#whoop whoop I really enjoyed writing this

[steveseddie]

steddie | rating: t | 8,8k | tags: modern setting, no upside down, crush at first sight, flirting, first kiss, chrissy & eddie are best friends, dustin & steve are siblings, steve’s yellow sweater

for @steddie-spooktober day four “corn maze” and day twenty-nine “sweater”

Summary:

Eddie heads along a straight stretch of the corn maze that ends with a sharp curve to the left. He takes it at a fast speed, eager to get out of here– only to run straight into something solid. “Jesus Christ!” Eddie curses, stumbling back a few steps.

Two hands grab his shoulders to steady him and a male voice says, “Woah, careful there!”

“I’m fine. Dude, what the fuck are you doing creeping around fucking corners?” Eddie asks, finally looking up at the guy and nearly swallowing his tongue.

Because staring down at him, with big hazel eyes tinted with concern and a cute divot between his eyebrows, is the hottest guy Eddie has ever seen.

“I wasn’t creeping,” the guy scoffs, dropping his hands from Eddie’s shoulders to his own hips. “You’re the one charging through the maze like a bull, man, someone chasing you or something?”

Eddie lets out a snort. “I’m just trying to get the fuck out of here but this place is a fucking– well, a fucking maze.” The guy lets out a giggly snort and Eddie melts a little. “Anyway, sorry for slamming into you.”

He waves Eddie off. “No worries. I play sports,” he says, grinning, “I’m kinda used to being tackled.”

Eddie’s eyes roam over him. Even under his coat and his sweater, he can tell the guy has a broad chest, nice arms. Nice thighs too, filling up his tight jeans nicely.

He unintentionally licks his lips. “Yeah, you felt– um, solid. It was like slamming into a freaking wall.”

A very sexy wall, Eddie thinks.

or Eddie gets lost in a corn maze and ends up finding something better than the exit

read full fic on ao3

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[londondungeon2]

omfg it’s almost midnight here and i have to get up for work at 5 AM but let me compose at least some of my thoughts …

ok idia x robot girl! reader … hear me out 🥺

someone he creates to cure his loneliness of companionship in a tender way that ortho just cannot do; ugh i’m imagining a plain head just sitting on the desk, stripped down to the metal and skinless; him asking which eye color you like the best until it lands upon yours;

the midnight conversations as he builds a body; the pining from the reader (is it actual pining or are you just scraping the edges of desperate self perseverance so he doesn’t trash you like the other models); kind of dream-like transition between adding each body parts (like imagine yourself lying in a tub of ink — cheeks, nose, lips, a slight peel of your forehead visible — and eventually it all drains down as more and more body parts are added);

the first very touch of human flesh upon you; the cracked polystyrene blinks that you give with twitchy eyelashes; you siphon your romantic tendencies between a messy mélange of gritty 18+ hentai and victorian romance novellas; idia pours his damned and tormented soul into making you perfect for him and you pour yourself willingly into the image, designed just for one man <3

past midnight edit:

BRUH TO THIS SOnG

yeah to this fuckin banger

((past midnight edit again: there are really only two ways you can go with robot main characters: the building process or the robot being oblivious and thinking they are human (Ex Machina or Twilight Zone) i enjoy both sooo much))

[livesincerely]

squirming outta my skin (i'm in love with you) ch.1 - prologue: one helluva first meeting

AKA, the cheerleading fic. Also on Ao3

00000

The team hasn’t even gotten through their first set of ladders before Albert sidles up to him, scowling darkly.

“Heads up,” he says, jerking his chin over towards the sidelines. “DeLancey’s fucking with the cheer team again.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jack groans, turning away from the field to look. 

Sure enough, Oscar’s making a complete ass of himself as usual, leering creepily at the cheer squad while they try to warm up. Even as Jack watches, he lets out an obnoxious wolf whistle, reaching out to tug at one girl’s skirt, then laughing meanly when she darts away.

“Where’s Coach?” Jack asks, already exhausted.

“Hell if I know,” Albert grunts. “Enrichment meeting or some shit, probably.”

“Of course he is,” Jack sighs. He tears off his helmet, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Keep an eye on everyone, will ya?” he tells Albert. “I’ll handle Oscar.”

“Yeah, sure,” Albert says, clapping him on the back. “Good fucking luck, man.”

One of the other cheerleaders—a male cheerleader, who ushers his teammate behind him with a protective arm—is already chewing DeLancey out before Jack’s even made it halfway across the field, clearly furious. 

“—picking on freshman now?” Jack hears as he jogs over, the cheerleader’s tone utterly frigid. “That’s pretty pathetic, even for you, DeLancey.”

“Aw, don’t get your panties in such a twist, Jacobs. It’s just a joke, no harm done—“

“Oh, there’s gonna be some harm done when I kick your fucking teeth in you piece of shit⁠—”

“Hey!” Jack shouts as he approaches. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, DeLancey? You’re supposed to be running drills, not harassing the cheer team. Get back on the field.”

“This is your last warning, DeLancey,” the cheerleader—Jacobs—continues, not paying Jack a single whit of attention. “Keep your filthy hands to yourself and leave us alone.”

“Or, what, Jacobs?” DeLancey sneers, the prick, crossing his arms over his chest. “You gonna shake your pom poms at me?”

“Hey!” Jack cuts in firmly, because if he doesn’t, this Jacobs guy might actually tear DeLancey a new asshole. “Oscar, get back on the field. Now.” 

Jacobs glances towards him then, and for a split second, all Jack can think is blue. He’s got eyes like the summer sky, vivid and vibrant and vicious, made all the more striking by the dark curls that fall across his forehead and the angry flush blooming high in his cheeks. But his gaze only lingers for a moment, those piercing eyes swinging back towards DeLancey, who’s proving that he’s just as stupid as he looks by lingering instead of beating a hasty retreat.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Jacobs says, his voice hard. “Because I can and will kick your ass up and down the fifty yard line if I have to, but I’d hate to embarrass you in front of your teammates.” He pins DeLancey with a look of incredible disdain, then amends, “Not that you need any help in that department.”

“Oh, yeah?” DeLancey says, taking an angry step forward, his face starting to turn an ugly shade of red. “I’d like to see you try.”

“No,” Jacobs says, with a smile that’s all teeth. “You really wouldn’t.”

“DeLancey!” Jack barks, absolutely fed up with Oscar’s bullshit. “I swear ta god, if you aren’t back on the field in the next twenty seconds, you’re gonna be warmin’ the bench during tomorrow’s game!”

It’s this threat that finally lands.

“What? You can’t do that!” DeLancey blusters. “You need me!”

“Because who doesn’t need a wide receiver that couldn’t catch a pass if it literally hit him in the back of the head,” Jacobs mutters pointedly.

“Shut the fuck up, Jacobs!” DeLancey snarls at him. “Prissy fucking bitch, getting all huffy over nothing! Why don’t you go back to your cartwheels and toe touches before I have to teach you a lesson—“

Jacobs’ expression goes flat. Then he hauls his arm back and drives his fist directly into DeLancey’s face. 

Oscar never even sees the hit coming—he falls flat on his ass, eyes watering as he cradles his nose.

“What was that, DeLancey?” Jacobs asks cooly, shaking out his hand. “The prissy fucking bitch didn’t quite hear you.”

“Holy shit,” Jack breathes, mouth agape.

“You⁠—! You stupid fucking⁠—!” DeLancey can’t even get the words out. Blood is trickling out one of his nostrils, the skin around it already starting to turn splotchy. “I’m gonna⁠—”

He staggers to his feet, fists up, ready to charge. 

“DeLancey.” Jack’s between the two of them in an instant, stopping Oscar in his tracks with a single, scathing look. “I said to get back on the fucking field.”

DeLancey gapes at him stupidly for a few seconds—Jacobs has clearly knocked a few brain cells out of him with that punch, and it’s not like he had that many to spare to begin with.

“You can’t just let him do this to me!” he finally sputters, like he ain’t the one that started all this shit in the first place. “What, just ‘cause some skirts got pissy over nothing? He’s just a cheerleader and I’m—“

“—already on thin fucking ice,” Jack says, voice hard. “I’m getting pretty tired of puttin’ up with your bullshit, Oscar, and once I tell him ‘bout this latest stunt, I’m pretty sure Coach will agree with me. So, you’re gonna wipe your face, stow the attitude, and get back on the green or I’m gonna drag you out there by the roots of your fuckin’ hair. Go.”

DeLancey throws him a sour, mutinous look, but finally, finally, does as he’s told, stomping off to locker rooms like the overgrown toddler he is.

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath.

He turns to Jacobs, who stares back at him steadily, chin lifted. He’s still flexing his hand a little, the skin around his knuckles split in a couple places.

“So, uh,” Jack starts, hesitant in the face of Jacobs’ stony expression. “I’m real sorry ‘bout all that.”

“Uh huh,” Jacobs says, arching an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure.”

“No, honest,” Jack insists. “It was about time someone knocked that smug look off his face… but it shouldn’t’ve had to come to that. Do you, uh,” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to do with himself. “Do you want some ice for your hand? That was one helluva left hook⁠— or, I could, um⁠—”

“I am just fine,” Jacobs interrupts, his tone biting. “So, please feel free to save the All-American, Boy Scout routine for someone who cares. If you really want to help⁠—” the look on his face makes his opinion on the quality of Jack’s help crystal clear, “—then you can make sure shitheads like Oscar DeLancey stay the hell away from my squad. And if he comes within spitting distance of one of my girls again, I’ll have his fucking dick in a vice.” 

A razor sharp smile. “So glad we had this talk.”

And with that, he marches away.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jack murmurs to himself, utterly enraptured as he watches him go. He’s real, real pretty and he’s real, real mean: Jack’s heart is already doing loop-de-loops around his chest, his skin buzzing with static. “‘M so fucked.”

[blackjackkent]

Prompt fill for @astreamofstars for this ask meme: Sickfic Prompts - Jaheira/Rasaad - [ 🛒 ] - going out at an absurd hour to grab supplies for them. Set about a month before Rion's birth. c:

-----

"Who in the hells can that be at this hour?" Sleepily, Miriam Hummel treads across the floor of her shop in slippered feet, holding a candle before her to keep from accidentally walking into the shelves of dried meat and produce. She shoots a cautious look at the dagger kept unobtrusively beside the door, then pulls it open to look outside.

The thoroughfare of the Lower City market district is utterly silent, the moon hanging heavy and low between the rooftops. There is, in fact, not a single other soul to be seen besides the old man standing on the doorstep.

She recognizes him, just barely; he's come a handful of times through the shop before. Bashir - the monk, one of the couple who bought Elerrathin's Home a year or so back. He's a bit of a strange one, or so he's always struck her - very quiet, but gentle when he does speak, and remarkably quick on his feet. It's hard to guess his age; by the lines in his face, he is old indeed, but his dark eyes are bright and he has a square, stocky, muscular body that would do credit to a man half his years at least.

"Good evening," he says earnestly, as soon as the door has opened.

"Saer..." Miriam looks the man up and down with a mildly bewildered expression. Then, after a long pause and with heavy irony, she says, "We're closed."

Rasaad winces. "I realize this is not an ideal hour--"

"It's near midnight, Saer Bashir!"

"--but it would be a great kindness to me if you would give me a moment of your time." Rasaad hesitates, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out two heavy platinum coins. "This will cover all I need, thrice over and more. I beg of you, I will be here and gone in no more than a moment."

Miriam's eyebrows shoot up. "Well," she says, coming a little more awake out of pure perplexity. "That's fair generous of you, Saer, but what call you can have for any of my goods that is worth twenty gold pieces at midnight is--"

"Please," he says. "I need pickles."

She blinks slowly at him once. Then twice. "...Pickles?"

"Yes." He nods very seriously. "The largest container you have."

A long, long pause. "Are you having me on, Saer?" she asks suspiciously. "This some sort of joke?"

Now it's his turn to look puzzled. "A joke?"

Either he has the finest deadpan in the Realms or he’s being completely serious, and she’s starting to think it’s the latter. “...If it’s pickles you want for twenty gold, then pickles you shall have,” she says, quirking one eyebrow up. “Though I still can’t fathom the need.”

For the first time, his placid expression shifts, and a hint of something else pokes through the facade - worry, and a sort of pleading strain. His weight fidgets almost imperceptibly, left to right and back again. 

“It is for my wife,” he says quietly. “She is… quite far along. I have told her that she shall lack for nothing, but she asks for little; it is not her way. But tonight, she is…” A pause; he is choosing his words carefully. “Low. It is a low night. And she has a craving, as I am told women in her state often have - for pickles, so pickles she shall have, if it takes me all the night to find them.”

Miriam’s wary scowl softens. “Ah,” she says. “Well. That is a cause I can’t fault, certainly.” Her mouth turns up a little at one corner. “She is a lucky one, your wife, I should think. There are not many as would find their man willing to hunt up such a thing at such an hour.”

He tips his head to the side. “Whyever not?” he asks, sounding legitimately bewildered.

-----

The door of the house creaks open on its hinges. Jaheira turns sharply from where she is standing at the window, and relief surges unrestrained across her face to see Rasaad framed by the moonlight in the doorway.

“You are back,” she says, the words like a sigh, an outrush of held tension. “I began to know my foolishness the moment you left - to see you out at this hour. The streets are not safe…”

“There was no danger,” he says gently. “Though I do believe the shopkeeper was greatly surprised to see me.” With a heave, he lifts the heavy jar in both his hands and sets it with a clunk on the table. 

She stares at it and, to her own astonishment, feels tears fill her eyes. Her emotions have been a maelstrom all day - for weeks, really, but today has been particularly bad. She feels restless and fidgety, crawling around inside her own skin, a prisoner in her body weighed down by the life growing inside it. Earlier, it manifested in anger, a lashing-out argument buffeting against Rasaad’s infuriating calm, which was what sent him out into the darkness in search of a foolish whim.

Now it whiplashes back the other way into a gratitude so intense it is almost painful, interwoven with the pinpricks of pre-emptive grief that are always now in the back of her mind. She should not have sent him out; she feels so acutely aware, as she carries his child, of the finite weeks and months remaining to them, draining inexorably into the past. No minute should be wasted, no second taken for granted.

But she asked him for pickles instead, and he found them for her in the dead of night, and suddenly she wants to sob.

She isn’t sure how much of this shows on her face - but he must understand at least some of it, because he steps forward and gently rests one palm against her cheek, the other against the curve of her belly. “My sun…” he murmurs.

“I am sorry…” she mutters, her voice thick.

“There is no need.” He draws her forward, kisses her.

“I love you.” She whispers it against his mouth, then grunts softly as the child kicks in her womb, as if aware of its father’s nearness.

“And I you.” She feels him smile into the kiss before drawing back. “Now… please, sit. For these were dearly bought and I will not have them go to waste.”

[spaghett-onaplate]

it's literally not a good idea in any way shape or form but I want to get a second job in fast food

[scottishoctopus]

So...after yet another hiatus with no warning...I have returned!

[wayward-sherlock]

🔀 + stonathan

hi nic!! i’ve never written stonathan before, so please bear with me 🫶

again, this is longer than i was anticipating!! so it’s hiding under the cut hehe >:)

Steve wasn’t used to being high.

Sure, he’d been drunk before, but never once stoned — despite what people seemed to think about him, he wasn’t the total party boy everyone seemed to think he was. He liked to have a good time, but sometimes people took it too far.

This logic — and all of his logic, really — went out the window when Jonathan was around. They’d decided to camp out in his room, hiding from the rest of the party, soles of their shoes touching as Steve sat against his door and Jonathan sat across from him, head leaning back against Steve’s bed, neck dangerously exposed.

“Wanna get high?” Jonathan asked, looking at Steve, catching his unabashed staring. His face, if Steve wasn’t mistaking, turned a shade pinker than it had been a few seconds ago. When Steve didn’t respond immediately, Jonathan cleared his throat and tried again. “Steve?”

“Sure,” Steve said, finally, throat growing dry at the endless possibilities that were laying out in front of him, mapping out different trajectories of how the night could go. Maybe…maybe he’d finally get the guts to say how he felt, or press his lips to Jonathan’s, or even —

“Okay,” Jonathan breathed, pulling the weed out of his pocket, like he’d expected Steve to answer that way the whole time.

Except…something wasn’t right, here.

“Um,” Steve said nervously, scrambling into a standing position. “We should probably go outside.”

Jonathan’s lips turned into a frown, and it was — it was distracting. “Why?” He asked, suspicious.

“Parents,” Steve lied — as if his parents would care what he got up to in his room. No, he was more worried about someone from the party below stumbling in to find them…together.

He offered a hand to Jonathan, who took it slowly, his slim fingers warm against Steve’s skin. “Let’s go to the roof?” Steve asked, pulling the other boy up until they were nearly eye to eye.

Jonathan smiled at him. “Okay,” he said again, always agreeing with him, and — hell, if Steve got to enjoy two of his favorite views tonight, then maybe…maybe the party wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[spacedlexi]

rereading my violentine oneshot and realizing i actually wrote more than i remembered

also i Will be breaking the 10,000 words mark

[transannabeth]

they are 100% planning to transfer gatsby to bway if that makes u feel better

PROMISE?

i don't like... look up shows anymore so i don't see anything and since they have Zero social media presence i just didn't know. i especially didn't know since there's already a gatsby on broadway and i wasn't sure if they were willing to risk that yet given i have no idea how that show is doing. but god i hope so!! i will see it again. i'll move to nyc for a month and see it daily. this is dramatic. i'm also not sure if i'm kidding.

[oh2e]

Didn’t manage to go to the theatre in June (I’m trying to go once a month) so I’m going twice this month! AND to the cinema! I’m so excited

[mercuriart]

hmmm i want to be. a little bit controversial. but i fear this is the no nuance no critical thinking webbed site. and i don't want to start discourse on this account. ill just. tags.

[kiwipineappleparasol]

I saw your tierlist! love the blackbright (Blackquill x Fulbright) appreciation!! your tierlist is actually pretty swag, but I do have like one question and that is how come you don't get junithena (Juniper x Athena?) just curious!

(also I feel like you probably know these ship names so it's weird for me to add the explanations but I'm doing it anyway just in case)

(I had typed out a whole response right. and Tumblr. and Tumblr Ate It. In front of my Eyes. It even Said so. so you are Spared with this being a bit more Brief since I have to retype Everything . as it did not have the Kindness to save it as a Draft 👹)

(Also I do know These Ones at least but I do Appreciate it . I think ship names are a Little Goofy sounding though so I tend not to use them but I will take this into account in Tagging things 👍)

But Glad to hear my takes are Swag 😎 of course I gotta appreciate the Silly Guys (as I like refer to them . like it's my own Ship Name for these guys) I Mourn the Hilarious dynamic and Interesting things they Could've had if Dual Destinies didn't Hate Me In Particular. Curse You Dual Destinies. Guess I have to do it Myself 🙄 (Lighthearted Statement)

Anyways I realize that I put it Juniper x Athena in the wrong tier (Classic me mixing things up and only realizing it in Retrospect moment) I do Understand why people would ship them - on a surface level, y'know they're childhood friends, have Nicknames and all that Jazz. Not for me though. (So it would have been the Yellow Tier) But to Elaborate:

It's a disconnect I have with Juniper as a character -- it soured her dynamic with Athena for me. There's something about Juniper's portrayal, in conjunction with some of her actions that just rubbed me the wrong way. The vibes were off, shall we say. (I wrote a bit as to why but Uh….. It got sent to the Ether. Thanks Tumblr. I might go into it Another Day)

I guess I'll just say Turnabout Academy didn't really convince me that the characters were good friends -- even though that was The Point? I dunno (my Ability to word my points has Gone down the Drain 💀)

Point Being: Certain aspects of Juniper's whole deal impacted how I saw their dynamic Which didn't exactly lend itself to Romance in my eyes (Outside the fact Juniper is Canonically waxing Poetically about how Apollo makes her feel like she's Photosynthesizing Lmao) and I'm just not a Huge Juniper Fan as she exists in canon. Love her Design though 👍

[rosesradio]

update on the fic:

the time for me is half past eleven, and i have finished the fic with a final word count of 22,310 words.

however, it's very late and i need a fresh set of eyes for editing (it's not a quick grammer scan, this thing needs revisions i'm so serious lmao). so i'm going to keep it in the drafts for right now and try to post it tomorrow.

sorry to anyone who wanted to read it, & i'm happy you do, but trust me--i want to post it when it's at what i consider a good quality for my readers. gn you guys <3

[itsohh]

The other man’s ring was so cute!! I loved it 💕💕 Your version on Ghost is such a dream 🥰 he’s still quiet but he’s not moody and brooding like everyone else writes him and I love how he keeps a soft side for his special person when you write him! It was sooo good! ❤️❤️❤️

❗❗ ahhh glad you like it! I really liked the way they wrote the characters in the reboot, they genuinely feel so realistic and human and I know what you mean! I feel like the who overly brooding thing just isn't realistic or like idk not him? Like sure he's quiet but he has a lot of respect for those around him. He can be blunt at times but that doesn't mean he doesn't care, I feel he has his privacy and sure some PTSD but I do feel like it's something he has in control.

Like Simon's a lutenant in the S.A.S like he has control over himself. He has to be or else he wouldn't be in the military right? I just don't see him being hyper emo when he's always so focused on his mission and his team. I recon he's bit of a actions over words sort of love language person. But I think he also sees them go hand in hand. Like in a fight communication can make or break something. It's the difference between life and death. It's something I see him replicating in a relationship. Frankly I don't think he has time for mindgames in a relationship. He wouldn't be with some one he didn't trust so yeah I recon he would be quite loving and caring in the comfort of his partner. He wouldn't want to ever treat them poorly because he loves them.

Ghost is certainly a case of scary on the inside but soft in the inside. Hes been hurt a lot before and while he's hardened his shell around his heart he doesn't put spikes out to hurt those around him. He's careful but caring.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

ideal scenario is that i like thinking about this like, essential short story adventure where winston and tuk hook up w/a couple [that bachelorette party] members, and as a foursome/quartet because they have these parallel stories of two pairs of friends who are like "sure i'd have sex with you if things aligned for that" and now are living that short story about expanding a dynamic & becoming closer friends for the end of it (of course billions only wrote winston as standing next to tuk next episode, instead of rian as he's often written to be standing with incl in a previous finale, to shove him out of the path of getting material and let taylor have confusing nonresolution w/rian based on this proximity and coincidence instead. but who can't say that that, And winston next not even trying to sit with tmc in the last finale appearance which at this point is probably for the best and instead again hanging out with tuk and then ben, isn't about having been closer for whatever all happened there in obtaining casual sex together)

and they can have perpendicular stories of also just having some nice chats and enjoying other interactions together such that maybe it's just fun for this one night of crossing paths, maybe anyone stays in touch at all, who even knows, if winston or tuk are dating anyone it's probably only going to come up again in how they were last dumped for being too much effort for how unepic they are, so godspeed to offscreen unmentioned dating. but just friendly acquaintanceship, or again this one-time spontaneously crossed paths night's acquaintanceship, is also a lot of fun. and why not imagine that winston "he's not allowed to not feel self-loathing or, by doing basic things like talking or initiating Or oppositng anything, Not operating as though he's too low in a social hierarchy here to be allowed thusly" type of material where his spontaneity, vivacity to bon vivantocity, self-assurance that is apparently arrogance/aggression to every who thinks he ought to be self-effacing instead, etc, is actually just a social success in other less wretched non-work situations, and his personality is taken as a contribution to the proceedings even before anyone takes up his proffered contribution of himself as a potential sexual partner. and lending confidence to tuk as like one person who won't, at any given time, go into hostile mode with him or even like take up the position of issuing this criticism, which is an inherently elevated (over tuk) one when it's a unilateral thing. such that tuk's personality can be a potential contribution as well. and winston and tuk's Friendship Developing Moments can be happening then, too, b/c Maybe they've hung out outside work on their own aleady, but also maybe they've never really been interacting with a larger group outside work, such that that group is less likely to include some people, or entirely people, who will suddenly go sicko mode on either or both of them. and then meanwhile, who knows anything abt this bachelorette party, could be already a cohesive friend group who all see each other all the time, or people who see each other more infrequently meeting up on this trip, or a mix; could be fun and chill or something so scheduled/demanding it's kind of like a work trip, or fluctuate....and of course zero info abt the individuals such that imagining anything abt them is entire OC territory, and i'm bad at that, or at coming up with stories, so not exactly a lot of details here from me but godspeed if two of them unlock another tier of friendship here b/c like parallel to winston and tuk, they're like hmm okay so we're mutually down re: potentially having a foursome here, and spending some time away from the larger group

(or of course the scenario that tuk and winston can also have that moment but just as putting "and/or: a threesome?" as an option, and that tips the scales for someone who might've otherwise felt more indecisive like "hmmmm casual convenient hookup, or spending more time out & about like this / whatever other activity...." but then is like oho Well, if it's a threesome, i'll seize that opportunity, sure....such that then maybe afterwards [winston and tuk hanging out together] happens sooner, if the third member feels more third wheel about things lol, since now they'd be the only two who already know each other. like ooh who knows, round n+1 in the aftermath just one on one (and/or i mean, maybe another thing the third party's still around for, re: further casual sex opportunities that don't just fall into your lap every day), and/or talk, watch tron together, go back out on the town even. where the conclusion of this truly is the essence of "it Is easy to imagine that winston and tuk are real Genuine Friends for the implicit further offscreen time spent together outside work / interactions between them here. and fun" and with that flair of "and give that a juxtaposed parallel in it being the same for a couple bachelorette attendees, why not, good for them"