#which came up a couple times in the campaign

[thebloggingfox]

Okay but why is no one talking about the moment where everyone slowly disappears until only Kiki is left cos ow my heart

[dullahandyke]

and like sidenote if i can make a post with a target audience of zero. i feel like fhsy was to d20 what aa3 was to ace attorney but aa3 pulled it off better for reasons i cannot explain

[zooophagous]

So why do you hate the advertising industry?

Hokay so.

Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.

I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.

I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.

Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.

Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.

Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.

I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.

And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.

Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.

Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.

And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.

Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.

It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.

It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.

And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.

Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.

Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.

However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.

I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.

Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Perv! Eddie, Eddie Munson x F! reader, friends to lovers, ogling, flashing(f) Summary: Eddie gives into his pervy side and you decide to have a little fun with him. WC:1K

A/N: Inspired by that one scene from Inventing the Abbotts. Enjoy!

The first time it happened it was an accident.

It started when he noticed you sitting a few tables away from him at the Hawkins Library when he looked up from his D&D campaign notes, quietly observing you out of the corner of his eye as you flipped through your college coursework.

He couldn't help but feel like he'd been blessed with a second chance, like this was his opportunity to finally get close to you after chickening out every time he came close to asking you out back when you were classmates in Highschool. But now that you're working on your degree here at a local college instead of schlepping off to another state, Eddie was slowly but steadily working up the nerve to finally do it.

But things became a little... complicated before he could try.

A week had passed and he'd fallen into the habit of stealing glances at you from a few tables away, hoping you couldn't feel his eyes on you while he tapped his pencil against his notes.

Today he was completely taken with the way you looked in your lavender dress, suspecting it to be a brand new addition to your wardrobe because he'd already had the rest of your outfits memorized. He liked the way the light caught the pretty jewelry adorning your fingers and neck too, distracted by they way they glinted and shimmered when suddenly he fumbles his grasp and his pencil slips free from between his fingers.

It rattles when it strikes the floor, rolling away under his table, too far for Eddie to try and pull it closer with his foot. With a sigh, he slinks out of his seat and crouches to retrieve it, about to get back up and into his seat when he happened to look in your direction, his whole body going completely still.

He only looks for a couple of seconds, rooted in place as he's treated to the perfect view right up your skirt, the hem of your dress sitting high around your thighs and your knees parted.

He could see every inch of your bare inner thighs from where he's ducked under the table, all that soft skin usually hidden from his sight beneath your clothes but what really made his heart thud rapidly against his ribcage like a paddle ball was that he could see your panties clearly too; sunny yellow with pretty daisies printed onto the cotton. He decides it's his new favorite color.

Those handful of seconds drag on for what feels like hours, committing every detail to memory until Eddie suddenly comes to an alarming realization, a familiar feeling beginning to stir below his belt.

He rips away then, scrambling noisily as he gathered his belongings which earns him a sharp look from the librarian and a curious look from you, quirking a brow up at him. Less than gracefully, he makes a break for the exit, mortified that he'd popped a semi in public just from getting a little peek up your skirt.

Never again, he'd sworn to himself.

Never again...

The second time it happened was no accident.

He knew it was wrong. He knew it was a sleazy thing to do. He knew he shouldn't do it. But after wrestling with the urge for three whole weeks, Eddie couldn't help it any longer.

You hadn't looked up much from your work today, scribbling and erasing and flipping through text books in peace.

Eddie tried to play it off exactly like last time, sly as he purposely knocks his pen over the edge of the table with his elbow, feigning annoyance as he slipped out of his seat and crouched underneath the table to seemingly to pick it up.

You're wearing a plaid skirt today, once more baring more of your thighs with the hem pulled up high but your knees weren't spread as far apart this time, denying him a clear view of your panties.

Just when he thinks he ought to give up and get back in his seat, your right knee sways away from your left, offering him a better view of your lilac panties, his newest favorite color as both of your legs spread so far apart that Eddie remains firmly rooted in place.

He drinks in every detail. The little birthmark on your left inner thigh, the way your panties cup your core so closely with your sweet pussy underneath that thin layer of lace and cotton, even the scar on your right knee, now mostly faded but still discernible if you look close enough and Eddie definitely was.

Seconds pass by again and he's simply too entranced to bother to be more careful. He commits every part of you to memory, eager to think back on every mental snapshot he's taken of you for when he's home with his hand curled around his dick.

But before he can think about it any longer, before he can enjoy the view you've granted him just a little more, reality suddenly comes crashing down on Eddie as a torn off sheet of paper is lowered beneath your table and held it between your legs where he's had his eye's fixed for the last few moments.

'Hi, Eddie'

He shoots up so quickly he ends up ramming the top of his head against the table, the impact echoing throughout the library as he smashes his gel pen against the wood in the process as well. The force of it snaps the ink chamber and sends splashes of navy blue ink across his shirt, chin and cheek, marking him like a criminal who'd just set off a dye pack.

Several heads turn his way to seek out the source of the commotion but he's too shaken and way too petrified to let the throbbing pain bother him or slow him down. Eddie scoops up his campaign notes and flees the library, but not before daring to look once in your direction, finding you giggling into your hand, your eyes so full of amusement and mirth.

God, he was never going to live this down.

He's all kinds of embarrassed and ashamed as he stalks through the parking lot towards his van, desperate to turn the radio all the way up and scream his frustrations out right there in the driver's seat but by the time he gets close enough to his faithful bucket of rust and bolts, he finds something waiting for him.

Wedged underneath one of the windshield wipers and flapping against the wind is a folded up piece of paper, arousing his suspicions enough to displace his many distressed thoughts.

Pulling it free, Eddie unfolds the little note, instantly recognizing the handwriting as his belly swoops and his chest fills with something far more preferable to the dread he'd been carrying during his bumbling escape. There might be some hope for him after all, he thinks as he continues to re-read the little scrap of paper, a beaming smile breaking out on his ink stained face.

'I've been watching you too. If you ever get tired of just looking, come closer and say hi xx'

[louloulemons-posts]

Teddy

Eddie Munson X Reader

Summary : Reader has a nickname for Eddie that melts his heart.

Word Count : 1.6k

Warnings : Pure fluff, reader cries a little, minor talk of Eddies mom passing, talk of heads being chopped off, swears, pet names, use of Y/N, not proofread, just fluffy goodness.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Walking into the cafeteria, you look around for your boyfriend and his friends. Wandering over to the noisy boys, you smile, slipping into the seat beside his.

In the middle of a rant about hellfire, he rambled on about the others whining about lack of knowledge of his newest campaign.

“What’s the point of me,” he paused, kissing you cheek and placing his ring decorated hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

“-Telling you anything about it, it kinda defeats the object. You’d get through it too easy.”

“Can’t we just have a hint what we’re up against?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah man you wiped the floor with us last time,” Mike complained.

“Maybe it’s cause you’re shit,” Eddie shrugged, to which you lightly punched his shoulder. “What?” He asked.

“Don’t be mean Teddy, give ‘em a hint.”

You looked away from him, pulling your lunch out of your bag. A sandwich, some cherries and a bottle of water. “Fine, it’s sort of similar to last time. Just remember how many things can hide in the dark.”

“Wow thanks for zero help,” Dustin said. Eddie just shrugged, as you slid half of your sandwich over to him. “Here you go Teds.”

Kissing your head he smiled, “Thanks Sweet Girl.”

“You busy later?”

“No why?”

“What to rent a movie?”

“Sure, want a movie night?”

“Mhm, you can stay if you want. Parents won’t mind Teds.”

He went quiet as he nodded, taking a bite out of his half of the sandwich. You noticed how his cheeks were flushed, and through his thick curls you could see his ears red.

“You alright?”

“Yeah Sweetheart I’m good, foods nice.”

“Want any cherries?” He nodded, handing him a couple, you offered them to the other boys as well.

A few of them took some, all thanking you for the offer.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Lunch was uneventful after that, until your friend Chloe came running in. “Y/N,” she said, placing a hand of your shoulder.

Turning to her, you smiled, “Hey Clo, everything okay?”

“Do you think you could help me with moving my project, it’s almost breaking and I need to get it to our next class.”

“Oh yeah sure.” You packed away your lunch and stood from the table.

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you leaned down to peck your boyfriends lips. “I’ll meet you at the van,” he said.

“Okay, see you later Teddy.” You and Chloe waved goodbye to the others and headed out.

“So um … Teddy huh?” Gareth teased.

“Shut up!” He said.

“But it’s cute! I’m gonna start calling you that now, Eddie Teddy.”

“Fuck off, only Y/Ns allowed to call me that.”

“Aww why?” He asked.

“Uh cause she’s my girlfriend you dick.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Standing by Eddies van you saw him walk out of the building, saying goodbye to Dustin and wandering over to you. You smiled and waved slightly as he made his way.

“Hey Sweetheart,” he smiled.

“Hey Teddy,” you said, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. Taking your bag off you shoulder, he offered you his hand as you climbed in the van, placing the bag by your feet.

“Thanks.”

“Always.” He walked around to his side and began to drive out of the parking lot. “So what are we getting? Horror, sci-fi or are you gonna make me sit through a chick flick?” He asked.

“You always ask that, but you get so into them!”

“Do not!”

“Lies. I know you love them really Teds.”

“Mhm whatever you say.”

“Well I was thinking, I pick a movie for you, and you pick one for me.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’ve got popcorn at home and candy, so it’s just the movies.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Walking into Family Video, Eddie kissed your cheek and spoke, “I’m just gonna go say hi, go pick out the movie Sweetheart.”

“Okay.” Waving to the pair behind the counter before walking away down the aisle.

“Hey Munson.”

“Harrington, Buckley. How are we?”

“Good, you hear to use our discount?” Steve asked. “You know it.”

“How’s it going with Y/N?” Robin questioned.

“She’s great. It’s great.”

“I’m so glad I introduced you.”

“Yeah me too, I’ll owe you forever. Can’t believe she’s stuck around.”

“Coming up to six months now right?” The other boy asked.

Eddie nodded. “So movie night? Her parents like you?”

“Her dads a metal head himself Steve, of course he likes him!” Steve held his hands up in defence at Robins words. Eddie laughed, “Yeah they’re great people, really nice. Makes sense though, having that Sweet girl as their daughter.”

“Talking about me?” You popped up besides Eddie. “You? Sweet? Nah,” The curly haired boy teased. You bumped his side, letting out a playful sigh. “Go pick your movie Teds,” you said.

“What did you get?”

“It’s called Highlander. Looks good.”

“Oh yeah it’s cool,” Steve agreed, “I watched it the other day, insane, but great.”

“Perfect! Now go pick,” you pushed him towards the aisle lightly.

“Jesus, you tryna get rid of me?”

“Me? Get rid of you? Never!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Okay so I have Sweet and Salty popcorn, M&Ms and Reece’s. Help yourself,” you said, climbing on the couch next to Eddie. “Did you plan this?” He asked.

“I was just really hoping you’d be up for it,” you explained. “I’m always up for spending time with you Sweetheart.” You smiled, and snuggled into him.

“Okay kids we’re heading out now, we’ll be home at 1 at the latest,” your mom said, popping her head round the door. “Okay, have fun,” you waved to her.”

The pair shouted to goodbye to you and Eddie and were on their way. “Okay which movie first?” You asked.

“Well one has Sean Connery and one has Bowie so either ones a good pick.”

“We should start gory and end sweet?”

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll put it in.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Soon enough you were sat together watching Highlander. Scottish warriors were freaking out because a man named Connor had come back from the dead.

“I think this was a good pick,” Eddie said.

“Thanks Teds, I’m glad your enjoy it.” Once again you noticed his face flushing. “Why do you do that?” You asked.

He looked away from the screen to face you, “Do what Sweet girl?”

“Go all blushy?”

“I’m not!”

“You are, your cheeks are all pink and I bet your ears are warm.” You reached out to feel, but he leaned away.

“Let me feel!”

“No! Get away from my ears.”

“Let me feel them!”

“No you little monster. Get back,” he shuffled to the edge of the couch.

You crawled after him, leaving him trapped. Reaching out again, you successfully touched his ear, it was burning. “Aha! I knew it!”

“Shush! Watch the movie! Look it’s Sean Connery.”

“No no, I’m pausing it.” You reached for the remote and paused it on the older man’s face.

“What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything?” You said softly, fully facing him. Legs crossed and hands in your lap. “I know sweetheart it’s just ..” he sighed.

“It’s okay Teddy. Take your time.”

“It’s that.”

“What?”

“Teddy.”

“Teddy?”

“When you call me Teddy I just,” he groaned, leaning back into the plush couch. “Do you not like it? I can stop,” you said, terrified that you’d made your lover uncomfortable.

“No!” He almost shouted. “Please don’t stop. I love it, so much,” he said, reaching out for your hand. “Then why’s it bad?”

“Oh sweet girl it’s not. It’s so far from bad, if makes my heart burst and my brain turn mushy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah oh. Haven’t had anyone call me Teddy in a long time. When you first did it, it scared me, but I love it so much.”

You played with the rings on his fingers, “Who else called you Teddy?”

“My mom. Her little Teddy, said Edward was too grown up for me yet. Wayne was the one who started calling me Eddie after everything that happened.

“He called me Teddy once and I freaked. Said only mom could call me that, and now she was gone no one could. But then you came along, and damn sweetheart … you changed everything.

“So sweet and kind and beautiful. You called me Teddy and I felt so loved, only two ladies have made me feel like that. That’s how I knew it’d have to be you, you’d be my one and only girl. I just love you so much.”

You sniffled, rubbing your glassy eyes. “Oh no, oh Sweetheart. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you,” Eddie said, panicked, pulling you into his lap.

“You didn’t! It’s just so sweet. I’m so happy I make you feel like that. So honoured that you let me call you Teddy.”

“I am your Teddy, like I was hers, and I’m Wayne’s Eddie or Son.”

“You said something else to Teds.”

“I did didn’t I?” He asked, to which you nodded. “Well it’s true Sweetheart, I love you. Think I have from the day Robin introduced us.”

“I love you too Teddy.” He cupped your face with his hands, metal chilly on your face, but his warm palms comforted you. Leaning in he kissed your lips softly.

You pulled him back in, holding onto his shirt. Making the kiss more passionate, opening your mouth slightly, letting his tongue slide in.

After making out until you needed to breathe, you smiled at him, “I love you so much my Teddy.”

“I love you too Sweet girl, now come on let’s watch some guys chop each others heads off.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Part VII — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and reader’s relationship with growing, but so are the tensions between human and fae. Reader is being yanked back and forth between what she think she knows, and what she knows she feels.

Click here to be added to the Bluebird taglist! Please remember to check your settings and make sure you can be tagged! 💕

Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Mentions of masturbation/sex. Mentions of violence.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Weeks passed, and thus began a routine.

You found yourself thankful for your father’s campaigns against the fae, only because of the freedom it afforded you. Him being away for stints at a time meant you had the inn to yourself, time to yourself — your excitement for which would once have been about losing yourself in your music.

Somehow…somehow, that enthusiasm had bled so heavily into the other factor at play. That with your father gone, you were able to have secret meetings with the man — male — who had begun to consume every one of your thoughts.

Awake, you daydreamed about him. Asleep, he visited you there, too. You had never felt so giddy, never known any feeling like it.

And for a fae male, too.

Sometimes, you wondered if you should feel guilt. For lying to your father, going behind his back. For the fact that Azriel came from the same species that had brutally taken your mother from you.

But this small, secret thing — whatever it was blossoming into — was solely yours. And it brought you such happiness that everything else seemed to fade away.

For three weeks now, Azriel had visited you without fail. On the same night, at the same time. The two of you had devised a signal — he would fly above the inn, and if your bedroom curtains were open, all was well and it was safe for him to winnow into your room. It had worked flawlessly, become a routine.

The only difference between those three visits was that he’d stayed longer each time. You certainly weren’t complaining.

Now, you sat at the dressing table in your bedroom, the curtains wide open and the stars winking at you in the sky. Your father’s campaign had taken him to a village a couple of hours south this week. The inn was locked up for the night, still and silent.

It wasn’t long before you were feeling that telltale prickle of awareness at the back of your neck — the one that always came seconds before Azriel stepped out of thin air. You turned on your dressing stool just as he materialised before you.

You supposed you were opposites in your appearance. He was all dark leathers and brutal weapons and snaking shadows. You were delicate as moonlight, in the slip of a nightgown, your hair unbound and face open. Opposites, and yet in a way that was most poetic.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Azriel said by way of greeting. A little late was no more than five minutes. “I had some business to attend to at home.”

“I’ll forgive you this time,” you teased, your mouth curving into the small, giddy smile that you were sure you so often wore around him. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. Especially now that I’m here,” he held a scarred hand out to you. “How shall we spend our time tonight?”

Cooped up in the inn, there were only so many things you and Azriel could do together. But talking for hours, or reading to one another, or losing yourselves in music…Azriel didn’t seem to tire of any of it. If it bothered him that you couldn’t venture outside for a late-night stroll, he hid it marvellously.

“Are you hungry?” you asked. “I could dig out some food for a late dinner,” your eyes darted to the clock at your bedside. Gone midnight. “A very late dinner.”

A deep caress of a chuckle left him. “Sounds wonderful.”

So Azriel kept you company as you dug through your kitchen for anything that didn’t require cooking. As you gathered a small feast of cheese, cold meats, grapes and bread, it occurred to you that you had never once wondered what food might be like on the other side of the wall. What kind of foods did the fae even eat? Did elaborate dishes interest them, or was food just a means for sustenance? Did some have cravings? A sweet tooth? Allergies—

“What,” a deep voice brought you out of your thoughts, “are you thinking so hard about?”

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you couldn’t bite back your smile as Azriel buried his chin into your shoulder, his mouthwatering scent enveloping you. You watched in pure fascination as a shadow danced around you and plucked a grape from the plate.

“Do they…eat?” you blinked, purely amazed that the fruit didn’t fall through the mist-like form.

“The shadows?” Azriel chuckled gently. “No. They need no sustenance. They just…are.”

“And what of your kind?”

He paused. “My kind?”

“Faeries. Do you eat to stay alive, or do you eat because food tastes good? What would a faerie even eat? I mean…do you buy food from the market, or do you hunt for every meal—”

“Why would we not need food to stay alive?”

Something about his tone had you faltering — a sudden edge to his voice that made you think of sharp blades and brutal night. A beat passed before you turned in his arms to look up at him, read his face. But nothing was to be found there. Not by an untrained eye, anyway.

“Aren’t you immortal?” you asked.

“The fae live a very, very long time — provided we take care of our bodies.” Azriel answered tightly. “But we are living beings. We can be weakened, and we can be hurt — as you well know, considering you removed the ash arrows I was shot with.”

You hadn’t stopped to think of that. The memory of his pain, though, made you want to flinch.

“Yes, we enjoy food just as much as humans do. And we need nutrition and sustenance, just as humans do. Perhaps not in the same way, but we need it all the same, and the majority of us do not need to hunt for it.” His eyes — somewhat guarded and reserved — scanned your face. “We think and we feel. We are not just beings of violent tendencies made into appealing mirages to lure people in. We are not hollow statues capable only of bad.”

The words hung between you, strangely haunting and stunning. And it was amidst those words that you realised a wall had been ever so slightly risen. That you’d touched a raw nerve.

“My question offended you,” you breathed, still somewhat taken aback by the fervour with which he’d spoken.

It was Azriel, then, who faltered — and studied you.

His eyes flicked over your face, and something softened imperceptibly in his own.

“I know…I know you have more reason to think negatively of my kind than you do positively,” he lowered his gaze. “I know that you, personally, have suffered at our hands, and gods, if I knew who had caused you such pain, I would—” he cut himself off. Took a breath. Seemed to force himself to relax. “I understand why you think and feel what you do—”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

His eyes met yours again. They were once more the warm, honeyed eyes you’d grown used to these past weeks. “I know,” he admitted. “I just…don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I want you to know that not all of us are bad.”

That wasn’t so hard to wrap your head around, was it? There was good and bad all over the human realm. Why would it not be the same across the wall?

You just…needed to accept that the fae weren’t strictly how you had always been raised to believe. Not all of them, anyway.

Certainly not Azriel.

“I know,” you said earnestly, and his shoulders relaxed even more. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I.”

Your brow furrowed. “For what?”

A mischievous glimmer lightened his beautiful eyes, and his lips quirked into a smile as the shadow — that same one from before, grape and all — swam through the air to his mouth. And pushed the grape between his waiting lips.

“For stealing a grape,” he smirked.

You grinned, relieved that the tension was gone, and repeated your earlier words. “I’ll forgive you this time.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Bellies full, you drained your glass of wine and lounged back.

You and Azriel had thrown a blanket on the floor of your sitting room, your backs pressed against the worn sofa and your finished food in front of you. A makeshift indoor picnic of sorts.

Sitting together like this, it was easy to let the rest of the world drain away. A distinct feeling existed between you that you’d known Azriel far longer than you’d even been alive, and that came with ease, with comfort.

You nestled back against the couch cushions, allowing yourself to drink in the sight of the male at your side. He sat with his head tipped back and eyes closed — content to soak in the moment. So, so beautiful, you weren’t sure you could breathe. And to think he was at your house, by your side.

A shadow drifted up, lingering at his ear. Azriel seemed to stiffen, before his lips tipped up into a smile, his eyes opening and immediately finding yours.

As if…as if that shadow had told him you’d been staring. Had it known what you were thinking, too?

You narrowed your eyes, watching every fluid lope that it took back to his side. “Do they always tell you what I’m doing?”

Azriel chuckled — seemed impressed that you’d figured it out. “Not always.”

“But sometimes.” A thought struck you — one that had your face flushing. “Do they…do they know what I’m doing, even when they’re not here?”

“No,” the shadowsinger angled his head curiously. “Why?”

You shook your head. A change of subject was definitely in order.

Because it would be a lie to say that these past weeks, you hadn’t grown more…curious, in your body. In the sensations that had been awoken like kindling to a flame.

You’d had them before, of course, like you imagined most women your age had. But those desires hadn’t truly been desirous. They’d been…dulled, easy to ignore.

That had changed, as of late.

A couple of times now, you had awoken from dreams of rippling muscle, tan skin, wings. A melodic voice had lingered in your ears, and a heat had ached between your legs that hadn’t been relieved until you were following instinct and touching yourself, exploring yourself. You’d writhed in your bed and drenched yourself with sweat and muffled a cry as you’d crested that hill into release.

And it was Azriel that you’d thought about through it all.

Recalling it now had your cheeks scorching.

Azriel sucked in a slow breath, and his voice was a little strained as he asked, “What does that look mean?”

You cleared your throat. Shook your thoughts off. “I was wondering something.”

“…Wondering what?”

How to phrase the foreign thoughts that were filling your head at an alarming pace? This was all new to you — not just the clandestine meetings with a fae male, but every thought, feeling and sensation that seemed to follow. You were feeling too many things to keep up with.

And right then, in that split second, the thought that suddenly plagued you had you feeling something…unpleasant. Itchy and bitter.

“…Don’t you have anyone else you could be doing this with?” you asked, and Azriel’s brow immediately pinched. “Don’t get me wrong, I like having you here — I want you here…” Gods, you were making a mess of this. You flushed scarlet, wishing you’d just kept your mouth shut. “I just mean…another woman. Female.”

Azriel paused, seeming…surprised by the question. And you…you would have been happy for the ground to swallow you whole.

But then he was shifting on the spot, wings rustling, shadows stirring. He angled himself towards you and asked, “Do you mean…lovers?”

Yes, yes you did. But your nerve had vanished. Your cheeks burned.

Still, Azriel read the confirmation in your eyes. He studied you with an unreadable expression.

“I’ve had lovers.” Of course he had — five centuries was a long, long time to be alive. “Right now, though, I do not. I don’t see anyone. Except you.”

Shameful relief stormed you. There was no label on the, quite frankly, strange relationship you had with this male. Yes, you met regularly. Yes, the two of you kissed — a lot. But Azriel was his own person with his own needs. He was well within his right to fulfill them if he did so wish. With someone…experienced.

It made your heart pinch, though.

You were stolen from your thoughts by warm, scarred fingers touching your jaw. Azriel gently turned your face towards him.

“Have you been worrying about that?” he asked. “That I come here to see you, and then fall into bed with somebody back home?”

Such gentleness in his tone. You swallowed, reading his face. “I have no right to worry about it. You are…unattached. If you need to find release in somebody—”

“I don’t need to at all.” His voice was like silk. And his eyes…they unmistakably flickered down to your lips. “And on the contrary, I’m very much attached.”

Like a switch in your brain, that bitter, oily jealousy was replaced by…want. Need. To taste his mouth again.

Though he was the most common instigator of your kisses, there was no denying you’d grown in confidence with each one since that very first time. And that confidence aided you now, as you leaned forward and settled your hand on Azriel’s jaw. Slid your lips over his.

He kissed you back without hesitation, a pleased hum seeming to sound in a deep part of his chest. And just as you always did, you were becoming lost in no time, in his scent and his taste and the weight of his mouth on yours.  

But this time was different, because you were different. More curious, more confident. You didn’t want to shy away from your intrigue or the new experiences that hovered just out of reach. You didn’t…didn’t want to just be the girl whose life was confined to this inn in this village. You wanted more.

Wanted Azriel.

You shifted where you sat, not breaking the kiss as you tucked your legs beneath you and pushed onto your knees. Azriel’s hand immediately steadied your waist, its heat permeating your clothes — and that in itself was…pleasurable. You breathed a sigh into his mouth, inching closer, closer, your hand slipping down to the collar of his tunic.

But just as quickly, he was pulling away. Pulling his lips from yours.

He panted, something dark and tempting in his eyes. And much to your disappointment, he rasped out, “We need to stop.”

You tried not to let your shoulders slump. “Why?”

“Because we’re getting carried away.”

You stared at him — his utter perfection. Did he…did he not want to take things that far with you? Maybe you’d read entirely too much into his kisses, more heated with every stroke. Maybe this was simply fun for him, and you…you would never cross his mind, if he were to take another lover.

You didn’t understand any of this. How it was supposed to work.

You rocked back on your rear, heat creeping up your neck — a different, unpleasant kind. One that made you want to bury your face and hide.

But before you could move another inch, Azriel was grabbing your hand.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly.

Your eyes inched up to his. “What?”

“Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed of what you want. Don’t regret having confidence.”

“…You don’t want it though, do you?”

He stared back at you. Confirmation enough.

“You don’t want me — like that. Because I’m inexperienced, or—”

He squeezed your hand. “It has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what is it?”

His eyes swept over you again, and they were…open — perhaps more open than he was normally comfortable with. Your own gaze fell to your joined hands, as he brushed his thumb across the back of your palm, and then laced his fingers in between yours. Locked them together.

“When we take things further,” he said, “I want to know that you trust me. I want to offer myself to you, knowing that you have no doubts about me. And I don’t think you’re there yet.”

“I—”

“It’s alright,” he squeezed your fingers once. “You do not have to justify anything. You have valid reasons for not trusting my kind, and I respect them,” his lips quirked up into a small, teasing smile. “It just means that I’ll have to put the work in to gain that trust.”

Your heart, in that moment, threatened to burst out of your chest. And perhaps things were changing, because you couldn’t imagine that many human men would offer such patience and understanding. Such respect. Azriel cared more about your trust than his pleasure.

Would this male ever stop surprising you?

“It’s not—not you,” you murmured, allowing your thumb to explore his scarred skin. “It’s just…complicated.”

“I know. Like I said, you don’t have to justify it,” he scooted closer, his leg now touching yours. “But…look at me, Y/N.”

You did.

You lifted your gaze to his face — and it wasn’t just the beauty that constantly threatened to bowl you over, but what now sat within it.

You didn’t need experience to know that desire coloured his face. That the way he swallowed, hard, seemed to be some sort of coping mechanism — to rein himself in.

“I do not want you thinking, for one second, that I don’t want you…like that.” His voice held a sudden grit that made you shiver. “Because believe me — I do. I want you, and I think about you, and when you’re ready — when you trust me — I will be honoured to give myself fully to you.”

The words alone…gods, they only made your blood burn fiercer. And you understood Azriel’s reasoning, respected it. But that didn’t mean you weren’t still aching.

“You’re not helping,” you groaned, bowing your head.

A silken chuckle skittered over you, and Azriel’s lips were at your cheek, brushing a kiss there.

“I’ve waited a very long time for you,” he murmured. “I can wait a little longer.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It was hard, flitting between the two versions of yourself.

There was the version of you that you’d always known — the one who pulled pints behind the bar at the Bluebird Inn and knew everybody in the village whether you wanted to or not. The version of you that had never considered life outside of this miserable place, because it had always seemed pointless, fruitless.

And then there was the newer version of you. The one who looked forward to that cloak-and-dagger meeting every week, when the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes upon would give you hours of his time and company and make you feel like…someone else. Someone more. The version of yourself who laughed and kissed and explored. Who had begun to crave.

You were starting to think the newer version of yourself was the better one. And with every moment Azriel wasn’t here, you were starting to miss him more and more.

Particularly right now, with your father and his cadre home from this week’s campaign. The taproom was full of their booming voices and their arrogantly loud laughter. All you could do was stand behind the bar and watch as they riled each other with tales of the fae and fantasised about retaliation, revenge. It was all they seemed able to talk about.

It bothered you in a way it never had before.

Perhaps because you knew of at least one good fae. Or perhaps because you still hadn’t told Azriel that the human rebellion he’d been made aware of was lead by your father. That he and his men discussed their strategy, their plans, in the very building that you spent such idyllic time with Azriel in every week.

Two versions of yourself, indeed.

Even Devin was here. It seemed he’d finally been swayed to join your father’s cause. A guard-in-training turned rebel. You’d have to be careful about the eye he so often had on you.

Heaving a soft sigh, you spared a glance at the clock. It didn’t seem that any of your father’s group had plans to leave any time soon. Still filthy from days on the road, they seemed content to make use of the bar rather than to return to their respective homes. You just wanted to go to bed. To lay staring at the ceiling and wonder what your winged…friend was doing at the exact same moment.

“Loud, aren’t they?”

Your gaze crept over to Devin, where he took up his usual seat at the bar. He shot you a winning smile that you knew would make every girl in the village swoon.

And yet…where your stomach would usually erupt with butterflies, you felt…nothing.

He was handsome, there was no doubt. But that charm paled in comparison to Azriel’s beauty.

“Just a bit,” you agreed, your eyes flickering to the gathering of unwashed, rowdy men at the centre table. “I don’t know how they don’t tire of having the same conversation over and over.”

Devin cocked an eyebrow. “Well, now, they’re just passionate about the cause. Aren’t you? Surely your father has spoken to you about it at length.”

He had — for the entirety of your life. You knew the cause inside out.

You just weren’t sure it was entirely right anymore.

“Of course he has,” you replied. “I support my father wholeheartedly. Sometimes I just wonder…”

Your words trailed off. This was tricky territory. You couldn’t go around sharing your thoughts just because Azriel was…different.

But Devin leaned forward encouragingly. “Wonder what?”

You studied him. Would it be so wrong, to suggest that good, honest fae were out there? It didn’t wipe away the atrocities that had been committed, of course, but to have an open mind wasn’t a bad thing.

And certainly not for a village guard, either. To be broad-minded, sometimes merciful.

“I just wonder if there’s good and bad in everyone,” you relented a little too quickly. It surprised you…how much you wanted to talk about it, make your point. “There are good and bad humans. Who’s to say that such isn’t the case with the fae? And if it is…should the good fae be punished for what the bad ones have done? It seems—”

“The fae are evil, Y/N,” Devin cut in, his eyes fierce. “Make no mistake about that. It’s not the same with them because they’re made differently to us. They lack what makes us good and moral. They lack compassion and care. They’re self-serving and violent to their very core, and this world cannot be improved upon until every last fae is wiped off the map.”

You blinked, taking a subtle step back. The speech seemed…extreme. You’d never seen Devin quite so aggressive. And it seemed to take a moment for him to snap out of it — to relax the hard set of his jaw, the firm grip on his glass.

His eyes shuttered, and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just…I’ve seen for myself what the scum across the wall are capable of. The bodies of the village girls that were killed…it’s not an image I’m likely to ever forget.”

You studied him cautiously. “I imagine not.”

“I’d hate for you to meet the same fate, Y/N. These are dangerous times, and that filth are only growing bolder. It’s why I chose to join your father’s cause. Why I know that what he says is right.”

Such sure venom in his tone. And yet you knew…you knew that Azriel would never do anything like that.

The entire conversation made you feel sick.

But Devin clearly misread that as fear. Worry. “Get yourself to bed,” he said softly. “These idiots aren’t going anywhere any time soon. I’m sure I can pour a few drinks.”

Bed sounded like a good idea. Bed was safe. A place to think clearly.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a nearby cloth. It was all you could do to murmur a gravelly, “Thank you.”

Devin inclined his head. “Sleep well. And try not to worry,” a soft smile played on his lips. “You’re safe with us.”

You couldn’t muster a response.

But as you made it out of the stuffy taproom and headed for the stairs, you weren’t at all sure, anymore, where exactly safety lay.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“I changed the barrels.”

“Good.”

“And mopped the floors.”

“Good.”

The next morning, you eyed your father as he took his breakfast at one of the taproom tables. He was in an even stranger mood than usual. Even more…pensive. Quiet.

You cleared your throat, gathering his empty cup and plate onto a tray. His dark eyes watched every one of your movements.

“I’ll get these cleaned up,” you said. “And then if there’s nothing else to be done, I thought I might—”

“Don’t worry about that for a moment,” he jerked his head at the tray in your hands. “Come take a seat.”

You paused. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked you to sit with him.

“I want to talk to you,” he pushed. “Sit.”

As you dumped the tray on another table and pulled out the chair opposite his, a bleating panic began to scream inside your head. Had your father somehow found out about Azriel? If he had, you didn’t want to imagine what kind of punishment that would warrant—

“Devin spoke to me before he left last night.” His voice was almost too quiet. “About you.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. “What about me?”

“He seemed concerned about you. That you don’t truly appreciate the danger that is out there. Do you?”

Fuck. You really shouldn’t have said anything to Devin. Should have known that he’d report back to your father.

“Of course I do,” you answered. And you did know what danger was out there. Your dead mother was a fine enough example.

You just…didn’t think that had to mean that the entire fae species was bad. You didn’t want it to mean that.

“Then what’s all this nonsense about wondering if there are good fae?” your father pursed his lips. “Surely you know better than anybody that there aren’t. You’re without a mother because there aren’t.”

Your body had entirely locked up in the chair. It wasn’t exactly that you were scared of your father; you didn’t think he’d ever hurt you.

But he’d spent years behind this cause, and was closer than ever to it coming to something. This was his purpose, his passion, the thing he cared about perhaps more than anything else in the world, you included. To debate him on it…to question it…it was the worst thing you could possibly do.

You forced yourself to shrug, to look meek and clueless. “I just…asked Devin a question, that’s all,” you answered. “Sometimes I think I could know more. You could tell me more.”

It seemed so long that your father spent studying you. And as he did, you made yourself the version of you that he knew. The picture of innocence. Nothing but mild curiosity.

And then, finally, his body relaxed. He gave a slow nod. “I know you think I keep you in the dark sometimes,” he admitted. “In truth, I have. To some degree. I wanted you to have some semblance of peace and safety in this world, if only a little. But perhaps I’m doing you more harm than good.”

“I—”

“After Devin spoke to me last night, I got thinking. And I made a decision.”

You stared back at him, trying desperately not to clench your fists at your sides. Something about the resolve on his face made your stomach turn.

“What’s the decision?” you asked.

“Next week — I’ve decided I’m taking you out on the road with us. You can get a proper idea of what all of this is about. Perhaps I should have taken you with us before.”

You stared at him, lips parted, not entirely sure he couldn’t hear the shrieking that rang in your ears.

His time on the road was the precious little time you got to have with Azriel every week. What you looked forward to every week. To miss that—

And to miss it to join your father’s campaign…you were sure the colour must have drained from your face. It was bad enough that you hadn’t told Azriel that your father was the driving force behind this human rebellion. If he were to find out you’d actively participated in it…

Well, he’d surely want nothing more to do with you. The thought alone made your heart plummet into your stomach.

“I can’t go with you,” you blurted, and your father’s brow pinched. “I mean…what about this place?” you gestured to your surroundings. “No one would be here to keep the inn open.”

His shoulders relaxed, and there was even a hint of a smile on his face. “I can find someone to hold the fort for a few days, don’t you worry about that,” he reached out, mussing the hair on your head. “You’re a good girl, Y/N. But this trip is necessary. It’s time you understand what we’re up against.”

He stood from his chair, and you could do nothing but watch. There was no arguing with him. His mind was made up.

“It’s decided — you’re coming on the road with us next week,” he turned, and he didn’t look back at you as he said, filing through the door, “make sure you’re fully prepared.”

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bluebird tag list: @kennedy-brooke @rosessndri @anae-naea-zacheria @iambored24601 @sirenpearldust @v3lv3tf0x @lupinswolfsbanes @alohaangels @feyretopia @janebirkln @a-dizzle777 @moonbirde @natashachelsea @navyblue-eternity @multi-reader @sfhsgrad-blog @makemeurvillain @lyinginameadow @101crows @bsenpai @honeyandhalfmoons @florencemtrash @ssmay123 @historygeekqueen @mika-no-sekai-blog @ktsskgzxlu @basicbittywitty @mybestfriendmademe @cali-flow3r @lalachat @honeybeeboobaa @azrielsbbg @eatinggummybearsisacrime @ilovemangomorethanu @rhysandorian @coralseacourt @berryzxx @pequeno-atlas @secretlyhers @grimoiregrl @just-jess-losers

[evan-bo-bevin]

The first print for the Forever Home kickstarter is finally done aaaaaaaa

She was inked traditionally, but colored in Procreate, which was the first time I've used that program for coloring. It's also the first time I've colored something digitally in actual years, so I'm really happy with how she came out!

She is a 5x7" print available as a reward for people who back the kickstarter for our debut comic, Forever Home, which is live until December 12. The 2nd print is also nearly done, and will be revealed in the next couple of days~

The original intention was to have the comic & all its goodies, including these prints, done before running the kickstarter campaign. However, no one expected the surprise medical issues (and surprise surgery!), so... Regardless, the comic is moving, the prints &tc are getting done, and we'd love to have your support!

Remember, these goodies are only being printed for this kickstarter and wont be printed again after this, so please share it, tell a sibling, a friend, a neighbor, and help us continue to share our stories with you! We have something really special coming up in 2025...

Check out the Kickstarter here!

[devsgames]

"Is Tumblr Blaze Worth It For Promoting My Indie Game?" - a Postmortem

Lately I've been thinking about marketing and promotion of my games and wanting to explore new avenues. Tumblr Blaze was one of those things I wanted to dip my toes into a bit to understand how it works and if it has potential for advertising my sort of stuff. Like as not, there's no point in making games if nobody actually plays them after all!

Conversely I have also heard bad things about Tumblr Blaze; that it's not very targeted, the reach is fairly limited, and people on this site generally hate anything that is Blazed to them.

I wanted to test all these waters a bit to see if it's something worth investing in, and share what I found for my own benefit and the benefit of others. Finding various info on topics like this for indie dev can be a pain, so why not share my findings?

The Plan and Goal

While Centauri Dark is still in development and is the thing I actually want to advertise more of right now, Bombing!! 2 is already out and is much more marketable with some cool art made by community members. I think as a first impression it tends to show well, so I decided to make my test post with that to get exposure to it and see how it goes.

My goal was mostly to see what a Blaze post does for advertising a launched indie game and how much "eyes on" it actually gets in terms of actual engagement.

Posting

From the outset I knew I wanted to make a post that 1) wasn't annoying to people just looking at the webbed site 2) featured a call to action of some kind I could measure 3) wouldn't break the bank.

Here's what I came up with:

The intention was to flash some cool looking art to grab their attention, explain what they're looking at, and then link the game a couple of times while mentioning "Buy or Wishlist" for good measure as a call to action.

Since Bombing!! 2 is such an art-forward game, I found the coolest art pieces made by community members that felt the most "Tumblr" to match the audience, and would also show off the range of art you could make in the game. I also wanted to make it personal, like me writing a message to whoever would read it instead of something that sounded like a standard ad. Generally I think it was a fairly reasonable little post that catches some interest and doesn't overstay too much of a welcome. What I think also helps is it's explicitly a "hey this might interest you" sort of framing (as opposed to a more "why am I even seeing this" sort of post you tend to get from Blaze sometimes).

I also think it's worth emphasizing that writing a posted explicitly intending to be Blazed was a much stronger approach than just Blazing some random post I had made for my own followers months ago, because I could align it to my promotional goals. It also assumed that random people on the Internet would be the ones seeing my post, and not the followers and friends who already know me and my work.

Blazing

As I looked into Blaze early on there was actually a few key things I wasn't fully aware of about the system.

It guarantees a minimum amount of views

It guarantees it will be Blazed for a minimum of 24 hours no matter how many views

You pay a single base rate for the whole campaign (great compared to some ads which tend to price based on views/engagement).

You can define an audience explicitly (some info that was floating around lead me to believe this wasn't the case).

Campaigns come in a few amounts:

I paid for the 2nd tier; $17 USD for a campaign, which amounts to $25 CDN. I wanted to go a little more into it than the lowest tier offered, since I figured the lowest wouldn't give me as much data as I would've liked and I wanted to know what to reasonably expect should I decide to do it again in the future.

Since Bombing!! 2 sells for ~$20USD I also figure if the Blaze campaign prompts at least two people to buy the game then the Blaze would have paid for itself.

Blaze lets you use tags to define which audiences you want to reach. Unfortunately it doesn't let you view that data after you've applied it, but the tags I chose were generally anyone who spoke English and has an interest in Digital Artist or Video Game circles.

The campaign ran for 24 Hours, starting yesterday and ending today.

The Results

I definitely noticed a sharp uptick in engagement during the campaign! It hit the target audience of ~7k around one hour into the campaign, after which point I noticed engagement take a sharp decline.

Here's the Blaze campaign analytics provided by Tumblr (which was also very helpful to have):

So it seems ~12.5k views from Blaze, ~370 likes, ~80 reblogs, 5 shares elsewhere. The post itself has ~520 notes, so I assume there's some reblogging and liking happening from beyond the Blaze campaign that isn't pictured here. The good thing is that despite having reached its 7k target after only 1 hour, it continued to circulate and be Blazed until 24 hours later. Eventually the post made it to ~12k views overall, which was nearly double the amount promised by the campaign - I attribute this mostly to a strong post/target audience/subject matter and I'm sure it's not standard.

Here's the general velocity of engagement around when the post was Blazed:

It jumped much more than I honestly expected, but you can tell Blaze seemed to put it in front of people's faces more than my regular posts do. You can see it drops off sharply as I hit the quoted amount as well, back down to the normal amount of engagement I get on Tumblr.

But this stuff isn't really what I was looking for; I was looking for sales and keeping an eye on 'conversions' - or how many users followed my call to action because of the post. Likes and stuff are fine and cool, but how many people bought or wishlisted the game on Steam as a result of seeing the post on Tumblr?

Tumblr and Blaze obviously have no way of telling me this, so I'm looking to Steam to show me changes there.

Here's what Steam shows me happened to the Bombing!! 2 views yesterday:

That's not nothing! This shows the last month's worth of traffic to the Bombing!! 2 page, and that number was at least double yesterday as it was regularly. It's very cool to know a number of people did actually click through to the game page in order to view the game from the Blaze post.

But the real REAL question is how many bought or wishlisted the game because of this post?

I'll start with Sales, on a graph of 1 month of data:

Flat line :( Which is fine though, as the game wasn't on Sale and was just reaching people for the first time. I didn't honestly expect any immediate sales from this, and was more focused on other engagement anyways. Honestly I would be surprised if someone saw the game on a Blaze post and bought it immediately. I mean it's good but it's probably not THAT good!

Now to Wishlists, which can be a good indicator of who might likely buy your game in the future. Basically if someone has added a game to their wishlist, there's reason to believe they might buy it in the future, which is good for your game.

Here's the Wishlists for Bombing!! 2 from the last month:

That's 23 Wishlists in one day! That's roughly ~18 Wishlists more than an average day!

It's hard to know if some of these are because of the post or just a statistical fluke. However, when compared to previous trends on the game page that's quite a noticeable difference. It means even if no one bought it now, they were interested enough to add it to their shortlist. Looking at it another way, if two people who Wishlisted decided to buy the game in the future the campaign will have paid for itself.

Conclusions

I think like any advertising if you go into it with a plan in mind and try to build something around a specific action, Blaze seems pretty worth it to me especially if I just want to get eyes on something. On top of the obvious data telling me people were interested in the game, there was a few folks who just plain complemented the game or acknowledged it 'was the first Blaze post they were actually interested in', which felt worth it in it's own qualitative sort of way. It's also worth noting my game sells for $20USD, so the margins are large enough that making it back isn't too challenging.

I think having an idea of the message I wanted to send really helped, and I'm sure I'd happily do this again with a larger audience and another plan (and probably will do it for when Centauri Dark releases).

[eds6ngel]

Please friend, I need Eddie and his equally feral grungy little girlfriend. Think like Allison Reynolds from the Breakfast Club before they gave her the hideous pink makeover. I want these two clowns to match each other’s energy, both of them nuts about D&D and metal, and I want her to be the one member of Hellfire who is in charge of drawing these insanely intricate drawings of everyone’s player characters.

being eddie's grungy gf would include ...

a/n: i think this calls for some headcanons! and i suppose this is my reminder to watch 'the breakfast club' as i still haven't gotten round to it ! :')

warnings: SLIGHT SMUT!! (one mention of sex, two allusions.) fem!reader. artsy!reader. grungy!reader. kissing. one mention of people calling eddie a 'freak.' tons of fluff and comfort !!

𝜗𝜚 you guys met in your sophomore year.

𝜗𝜚 eddie had been looking to set up a d&d club at the end of the year, knowing his middle school friends (jeff & gareth) were now going to be in high school with him.

𝜗𝜚 eddie didn’t know that you played d&d at the time, but he had sneaked a glance at your notebook during art class and was very intrigued into your drawings, many which consisted of your own monsters, fairies, dragons, anything magical and mystical.

𝜗𝜚 he knew the opportunity was even greater when you were pinning ‘battle of the bands’ posters in the school hallways. he couldn’t believe it was you making those incredible designs.

𝜗𝜚 asked you right there and then if you could help him design a poster for his new club.

𝜗𝜚 you were unsure at first, wondering what the hell this random dude who was in your art class wanted a poster for.

𝜗𝜚 however, you were immediately on board when he mentioned it was for d&d.

𝜗𝜚 you were technically the first member to join his club. it was you and him against the world at that point.

𝜗𝜚 you asked some of your artsy friends who were also in the drama club if you could rent their space on friday nights for weekly campaigns.

𝜗𝜚 they reluctantly said yes just because it was you. eddie was happy as it was one of the few groups of people outside of his own friend group that weren’t calling him a ‘freak’ upon arrival.

𝜗𝜚 over the summer, you and eddie met up to discuss how the whole ordeal would work. his trailer had basically become your second home by that point.

𝜗𝜚 you had started cooking meals together, you would go out to benny’s for a quick evening bite, you even started sleeping over at his.

𝜗𝜚 you began with bringing over a sleeping bag to camp out on his floor, but it soon turned into the two of you just sharing his bed. platonically, of course.

𝜗𝜚 it wasn’t until jeff and gareth came to visit the two of you so you could start drawing their characters for eddie’s visual reference that they encouraged eddie to grow some balls and ask you out.

𝜗𝜚 it took him a couple more weeks, but he finally got there.

𝜗𝜚 luckily you felt the same and you shared your first kiss that day.

𝜗𝜚 and by the time your junior year rolled around, everything was settled in place.

𝜗𝜚 eddie let you sit on his lap during campaigns, to which the boys always complained about.

𝜗𝜚 and after the boys had left, you got up to some… not exactly PG activities on his throne.

𝜗𝜚 or your throne, should you say. eddie said that the throne was all yours, since you decorated the entire thing.

𝜗𝜚 it was actually a 50/50 split effort.

𝜗𝜚 you were the couple who annoyingly blasted metal music out of his van on late night drives at 2am.

𝜗𝜚 hopper stopped you once as you had been getting noise complaints from locals.

𝜗𝜚 you and eddie both agreed it was only because it was metal music and continued anyway.

𝜗𝜚 eddie didn’t realise how feral you were until you got together. you were pretty excitable when you were simply platonic friends, but this was a whole different level.

𝜗𝜚 he didn’t care though as he loved it (and it also transferred to the bedroom.)

𝜗𝜚 sickly PDA couple alert ! eddie’s kissing you all the time ! the boy cannot keep his hands to himself ! he’s infatuated by you !

𝜗𝜚 always sharing cassettes. the both of you never buy new albums individually anymore. you either listen to them together and nerd out, or you share them back and forth.

𝜗𝜚 friday night dates after d&d ! i repeat, friday night dates after d&d !

𝜗𝜚 followed by some truly amazing sex. thank god wayne took the late night shift on fridays. and you hoped it never changed. because it was always the best ending to your week, and you didn’t want to change it for as long as you lived.

taglist: @cosmorant @ye0nvibezzn @tlclick73 @agxxb

[babygirl-riley]

Numb

SPOILERS! IF YOU HAVENT WATCH/PLAY THE CAMPAIGN OF MWIII THAN MOVE ON!

NO SERIOUSLY BYE

LAST TIME FOR NOT SEEING SPOILERS

[keep reading]

After the events of losing a comrade, you watch Simon move around empty

Warnings: PURE FUCKING DEPRESSION, angst, mentions of PTSD, major death character, soft!simon, husband!simon, depressed!simon, nightmares, swearing

“Did some force take you because I didn’t pray?”

A/N: Listen…I literally almost threw up when we saw him die like 😭 I wanted to just lay down and die. This is how I would think Simon would react after knowing and been married to you for a while. 🥲 Also a little hint that Soap had a partner for the Soap readers out there. 🖤

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You waited as you watched the world fall apart and settle. You knew Simon was out there, in the midst of it. When you got the text “I’m comin’ home.” You were thrilled, you thought everything was fine.

However.

It wasn’t, Simon came home as you waited on the couch. Immediately he stared right at you, you saw how distant he was. How cold. How sad. You stood up and walked to him as his shoulders dropped. You grabbed the side of his face and had him look at you. He didn’t move as his eyes landed on yours.

“What’s wrong.” You whispered trying to find an answer through his eyes.

He is tired. You kept thinking, nothing happened. Everything is fine. He is just tired. Sometimes he comes home like this. No he doesn’t. You corrected. Something was wrong.

Tears brimming on the edge of his painted eyes. You only seen on two fingers that you seen him cry or tears in his eyes. You looked at him concern rubbing his cheek bones on his mask. He inhaled, shakily. “He…Johnny.” He whispered, his voice cracking.

You scanned his eyes, trying to find out why he was talking about Soap like he…No. He can’t be. “Is he hurt?”

Simon looked away grabbing your wrists. He stared at your fingers, looking at the ring he gave you just a couple of weeks before the hell broke. He squeezed your wrists not hard but little tighter. “No…He-He’s…”

“Oh,” You said quietly before he looked up at you then he wrapped his arms around you holding you close. “I’m so sorry baby.”

You heard a soft sob as he squeezed you. You held the back of his head and back, rubbing soft circles. You both stood there for a moment before guiding him to the couch taking his boots off. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak, he just let the tears fall. Never have you seen him like this. Usually he would lock himself somewhere until he was ready to just lay with you or cook with you.

This. This however he was in a state of shock? Numbness? The old Simon wouldn’t be like this towards you but now you were just grateful he was. When you took off his boots you stood up, his head still on the ground his shoulders stiff. You gently grabbed his chin, he looked up at you. “Let’s get you in the tub.” You whispered.

“Let’s just go to bed.” He disagreed, standing up and moving around you.

The next couple of months was hell. Either Simon would jolt awake and be covered in sweat to the point he felt the need to shower. Or you would wake up to him mumbling Soap’s name, getting closer to him to feel the heat radiating from his body.

Which made Simon feel worse, waking you up because he couldn’t sleep or even be asleep hurt him more. His pain is causing you pain. Even though you reassured him over and over again that it wasn’t that. He told you that he was going to Scotland to spread his ashes which you didn’t mind.

It was a week before he came home, you didn’t ask how it went because it mostly was hard from him. So you made his favorite food and tea as you both sat at the table. He played with his food, picking at it before sighing and left the room. You made a container that most likely wouldn’t be touched by him. He ate sure but it wasn’t his normal eating habit.

One night the nightmares became worse and it was was the same one. The tunnels connecting as gunfire was heard in the distance. Kyle and him sprinting to help just to see Johnny getting shot. Again and again. Hearing Price yell for him. Hearing HIS voice call his name. Feeling no pulse. See the crimson blood soak the floor. The cry and scream of his partner when him, Gaz, and Price went to bare the news.

This time he wasn’t mumbling his name he screamed. Which snapped you awake immediately, you turned to see Simon shaking his back facing away from you. “Simon,” You said sternly but not in a malicious manner. You placed your hand as he snapped up, making you jump from the sudden movement. He snapped his head to you, eyes wild, tears pricking. He searched your eyes, you tried to quickly change your shock impression before he saw it but it was too late. He got out of bed quickly. “Simon.”

He shut the bedroom door, quietly leaving you there. You waited for a moment before walking out. Noticing he wasn’t home yoh went back to bed. Waiting until he came home. During that you pulled out your phone and text Price.

Simon felt his phone go off, it was Price. He sighed answering. “You are awake.” Price mumbled.

Simon grunted. “Can’ sleep.”

“Me neither,” He sighed through the phone. “Meet me at the base Simon.”

Simon grunted in response turning around to head home. He didn’t go inside but text you to inform you. You just said okay with a heart, that’s what he loves about you never pushed. Never showed how you were irritated or upset that he wouldn’t. You knew eventually he would tell you, slowly it took time.

It wasn’t until the next day Simon came home, you were getting out of the shower when you saw him sitting on the bed. He looked at you his eyes searching his eyes. Simon’s eyes always told the story, for you, you always knew what he truly felt. That is another reason he loved you, he didn’t need to vocally tell you how he feels, you just knew.

You frowned and walked up to him, placing yourself between his legs and wrapped your arms around his head and back. Placing him on your stomach, he large arms engulfing your body closer. “I could’v saved him,” You stayed silent as he sighed. “He was too young. The bastard had so much ahead of him.”

You nodded rubbing his back, you didn’t say anything still. What could you say? Simon said all the things that are true. You inhaled deeply moving your arms to cup your hands on his face. Having him look up at you. “You couldn’t do anything more than you already were.” You whispered, you rubbed his cheekbones up and down.

Simon’s eyes saddened more, he knew you were right. It was the part of him that thought about his friend and his comrade. Someone he eventually cared for. He hummed and nodded once before inhaling deeply. “That’s what Price said. I just…wish there was something more I could’v done.”

You hummed acknowledging his comment, everyone wishes something to have changed. To go back in time for that last second or minute before things go south. It’s unfortunate part of life not being able to go back to reset. Simon sighed. “I just…” His voice cracks, you start tearing up from him about to cry. Simon is known to be the “tough” one, the one that doesn’t show tears for anyone. The vulnerable side of him doesn’t present often basically rarely.

“Walking into base and not hearing the annoyin’ cheerful scott…It just…its hauntin’.” He mumbles looking up at you once more.

You nodded and leaned down to kiss his forehead. Guiding him back to your stomach holding him. A question came to you, knowing that he would never say yes to it. It clawed at you the more you thought about it. You inhaled deeply. “Why not ask Price for a short leave?”

Simon tensed up, making you tense up, subconsciously slapping yourself in the face. Until you felt him relax. “Okay.” He mumbled into you, squeezing you tighter

“Okay.” You whispered, you didn’t know how long you both stayed like that. You didn’t care. All you cared about is that you had to be his light, like he has been for you.

[aspenispoplar]

Ok so here's my thoughts on dungeon meshi as a D&D party finally.

Okay so Laios and Falin's players (P!Laios & P!Falin) are actually brother and sister in real life. P!Laios got his sister to join him in the D&D game he was in. She was pretty shy and so wanted to make a healer character.

So their party plays the campaign for a while. Maybe a couple years or so. Mostly it doesn't have all that intense of a plot, but everyone's enjoying it.

Then in the dragon fight, Falin's player asks the DM if she can save Laios from the dragon's critical hit bite. The DM says sure but she only rolls like a 13, so the DM lets her save him by sacrificing her character, and she agrees.

Everyone's quite shaken up about it all, and to up the stakes the DM has the couple DMPCs/hirelings they had leave the party.

And now we get to the main focus of this headcanon. After P!Falin died, she wanted to make a new character, with a really different vibe from her old one, especially since she had gotten a lot more comfortable playing D&D now. In real life, she and P!Laios enjoy cooking together a lot, so she talked to the DM and P!Laios about it, and out came Senshi- P!Falin's new character!

P!Laios decides to try to help support P!Senshi's desire to focus more on cooking by taking out a book on monster cooking which he put in his inventory as a bit during character creation.

Basically it went like this

DM, (thinking to DMself: they're pretty overleveled now for the earlier layers of the dungeon, I should try and make it harder on them): so, you're running low on money. Even without the hirelings to pay, you need to sacrifice some of your expenses or sell some of your equipment to afford everything you lost.

P!Laios: Hey DM, how much do our rations cost? Because remember that meme book that I gave myself during character creation on cooking monsters?

DM: *very large sigh*

P!Senshi: *barely-restrained giddiness*

That's the main headcanon, but I also have other minor little headcanons about the other two player's characters.

Chilchuck's player has had some antagonistic DMs who loved torturing their players with traps in the past, so when they were told by the DM that the campaign was going to be "a pretty realistic dungeon crawl", P!Chilchuck decided to make the most roguey rogue of all rogues to ever rogue. They maxed out the trap-finding score to the point where the DM had to actually start including more traps for Chilchuck to feel a bit more useful, since the DM never actually planned on using very many traps in the campaign.

Marcille's player is a huge anime fan, and has made on-and-off jokes this whole time about the dungeon being some sort of bad isekai plot.

DM: Marcille, you feel a wet splash on the top of your head, only seconds before a slime drops on top of you.

P!Marcille: Oh? It's on my head? Is it suffocating me? Choking me perhaps...? Restraining me?

DM: Fuck you. Also you take 2 acid damage.

*everyone laughs at the DM's pain*

DM: There is a large plant monster in front of all of you

P!Marcille: Oh? Does it have vines? Like, tentacle-ish vines?

DM: You know what? It does now. It's rolls a 17 on grappling you. Have a good time with that.

P!Marcille: *waggles eyebrows* okay then

DM: I am going to hit you with my car covered in hammers rigged to explode multiple times and hammers go flying everywhere

While all of this is going on the DM is actually secretly very pleased to make a bunch of worldbuilding around the dungeon ecosystem and monsters and everything.

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

Things Change - E.M

Author's Note: Did I wanna start another Eddie series? Yes. This might be a shorter series tho than the one I'm (trying) to put out. Special thanks to my babes @wroteclassicaly and @corrodedcorpses for reading over my smut for approval lol. And thank you to @boomhauer who helped with some relevent info for later chapters 👀

Warnings: Alcohol, sex, p in v sex, cream pie, oral (f receiving), smutty smut smut smut (minors gtfo), 18+, afab reader

You do not have permission to copy, translate or repost my work onto any other platforms.

You had no idea how you ended up here. Moving to Hawkins hadn’t been your decision, of course. That was made by your parents. It was just lucky for you that you made fast friends with Robin Buckley. Which led you to being friends with Steve Harrington… which led to the entire party. You had been shocked to say the least. You didn’t think you would gain a friend group so quickly. The kids were fun to be around and had insisted on showing you how to play D&D since you were into fantasy. That only led to them trying to introduce you to Eddie Munson. Tried being the operative word. Despite everyone else liking you, it seemed Eddie was the exception. You had no idea what you did to him to warrant this distaste.

It made things worse. Worse only because you found yourself smitten with the Dungeon Master upon meeting him. He had awkwardly waved at you and barely met your eye when you were introduced, but you were entranced. He was pretty. Stupidly so. Not to mention his nerdy side made you smile, especially when you had seen him talking about campaigns with the other youngsters for their Hellfire meetings. Some of his music taste was out there for what you listened to, but there were a couple of bands you both listened to. At first, you assumed Eddie was just not overly friendly. You knew what people at Hawkins High said about him. Robin reassuring you it was all bullshit. That none of it was true at all. 

As time went on, you tried to get closer to Eddie. You tried to talk with him, but anytime you got close to talking to him, he would roll his eyes and show his impatience before finding an excuse to leave. When it came to group conversations, he always made comments about what you had to say. He teased you at times, made you feel stupid for things sometimes when you fumbled something or said something incorrectly. The last straw for you had been when the kids tried to get you to play D&D with Hellfire and Eddie shot it down. The kids had been teaching you how to play for weeks and you enjoyed learning the game. When you showed up at Hellfire though Eddie denied you membership and told you to leave. With tears in your eyes, you stomped out of the drama room and out to your car.

You hated Eddie Munson.

Any affection you had for him had disappeared. Instead, you couldn’t stand when he would talk because it was usually to make fun of you. You didn’t find his rambles endearing anymore. Any attraction you felt, you buried away so no one would know. Eventually, it became clear the lines were drawn. The others knew Eddie didn’t like you. That the two of you couldn’t get along for more than five minutes if you were left alone.

“It’ll be fun! C’mon.” Nancy spoke as she pushed aside hanger after hanger in your closet, assessing your clothes.

“You know I hate parties.” You told her, watching her rifle through everything. It wasn’t that you hated parties, it was that you hated crowds. Plus, you knew Eddie was going. The last time you went to a party with Eddie, he had made fun of your outfit and teased you about being desperate to get a guy’s attention all for simply wearing a tank top that showed off a little more cleavage than your other ones. 

“You hate crowds. C’mon. It’ll be fun and the school year is getting closer to being done. We’ll be graduates! We deserve to go out!” Nancy argued as she pulled out a short sleeve top with a v-neck. “This is cute! Why not this and some jeans? Maybe a skirt?”

“No skirt.” You vetoed, knowing the comment you’d get for it.

“Ignore him.” Nancy rolled her eyes before moving to your dresser for a pair of jeans and laying them on the bed with the top. “There. Add some boots and you’re ready! C’mon. You can hang out with Robin and I. Not even have to see Eddie.”

“Being with Robin means being with Steve, and being with Steve means being with Eddie.” You clarified with a small smile. “I’ll go, Nanc. You’re right about it being our last party before graduation.” You answered and slid off of your bed to go and change into the clothes she set out. 

“Then you can hang out with Jonathan and I!” Nancy reasoned.

—---------------------

Except that didn’t happen. You should have known that the couple would be off with one another not long after entering the party. You all shared a couple drinks but Nancy had dragged Jonathan onto the dance floor, leaving you in the corner by yourself. Steve had found a girl to dance with. Robin was drinking with Vickie who had made a surprise appearance. So you found yourself leaning on a wall nursing another drink. You had a good buzz going. You were unsure what was in the punch besides copious amounts of alcohol, and you were feeling it. You hummed as you sipped at your almost empty cup. 

That was when you spotted him. It hadn’t occurred to you that Eddie would be left alone too when you saw Steve and Robin were occupied. You had no idea where Argyle was though you could take a pretty good guess. Eddie himself was situated across the way from you. You watched his long fingers pinch the cigarette between his lips, pulling it away as a plume of smoke followed. He was staring at you, though you couldn’t imagine why. You looked away realizing you were staring back at him. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea after all, right? 

You drained the last of the dark red liquid in your cup and made your way back to the kitchen. You moved to the punch bowl, filling up your cup half way once more. Someone slid up beside you and you knew exactly who it was based on the smell of tobacco and Old Spice invading your nose. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you took a sip from your cup. Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your cup and your hand as you pulled the cup away from your mouth, leading it now to his. You turned your head, watching Eddie as he took a long sip from your cup. You were about to comment that it was your cup and to get his own when he moved the cup away from his mouth. His pink tongue poked out, licking up the ruby liquid on his lips with his eyes never straying from your face. 

“Munson.” You murmured, bringing your cup back to your mouth and finishing what was left inside. 

“Y/L/N.” Eddie murmured back, hand falling away from the cup and moving to your hip instead. 

You stared at Eddie. Unsure of what he was planning to do. His other hand moved to your free hip, and he pulled you from the punch bowl. He turned you both, pressing you against the fridge, making the magnets fall off. Before you could register what was happening, his lips found yours. He tasted like the punch you both drank and your cherry lip gloss that had transferred from the cup to his lips. You melted into his kiss as you kissed him back, hands moving up to cup his cheeks as he pressed closer to you. The kiss was slow at first, but soon grew hungry. His tongue teased against your lips and you parted them, moaning as his tongue touched yours. 

Eddie’s hands squeezed your hips and a small whine left your lips as he pulled away from you. His large hand grasped yours, tugging you towards the exit for the kitchen. You followed, letting Eddie pull you towards the stairs. You both ascended the stairs and after the third door you checked, you found an empty room. You both shuffled inside, shutting the door loudly behind you. Not that it mattered, considering the volume of the party happening downstairs. As soon as the party was shut out, your lips were back on Eddie’s.

There was a dull thud of his leather jacket hitting the ground before his hands were on you. He pushed your top up to your bust, brushing his fingers over your skin and groaning against your lips. He broke away to tug your top over your head, mouth descending on the swell of your tits. He kissed your warm flesh, dipping his tongue between your breasts as his hands tugged your bra straps down. You reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra and pulling it off of your arms. As soon as they were free, his mouth found your nipple, sucking harshly on it and pulling a loud moan from you. A growl left his chest as he moved to mark the side of your breast. You tugged at the back of Eddie’s shirt with a soft whimper. With a soft pop Eddie let go of your boob to pull his shirt over his head. 

“Eager, sweetheart?” He breathed with a dopey grin like he wasn’t the one who cornered you in the kitchen and dragged you up there. 

“Shut up and take off your clothes.” You answered, popping the button on your jeans and pulling them down your legs.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” He murmured as he worked his own jeans off. He eyed your legs as you kicked aside your jeans, now going for your panties. He reached out to grab your wrists. “No. That’s for me.” He growled quietly before lifting you. A squeak left your lips as he did so, not expecting him to lift you up like that. You instinctually wrapped your legs around him as he carried you, distracting yourself by tangling your hands in his hair and dragging his lips back to yours. You felt Eddie dipping you down and the softness of a mattress meeting your back. His lips left yours, returning to nuzzle your breasts before moving down your belly. He pressed kisses against your abdomen, working his way down to your hips. You whined, lifting your lips to get more contact from him. Eddie snaked one hand up to grip your waist as he teased his tongue along the waistband of your panties. Chocolate orbs rolled up to watch you as his tongue dipped under the soft cotton. 

“Eddie, don’t tease me.” You whimpered, feeling your cheeks flush at the low chuckle he let out. 

“You tease me all the time, sweet thing.” He murmured, snapping the waistband of your panties with his teeth.

“Look who’s talking.” You huff as you reach down to gently tug on his curls. It didn’t even occur to you what he meant. You had simply answered as you did considering he teased you all the time, just not like this. 

Eddie groaned at the tugging and nipped at your hip. Finally, he took your panties between his teeth and tugged them down. He kept using his teeth, letting his hand help the other side until he completely removed your panties. He sat up with the cotton between his teeth with a large grin. He dropped the pair into his hands and hummed, pressing his nose to them before setting them aside. “Why smell those when I have the real thing in front of me?” He mused, hooking his hands under your knees as he moved to lie on his belly. His hot breath fanned over your core as he spread your legs. “Nice and wide for me, princess.” He cooed, nudging his nose against your inner thigh. He made sure to take time to mark those too until he had you squirming and your slick running between your cheeks, no doubt wetting the sheets under you. It wasn’t until you begged did he finally flatten his tongue against you, licking a broad stripe from your leaking entrance to the bundle of sensitive nerves above. 

A whine left your lips as you arched your hips, wanting his attention on that bundle of nerves again. Eddie ignored you and dipped his tongue into your aching hole. His hands kept a firm grip on your thighs as he fucked you with his tongue, making you writhe under him. He pressed his face against you, nose bumping your neglected clit as he moved his head from side to side. He groaned against you, soon taking his tongue out of you to lick and suck on your folds, letting his tongue flick against your clit with every pass. A sigh of relief left you when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked just as he pushed a finger into you. You whined his name, rocking your hips as he pumped his finger slowly into you. 

“Eddie, please.” You breathed, tugging on his head as you moaned and bit down on your lip. 

“Please, what?” Eddie asked against you, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit and making you yelp at the contact. 

“I need you.” You whined, tugging on his hair again.

“Need me how, princess?” He chuckled and you swore even though you weren’t looking at him, you could hear his stupid smile.

“You know how!” You huffed at him. 

“Say it.” Hell no. You tugged on his hair again. Eddie’s response was a swift smack to your thigh, and you gasped at the sting on your skin. You looked down at Eddie, who had his glistening chin resting on your pubic bone. He looked up at you, chocolate orbs now swimming in black. He licked his lips and raised a brow at you expectantly. You frowned at him. Eddie shrugged and once again smacked your thigh. A whimper left your lips.

“Say. It.” Eddie growled at you, turning his head to nip and suck at your hip.

You groaned, huffing in defeat as you laid your head back against the pillows. “I need you to fuck me.” You mumbled.

“What was that? I can’t hear you.” Eddie hummed, fingers tapping against your thigh impatiently.

“I need you to fuck me.” You repeated a little louder.

Eddie smirked, running his tongue over the mark he left on your hip now. “Ask me nicer.”

“Eddie, I swear to God-”

“God isn’t here now, sweetheart. Just me. Ask nicely and I’ll fuck you.” 

You huffed, feeling the annoyance creeping up on you that the arousal had quelled for the time being. You knew if you didn’t comply, he would most likely leave you there aching and needy. So you smoothed your fingers in his hair. You gently started to massage at the roots where you had tugged and you felt Eddie turn into a puddle between your thighs. Where his form had been sturdy and rigid before, he now relaxed between your thighs as your ministrations. “Eddie,” You spoke sweetly. There was silence. “Eddie?” You tried again, looking down to see his pretty eyes had fluttered closed. You smirked to yourself as you realized you had found a weakness, apparently. His eyes opened when your fingers stopped. 

“Hm?” A blush settled on his cheeks.

“Eddie,” You cooed, starting to massage again.

“Yes, princess?” Eddie breathed against your skin as he pressed a kiss to it. 

“I need you to fuck me, please?” You pouted at him. “I need you to make me cum on your cock.” 

“Holy fucking hell,” Eddie groaned, pressing his face against your belly. 

You giggled as you slowed your massaging of his scalp, instead tugging once again. This spurred Eddie back into action. He moved up your body, pressing his lips to yours. You groaned as you tasted yourself on his lips. His hands moved down to push his boxers off, managing to wiggle them off of his body and toss them aside somewhere in the room. A shiver ran through you as you felt his length touch you. You nibbled his lower lip as you snaked a hand down, gasping as you wrapped your hand around him and felt just how thick he was. You gave him a few tugs, whining softly and wondering how the hell he was going to fit inside you. Your past partners had been nothing to brag about in terms of size. Some average, some… less than. But Eddie was bigger than you’d taken before. A small hiss left his lips, and he grabbed at your wrist. 

“If you keep jerking me, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum all over your thighs.” He murmured against your lips, biting down harshly on your plump lower lip.

You whimpered at the sting of pain, rubbing your thumb over Eddie’s shaft since he was holding your wrist. “Want it for me.” You mumbled back.

Eddie breathed a chuckle and let go of your wrist. “Want it for you?” He hummed, amused as you nodded back. “What do you mean, baby? Tell me.”

You pecked his lips, now moving your freed hand up to tease your thumb around his tip and smearing his precum around. Eddie let out a shaky breath. “Want your cum inside me, Munson.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie moaned, “Take it, sweetheart. It’s yours.” You grinned at his words, feeling him shift closer to you. His hand soon joined yours, guiding his cock to your aching hole. You bit your lip and let out a soft whimper as he teased his tip against you. “Such a sweet thing. Letting me fuck you raw.” He cooed as he pushed his dick into you.

You moaned, biting on your lower lip as he split you open. You wiggled your hips, arms wrapping back around his neck and settling a hand in his curls as he sunk inch by inch into you. Your walls fluttered around his length, begging for more. When his hips met yours, you let out a shaky breath. “Oh, my god.” You breathed, feeling a pleasant sting as he stretched you for him. Eddie pulled back before snapping his hips into yours again. A deep groan left his lips as he started a rough pace. Your mouth fell open in a pretty ‘O’ shape, moans and Eddie’s name falling from your lips easily. 

“Taking me so good, pretty girl,” Eddie moaned as he drove himself into you. “Look so perfect under me while I fill you with my cock.” You almost wanted to die at how he spoke to you. His dirty talk was too good and something you hadn’t expected to like so much. With previous partners it had made you cringe hearing them attempt to talk dirty to you. But Eddie? His words were dirty and felt like sin, making a warmth pool low in your belly. You had no idea it would be like this. Hell, you hadn’t thought you’d be in this state with him. However, now that he was drilling his thick length into you, you didn’t want him to stop. Already addicted from the first taste. Eddie’s hard thrusts slowed and you let out a high-pitched whine. You were starting to feel the coil tighten low in your belly, but him slowing pulled it away from you.

“Eddie,” You whined with a pout.

Eddie chuckled and kissed your pouting lip. He took one of your hands from around him. “Do as I say.” He instructed, still driving his cock into you slowly. He moved your hand between you both, spreading your four fingers apart. He guided your hand to your pussy, two of your fingers on either side of his cock as he pushed into you with your palm digging into your clit. “Look at that.” He groaned, watching his dick disappear into you framed by your fingers. “Such a pretty sight.” He sighed, pressing on your palm to grind it against the bundle of nerves. Your walls clenched around him and he let out a near pornagraphic moan. So you clenched around him again. “Brat,” Eddie breathed shakily, grinning down at you as he started up his rough pace again. “Keep your hand there. Open your mouth.” He growled.

You moaned his name, moaning again when he moved his free hand to grab your cheeks. His thumb and pointer finger pressed in an attempt to open your mouth. You obliged, opening your mouth up for him. Eddie leaned over you and spat into your mouth. “Swallow.” He instructed and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit. “Good girl.” You whimpered at his praise. 

Curses left your lips as you felt that pleasure mounting again. His thrusts grew sloppier as he got closer to filling you, full balls smacking against your skin. You pulled him down for a kiss, wrapping your legs tightly around him as he grinded his length into you. “Please, I’m so close!” You whined against his lips, grinding your palm against your clit.

Eddie cursed, picking up his thrusts. “C’mon, cum for me.” He grunted, moving his mouth to mark the junction between your neck and shoulder. You rocked your hips up, feeling the familiar feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you. Eddie’s name fell from your lips like a chant as you got closer, legs tightening around him and his name leaving your mouth in a long moan as your came around his length. “Fuck!” Eddie moaned, “Cumming around my cock, princess. Look who did this to you,” He babbled, enjoying the fucked out look on your face as he thrusted roughly into you. 

You massaged your fingers against his scalp once the stars left your vision. “You did, Eddie. Cum for me now too, pretty boy.” You cooed, tugging on his curls. Eddie’s forehead dropped own onto your shoulder and you tugged hard, picking his head back up so you could see him as he came. His mouth fell open in a low moan as he painted your walls white, a whimper leaving you at the warmth of his seed inside of you and the look on his face as he finished. He stilled on top of you and you resumed your massaging. His body weight fell onto you fully, giving in to the exhaustion for a moment. You didn’t mind, keeping your legs around him as you massaged his scalp.

“Pretty boy, huh?” Eddie finally murmured after a few minutes.

“Shut it.” You answered, fingers now massaging the back of his neck.

Eddie hummed, licking over the reddening spot on your shoulder. “Are you, uh, on the pill?” He asked, realizing what had just occurred.

“I am, yeah.” You reassured him.

“Good,” He cleared his throat and lifted himself to look down at you. You stared back at him as it sunk in. You slept with Eddie Munson. The guy who hated you. Maybe that was the last little bit to get him out of your system for good. To get rid of any last bit of attraction to him. Eddie bit his lip as he pulled himself out of you, admiring the way his cum leaked between your fingers. He climbed off of you and an immediate sadness settled in your chest. You hadn’t expected him to cuddle you per say, but you hadn’t expected him to just up and leave so soon. You pulled the covers over your body as you sat up. Eddie had disappeared into the en suite bathroom and you could hear the water running. You winced feeling his mess leaking out of you, your fingers now covered in a mix of the both of you. Eddie appeared again, a washcloth in hand, and offered it to you. A blush settled over your cheeks.

“Thanks,” You murmured and started cleaning yourself up. Eddie pulled on his boxers, finding his jeans quickly and pulling them on. He gathered your clothes too, setting them on the bed as he sourced out his clothes too. You finished cleaning up, disappearing into the bathroom to pee and clean up a bit more before leaving the bathroom. You grabbed your bra, pulling it on before tugging your shirt on. You looked around for your panties. You huffed. “Eddie.”

“Hm?”

You held out your hand and wiggled your fingers. “Panties.”

“I don’t have em.” Eddie answered.

You gave him a ‘seriously?’ look and wiggled your fingers again. Eddie sighed dramatically, pulling your cotton panties out of his pocket and placing them in your hand. “Thank you,” You sang, pulling them on before tugging on your jeans. You sat on the bed as you pulled your boots on, mildly wondering why Eddie was still there. You were happy he hadn’t run out immediately, but he was lingering longer than you had expected him to. He produced his Camels from his pocket, placing a cigarette between his lips before pulling out a blue plastic Bic lighter. He flicked at the sparker, lighting the end of his cigarette and taking a long drag. He pulled it from his lips and offered the stick to you. You waved him off. “No thanks.” You murmured and stood from the bed.

Eddie shrugged. “Suit yourself. Let’s go.” He moved towards the door, snatching up his leather jacket from the floor. You raised a brow and followed Eddie out the door. The two of you went back downstairs, the party still ongoing. If Eddie noticed the stares, he didn’t say anything about it as he headed for the front door, still smoking his cigarette. You planned on breaking off from him and did just that, going your separate way from him.

It was only then you realized that your friends were gone. Steve most likely had left with the girl he had been dancing with. Robin and Vickie were nowhere in sight, either. You cursed, heading for the front door. Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie were outside talking. You tried to quell the heat that rose to your cheeks as Eddie talking with your mutual friends like he hadn’t just fucked you upstairs. You walked over, leaning closer to Nancy.

“Hey! You have fun?” Nancy asked, looping her arm through yours.

“Yeah, tons.” You answered while purposely avoiding looking at Eddie.

“Ready to head home?” Jonathan asked and you nodded your head. “You good to get home, Eddie?” Jonathan asked him.

“I’m fine, man. Get the ladies home safe.” Eddie answers, eyes flicking to you before back to Jonathan. The two shared a manly hug before Eddie nodded his head to Nancy. “Wheeler, Y/L/N.” He flicked his cigarette into the street as he headed for his van.

You could feel Nancy’s eyes boring into your skull as you watched Eddie drive off.

—----------------------------------------------

As soon as you got to your house, Nancy announced she’d be sleeping over, much to Jonathan’s surprise. You knew exactly what she was doing. You played along and the two of you snuck up to your room. The second the door was closed, Nancy rounded on you.

“What happened?”

You groaned, moving to your dresser. “Nothing, Nance. I’m gonna shower, okay?” You quickly grabbed pajamas. “Help yourself to my clothes too.”

“Oh, of course.” Nancy nodded, hands on her hips. “You probably should wash the smell of sex and Eddie off of you.” When you turned to look at her, she had a large grin on her face. She pointed to your neck. You swallowed, peeking at your mirror and realizing your top exposed one of Eddie’s marks. “You smell like him, you know. The second you got close to me I could smell the cigarettes and weed.” She giggled.

“Nancy-”

“I’m not judging! I just… see why you had ‘tons’ of fun.”

You quickly ran into your bathroom and shut the door hard at her giggling.

[sevs-corner]

More quick shot ideas on Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Don’t know much about the other charas in CoD like Horangi, Konig, Roach, etc.. (i’m still making progress in watching all the campaign vids- so far tho, finished MW1 and MW2, and in the middle of MW3 right nowww~ So, won’t be able to do much of them but ohohoho- Alejandro? Rudy? Alex? Graves? Nikolai? Oml LETS GET TO IT !!!

Links to other related works✨

(*Same PSA (Im really stuck to typing on my phone lol and also OOC esp teewayyyy✨*)

Of course there were other families in this quaint middle ground of a city. As the place of commodity and exchanges, bumping into one another was inevitable.

Although, more predictable for you at this point in your job

Like clockwork, every Wednesday afternoons, people would flock in after the usual 5pm check out hours

Those people being the mafiosos.

“Hey sweet cheeks, got anythin’ new f’me?” Graves asked with a raised brow, lips curved into a smirk as he sees the twinkle in your eyes

“You’re lucky I do actually,” you roll your eyes playfully, “you’re my first so take it easy on me!”

After leaving real quick to grab a slice of the new blueberry cheesecake you made, you plated it and slide it on the counter for him to grab

Leaning over the counter, he smiles and thanks you for your hard work, “I bet this will be your finest one yet!”

He winks while you playfully gagged, all the while pushing his shoulder to get him off the counter

You chuckle and wave him off, “nah, I still have much to learn from Nonna.”

He nods knowingly, grabbing a fork by the register, “she keepin’ you on your toes?”

You nod with a sigh, “when is she not really?”

Laughing, he decides to eat while chatting you up- so he could compliment you directly. He slides his fork in to eat a piece while, humming in the delight at the sour hint of the blueberries and the soft berry cream which complements into mix of flavors, he couldn’t help but savor it.

“Good?” You ask, swaying from side to side in anticipation for his comment. A wonky smile on your face, unable to hide the anxiety creeping beneath your skin

If there was one thing you could trust about these people, it was their comments when it came to food

From their instinctual body reactions to their initial facial expressions- you took all into consideration, which was quite cute of you to do of course

Graves knows this by how your forehead would scrunch lightly, your glasses falling down the bridge of your nose, lips pursed or bit (depending on how serious you were about the feedback), hands wringing, with small bits and pieces of baby hair framing your face.

He adores that part of you so much that he’ll take every opportunity to see it— just like this moment

He hums and pats your head, “very much so, sweet cheeks~.”

You cheered, immediately ran to the back, telling the two busy couple of what one of your customers said.

Family! They both shout at you back but all you can do is giggle, feeling all fuzzy being complimented for your hard work.

Graves could only stare from afar, seeing how you bounced with each step in happiness- all because he said it was really good.

The unintentional effect you had on each other was not to be underestimated…

But he wasn’t the only one-

"Mi hermosa! It smells especially good today!"

Hearing the chime of the doorbell out front made you quickly go back to your station

Only to snicker in amusement at how huffy Graves was being held closely to the ever friendly Alejandro.

"why thank the cooks at the back!" you proudly claimed with a thumb jutted towards the direction of the kitchen, where the couple waved at the two from their places.

"they're always cookin' up something good for the soul," you hummed, basically vibrating in your spot at how maybe you can ask for Alejandro's opinion on your newly made creation

"it's why we always come back," Graves agrees, finally able to get out Alejandro's grasp with a cheeky grin of his own

"Thanks again for the cake sweet cheeks," Graves waves to you while approaching his table, "be a dear and send me my tea when you're done?"

You nod at his follow-up, giving him two thumbs up before turning to Alejandro who couldn't help but feel a lil' jealous from how giddy you seemed with the dirty americano

With a silent huff, he places the pieces together and now begs for a slice of whatever Graves has on his plate

"Its still a work in progress," you admitted embarrassingly, "I hope you don't mind- and no need to pay either! Think of it as a free sample."

Alejandro clicked his tongue while shaking his head, still opening his wallet and sliding the usual amount to you.

"Paying hasn't and will ever be a problem with me, Mi hermosa."

He admitted seriously and you couldn't help but look away with a light tint to your cheeks.

Seeing this side of Alejandro always made your head feel light...

"Fine!" You shoved the plate in his hands (albeit still carefully), "just tell me how it taste then!"

"Call it even, eh?" He winks, a chuckle rumbling even through you as you practically get swooped into his aura alone.

Call it swooning or whatever but only this man has the chops to make you go dumb from his presence alone

"ye-yeah, but how is it though?" you quickly pivoted again in nervousness as you see him finally take a bite of your work

Deciding to play with you a little, he takes a while to comment- appreciating each chew even though he already swallowed a couple seconds ago

Still, he liked having your eyes so focused on him

"sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?"

You begged, tugging on his sleeve desperately, the wait killing your soul so slowly that it makes you pout

Seeing this, Alejandro cackled and pinched your cheeks teasingly

"It was delicious mi hermosa," he finally admits, "good balance of sweet and sour too."

Cheering, you- in the heat of the moment and unable to hold back your inhibitions- pulled him closer by the sleeve, catching him by surprise by how strong your grip was and how soft your lips was on his cheek.

"You're the best Ale!"

You giddily leave him by the front, unknowingly leaving a dysfunctional alejandro.exe behind with a slightly panicky Rudy just right behind him.

"Boss!" Rudy shouts, finally snapping Alejandro out of his stupor

He was ready to glare at his friend until he saw the look on his face and the words that accompanied it

"Oi! Los Vaqueros!" Alejandro called out to his men hanging around the cafe, "let's go!"

"you're leaving already?" you asked sadly, coming right outside the kitchen with a take-out cups in hand.

"Yeah," Alejandro quickly walks up to you and kisses your temple before taking one of the cups from your hand. "Can't wait to try more of you-r sweets."

You grin and nod, "take care!"

"Gotta go too sweet cheeks," you turn in shock to Graves who surprisingly got to your behind, stealing the other cup from you just as quickly.

"Thanks again for the treats!"

He squeezes your hips in appreciation before leaving with his crew, making you grumble under your breath at how careless the man was being.

"Don't let the cat get you on your way out back!"

You warned, grabbing a broom to clean up the place once more.

"I won't- AAAAHHHH DAMMIT!"

you chuckled to yourself, proud at how you trained that cat to jump Graves- who for some reason loves exiting through the back side of the bakery every time.

"Alright,~" you stretch and fetch your earphones, "back to work..." ... .. .

"We're back lassie!"

"Oh for fucks sake..."

[tagthescullion]

I feel like Nico being from Venice and the Argo II crew briefly stopping in Venice should have had more of a focus.

Like, all we get is Nico mentioning his mother used to tell him stories about the ghosts of Venice (do we get any details? No), that one time he and Bianca went on a weekend trip, and how they went to the US when World War II started. That's it.

First of all, how does Nico even remember Venice (where he apparently grew up, despite Hades saying he met Maria in Washington DC) and his mother? He and Bianca were dipped in the Lethe! A year earlier in TLO he didn't even remember her name! Suddenly he has childhood memories of her?

Him not remembering Venice and his mother could have been worked into the plot. Like him not remembering anything yet knowing he grew up here. Nico volunteering to go into the city with Frank and Hazel because he wants to see if anything jogs his memory. Wandering the streets looking at any old buildings wishing and hoping that anything seems familiar. Talking with Hazel about how he knows he's from here seventy years ago but doesn't remember a thing.

But since he does somehow remember, more attention should have been paid to that. Nico wandering the streets automatically heading toward his childhood home. Finding his way into the old di Angelo plot in a graveyard. Pointing out familiar landmarks, or, conversely, being confused because familiar landmarks no longer exist. Talking in Italian with passersby (don't even get me started on Nico knowing Italian in the later series, which seems to have been retconned from PJO. I think I might send in another ask sometime about that). Actually knowing what the katobleps are because, you know, he grew up here and would have seen them instead of just barely remembering what they are from Mythomagic. Talking with Hazel about his memories of Venice so long ago and how he feels about returning only a few years later for him but seventy years for everyone else. More talking with Hazel in general.

Instead, we get only a couple mentions. If there's anyone who deserves to have more of a focus on returning to his childhood homeland it's Nico, but he doesn't get it.

I'll start this by saying: rick's timeline is a wobbly bit of weak twine that's threading and creating other unexplainable plotholes

(adding a division bc it got long and not everybody has 'long post' filtered)

maria and hades meet in DC (implying nico and bianca are yanks)

maria and hades meet in venezia (implying nico and bianca are italian)

nico and bianca are born long before the war, that's why by the time they're 10 and 12 they left italy bc the war hadn't yet begun

nico and bianca were born in 30-32 so by 1938 nico was 6 when he went to croatia on holiday, implying they'd been 10-12 in 1942 the war had already started! italy was about to get divided north vs south

nico and bianca were born in 30-32 so by 1938 nico was 6 when he went to croatia, and they still went to the US before the war (<1940), so how in fuck's name does nico know of his venetian neighbour who came back PTSD-ed from the african campaign (1940-1943)????

nico and bianca have no memories bc they were bathed in the lethe, ergo no memories, ergo nico betrays percy to hades to learn about his mother

nico's memories, which shone for their absence for three years, start popping up like ants after rain in HoO?? just like that?? except the freaky cow-things, those ofc he can't remember despite them being a fucking pain in the arse and him having been annoyed/in danger for.. 10 years???

in the end, it's less about rick's subpar ability to keep up with his own characters, and his greedy need to keep writing books without a capable editor knowing he can't remember shite of any of his old stuff.. it's more about just picking whatever makes you happy

I like foreign nico and bianca, bc my country's culture's got a lot from italians, so I'll take HoO's (sort of) version. that and it fits better with my long and niche hcs of maria

nico and bianca being born in 30-32 (or 31 and 33 bc it fit better for my hcs) feels more legit to give nico that whole pre-war/beginning of the war background, but that's only bc wwii is interesting to me

I hc from PJO times that the underworld rivers don't affect children of hades too much, so nico and bianca did have some chunks of memory here and there, like islands of light in a dark ocean.. the speed with which nico gets back every single childhood thing? I don't vibe..

and as for nico being in his hometown.. god above it pains me to hell and back but rick is a white middle-upper class privileged yank boomer, I can't trust him to write his own compatriots, I simply cannot consider his foreigners as canon until people from those countries have given their thumbs-up

as a last comment in this eternal post: I truly, from the bottom of my judgy, bitchy heart, don't think rick even realised (originally) that italy wasn't on the US's side of WWII..

[batchilla]

The most married divorced couple - Chapter 4 - Coffee and Custody

Years of well honed instincts through gruelling training had Jason as a perpetually light sleeper. A perpetually light sleeper who knew, even in his sleep, that he was being watched. 

He opens one eye, slowly sitting up as he takes in his surroundings - his wife’s… his ex wife's penthouse apartment. Well, that told him who was watching him at least. Sure enough, peering at him from behind the furthest arm of the couch he’d spent the night on is a tell-tale mess of curls so like his own - and Mary comes scrambling, not around the couch, but up to sit on the arm. “DAD!” 

Every time. Every time, that single word reminds him that there is in fact good in the world, and that his baby girl might just be the epitome of that. She all but tackles him into a cuddle. “You're here!”

He tries not to wince. He doesn’t ever want her to hug him less enthusiastically - but last night hadn’t gone well, and becoming climbing equipment for his daughter did not exactly help his recovery. 

Jason hugs her tight “Hi baby.” he says, his head resting on hers.

“Mm not a baby.” she grumbles “are you stayin’ for breakfast?”

“If mum says yes.” He says, part of him feeling dirty over the manipulative tactic - but the truth of the matter always was that Mary had a higher success rate in campaigning for him to stay then he did. Something about those adorable little eyes, he suspects. Mary hms, tucking her head against her shoulder. 

“M’ glad you came Dad. I don’t want Mr Brett to be my new dad.” Fucking what? Part of him wanted to resort to old methods on this ‘Mr Brett’ with extreme prejudice. For sniffing around his wife and daughter, and for trying to take what should have still been his. 

“What's that now baby?” he says, trying to keep the growing emotions that were making him feel like he was on fire. She didn’t need to know about any of that. 

“Mr Brett, he walks me to school sometimes cus I’m best friends with Jaxon and Riley and Kyle, and sometimes Mum walks me with them. They say its like a ‘carpool’ but cars don’t go to the pool, and the other day he and mummy went for a playdate while I was at grandpa Bruce’s and then Mum was asking how I felt about Mr Brett and I said he was so nice but that I don’t want a new dad and then she turned on baby shark and I got distracted.”  He takes a deep breath. He can’t get mad in front of Mary. Another deep breath. He realistically can’t get mad at all. He knows that. He had been divorced from his wife for four years. She was allowed to seek out … companionship. Had he? No. Did it feel akin to a betrayal? He knew it shouldn’t - but it did. She didn’t need to be lonely - and he didn’t want her to be. But he did hope that he’d somehow end up being the solution, not this fucking ‘Mr Brett’ asshole. Even then - companionship was one thing, but a relationship serious enough she’d mention it to Mary?

“Well, I’m sure he’s… nice, if your Mum likes him.”

“Mhm. Maybe you can say hi when he comes to get me for school.” “Speaking of school!” His wife's voice sounds from her doorway, loud enough to tell him she’d heard enough of that to panic slightly. “Mary, get dressed, you’ll be late.” 

Mary reluctantly separates from the hug, dragging her feet dramatically “Okay mum. Even though Dad’s here and he NEVER is, school happens every day and is super boring.”

“Nice try bubba.” she says, folding her arms and shaking her head. The second their child shuts the door - still loudly complaining about how unfair it all was, which in Jason’s opinion was psychological warfare, which his ex wife seemed somehow immune to, Jason turns to her. “We need to talk.”

She sighs “I guess we do. But not in front of Mary.” She runs a hand through her hair. “She’ll have eggs and toast soldiers - you want some?”

“Sure,” he says, trying to sound less bitter than he feels as he watches her head to the kitchen.

“So, Brett…” He says, following her to the kitchen and grabbing the bread and putting it in the toaster.

“Charles Brett.” you clarified.

Jason had to physically restrain himself from laughing. “Charles Brett? Those are both first names. You’ve replaced me with a man with a first name for a last name.”

“I haven’t REPLACED you, you LEFT!” She says, indignant furry in her eyes as she whips around to face him, stove at her back. Jason felt his blood boil. Yes, he’d left, but he hadn’t wanted to!

“And then you wouldn’t let me come BACK!” he counters, trying to keep his voice level, but not managing it. 

“BECAUSE YOU WERE RIGHT TO LEAVE!” She yells, tears in her eyes. 

“you fighting?” Mary asks, opening her bedroom door, tugging at the tie of her Gotham academy uniform as if it had personally offended her.

  “No sweetie.” they say in unison, as they shoot her reassuring smiles.

It doesn’t work.

She regards you both suspiciously, and takes her toast and eggs “please don’t fight. Dad’s never here and mum always cries when you leave so please don’t fight now.” “What?”

“Please don’t fight. Dad’s never here and mum always gets sad when you leave so please don’t fight now.”

“What?” Jason asks, glancing from Mary to you. You were proud that you’d raised an honest, headstrong young lady who had no hesitation speaking her mind. You did sometimes, such as right now, wish she did it a little less often around Jason. Jason who was now looking at you with a face you hated for how little you could read. He used to be an open book to her. Mary pulls herself onto the chair at the kitchen bench and dips her toast into her egg. “We got two names.” she points out to Jason. “Todd’s a boy's name.”

You sigh, and sip your coffee. She’d heard all of it. How lovely. 

Your baby girl looks at you, her hair in an attempt of a ponytail, her uniform slightly overlarge still, being early in the school year, both making her look so, so tiny. “What did dad mean? That you wouldn’t let him come back?”

You feel like you're falling. Luckily, there’s no amount of hurt, upset, or angry that Jason could be that would mean he wouldn’t come to your aid. “See cherub… Daddy didn’t mean that.” He says, grabbing her shoulder gently.

“I did… Well, I’m sure someone at school might’ve said, or the news… Marriage is supposed to be a promise to love each other forever … and I broke that promise.” Jason takes a deep breath.

 “What I did hurt your mum. She hasn’t forgiven me. Maybe she won’t ever. She doesn’t have to.” He shakes his head. “I said what I said because I was upset, but… It’s not her fault. It’s mine.”

You offer him an awkward, tight smile. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you baby girl. Just that … being married wasn’t the best option for us anymore.”

“...” Mary leans into her Dads side, her face solemn and thoughtful. You have to avert your gaze from the pair, lest you start crying - or worse - forgive him. 

“Do you still love mum?” she asks quietly, and Jason opens his mouth, hesitating for a second - which saves him from needing to answer the question. Only to make the situation a million times worse for you. Jason looks to the door. “Brett?” he asks, addressing you, but his gaze not leaving the door, with a look in his eyes that reminds you of darker days. “Brett.” You confirm, taking a deep breath as you move towards the door. “You packed M?”

“Yeah Mum,” she says, grabbing her backpack and shrugging it on, wrapping her arms around Jason’s waist in a goodbye hug. 

“See ya soon Dad?”

“...Yeah, baby. Really soon. Promise.” He says, ruffling her hair. 

You open the door, hoping to do this quickly, before things get even more uncomfortable. Charles Brett is a shorter man, with brown hair, brown eyes, forever slightly unkempt and a had perpetually tired look in his eyes from being a single father of three. But he has a kind smile, and you like him. He’s … a good man. He’s not Jason, but then again no one is. 

“Charles, Hi.” You say, leaning against the door to bar entrance. Normally you’d invite him in, have coffee or let the kids watch a episode of bluey while you chatted if the morning was running on schedule. 

He says your name, but catches your discomfort before he says anything more, and his gaze moves past you, looking for its source - and he finds it.

“Oh, Hello - Jason, yes? The ex husband?” He asks, pretending not to know who he was, as if he hadn’t seen the many magazines and heard the gossip surrounding his incredibly public, if staged, infidelity. As if Jason, in his need to convince Roman you meant nothing, hadn’t publicly called you a bitch. Jason doesn’t seem to remember that at this moment, and you watch as he puffs up his chest in rage. 

“Yeah. You have an issue with that?” he asks, moving to stand behind you.

“And if I do—-”

“Not. In. Front. Of. The. Kids.” You interject, before it can go too far. 

“Have a good day at school sweetie.” You say, kissing the crown of Mary’s head, giving Charles an apologetic smile, and all but slamming the door and turning to Jason. 

“He’s a good man.” You growl. Because he is. And because Mary needs a positive male influence, and Jason hasn’t been able to be that. And because you are a little worried that Jason is going to use his alter ego to run him off. 

“He’s sniffing around where he doesn’t belong.” Jason counters, stepping forward. You step back, and feel the door knob press against your spine. 

“He belongs here if I want him here.” You reply, refusing to be intimidated. “Yeah, well he doesn’t get to be my kids fucking dad! I’m her dad!” You cut your own angry response short “what? We’ve been on two dates. No one is becoming a dad to our daughter?!” “That’s not what she said” Jason says, folding his arms. “Mary got ‘married’ twice last week at recess and last I checked had two boyfriends and a girlfriend.” You roll your eyes. “She is not the leading expert in how adult relationships work.” Jason takes a deep breath. “So it’s not… serious?” You shrug. “It’s not … Look. We’re adults. We both have kids. We don’t have a lot of time for casual flings, and the kids get along so need to be protected. We are taking it seriously, but it’s early days.” He nods slightly, “I’m having bab’s look into him.” You close your eyes and exhale. “Jay…” “I won’t do anything unless I find something substantial.” he reluctantly promises. “But I don’t take chances when it comes to you.” You feel his presence loom closer despite your eyes being closed. You open them to see your ex husband’s hand lingering in the air a few centimetres from your shoulder, his eyes sad and longing as he stands before you. “Is he good to you?” He asks, the anger gone from his voice. “Can you… see a future with him?” “Why does it matter to you?” You ask. It’s mostly rhetorical. You know why, and really what you mean to ask without saying it in as many words… is if Jason feels he has any right to intervene if his search finds anything more serious than a questionable browser history.

“Why does it matter to you?” The words feel wrong against his very ears. His tenuous grasp on the cool facade he’d put up, which had almost begun to take a true effect, with those six words is utterly shattered. He feels his heart pounding, too fast, too hard, too angry. The pit changed him, in many ways. The anger had always been there. The pit had made it worse. He’d never once take it out on you. He’d sooner die. But it exists in him, clawing like a beast against the inside of his ribs. Why does it matter? Why does it FUCKING MATTER? It screams, it throws itself against his skin, it burns his eyes and boils in his blood. How can you not understand how deeply he loves you? How can you not understand that he’d destroy anything that wished you or Mary harm and delight in it? That if you hadn’t been in his life back then, he’d surely be on a very different path? How do you not understand? He turns away, tugging a hand through his hair, he cannot look at her in this moment, cannot meet those beautiful eyes, can’t bear to see the face he adores above all others contorted by anger. “It matters to me because I still fucking love you.” He says through gritted teeth, through the shame, the rage, and the hurt. “And because I know you know that,” He continues, stepping further back to pace the apartment - the home - that he had once shared with you. He hears her move across the hardwood towards him. Feels a hand on his arm. “Jason…” She says quietly, as if to soothe a wounded beast - and he wishes it didn’t work as well as it did. He wishes he didn’t feel like a frightened, pained, hissing beast. He pushes her away. Not aggressively - but a firm, nonverbal denial. “Roman fucked with our kid. I don’t regret what we did as a result. But love, he’s been in the ground for years. I know that it could happen again… But I don’t want to keep missing my kids' childhood because of that fear. If her safety costs us… then so be it. But I don’t accept that it will. I refuse. The only fucking reason I kept these-”

 He holds up the rings on the cord around his neck “Is to put yours back on your fucking finger one day.” He sits at the bench, his hands in his pockets so you can’t see his knuckles go white. So you can’t see his pain, or how bad what he is about to do scares him. “I don’t ever want to fight you. You know that, right?” He looks at you, and he hopes that whoever or whatever is out there he doesn’t sound as sad as he feels. He looks at her, his friend, his daughter's mother, his ex wife who he’d never truly seen as an ex anything, and he sees a woman who’s hurting as he is, but while he sees the solution to their pain as recovery of what was, she sees the solution as acceptance. She cannot help him. He cannot help her. But, together, perhaps, they can help their daughter. “I want you to know this isn’t just because of Brett. Though hearing Mary talk about a new dad did light a fire under my ass. I want custody. Shared, I mean.” He puts his head in his hands, elbows on the kitchen counter. “I’ll be asking for 50/50. Please.” He looks at her through his fingers. “We make a good team. Don’t make this be ugly.” She sighs, sad and tired and hurting. “I think we’re both a little too charged to talk about that right now. Can we have coffee in a few days?” He nods. “Yeah. Yeah that works for me. I uh… I’ll call Alfred to send a car round for me… and you can text me the details?”

A week later, you find yourself sitting in the back of a coffee shop, waiting for Jason to return with your drinks. You try not to dwell on the fact that despite not having asked, you knew he didn’t need to to know your order even after all this time.  You shuffle the papers of notes you’d had your lawyer look over. True, you trusted him. You thought he’d be a good father. You’d still stayed divorced for a reason. “I have concerns.” You say ternsly as he takes the seat across from you. He’s cleaned up. You can’t focus on that. You have a little girl who needs to come first right now - and you take a breath to remind yourself that she’s just as important to Jason. “Figures.” He says, but his tone is lighthearted. “Part of me just hates the idea of seeing her less.” You admit. He just nods, without judgement, without making the point that he knows what that’s like, simply letting you speak for the moment. “And it’s not because I like having her more than you, but because… I cried when she went on her first sleepover and she’s my baby.” You continue, picking at the napkin dispenser absentmindedly. “But beyond that there are logistical concerns as well. I know your … various residences…” safehouses. 

“Are safe. But moving as often as you do…” At least twice a week as a safety precaution.

“isn’t ideal for obvious reasons. Not to mention… She’s smart. She’s smart and she’s nosey.” Jason sips his coffee “her father’s daughter” “Nosey maybe. Smart? Debatable.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “I see your point though. We don’t want her to find out about the families… extracurricular activities.” You sip your drink. Sure enough, he’d remembered your order. Damn him and his perfect memory and his perfect face. “I’ve put some thought into it.” He reassures, and you nearly snort. Some thought? Knowing Jason, knowing his family? Several hours of thought had gone into any decision they deemed remotely important. You’d attended meetings, essentially war councils, while you were still married about the most minor aspects of their cover. “With my … schedule, 50/50 won’t be possible without her knowing everything, and she isn’t ready yet. But I want weekends, which I… we? Would spend at the manor. For stability.” “We?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Jason gives you the same grin that had made you fall in love with him. Your stomach turns to a lepidopterarium. Damn him. “Well, last I checked Bruce said you were welcome at the manor whenever you wished… and if she was coming with you, it wouldn’t need to be a legal arrangement. Less of a paper trail is safer for Mary.” Jason says it matter of fact. Detached. Like he’s explaining a mission, not talking about his life, or his child’s. You know better than to fall for it. He runs a hand through his hair and winks at you. “Though if there needs to be a paper trail I’d prefer it be one leading to us again. I said some shit I shouldn’t have the other day. I apologise for that. You can keep seeing that Charles idiot - I was a prick about him, and his background check came back clean. But… I meant it. I fully intend to fight to get you back.” He stands to leave before you can process or argue. “So… See you Saturday morning?” he says not at all a genuine question, kissing your forehead and heading to the door, much like he might disappear after a one liner as Red Hood. You suspect it’s a strategy that works on cops or criminals - but is less impressive to his ex wife. All you can think to call after him is “SAYING THAT AND WALKING OFF ISN’T AS SLICK AS YOU THINK”

taglist @jasontoddproblems

@fic-over-cannon

@stormz369

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Do It For Me

This fic will cover my Laser-Tag/Paintball Adventure square on my @jacklesversebingo card.

Summary: You really want Ben to get into the spirit of a fun Paintball adventure. What will you have to promise to get him there.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. Bit of kissing, some suggestive language. Ben being a grumpy boy. Versions of Ben, Annie and Hughie that don't necessarily fit canon.

Pairings: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader

Word Count: 1,259

A/N: So this is my next square for my second jacklesversebingo card. The request for this one came from @spnwoman who said this:

Hi me again!! Lol or a “laser tag/paintball adventure” with soldier boy/ Ben with the reader would be really fun for them to let lose and have fun as a couple with promise as something sexy as a reward 😉

I veered a little bit away from your request; it ended up more fluffy than sexy, but I hope you still enjoy it!

The beautiful dividers were created by @firefly-graphics

“This is fucking ridiculous, Y/N. You can’t expect me to put this shit on.” Ben’s voice was sharp, but his face was pouty as you looked up from tying on your knee pad.

You couldn’t help but smile at his annoyance which made his pout turn into a glare. You shook your head. “Look, it’s just the rules of the course. Everybody has to wear the safety equipment.”

As you finished speaking, one of the elbow pads he’d attached incorrectly fell to the ground, making an angry growl erupt from his chest, and you covered your mouth as a giggle threatened to escape. The last thing you wanted to do was laugh at him. It had taken a lot of cajoling and promises on your part to get him to even come down to the paintball course. 

It was a double date that you and he were having with Annie and Hughie. You’d told him it would be so much fun, that it would be great to go out with another couple. You told him how much it would mean to you to do something couple-y with your boyfriend. But he’d resisted all arguments.

“I am an actual fucking soldier. I’m not going to some playland to pretend I’m a soldier and shoot paint at each other.” He’d scoffed. “It’s a game for children, and in case you forgot, sweetness, I’m a man.” 

He'd yanked you up against him at that point and every one of your arguments sank beneath a moan as he plundered your mouth and kissed you breathless. The discussion had been postponed while he spent the afternoon showing you just how much of a man he was. 

But the next day you’d started the campaign again. Ben had been frustrated beyond belief at your refusal to take no for an answer. Finally he’d made you a deal. He’d go play paintball with you if you did something for him, something he’d been trying to get you to do since you'd started dating. With only a brief hesitation from you, the deal was struck.

Now you were here and you had to admit that he did look a little ridiculous in the paintball gear. He was out in public so he had his super suit on, but the place where you were playing insisted that everyone had to wear their helmets, elbow and knee pads. Trying to fit the equipment over Ben’s actual soldier's uniform, complete with knee pads and elbow pads of his own, wasn’t going very well. 

“Here,” you said as you bent to pick up the elbow pad, “take yours off. You won’t need them while we’re here, right? So, just wear these ones instead. And the helmet will be great, you used to wear one all the time, I’ve seen pictures.”

Ben jammed the silly black helmet on his head, leaving the visor raised and the clasp and chin strap dangling. “Yeah, it didn’t look like this.”

You bit your lip again and reached up to secure the strap under his chin and snap it into place. “You look very adorable.”

Ben continued to glare as you finished dressing him. 

“Hey guys.” Annie spoke as she and Hughie came into the changing area. “All ready to go?”

You snapped the last buckle in place on Ben’s knee pad and nodded. “Yep! Be prepared to go down you two!” You raised a finger and looked at Annie and then Ben. “Oh, and no superpowers allowed.”

Both supes rolled their eyes and Ben picked up his gun and eyed it suspiciously.

“Paint. Pfft.” He mumbled under his breath.

It may have started rough, but within ten minutes Ben was fully invested. He was calling out strategies to you as he scouted the terrain. (The terrain being a concrete play area covered with various objects to hide behind - old car hoods, bales of hay, a shed with one side missing, etc.)

As you hid in the shed, Ben had his back to you, keeping watch on the open side. He turned to you and gave you a series of extravagant hand gestures that you guessed were supposed to tell you something. When you just stared at him with wide eyes and shrugged shoulders he rolled his eyes. 

He made the gestures again, whispering instructions at the same time. “I’m gonna scout forward, you stay hidden. Watch your right flank.”

“Oh. Mmkay.” You said with a thumbs up. 

Ben just sighed and moved forward, his head on a swivel as he moved from one piece of cover to another. A few minutes later you heard Annie and Hughie let out twin shouts of dismay and then Ben’s cry of victory. You poked your head out of the shed as the three of them walked forward. Hugh and Annie were splattered nearly head to toe with Ben’s green paint. Ben didn’t have a drop on him. 

You grinned as he approached you, the visor on his helmet raised and a huge smile wreathing his face. 

“Let’s go again!” He shouted.

***

A few days later:

You felt Ben behind you, pressing tight against you. His body was hard and warm, but you trembled. You’d never done anything like this and it scared you.

“Ben - “ You started, but he cut you off.

“Uh uh, sweetness, you promised. You said if I played paintball, you’d finally give me this.”

A whine entered your voice as Ben’s arms encircled you. “But, you liked paintball in the end. I’m telling you, I’m really not sure about this.”

“I am.” Ben tilted his head to press a kiss just behind your ear. “I’m very sure.”

You sighed deeply. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Ben kicked your feet further apart. “Widen your stance.” Then he brought his hands forward onto yours before pulling your arms back a little. “And tuck your arms in closer to your body. You’ll take the recoil better.”

The power of the cold metal weapon in your hands made you sweat as Ben pressed another kiss to your cheek and then stood up and moved away from you. “Okay, baby aim for dead center and pull the trigger when you feel ready.”

Watching your face, Ben could see your fear. “Y/N.” He said softly and you looked at him. “You’re perfectly safe, you’re just aiming at a piece of paper. You can’t hurt anyone.”

He reached out to run his fingers down your cheek. “I know this isn’t something you’ll ever enjoy, and that’s perfectly okay. But I’ll feel much better if you know how to defend yourself against my enemies. I have too many to count and they all know I’m impervious to any kind of pain.” His eyes darkened and you saw real fear there. “So they can only hurt me by hurting you.”

He disarmed you quickly and effortlessly and then pulled you into his arms. He kissed you deeply, harshly, desperately, sucking the air from your lungs. When he finally pulled away, you were panting. His forehead rested against yours and he closed his bright green eyes so his fear and worry were hidden from you. “Please, baby, I need to give you all the protection I can, which includes showing you how to protect yourself. That starts with learning how to handle a weapon.”

He opened his eyes and pulled back a bit, chucking your chin and then pressing one more light kiss against your lips, before whispering to you. “Please.” His voice was almost begging.

You sighed deeply, swayed by his worry and concern. 

“Okay.” You conceded. “Give me back the gun and let me try.”

Ben patted your ass and grinned when you frowned at him. "Good girl."

You chuckled - couldn't expect him to stay mushy for too long.

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