not too sure I can help with Sam though. I can wrap Princesse up in bubble wrap though."

Pernille smiles. "You're so sweet, Magda." She cards her fingers through Magda's hair, leaning forward to steal a kiss like she did earlier. "You're such a good mother."

Magda rarely gets embarrassed about these things but with Pernille's weight in her lap and you playing in the garden, there are no interruptions. Her face flushes red at the compliments.

"The perfect mother for our little girl," Pernille continues, littering kisses all over Magda's face," You and her are so alike."

"I think she's more like you," Magda can scarcely gets the words out as Pernille bites at her earlobe.

"That's only because you're so oblivious. You and Princesse are more similar than you think."

"Well-"

"Momma! You're home!"

Pernille looks over Magda's shoulder to see you. Your hands are covered in dirt like you've been digging around in the flowerbeds again and you're pulling off your shoes, throwing them onto the floor.

"You look like you've been having fun," Pernille laughs," You're all dirty."

"Only a little," You say, wiping a hand on the front of your shirt," Where's my googly eyes?"

Magda frowns. She'd been preparing herself for you to ask about a pet, not about your arts and crafts supplies. "Er...Should be in the toy box."

"Thank you!"

You run off without even giving Pernille a hug, though she's secretly grateful for that because your hands look to be caked in dirt.

Magda sighs. "Is she going to start sticking those eyes on her shoes again?"

"I hope not. She nearly had a breakdown when they fell off last time."

Neither of them get an explanation about what you're doing with your googly eyes until way after dinner when you stand in front of them sitting on the sofa.

Magda takes a deep breath.

This is it.

It's time to completely break your heart.

"Sam has Helen as her pet," You begin," Morsa says Helen's for companionship."

"Pets are a lot of work," Magda says quickly, wanting the soften the blow," They take a lot of care."

You frown, your crinkle appearing between your brows. "Even the little things?"

"Even them," Pernille says solemnly," The little ones a very complicated. You have to feed them and clean out their cages."

You nod along before," That's okay. I've got one that doesn't need feeding."

That alarms Magda and she remembers how you were poking around in the garden all day. She wonders if you've managed to dig up a mouse or something from the dirt.

Pernille also looks suitably alarmed and her eyes immediately dart to where your hands are hiding behind your back.

"Princesse," She says slowly," Have you brought something into the house that you shouldn't have?"

You shake your head. "He is my pet," You say.

"Princesse-" Magda begins before her mouth hangs open in shock.

"His name is Rocky," You say proudly as you hold up a little granite rock from behind your back. You've stuck a set of three googly eyes on it. "And he is my pet."

"That's a rock," Magda says.

"Yes. Rocky the rock. My pet."

"Pernille, that's a rock."

"I can see that, Magda."

"I found him all by myself," You boast, puffing out your chest," I saved him from the cold and gave him eyes so he can see. He's my pet and he's going to sleep in my bed with me."

Magda can do nothing but stare with an open mouth as you show off your new rock.

"Pernille," Magda manages to whisper as you fawn and coo over your new rock," She dug up a rock."

"Yes, she did."

"She wants to sleep in bed with it."

"Yes, she does."

[starlight-45]

Bllk boys X Affectionate! Extroverted! Reader (Part 1)

Featuring: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira and Rin Itoshi

Here's the masterlist and Part two with Hyoma Chigiri, Reo Mikage, Seishiro Nagi :)

A/n: It's my first time so sorry if it's bad ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠⊂⁠)

~Yoichi Isagi~

• As we all know, the sweetest boy to exist in blue lock. unless given a soccer ball, pls refrain from giving one to him if you don't want the most infuriating and tanuting insults your way

• *coughs* Anyway.

• At first he is suprised. Like pleasantly surprised. He's definitely NOT used to someone like you. And he loves every second of it. He is a bit oblivious about it, you know?

• He is used to taking initiative in planning, or interacting or anything tbh because blue lock is filled with traumatised and/or self centred people.

• And then you arrived...with your not-so-shy approach and assertive nature, and absolutely won his heart.

•"Yoichiiiii! Can we go go that café later? Please? :D"

"Just the two of us?"

"Yessir!"

"Like a date?"

"No, not like a date- it's a date!"

•His brain went to full autopilot mode, whereas you oblivious to his suprise and continued with some other topic blissfully.

• So you're such so refreshing with your sweetness! Needless to say, he was attracted to you from first sight.

• Like he had never been complimented so openly about his personality and looks (aside from his parents)

• "Hey, I got you a drink as well."

"Thank you so much! Next time I'll buy you juice okay?!"

• YOUR. SMILE.

• Darling, I'm not joking when I say he would kill for it.

•And your laugh too. Like why are you so pretty and sweet?!

• And when you're comfortable enough to hug him all the time? Oh boy, he's having a field day then ;)

• He was bit suprised, like what do you mean you missed him so much that you ran straight to tackle him as soon as he was in your vision-?

• But damnit he can't stop his blushing just thinking about it!

• He is both intrigued and in awe when he sees you having deep conversations with random strangers.

• "Was that your friend?"

"Huh?"

"That girl in bus."

"Oh, no I don't even know her name."

"SO WHY WAS SHE TALKING ABOUT HER CHILDHOOD TRAUMA AND YOU BEING ALL SYMPATHETIC ABOUT IT?!"

•Nevertheless, he loves you too much to be actually annoyed. He simply thinks that 'Damn how did I manage to pull such a sweetheart?'

• He's so blessed to have you! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

~Meguru Bachira~

• Fell in love at first sight with your vibrant nature. You excite him him so much!

• He couldn't almost believe you were so interested in him and were so nice about it!

• Before you know it, you guys were practically glued together, competing you could show more affection.

• You guys are the type which doesn't faze your friends even a little bit that you are dating.

• Speaking of which...

• "Hey, you guys are dating right?"

"Wait Meguru...are we?"

"Why not?"

"....yay!!!! :D"

• Never even a bit suprised or fazed when you first tried to hug him.

• Just hugs you back while chuckling, picking you up just to hear that sweet laugh.

• It soon become a habit, you hugging him as soon as you saw him and him picking you up!

• Sure, he looks happy as hell around you. But that's just surface level feelings for you, he's deeply grateful for having you in his life.

• Geuninely thinks he'll never pay you back for the joy you bring him.

•Doesn't stop him from trying though! Not in a million years! Always bringing you snacks and drinks, complimented you. sneaking a kiss here and there too :P

• He always initiaties hangouts by the way. You wanna try that new mall? Arcade? Just lightly mention it and he's clearing his schedule for it and asking you to go.

• He can't deny he feels just a tiny, little bit jealous when he sees you interacting with random strangers with such sparkle.

• Just drags you by arm mumbling how you guys are getting late without warning, when you take too much time, shooting a glare to the other person.

• While he doesn't get fazed by the physical affection, you always manage to catch him off guard with your compliments.

• "Oh! Nice shirt, looks good on you! :D"

"You think so?"

"Mhm, goes well with your eyes."

• Is not afraid to get his hands dirty, someone is making names behind your back? He's ready to beat the hell out of him.

• He knows the feeling. The feeling of being left out, called weird or strange. He doesn't want you to to feel that way, even for a second.

• You're the best thing after footballthat happened to him, y'know?

• He just can't let you be sad.

~Rin Itoshi~

• Oh God okay-

• He thought you were strange as hell, and didn't even call you by your actual name, opting to call you 'dumbass' or 'idiot'.

• Not necessarily because he thought you were annoying, but because you were so... geunine in your adoration for him.

• You didn't even want anything in return, so why? He didn't wanna admit it, but he was a little intrigued deep down.

• No, soccer was his priority, beating his brother in football was the main aim in his life, he can't get distracted by a idiot girl like you-

• But damnit, he can't resist it, the way you look up at him with that sweet smile, innocent eyes most adorable expression.

• Rin knew he lost the game at that point. Still took a while to get used to the reality of having a crush though.

• When you first hugged him, he froze, his eyes widening. When he came to his senses a few seconds later, a red blush come on his face and his hands wrapped around your frame mumbling "dumbass".

• NO but like he's lowkey sometimes high-key tsundere about it. Always telling you to get off him but his arms pulling you in his embrace anyway.

• "Get off me, you damn idiot!"

"Aww but you're still supporting my back though :D"

"Just shut the hell up okay?"

• He is so confused though...why would someone so sweet like you be with him? And what do you mean he's cute?! He's supposed to be the aloof, lone wolf, why don't you understand?! Lowkey loves it though.

• If he does manage to flusterate you with his affection...he surprisingly becomes talkative-?

• "Why the fuck are you getting all red? Do you have a fever or something?"

"N-No."

"Just... just don't act suprised okay? I'm trying my best to express my feelings.".

• At moments like this, he's very soft, very gentle with you. Geuninely tries his best, he doesn't want you to feel like he doesn't feel the same way.

• You're so sweet with him... that'a the least he could do.

• Definitely a very jealous boy. Interacting with random NPCs? Who doesn't even deserve that sweet smile of yours?

• His brain immediately resorts to overthinking. What did he do? Did he scare you off with his insults? Did he neglect you?

• A moment of slip up results in the showing his vulnerability on his face, quickly recovers from it, and gives the deadliest death glare to the person.

• And the poor guy just runs for his life. Whereas you are very oblivious to the scene just happened.

• "Hmph. Didn't even say goodbye. Meanie."

"That NPC doesn't deserve your attention. Let's go."

• You really will turn him crazy one of these days, idiot and even will let you, how stupid. He thinks.

A/n: I was blushing so much while writing it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

[misscrawfords]

I was listening to Pride and Prejudice on my drive back from my mother's today and it's been so long since I've actually read the novel as opposed to engaged with one or other adaptation...

Goodness, it's good, isn't it? And Elizabeth is so much more complex a character than she is often presented in adaptations.

The thing that was standing out to me today - I was listening to from when Mr. Collins proposes to Charlotte and I stopped just when Elizabeth was talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam at Rosings - was the chapter which is just Jane and Elizabeth talking about Bingley. This gets cut from adaptations or so condensed to be meaningless, but it's incredible. It's just a whole chapter of the sisters chewing over why Bingley ghosted Jane (for lack of a better term) and what Caroline's motivations were and the thing that gets me is that they're both right. Jane is right that Bingley can't be blamed for being a friendly young man and that he had no malicious intentions but Elizabeth is also right that young men can be thoughtless in their dealings with women who have less freedom than them and their thoughtlessness can do real hurt. (She's also right about Caroline, of course.) It struck me as such a modern issue. Maybe I've just been thinking about the unwitting hurt that thoughtless young men can cause recently, but everything is so complicated. Bingley is a flake who makes a mistake with regards to Jane but he's also a genuinely lovely young man who makes it right in the end - he's still on his own journey through life which he will continue with Jane. Jane herself lets her desire to see the best in others cause her to see friendship where it isn't, but being deceived in a friend is not so uncommon, is it? And she's not stupid or weak. Heck, she endures her heartbreak being talked about openly by her mother in public for months silently and without rancour. And she does it all without ever resenting Bingley! Jane's the strongest character in the whole novel and an inspiration to the rest of us - FIGHT ME on this!

The other thing I really picked up on was what an important moment in Elizabeth's character development Charlotte's engagement is. It actually kind of breaks my heart - her best friend makes a life choice that she can't support but has to and nothing will ever be the same again between them. It's the first dent into Elizabeth's world view that forces her to see that people are different from her and can make different decisions and this is okay and not just something she can laugh at. It's so relatable in terms of life events - when a close friend marries and then when they have a baby, these things absolutely still do alter friendships. Elizabeth gets over it and even enjoys seeing Charlotte in Hunsford but we are frequently reminded by the narrator that the previous confidences they enjoyed will never be the same again. It's a really big moment for Elizabeth and really the first event in the novel to start to shake her foundations of her comfortable existence. The other two are Bingley's desertion of Jane and Wickham's decision to pursue Mary King over her. By the time she goes to Hunsford, she is prepared in a way for the final massive shock to the foundations of The World According to Lizzy Bennet, not that she knows it. Such is growing up.

And OMG Lady Catherine is SO vulgar and inappropriate! She is a direct parallel to Mrs. Bennet and the rest of the Bennets. Just as Elizabeth feels accute embarrassment at the Netherfield Ball, Mr. Darcy is feeling exactly the same at Rosings. Beautifully done. But their awareness of what is appropriate behaviour is something that unifies Darcy and Elizabeth even if Darcy massively fails to behave like a human around Elizabeth. Pride and Prejudice is such an expose and examination of "how to behave in social situations". There is nobody who doesn't come under scrutiny and pretty much every type of behaviour is gone over with a fine tooth comb.

Sometimes I feel almost ashamed when people ask me what my favourite novel is and I say "Pride and Prejudice" because it's such a damn cliche. I should say something heavier or more obscure or at least I should say it's Persuasion, the "thinking girl"'s favourite Austen. But P&P is so special to me on so many levels and you know what? It is a MASTERFULLY written book.

[haggishlyhagging]

It took about two hours for Daina Taimina to find the solution that had eluded mathematicians for over a century. It was 1997, and the Latvian mathematician was participating in a geometry workshop at Cornell University. David Henderson, the professor leading the workshop, was modelling a hyperbolic plane constructed out of thin, circular strips of paper taped together. 'It was disgusting,' laughed Taimina in an interview.

A hyperbolic plane is 'the geometric opposite' of a sphere, explains Henderson in an interview with arts and culture magazine Cabinet. 'On a sphere, the surface curves in on itself and is closed. A hyperbolic plane is a surface in which the space curves away from itself at every point.' It exists in nature in ruffled lettuce leaves, in coral leaf, in sea slugs, in cancer cells. Hyperbolic geometry is used by statisticians when they work with multidimensional data, by Pixar animators when they want to simulate realistic cloth, by auto-industry engineers to design aerodynamic cars, by acoustic engineers to design concert halls. It's the foundation of the theory of relativity, and thus the closest thing we have to an understanding of the shape of the universe. In short, hyperbolic space is a pretty big deal.

But for thousands of years, hyperbolic space didn't exist. At least it didn't according to mathematicians, who believed that there were only two types of space: Euclidean, or flat space, like a table, and spherical space, like a ball. In the nineteenth century, hyperbolic space was discovered - but only in principle. And although mathematicians tried for over a century to find a way to successfully represent this space physically, no one managed it - until Taimina attended that workshop at Cornell. Because as well as being a professor of mathematics, Taimina also liked to crochet.

Taimina learnt to crochet as a schoolgirl. Growing up in Latvia, part of the former Soviet Union, 'you fix your own car, you fix your own faucet - anything', she explains. 'When I was growing up, knitting or any other handiwork meant you could make a dress or a sweater different from everybody else's.' But while she had always seen patterns and algorithms in knitting and crochet, Taimina had never connected this traditional, domestic, feminine skill with her professional work in maths. Until that workshop in 1997. When she saw the battered paper approximation Henderson was using to explain hyperbolic space, she realised: I can make this out of crochet.

And so that's what she did. She spent her summer 'crocheting a classroom set of hyperbolic forms' by the swimming pool. 'People walked by, and they asked me, "What are you doing?" And I answered, "Oh, I'm crocheting the hyperbolic plane."' She has now created hundreds of models and explains that in the process of making them 'you get a very concrete sense of the space expanding exponentially. The first rows take no time but the later rows can take literally hours, they have so many stitches. You get a visceral sense of what "hyperbolic" really means.' Just looking at her models did the same for others: in an interview with the New York Times Taimina recalled a professor who had taught hyperbolic space for years seeing one and saying, 'Oh, so that's how they look.' Now her creations are the standard model for explaining hyperbolic space.

-Caroline Criado Perez, Invisible Women

Photo credit

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Can you talk more about the fandom's ableism with Ink and Killer??im quite curious!/gen (reference to your reblog tags)

I can try, but know im not an expert and also bigger knowledgeable inks fans are welcome to chime in.

So we all know how Ink is soulless, yes? It is because of this that people take it as an excuse to demonize them and make them evil, fake, manipulative, abusive, a bad parent, a rapist—everything under the sun simply because he’s soulless, lacks empathy.

Some people claim he doesn’t feel emotions because of his soullessness all the time and the paint vials he takes are just “fake emotions,” but in actuality Ink needs those paints to function (because without them Ink becomes an unmoving husk and this makes him extremely vulnerable to being used and taken advantage of), and to feel. It’s basically medication that he needs.

Not to mention; Ink is clearly a neurodivergent character, having hyperfixations and everything. This breeds depictions of “Ink is so stupid,” “Ink is a child,” “Ink needs to be leashed and treated like an animal,” “everyone is tired of and hates ink because ink is annoying.”

You see this type of thing with Killer a lot too in his fanon depictions, and this is because it’s a pretty agreed upon headcanon that Killer has ADHD; it’s just that most people clearly don’t do any research into how Ink and Killer’s ADHD/Autism are disorders, how they actually impact them as characters and their lives rather then how they annoy and inconvenience everyone else around them, infantilize and dehumanize them by treating them like hyperactive idiotic children or animals that need to be kept on a leash—is stereotypical depictions of ADHD with the typical “hyperactive talking a lot so annoying oh my god can you just shut up?” and “can’t ever stop moving or talking” and just generally have other characters be ableist and abusive as fuck towards them both and play it off as if it’s supposed to be funny to be talked to like that just because something they have no control over was a little annoying today.

there’s no discussions or depictions how this stuff effects either of them. Killer already has a dissociative disorder and CPTSD and can’t trust his own memory, and Ink has short term memory loss so bad he needs to write things down on their scarf just to keep track of it, and yet Killer’s memory issues are completely ignored because he has to be the silly haha comedy relief that all the characters use as their punching bag and Ink’s is only ever brought up in any serious capacity to paint them as a bad parent who would forget that his children even exists.

Killer and Ink are both characters with little to no empathy for others; and this is used to demonize them, or is completely ignored by giving Ink a soul or and forcing Killer into Stage 1 as their quick fixes.

Their lack of empathy and emotionlessness is only ever brought up to use them as villains in another character’s story; which is extra fucked up when people refuse to acknowledge that Killer is a canonical victim of literal conditioning, abuse, torture, kidnapping, and literal fucking trafficking.

People are demonizing someone who is literally trapped in a trafficking ring and being sent out as weapon of terrorism by Nightmare under threat of torture, death, and replacement all because, oh. He’s emotionless. He’s sadistic. He doesn’t act like a perfect victim curling up in a ball crying from guilt every single day and why doesn’t he just say no?

Killer isn’t perfect but people like to pretend he has more control and power than he does and like he actually wants this when the man doesn’t even know what he wants because he became who he needed to be to survive. People seem dumbfounded by the concept that victims will mirror their abusers to survive and that obviously won’t make them good people, but killer doesn’t consider himself people.

It’s never brought up how Ink’s memory loss and his lack of paints making him a husk would make him very easily to abuse and use and lie to and manipulate and take advantage. It’s never brought up how Ink thinks and feels about upsetting or losing friends because he forgot their names, or their birthdays, or when they were meeting up and where, and no matter how hard he tries things just keep slipping from his mind.

It’s never brought up how Stage 2’s indifference and overwhelming apathy and dehumanizing view of himself (and others, just like Ink, who sees others as characters in a story whereas Killer sees people more like codes programmed to follow specific scripts and roles in a long series of games and tests and just not real), means he is a lot more likely to be used and abused and taken advantage of—and yes, raped, because for some reason people really really love making Killer a sexual predator as if he’s not the one most likely to be abused in that manner—means he’d likely just accept whatever someone does to him (especially if he believes they’re stronger than him) because why should he care? Nothing matters anyway. There’s no point in resisting, why bother. This is how it was always supposed to end, and nothing is real anyway. This doesn’t affect me, i don’t have emotions, im not real. I’m not a person.

The only form of control Killer would have is playing along. Acting, pretending he enjoys it and is having fun—but ultimately, he doesn’t know if he does or not. Where does he begin and the act end. He doesn’t know, but if everyone around him is telling him one thing, then it must be true.

Stage 2 wouldn’t see himself as a victim or anything that happened to him as anything particularly significant. Nightmare asks him to do something and he does it because why not is what he thinks—it’s just how it works, Nightmares stronger. He ignores what would happen if he drug his feet or attempted to refuse because to him it’s just logical that he’d be punished for that, and he likes pain anyway, so enjoying means he must’ve wanted it.

(Does this justify the people he hurts when commanded to, triggered to, provoked, or when his dehumanization of others and conditioning leads him to do pretty awful abusive shit to them out of sadism or curiosity or just needing to feel in control? No, of course not. Any of his victims are allowed to hate him or feel however they want about him.

Doesn’t mean we have to ignore that he’s also a victim and has even less control than he allows others to see or know about, and that he himself likely refuses to acknowledge or look at too deeply.)

Which is another thing a lot of people use to justify Nightmare’s abuse of Killer. That he’s masochistic and sometimes pushes and provokes Nightmare into hurting him—the idea that it’s not actually abuse because he “wanted it” and “liked it” or that he’s somehow as bad as Nightmare because “he provoked him.”

He cannot access the emotions and trauma and fear and moral concerns and safety concerns of his other Stages because that is the entire point of his dissociative disorder and his conditioning. This makes him easy to control and this how he’s survived and remained even somewhat functioning.

Not to mention. The idea that Ink and Killer need to “learn empathy” or “learn emotions” to be better or good people, and not because being in touch with emotions is an important thing everyone should learn especially victims of abuse and those with trauma and that having little to no empathy is not some moral failing on their end or says something about the type of people they are. It just means they struggle to relate to others, understand their emotions, or feel others emotions as if it were their own.

There’s also the matter of some people trying to say that because Ink is soulless he is AroAce. That is not true, is both aro/aphobic and ableist. Ink is both soulless and AroAce and these are two completely separate things—they’d still be AroAce even if they had a soul.

There’s probably a whole lot more that can be said about this, but I’ll end it right here. Others can add on or correct me.

[yuri-is-online]

Ok but how did ace even get a girlfriend in the first place? Did she confess and he just went along with it? Did he think having a girlfriend would make him seem cooler? Was it a dare or something? Cause for someone like ace to just go ghost on her and not have an actual talk, kind of makes me feel like these two were not friends before they were partners.

So then, fast forward to nrc, ace is trying so hard to lose the feelings he has for his best friend. Because that's all they are: friends, homies, if you (duece) will. Yuu has the cream of the crop to pick from, he's kind of at a disadvantage here.

Plus, whose to say their entire dynamic won't change the second they get together? He doesn't want to get bored and start to hate one of his dearest friends by proxy, so might as well just play it safe and suffer a little than take that risk and the both of you suffer a lot 🤷‍♂️.

Meanwhile yuu, who still has their old phone/mp3 player, has been playing Jenny by Studiokillers on repeat. Lying in their bed, just down horrendous for this absolute ball of boyish mischief. How dare he, honestly?

Well. At least he gives them a lot of openings to flirt with him?

*disclaimer, I was home schooled so my actual knowledge about middle school dating is beyond non-existent so take what I say with a grain of salt

The information we get about Ace's girlfriend comes from his suitor suit vignette and he does not mention how they actually got together, just some of the things that they did and how boring Ace thought all of them were. And I agree! The way they broke up does not make it sound like they were friends before dating, though they could have been casual acquaintances. The way Ace likes to goof around makes me think he was probably pretty popular, and had a lot of those types of relationships. His description of the relationship makes me think he probably went out with her because he thought she was cute and that it would be fun to have a girlfriend, but didn't actually stop to think about who she was as a person or what dating actually means. And hey, he was in middle school. He was going to be a bit stupid about those sort of things. The experience seems to have made him think a lot about what he wants in a partner, and we know from Ortho he was telling the truth when he's forced to spell it out:

His voice lines flesh out what he wants a bit more; he says he thinks it's important to find someone you have fun with and that he wants to get married later in life. So Ace knows what he wants... he just gets really embarrassed when called out on it and refuses to talk honestly about his feelings (though he kind of does that in general hehe)

So flashing forward to NRC. Ace knows what he wants and Yuu is such a perfect fit it hurts. Best friends to lovers is a popular trope in fiction sure, but in real life? At a school? Yeah right, Ace still has to see them every day if they break up, and not to mention... I feel like Ace, Deuce, Grim, and Yuu sort of fell into their dynamic almost immediately after the mine adventure and didn't ever stop to think about it because of how natural the friendship felt. And Ace knows if things end badly he's losing the whole squad, so yeah. Better to just swallow this and stay where he is. He's still in school! He doesn't need to think about dating! He's got a housewarden to surpass, upperclassmen he admires, and a bunch of idiots to take care of. He can worry about dating later. Besides, these feelings will go away after graduation he's delusional sure of it!!!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch Ramshackle Yuu is literally in a living hell. Maybe they're a bit more emotionally mature than Ace and they just know this could work out but THEY CAN'T TELL IF HE LIKES THEM BACK BECAUSE HE KEEPS GETTING SHY AND MAKING JOKES FML!!!! But like he also lets them steal his gym shirt :ccc and he gets pouty when someone else makes an offer :ccc and really smug when Yuu says no ccc: so like maaaybe? Or maybe not and this meaningless flirting is all they'll ever have and they just. Try to be ok with it and they sort of hate themselves for it.

until Sebek properly joins the friend group and looses his fucking shit

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

cats the musical isn't bad, y'all are just mean: sincerely, a cats fan who is exhausted with having to defend her favorite show

every time one of those theater polls pops up with a show against cats the musical, it's inevitable that the other show's fans, despite cats fans never saying anything negative, decide to make really negative and rude comments towards the musical and the fans.

most of the comments always say that no one understands how anyone can like cats the musical, or how the other musical is superior, or how the other musical is so incredibly important to the fans.

a show being important to someone is extremely valid, but people who are fans of other shows seem to always forget that there is also a reason why cats the musical has fans.

so allow me to provide some reasons as to why someone might be a fan of cats the musical:

the dancing, which is incredibly athletic and impressive

the songs, which provide a way for different actors and actresses to show off their vocal prowess, and have different tempos and meanings and also, you know, include one of the most iconic Broadway songs that has ever existed

the costumes, which have specifically character-oriented designs

the countless number of non-replica productions that take different interpretations of the show, and create incredibly creative designs for costumes and sets

the amount of LGBTQIA+ coded characters and relationships that take on different interpretations based around how they are played and portrayed.

the amount of LGBTQIA+/POC actors who have portrayed characters in the musical throughout the years, many of which put their own gender/sexual identity into their portrayal of the character.

cast members who directly interact with the fandom, and who encourage fanworks and posts about the musical with excitement

the different countries that have pulled Cats the Musical into their culture, and that have allowed countless groups of fans to be able to see the show live

but you know what?

People don't have to give a reason for why they love a show. If someone is asked why they enjoy a show like, say, Newsies, or Phantom of the Opera, or Falsettos, those fans don't have to go into a deep dive defending their love of the show.

There's a type of stigma that Cats is cringey because of the costumes, or because it "doesn't have a story", which is something that people say that I always find funny, as the story of the show is described in one of the FIRST songs of the show.

Jellicle Cats meet once a year At the Jellicle Ball where we all rejoice And the Jellicle leader will soon appear And make what is known as the Jellicle Choice When Old Deuteronomy just before dawn Through a silence you feel could cut with a knife Announces the Cat who can now be reborn And come back to a different Jellicle life For waiting up there is the Heaviside Layer Full of wonders one Jellicle only will see And Jellicles ask because Jellicles dare Who will it be? Who will it be?

If anyone ever gave a second of thought and research, they would see that the show's premise is literally sung about at the start of the show. It's something kind of important called exposition that actually happens in a lot of shows, but apparently Cats isn't allowed to have exposition.

There's also the matter of characters.

There are multiple different characters, both within the main singing cast and the ensemble, who provide fantastic layers to the show itself.

Grizabella, the outsider character who is redeemed and gets to become the Jellicle Choice, and who happens to have the aforementioned most iconic Broadway song, "Memory", a character who provides a contrast to other characters such as Victoria, who is the featured character during the Jellicle Ball

The Rum Tum Tugger, a seemingly selfish and haughty character, who also provides the song for Mr. Mistoffelees, a magical cat who is able to summon back the Jellicle Leader, Old Deuteronomy, who was kidnapped by Macavity, the antagonist of the musical.

It is a show that has so much emotion and meaning, which can be seen even on the most surface viewing. It doesn't take a genius to understand that there is a message of redemption and acceptance within the show as well.

and while i don't like using the awards Cats has been nominated for in order to discuss how impressive the musical is, because I absolutely think it doesn't need the awards to describe how amazing it is, but like... just look at the list of awards for the original London and original Broadway productions:

Cats the Musical was nominated for these awards, and won many of them, for a reason.

People don't want to admit that Cats the Musical is a good show because it is nothing like what has been on Broadway. There is a reason a lot of shows on Broadway right now are revivals, jukebox musicals, or based off of previous media. While, of course, Cats is based off of T.S. Elliot's poetry, it is done in a way that is incredibly original and unique. People are afraid of original ideas on Broadway. It's the reason why, along with Cats the Musical, Starlight Express is also seen as a weird show, because despite the fantastic music and costumes and storyline, because the actors and actresses are dressed as trains or cats, it's a weird show, and the fans are weird.

(though, as you can see above, I am NOT against revivals, jukeboxes, or media-based shows when they are done well. If you're familiar with my main blog, @tending-the-hearth, you are well aware of how much I adore the Outsiders musical, which is just one example of quite a few shows.)

I don't personally like Falsettos. On the poll putting Cats against Falsettos, I did not discuss why I disliked the show, or that it was a crime people were voting for the show.

I adore Newsies. I have a Cats/Newsies crossover fanfiction. My brother and I are obsessed with it. I love Cats more. I'm not writing on the poll that I'm disgusted people are voting for Newsies over Cats.

It is so genuinely unfortunate that, while every other musical and its fans are given love and support by the musical theater community, Cats the Musical and its fans are consistently ostracized and made fun of. (Rather ironic, considering the entire story of Cats the Musical and Grizabella's character)

You can talk about how much you love a show, or why a show is important to you, but you have to understand that for every person who loves a different show, there's someone who loves Cats the Musical for a similar reason.

Me personally? I love Cats the Musical because it's fun. It's an entertaining show with incredible music and characters. I love the show because it is the reason I've met some of my best friends in the entire world. The show got me through COVID, and some very difficult times with my mental health. It's the show I've been lucky enough to see live multiple times, with the most fantastic and kind cast. It is the show that helped me learn about the LGBTQIA+ community via the fandom, understand and become comfortable with being bisexual, and provided characters that I can identify on a personal level. It is the show that made me fall back in love with writing, and helped to create one of my most favorite OCs in the entire world.

I genuinely say that Cats the Musical saved my life.

And that's just my experience.

There are people who have had experiences with other musicals. They see the show as having saved their life, or giving them new experiences. I love that. I love seeing how musical theater has impacted the people who experience it. I think it's wonderful, and it's amazing that there are so many different shows that people can see and fall in love with.

Why are the experiences of Cats the Musical fans suddenly deemed inferior just because of the show they enjoy? Why do we, as fans, have to defend our enjoyment of a show?

You're not cool for hating on Cats the Musical.

You're not cool for hating on fans of the show.

Cats the Musical is a good show, it ran for years in London for a reason, it ran for years on Broadway for a reason, and it's STILL running in Japan for a reason.

Cats the Musical isn't bad, y'all just hate fun.

[fayerien]

So High School — LND Boys (Part 1)

featuring; xavier, sylus

typical rom-coms au where mc and the boys are highschool students. going to a highschool prom night together. fluff 100%, not proofread!

And in the blink of a crinkling eye. I'm sinking, our fingers entwined — 🌟

Never a second in your life you thought he would ask you to be his prom date. Xavier, your popular classmate. The one who sleeps in every possible class but still scores every test. Not gonna lie he is really a sight for eyes sore, especially with that white suit. He stood close to you, nervously ran a hand through his hair, probably thinking how to start a conversation with you.

He cleared his throat, trying to get your attention. "Um— so.. thank you for accepting my invitation." You mirrored his smile, hoping that will at least ease his nervousness.

"No problem. I was surprised that you asked me though." He chuckles sheepishly at your answer and stole a glance at you. "You think so?" He squinted his eyes looking down at you.

"Yeah. I thought you aren't the type who's into this kind of events." You faced him as his lips lifted up slightly forming a tiny smile. He gave you a slow nod then coughed up a chuckle. "I guess I do give that kind of impression."

"By the way—" He paused, probably searching for the right word. "..You look stunning." You froze as the you felt blood rushed into your cheeks. Oh, boy. "You...look great as well." You said casually, hoping that he didn't notice your red face. He smiled and silence slowly filling up between you two.

Your eyes wandered across the hall, pretending to watch the other students having fun. Not until someone bumped into you making you lose your balance.

"Hey! Watch out—" Just before you could curse the person, Xavier managed to catch you from falling. "They really need to watch where they're going." He said, his voice slightly annoyed. You mentally cursed yourself as you realized that you were staring at him for a while. His arms were still around your waist. You cleared your throat and he quickly loosened his grip on you.

"Yeah..they weren't even bother apologize. By the way, thanks." You flashed a smile at him as he slowly gave you a little nod. You stared at each other for a good moment, unconsciously leaning in towards each other. His hot breath hitting your face before you could realized how dangerously close you two were.

His voice was barely above whisper, but enough for you to hear. "Say, would you like to enjoy the night with me?" He gently lifted up your hand close to his mouth, kissing your knuckles delicately. His eyes never leaving your face as his lips curled up into a charming smile. You felt the inside of your stomach leapt at the sight, but it was a sight that you couldn't resist.

"Yes."

Truth, dare, spin bottles. You know how to ball, I know Aristotle — 🐦‍⬛

You always thought that you despise his whole existence, but here you are. Going to the prom night as his partner. Of course, you couldn't miss a chance going to a prom especially in your senior year. But with Sylus, as your partner? You felt like you made the worst decision ever.

You scrolled through your social media while waiting for him to pick you up. "Hello there, sweetie." His voice snapped you out of your own world as you lifted your head looking at him. His signature smirk never leaving his face, his languid steps approaching you. You rolled your eyes at the sight but still unable to contain your laughter. His red bow tie caused you to let out a snort. His eyebrow raised at your sudden reaction.

"What?" He asked, confusion flashed on his face. "You look ridiculous." He feigned offenses at your words though his smirk is still there. "I spent hours choosing this outfit you know." His arms crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders and chest tickled your eyes. You looked away for a moment, afraid that you might actually stare. "Yet you still look ridiculous." He chuckled at your remark.

"Shall we go now?" He extended his hand towards you, waiting for you to take it. He gently entwined your fingers together as you walked. "I'm surprised that you come." He suddenly said, amused smile on his face. "I thought you would rather stay at home, studying like a nerd. Or maybe read your weird romance books." He teased. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look annoyed. "Firstly, I already studied this evening. And second, my romance books are NOT weird." He smirked as he gently squeezed your hand. "They are."

You stepped into the school hall with him. It was cramped with students, loud music and sound of people chatting weren't your things, but you tried to brace yourself. He noticed your bothered expression, his voice laced with a hint of concern. "You good, sweetie?" You looked up at him and just nodded slowly. "You can just say that you aren't." He sighed, grabbing your hand and dragged you out of the cramped space. "Let's go."

"Why are we here?" You asked, slightly raised your eyebrow. He just shrugged nonchalantly, "Because you looked uncomfortable." You bit the inside of your cheek, suppressing a laughter. "And you dragged me to basketball court?" He flashed you a smirk. "Why not? It's peaceful here. And..." He bounced the ball for a few times, until he stopped right in front of you. He leaned in slightly, his breath tickled your skin. "..maybe I could show off my skill." He smirked as he saw your reaction to him being close to you. He turned around and jogged towards the hoop, showing you his perfect shot.

He faced you again, holding the ball in his hand. "Wanna give it a try?" He asked curiously. You stared at him in disbelief. "Seriously? You want me to play with me in my prom dress?" He chuckled at your reaction and shrugged. "I don't see a problem." You tried to contain your laughter but failed. "You're ridiculous." He grinned. "You said that twice tonight." You rolled your eyes and unwillingly agreed. "Fine, teach me."

He smiled, genuinely, this time. "Good. We can join the prom again after this if you want."

How did your prom night turned into a basketball date?

You just nodded at his words, without noticing your lips curled up into a small smile.

ᯓ★masterlist

tags: @astrallkiss

[jadeazora]

Quite a long read below, but I have to admire the dedication to the meme 😂

Feeling blue? It’s because there’s too much water. Your mood can turn gray on rainy days. From a broader perspective, water is the cause of all the world’s woes. All life exists on land. It is where Pokémon hatch from their Eggs. Where they train, battle, and evolve. It’s the source of the Berries that heal and sustain them. Even the mighty Mudkip, Hoenn’s beloved Water-type first partner Pokémon, sees a limited future for itself in water. Why else would it evolve into the Water- AND Ground-type Marshtomp?

Deep down, we all recognize the dangers of water. Land rhymes with grand. Boom! Roasted. Speaking of which, you can’t roast anything in water, and roasting is one of the five best cooking methods—but back to water’s imminent dangers. Even a puddle can ruin someone’s day, so the only safe amount of water is none. While humans fall victim to technology, turning away from nature’s sanctity, Pokémon remain deeply connected to nature. And Pokémon know that water is dangerous; why else would Dragonite dedicate its precious time to flying over immense stretches of sea to rescue people from drowning? How far have we sunk morally that this noble Pokémon must exhaust itself rescuing humans from this dire threat when there is an alternative solution at hand?

If we’re being honest—which the anti-water faction can afford to be with the advantage of facts and Groudon on our side—water tastes terrible. There’s an entire line of products specifically designed to enhance its flavor. It’s worth noting that there are no products to enhance the flavor of earth, because it tastes fine exactly the way it is. If you were thirsty in the middle of the ocean, what would you do with all that water? Clearly, the deranged water apologists bent on marinating us all in this deadly liquid have failed to accurately assess the threat that it poses to humans and Pokémon alike.

It’s no accident that many sports and leisure activities are devoted to avoiding the water. Boats are the most common method of traversing the stuff, and yet their entire purpose is to help you stay dry. Surfboards, jet skis, wetsuits, and even ridable Pokémon like Lapras, Mantine, and Basculegion are all indicative of humanity’s natural and entirely logical aversion to water. In reality, you can enjoy all these activities on land. Sandboarding is every bit as thrilling as surfing. And from a purely fashionable perspective, life vests and flippers ruin any ensemble. Of course, to each his own. Who am I to judge if someone likes the frayed shorts and bandana look? As a person whose style is impeccable, though, I’m much more aware of how important it is to look your best.

Like any person of reasonable logic, I could pontificate on the many dangers, drawbacks, and downsides of water for longer than Groudon’s subterranean slumber, but I have responsibilities elsewhere. I hope I have managed to plant the seeds of doubt concerning this insidious substance. Should you decide to take up our cause, you know where to find me.

Seeing red? You probably need more water. Irritability is a proven side effect of dehydration. There’s no problem that can’t be solved by water. Water is life. Without it, there would be no Magikarp struggling heroically to overcome the limitations of its biology, inspiring us all with its courage. No surfing Pikachu lifting spirits with its gnarly moves. No Squirtle, and certainly no Squirtle Squad. Eager young Pokémon Trainers would visit Professor Birch, excited to meet the Mudkip that would become their first partner on their Pokémon journey, only to find an empty Poké Ball.

What’s so great about land, anyway? There’s a reason land rhymes with bland. You know what isn’t bland? Soup. Everyone knows soup is the epitome of culinary ambition and delight, and what is soup if not seasoned water? If only being bland were the land’s only crime. Land is dangerous—volcanoes, quicksand, drought, and so forth. You know what extinguishes volcanoes, liquefies quicksand, and ends drought? Water. In fact, Kyogre, that magnificent master of aquatic realms, is known to save people suffering the effects of droughts. Without the parched, overrated land, the world and its many beautiful Pokémon would never know the horrors of another drought.

If the land is so safe, explain shoes. While swimming or otherwise interacting with water, we shed our footwear, instinctively wanting to maximize our physical contact with water. When walking on land, though, we wear shoes, acknowledging the inherent danger and uncleanliness of the earth. It’s not unreasonable to theorize that any pro-land faction is secretly funded and driven by Big Footwear.

If land is so wonderful, explain the existence of swimming pools. What are these giant, land-bound containers if not an expression of humankind’s yearning for the soothing, invigorating embrace of that life-giving liquid? Similarly, we embark on cruises because we long for the sea. Without water, we would forever lose the majesty of jet skis, gliding as effortlessly as Lapras. Snorkeling, kayaking, diving, windsurfing, wakeboarding, and water polo would all cease to exist without water. Water aerobics, which we can all agree embodies the nobility of the human spirit and incredible capability of the human body, relies entirely on the presence of water. Without it, we would be left with just aerobics—a pale and paltry imitation.

Finally—our bodies are roughly 60% water. Without it, we would be dried, unrecognizable husks, which is an accurate description of anyone unfeeling enough to dismiss the beauty and wonder of soup, the sea, jet skis, Squirtle, and our existence. Long live the water. I hope these arguments have sufficiently piqued your interest and whet your appetite for knowledge about the benefits and necessity of water.

Article here.