#you can make it as deep or as hilarious or as shallow as you want

[verdantwyrm]

I heard many arguments about how mouthwashing shouldn't have a fandom because they doesn't get the story's point and "fandomize" said characters

I'm kinda agree with them? Since I doesn't like how the Fandom actively ignores Jimmy and yeah the Jimmy hate train was funny but it gets annoying sometimes

People say mouthwashing shouldn't have a fandom not because of the fandomizing of the characters but more how they don't understand that you can ship, write fanfics, make happy endings or au's because they cannot comprehend someone doing all of that and then also engaging with the content in a proper, informed and literate way.

I talked more about that over here, but thats not the point of your ask. I think it's fine to be annoyed with how Jimmy, as a character, is routinely ignored. It's not that I don't think people can dislike him or that i'm saying people have to like him, its neither of those things, but outwardly removing him intentionally can sometimes come off like you don't want to comprehend him at all and the massive role he plays in the story. He is the villain, the fallout, and the why and how of Mouthwashing as a story and a piece of literature. You don't have to analyze him or write some deep thought-provoking piece every time you mention Jimmy, but it can come off definitely as very shallow when you simply write him to be completely nonexistent for no other reason than to ignore the whole plot of the game, the story and especially the other characters.

But you're not agreeing with the people that say Mouthwashing shouldn't have a fandom because of this reason alone, because even if it didn't have a fandom this would happen regardless, and almost everything in the existence of for-fucking-ever has always had a "fandom" so trying to say that this one instance, this one singular game shouldn't is hilariously naive and very silly.

Things, for as long as they exist, no matter how they're made, will always have a fandom, and thus, will always have annoying people. It's up to you wether or not you let them dictate how much fun you have in that fandom. Create your own echo chamber, who's going to stop you?

[pastafossa]

Using Tarot To Help You Write

Right ok, so I’ve wanted to do this for a bit - there are vague references to tarot in my story TRT and I’ve answered a few questions about how I use the RWS-style tarot to write but now I have a little bit of time while I wait for my laundry to dry. So let’s get into it.

If you’re looking for another tool in your writer’s kit, you could strongly consider adding a box of tarot cards to the bag. Set aside, for a minute, what you’ve heard about it. Set aside any spiritual aspect, telling the future, the ‘OoOOOooOOh evil’, or even the ‘DRAW DEATH MEANS DEATH’ you see in movies. Instead, strip it down to its base.

Tarot is about telling a story.

(Below: Oak, Ash, & Thorn Tarot)

From a storytelling perspective, the first 18 cards of the RWS style tarot, known as the Major Arcana, essentially tell the Hero’s Journey as the Hero sets out on an adventure and searches for knowledge. There’s disaster, love, temptation, and wise people they meet along the way before eventually finding enlightenment at the end of their journey. The Major Arcana contains major archetypes and themes present through so many stories. When you add in the rest of the cards in the Minor Arcana - the other 56 cards, encompassing a variety of emotions, archetypes, figures, and various life events you might run into - you’ve got something perfect when you want to introduce new elements to your story. I keep a small deck on my desk and use it frequently when creating random OCs, plotlines, or problems for characters to solve.

And before you go, holy shit Pasta that’s a lot to take in, using tarot for your story doesn’t have to be complicated. You don’t need to have 20 years of tarot experiences, you don’t need to be an expert, you don’t need A Great Gift. You don’t have to know about tarot at all, really. You just need one thing:

The right storytelling deck.

More below the cut.

Look, there are a million styles out there, some that focus heavily on storytelling imagery and some that focus more on symbols; some that feature animals or nature, and some that focus on people. I generally lean towards animal-based decks since I’m more familiar with animal/nature imagery, body language, and symbolism, but in reality the best deck to use for writing is simply the one you’ll actually use. If you’re drawn to one, go for it. That being said, if you’re looking for something to use without needing to get into all the symbolism of each card, I generally recommend using a deck in which all cards, including the Minor Arcana, depict a scene you can examine - aka, one that plays up a story rather than a straight up symbol. Let me show you an example with three decks.

Left: Mystical Cats tarot; Middle: Oriens tarot; Right: Children of Litha tarot

These all depict the same card: the Seven of Swords, meant to depict deceit, theft, betrayal, lies, and trickery. The middle card relies a little more heavily on symbolic meaning (the black widow spider, which ‘betrays’ when mating and uses a sticky web - symbolizing a potential trap), whereas the other two cards show an active scene (Card 1: OH NO HE’S GONNA STEAL YER MOUSE WHILE YOU’RE NOT LOOKING; Card 3: YOU LOVESTRUCK DIPSHITS, TURN AROUND, THE SNAKE’S EATING YOUR EGGS). I’ve found cards like Card 1 and Card 3 are faster and more convenient for storytelling, because you’re basically presented with a scenario/characters/a situation right off the bat, whereas a symbolic card is more open-ended and might require some digging unless you’re already fairly familiar with the symbolism. If you’re going to get a deck that depicts people instead, I recommend looking for a deck that’s diverse. Humans come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, and having a deck that reflects that (something like the Modern Witch tarot) is valuable for storytelling. So if you’re picking a deck to help you write, look for:

Decks that use scenes/storytelling imagery for all cards

Decks with imagery/body language you can easily read at a glance

If you’re looking for a deck with people - decks with a diverse range of body types, ethnicities, sexualities, and genders

A deck with imagery you actually like, otherwise you won’t want to use it

‘Ok, so let’s say I’ve found a deck, or I already have one. What does using tarot for fic even look like?’

Let’s do two quick readings for two writing scenarios you might use this for! This will also show you can be as complex or as simple as you need to be. These are also the two scenarios I use tarot for most when writing - character construction, and plotline construction. First I’ll use the Children of Litha tarot, which uses a moderate amount of storytelling imagery. Then I’ll use the Mystical Cats tarot, which is probably the most story-heavy deck I have, imagery-wise. That way, you can see how construction gets a bit easier depending on how scene-heavy a deck is.

Scenario: I need an original character for this chapter or scene! Quick, draw three cards!

Quick reading: she’s very gentle but there are also two tigers inside her and one of them wants to kill you, especially if you fuck with her pet birds

More complex reading - Personality, Flaw, Backstory:

Card 1 - Personality: This character is someone who’s unafraid and bold in their kindness even when faced with danger, and they know when a gentle touch is needed. They believe strength is found not in being cruel or violent but in responding with love. This usually works out for them, to the point that even Scary People (TM) seek this character out, knowing they’ll find love and affection. Alternatively, this character is one half of the Brooding Rough One Loves The Gentle Soft One trope. Whatever works for you!

Card 2 - Flaw: Despite all that, the gentle character’s got a temper, and it exists in direct conflict to what they believe about strength, thus producing cognitive dissonance. This is someone who’ll dodge conflict to avoid showing their temper, but eventually that repression’s going to blow up into a real fight and it’ll be messy.

Card 3 - backstory: This temper and conflict avoidance is due to some tragic incident in their past that left them deeply wounded. It’s one reason they’re so gentle, but there’s a lot of lingering anger and trauma. These wounds are not healed, and if you look deep enough, you’re going to find blood.

Depending on how important this character is, you could add even more: a card for a strength, a card for a challenge they need to overcome to grow as a person, their family dynamic, etc. Again, you can make it as detailed or as simple as you need.

PASTA NOW I NEED A LITTLE PLOTLINE FOR CHARACTERS TO SOLVE. Quick, draw four!

Quick reading: holy SHIT your characters gotta move fast, cause there’s a pissed off dude out there who wants revenge NOW and is ready to fuck up a *shuffles cards and draws* religious temple of peaceful cat loving monks, one of whom is the one that fucked up Angry Dude in the first place WHEN HE WAS A BABY WITH HIS MAMA, PLOT TWIST OH NO, IT’S PROBABLY THAT ASSHOLE STEVE IN THE BACK OF THE THIRD CARD, LOOK AT HIM LOOKING OFF INTO THE DISTANCE.

More complex reading - Theme, Problem, Setting, Solution:

Card 1 - Theme: As you can tell from our cat with zoomies, your protagonists are on a clock. The theme here is urgency, it’s speed. Things will start off with a bang and they won’t have much time to slow down. This’d be good for a one shot or a chapter.

Card 2 - Problem: look at that cat, they’re so ANGRY, they are PISSED, someone did them dirty and they’ve been stewing over it for a while. They can’t stop feeling that betrayal no matter how much they try to lick it off shake it off forget about it. They want REVENGE for what was done to them and they’re gonna cut someone up.

Card 3 - Setting: Ah, a peaceful, sunny place where everyone’s just chilling. Everyone’s happy. Maybe a religious place, say, a church or a convent or hell, a nudist retreat. Either way, no one knows what’s coming. Except (and this is why scene cards are so fun)... for STEVE there in the back. Look at him. Everyone’s relaxing in the sun but he’s staring out into the distance. He knows. And just like that, Steve’s the In Hiding person who betrayed our Problem - Steve the Asshole isn’t a part of the Sun card’s meaning, but a storytelling scene card lets you stretch like this and have fun.

Card 4 - solution: Clearly the only person who can stop Bad Person... is their MAMA (or potentially his siblings). Maybe a character goes to find the Problem’s mother and brings her to the church to talk the Problem into giving up. Maybe the protagonists desperately tell the Problem that your family wouldn’t have wanted this, even if that family was hurt - the Empress is generally very nurturing and loving, so that’s a fair bet. Either way, the solution to the Problem is their family.  

Once you get the hang of this, you’ll start to find other ways you can use it. I’ve used it for creating quick or more complex or more randomized characters, for creating plotlines and character arcs, for a few of Jane’s cases in TRT. You can use it for backstories, for settings, for problems and solutions, for deeper themes to explore with your characters. Hell, if you want some practice, you could literally go through the Major Arcana and write one-shots dealing with each card’s theme. Ultimately the possibilities are endless, whether you want to construct a detailed plotline or if you just have a new character you want to randomize or flesh out a bit.

In short: go get yourself a deck and have some fun!

[trashmouth-richie]

[vol i] [vol ii] [vol iii]

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie is slowly becoming easier to live with you’re not sure if you’re just used to his disgusting behavior or if he’s truly trying to change. You make a schedule for chores and when/who/what time showers will be taken, chaos ensues on both Eddie and you. Eddie reveals a side of him that reader hasn’t seen/ noticed before.

W/C: 6.4k

A/N: if you were looking for some disgusting! Eddie smut this is the chapter for you babe.

Warnings: NO MINORS! Smut, blow jobs, rough sexual acts, degrading, daddy!kink, vomit, crude language (as if any of my fics don’t have this)

S/O: @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @banished-big-ope-vibes @carolmunson @newlips for helping me beta read, come up with dialogue, pacing, letting me insert them throughout the fic, helping me breakdown how this disgusting little mf would act in certain situations + everything in between! You guys are the best! If you aren’t already— follow them.

/

You couldn’t deny that things had gotten better with having Eddie as a roommate (not that you would ever express that to him) but living with the overgrown child was slightly very slightly, like a teeny tiny bit, better than it was before.

After living in his disgusting cluster fuck of a room for a week, Eddie finally sat down amongst his heap of mixed dirty and clean clothes and organized it. The disaster made your eye twitch every time you walked past his room in the morning and got a whiff of his stench, reeking of weed and Doritos, you finally convinced him to get it done, and in typical Eddie fashion— it came with a price.

After bargaining for days and nearly pulling your hair out because all he wanted was a single pair of your panties—

“Why? So you can hold them up like that dork in Sixteen Candles to show all your nerd friends?”

“Babe, the ladies I fuck don’t wear panties.”

He finally settled on a six pack of Busch Light, and for you to do his laundry for a week.

“Remember to separate my delicates, sweetheart.”

Fucking pig.

The only thing delicate about Eddie was his ego when you told him his hair was thinning out on top, (it definitely wasn’t, he had more hair than cousin It) but you needed the upper hand, and criticizing his hair was the way to do just that.

His bed frame and the oak dressers he had ordered, finally arrived. Allowing him to put away his never ending collection of band tee’s and holy jeans. Clearing a path for his floor.

“Holy shit, is that the carpet?” You ask, standing in the door frame before your shift at the salon, toothbrush in your hand, minty dollop of toothpaste atop it.

He’s elbow deep in the dresser, foregoing folding anything but instead shoving the clothes haphazardly into the shallow drawers and slamming them shut with his legs, or his hip.

“Wow, Tooty, you’re hilarious,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “but since you asked, yes, it does, match the drapes.”

A smile spreads across his lips. Another normal conversation turning into a sexual innuendo. He couldn’t be prouder of the way you walked right into that. Since you told him what happened to Eyeball he really has been holding back his usual gross behavior, but sometimes it was just a slip of the tongue for him. Involuntary action.

You turn to leave but he stops you, crossing the room at record speed and placing a ringed hand on your wrist, the surprising warmth from his hand burning your skin.

“Hey, uh, can I get your opinion quick?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think the groupies give a shit what color boxers you wear.”

“Wow, okay— that’s the wrong answer! But I’m talking about this.”

He points to the shelf crammed full of his odd knick knacks. It originally belonged to Nancy, but she had left it behind. Inside of it were a hoard of books. Lord of the Rings, something that looked like manuals for Dungeons & Dragons—of course he’s still playing that— a plethora of Stephen King books, and a full— more than likely sticky— stack of playboys. Go figure.

“What about it?”

“Do you think it looks good here or should I move it under the window?” Eddie asks, hands out wide measuring and comparing in arms length the distance under the window and the width of the book shelf.

You take a step into his room, every square inch of wall was covered in posters, your former bed sheets graffitied with his band, hung on one wall, the opposite held a kitchen knife stabbed through the drywall.

“What are you trying to do, feng shui?”

“Bless you.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “You sneezed, and me, being the pinnacle Christian son that I am, I blessed you, now should I keep this here?”

It took you a minute to comprehend what the hell just happened and why.

“Blessed by Eddie Munson— that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard,” you snort, a smile twisted on your lips as you look at the overgrown man child huff about where to put his shelf, shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, “looks fine there.”

-

He did start cleaning up after himself, even offering to vacuum the living room in exchange for you making supper most nights. Begging you to make the lasagna again after he ate almost the entire pan the last time. He even decided to get take out on his one night a week to cook. Thank God because you couldn’t handle one more night of burnt, made-in-the-toaster, grilled cheese or using orange juice as a replacement when the milk was gone for cereal.

You learned the hard way that you needed to buy two separate gallons of milk, after watching Eddie drink straight from the jug, a dripping white mustache formed on his upper lip as he licked it suggestively, “Got milk?” He’d ask before roaring with laughter.

-

The next few weeks with Eddie as your roommate went rather smoothly. With you working at the salon and him working long hours at Boom’s Auto shop, you two came home at almost the same time every night. He would show up covered in grease and reeking of motor oil. His work coveralls, branding a white and red labeled patch with his name on them, had the sleeves cut off, showcasing his muscled arms and the wide array of tattoos prickling up and down them, shoulder to wrist. He wore a sweaty bandana wrapped around his head, rotating between a black or a red one, depending on the day.

You didn’t mind doing his laundry since his pockets were always full of either loose bills or the occasional joint, which you would keep, and smoke later with Robin and Steve, giggling watching the stars as you laid out on blankets in the backyard.

On Saturday nights, he usually played with the band, scoring a gig at the Hideout or working at the bar til closing time, helping Tom bartend a little until Walt got back from vacation. He stumbled in at night knocking over a lamp and almost falling backwards down the basement steps. He’d pass out for a greater half of the next day, waking in the afternoon with a raspy voice and smelling like cheap cologne.

One particular Sunday morning, he stumbled out of his room, wearing black boxer briefs, and a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.

“Mornin’” he grumbled opening the fridge and diving in for his notorious pickles, tilting it to his lips and drinking straight from the jar.

You shake your head, sitting at the table and sorting through the mail. Your hair in a clip and wearing an oversized crew neck sweater, your mauve fingernails flicking through the envelope flaps, jotting down what’s due and when. “It’s 1 in the afternoon, Eddie.”

He smacks his lips loudly and faces you, fishing a pickle from the jar with his bare hands, “metal has no time limits, Tooty, we play until the bar shuts down.” He makes his way towards you, wearing one sock and chomping on his pickle.

You notice something on his stomach, a new tattoo? Maybe? Riding low on his waist and almost dipping below his underwear. The closer he gets you can make out the writing, a permanent marker phone number from a groupie written on his lower abs.

You point your pen towards his stomach, “gonna get that thing tattooed on, make it official, that Eddie the freak Munson has at least one adoring fan?”

He looks down, a smile pressing on his lips, “aww no need to be sad sweetheart,” he says lowering himself into a chair beside you, “there’s plenty of me to go around, and besides, I thought good little nuns couldn’t fuck, saving themselves for God.. or are you one of the dirty ones, showing your tits for cash so you can gamble?” He winks and laughs as you shove his shoulder trying to throw him out of the chair.

“You’re so gross!”

“And yet, I’m still here.” the Cheshire Cat smile planted on his lips.

Still. You had to admit, no matter how nasty his jokes were or how annoying he could be— having Eddie around wasn’t that bad.

-

“Tooty!” Eddie yells through the bathroom door bouncing from one foot to another, banging on the door with an open palm, “I’m going to piss my pants if you don’t hurry up!”

You had only been in the shower for ten minutes. When you walked past his room this morning with sleepy eyes and a deep yawn, metal music blared from his bedroom along with the annoying beep of his alarm clock, but the prince of filth was fast asleep.

“The schedule that you made says I get the bathroom first on Fridays, which is today!”

The schedule you had designed for Eddie and yourself consisted of 7 vertical columns one for each day of the week, and 5 horizontal columns: showering, laundry day, dishes, cooking, garbage. You had more days in the cooking column than Eddie, just like he had more days in the garbage column than you did. It evened out.

“Wrong— you were supposed to get the bathroom at 7, it’s now past 7:30 so it’s my turn,” you correct, putting a generous amount of body wash on your loofah and foaming it up, white suds cleansing your skin, “not my fault you can’t wake up to your alarm.”

“Christ, seriously just open the door! I’m fuckin’ dancing around out here like a little kid!”

“Can’t hear you,” you sing out to him, laughing silently beneath the spray of water.

You hear the feverish jiggle of the brass handle on the door and heavy footsteps as he stomps away. Oh the joys of victory. You bask in the delight of getting a one up on Eddie. Something that rarely happened in the few weeks he has been living with you. Slathering conditioner in your hair and rinsing, you exit the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day.

Opening the bathroom door you expected Eddie to barrel through you to get to the bathroom, you’re taken aback when you hear faint yelling coming from outside.

“… piss in the front yard of my own house— I will! Go back to trimming your hedges with your toddler sized shorts and mind your own goddamn—,”

“Eddie!”

He’s standing barefoot in the middle of the lawn, his navy boxer briefs the only clothing he has on. Double middle fingers raised in the early morning sky aimed towards your neighbor across the street, Mr. Derry, the neighborhood watch dog. He was an older man, no kids, no wife. Retired. And a grade A pain in the ass.

Eddie turns and looks to you, pink blush creeping over his cheeks, “…business.” Eyes wide in innocence as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

You’re still in your towel, hair soaking wet down your back, watching as this crazed lunatic you have as a roommate terrorizes the neighborhood, one flash of his dick at a time.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.

“Gracing the common folk of Cherry Lane with my morning wood, yeah take a picture and frame it you fuckin’ perv!”

Yanking harder you get him inside and slam the door. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

You open your mouth to speak but Eddie has already started explaining.

“Listen, I had to piss bad, like really bad. You could have just unlocked the door but no, Ms. Uptight-independent Tooty with your rules and schedules—” he stops and takes a breath. After your conversation a few weeks ago about the downfall of Eyeball and your own family abandoning you, Eddie had been trying to be more reasonable about things, more cautious about the way he worded things. Not trying to twist the knife lodged into your chest that had been driven there years ago.

“So I made up my own rule! If you’re gonna take forever shaving your legs or…other things…” his eyes cast down your body. The white towel snug against your form, you clutch it tighter around you as his eyes stare through the towel, begging to catch a glimpse of your wet, smooth skin. Water droplets taunting him as they fall down the slick of your hair. He shakes his head to clear his gutter mind. “I’m going to take matters into my own hands, and believe me princess, it was a handful.”

That’s about as dialed back as Eddie could be.

“You can’t just piss in the front yard! This neighborhood is not like the trailer park, that asshole you called a perv—“

“He was! He was looking right at my dick!”

“— once called the cops on Nancy because she parked by his curb when we were having her bridal shower.”

“Wa-wait, Nancy fucking Wheeler got the cops called on her?”

“Yeah, Hop wasn’t too happy to find out what it was for, calling Derry a waste of space.”

Eddie laughs, “Oh I’m not surprised— him and I go way back, remember?”

Of course you did, he busted Eddie too many times driving higher than the Empire State Building while bringing you, Dustin, Will and Mike back to the Wheeler’s. It was almost a running joke between him and Hopper. Eddie would slip him a joint while in the back of his patrol vehicle and away he went, no ticket, no charge, nothing.

“Anyway,” you jeer, pointing a finger into his bare chest, the tip of your nail making a half moon indent into the head of the bloody demon inked on his left pec, “he’s a fucking asshole so don’t piss him off, he’ll make our lives hell.”

“Fine,” Eddie groans, running his hands down his face “but he was gawking!”

You roll your eyes and grab your hair dryer from your room. An adjustment you’ve had to do since Eddie moved in, getting ready partly in your room and in the bathroom. After your hair is dried and styled, you opt for a pair of light wash overall shorts, and a thick strapped, high neck tank top underneath. You finish your makeup by applying a coat of Revlon’s Toast of New York on your lips. Sliding on your knock off Doc Marten sandals, you grab your purse and head for the door.

Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table, chair pulled out as he laces up his black work boots, body bent over his knee as he jerks his hand side to side, lazily working the laces through the hook eyelets.

“Still getting groceries tomorrow?” He asks, shoving his white cotton covered foot into his other boot, repeating the process. “I added some essentials to the grocery list.” He gestures to the pad and paper with a tilt of his chin.

Scanning the list you laugh, “Dunkaroos are not essential.”

“Don’t you dare cross them off!” Eddie fake shouts, a grin stretching across his lips, showing off his straight teeth.

“I’m off tomorrow and don’t have many clients today— I know it’s your night to cook, but I was thinking of making tater tot casserole for supper, I’ll just have to stop and get some ground beef from Bradley’s before I come home.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie lamented, “I have a gig tonight instead of tomorrow at the Hideout,” he says standing, running his hands down his legs to shake down his coveralls. “It’s probably going to be late, so don’t worry about making anything.”

Ripping the grocery list from the pad and stuffing it into your purse, you think back to how long it has been since you’d seen them play. You went along to support Chrissy and since Eddie was Kev’s longtime best friend and basically your chauffeur, you at least owed it to him to go with. A memory of you head banging and holding Chrissy’s hand tight as you both screamed for Corroded Coffin clouded your mind.

Threading your purse straps through your fingers and casting your eyes downward you have to know, “… you guys still play Lady Evil?”

Eddie grins again, “wouldn’t be a Corroded Coffin gig if we didn’t play some Sabbath, Jeff would probably throw a hissy fit.”

-

Friday evenings were usually busy in the shop. Boom ran a tight ship and paid better than any auto shop in a thirty mile radius. Eddie was lucky to get hired on using his street smarts and the fact that he was the unpaid mechanic of the trailer park for every banged up old sedan that his neighbors had since he was sixteen.

The old radio crackled and fussed as Hank Williams Jr sang about the survival rate of country boys. Boom whistled along with the tune. Running his tanned fingers through his blonde hair, a Mr. Pibb and a ham sandwich in front of him.

“So Eddie,” he says leaning back in his plastic chair, “I heard from the boys that you moved into a house on Cherry Lane. Damn boy, I thought that trailer park ran deep in your blood.”

Eddie throws his empty Mt. Dew can into the trash, missing by a mile. “Ahh Boom, you know I’m the prince of the park. Just stretching my city legs, helping out a friend.”

“Didn’t know you and Eyeball’s sister were close.” Aaron sneered, lighting up a cigarette with a strike of a match against his boot.

Eddie’s light hearted demeanor immediately changed, smile fading and eyebrows pulling together, “what the hell does that mean?”

“Helping out a friend?” Sean spat, his wiry mustache shriveled into a snarl, “what are you Mother Teresa? The only help that bitch needs is a fucking lobotomy.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects, pointing a greased finger into Sean’s face, “don’t fucking talk about her like that, man.”

Aaron talks around his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table, “It’s true, she’s smokin’ fuckin’ hot but crazier than a shit house rat.”

The pair laugh, choking on smoke and bits of crusty bread.

“Remember what Chad said about her?” Aaron laughed..

“Fuck yeah how did he put that? Don’t marry the girls with the daddy issues, even if they let you put it in their a—”

Eddie slams his fists into Sean’s shirt, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, “another word, about her— and I’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”

“You threatenin’ me Munson?” Sean chokes out.

Eddies eyes are crazed as he glares in Sean’s, “never a threat, pencil dick, it’s a promise.”

“Fellas,” Boom hollers, shoving his chair back with an eerie scratch, metal legs scraping on broken tile, “I’ll send ya both home for the day with no pay if y’all don’t knock it the fuck off.”

Eddie shoves Sean into the wall hard once more, releasing his grip on his shirt and adjusting his rings. He cracks his knuckles as he stomps back through the bay doors and out to the Buick he had been working on.

Ducking under the hood his breathing is erratic and his fists are shaking.

He never asked what happened with you and Chad but by the sounds of it, it sure as hell didn’t end on good terms.

It was fine if he teased you, but hearing it from anyone else wasn’t gonna fly with him. Not today, not ever. But something about the way you opened up to him, showed him your vulnerable side, it made him almost protective of you, like he needed to shield you from the ugliest parts of the world.

He never would have thought that Eyeball’s little sister, tough little Tooty, the same girl who punched Billy Hargrove in the face after pinching her ass one night, would make him care so much.

-

“Told ya he’s cool,” Steve slurs over his Bloody Mary, clinking the ice in the glass as he tips it back into his mouth, “he’s like a wild animal, but once you get to know him— he’s just a tattooed teddy bear.”

You, Robin and Steve were out for dinner and drinks at Louie’s, the newer sports bar in Hawkins, sitting under an emerald and white striped umbrella in the hot humid summer air. A monthly ritual you started ages ago when you all worked at Family Video. Only back then you went to Benny’s to get burgers and concrete thick milkshakes, racing to see who could finish first which ultimately ended in Robin getting a stomach ache, every time.

“I could have killed him the first few days,” you say, sipping your Malibu and Diet Coke through two neon straws, “honestly, still debating it.”

Robin steals the pickle spear and celery stick from Steve’s drink, munching away and talking with a mouthful, Steve simply rolls his eyes and reaches for another mozzarella stick, “wait, I thought you guys were getting along better now.”

“They are!” Steve interjects, pointing the mozzarella stick around like he was directing an orchestra, “I asked him myself when I brought my car to Boom’s yesterday for an oil change.”

The thought of your friends asking your roommate, who just so happens to also be their friend, how things were going between you both, made your stomach lurch.

“Well,” Robin began, twirling her pina colada and biting into the yellow flesh of the pineapple , “I’m just glad you aren’t by yourself anymore. It freaked me out knowing you were there alone.”

She wasn’t the only one.

Before Eddie had moved in, Steve gave you his prized nail bat to keep by your bed. So far you haven’t had to use it. And with Eddie in the house, it was stored in your closet.

“Alright, I’ll admit,” you say, taking a long drink, feeling the warmth of the coconut flavored alcohol mix with the Diet Coke bubbles, a frenzy on your tongue, “he’s come a long way,” you admit, dunking a fry into the mayo ketchup concoction, “finally house broke.”

It was the truth, you really didn’t mind him being around.

-

“Shh, gotta be quiet girls, daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, but seriously, you need to shut up.”

The girls laugh, drunk off bottom shelf liquor and Jell-O shots from the Hideout. Three pairs of tangled legs stumble through the front door as Eddie hurriedly works his keys into the lock.

The two of them giggle and hush one another, planting kisses on either side of his neck and stepping out of their shoes. His leather jacket hits the floor, the shirt he was wearing was ripped to shreds from the collar down. Carol’s fingers feverishly tore at his clothing before the three of them even made it to the van.

Foregoing the zipper on the tight leather mini dress she’s wearing, Eddie shoves it down her hips, giving her ass a firm squeeze, toying with the fishnet tights, “these stay on,” he demands, slapping her ass and unzipping his jeans, a parade of cheap lingerie, and leather studded clothing start from the front door and end in Eddie’s bedroom.

Your car wasn’t home which was odd but maybe it was parked in the garage. He wasn't sure where you were but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you up. You had never discussed any boundaries about him bringing someone home, but what kind of rockstar would he be if he turned down hot twins?

They had approached him after the show, twisting their evil tongues into his mouth and groping him as soon as he got backstage.

Jeff was in the back room with his long time girlfriend Ash, they were holding each other tight as he kissed her neck and she squealed into his ear.

The girl who showed up to every gig, Marissa, wearing her signature “here for the drummer” shirt, was currently bent over the bathroom sink, Gareth buried deep inside her.

Even Big D was getting some action, the waitress from Benny’s, Emily, was currently bobbing along on his dick.

All of them were getting lucky, a win for Corroded Coffin. The girls were screaming for them, bras and panties tossed on stage, Gareth sporting multiple pairs around his neck. The old bar flies drunk off beer on tap were singing along to the requested songs.

Cece’s pink floral dress is brought over her head as Eddie sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing and biting as Carol kneels at his feet and works her palm into his boxers, gasping at the hardened length in her grip.

A monster lies beneath the cotton. Almost as thick as her forearm, her dainty fingers unable to reach fully around his girth. She pumps him slow, releasing his throbbing cock.

His fingers twist into their hair as he shoves Cece down to her knees, joining Carol in the worship of Eddie Munson’s dick. Their greedy mouths take him in, one popping his balls into her mouth the other choking on his fat cock.

Eddie wasn’t gentle when he fucked groupies. He took what he wanted and didn’t leave any room for complaints or questions. Shut off from the gentle loving side sex can bring and only seeing red, it was like he was a mad man. A different person entirely. Truly the horns of satan poked through his forehead and his eyes clouded over revealing a black veil of sin.

Demon eyed.

He was pissed from what happened earlier at work. Fucking insane with rage at Sean and Aaron talking shit about you.

Not you, not Tooty.

His frustration builds as the sound of lungs gasping for air fills his ears.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Jesus Christ— don’t you wanna be good for daddy? Open that fuckin’ throat up and take what I give to you.”

He grabs Cece’s hair and thrusts himself in her mouth, ignoring her tears as she gags and swallows him whole. “Are you crying? Poor fucking baby, what a shame, on the bed now.” He grabs her up by the throat and tosses her onto the bed.

He’d kill Chad if he ever saw him again. Still had no idea what he did or why you two broke up but hearing his mantra spill from those asshat’s mouths today was enough to make his skin crawl.

The vulgar shit they were saying. The way they non chalantly said it like they were reciting their McDonald’s order. Fuck that bothered him.

Cock swinging, Eddie pinches Carol’s nipples until she’s standing, he flips her upside down, fucking into her open mouth as he bites her fishnet tights open and spits on her pussy. Tossing her on the bed like discarded trash he slaps both of their asses.

He tries to blur you away from his mind, separate you from his brain for a while to release this pent up anger. But all he can see are the small tears falling from your eyes when you tell him the truth about your family.

The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

Shaking his head he bounds to his bed, trying like hell to focus on his task at hand.

“Are my little whores ready? Think you can handle this without tearing up?”

-

When Steve drops you off you’ve already puked in his car, twice. When he announced that drinks were on him tonight, you may have been double fisting Jack and Cokes with Robin, and taking vodka shots, racing to see who could finish first.

Robin passed out in the back of his car, snuggled up with the cold leather on her cheek.

“Steeb, I’m fine, seriously! Look how good I’m walking.”

“That’s because I’m carrying you.” Steve huffs as he opens the front door.

You’re slurring your words and talking in a volume that could raise the dead, “You’re such a good friend Stephen, why? Why why why are you single?” You hiccup, the remnants of your vomit lingering on your breath, “You need a wife!”

“Tooty, we can talk about my failed love life another day,” Steve grunts, carrying you into the house, stepping over boots and skimpy clothing, “for now let’s get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up and maybe puke in the toilet this time!”

“I just wanna go to bed. I’m tired,” you whine, “Stoven bring me to my room, let me go to sleep!”

Ignoring you, Steve brings you to the bathroom and plops you down on the floor, opening the toilet lids just in time for you to blow chunks all over.

“Ooh that one looks like a mozzarella stick.”

“Jesus, I’m never letting you two idiots drink again! I’m always your goddamn babysitter, it’s so annoying.” Steve laughs, riddling your hair. Ever since you stepped foot into Family Video at fifteen, looking for a job, the three of you were inseparable. “You think you’re gonna be okay? I gotta get that other shit head home before she pukes in the backseat, I already have to clean the front.”

“Oh no! I didn’t know you threw up!”

Steve rolls his eyes, dragging his hands down his face.

“See you tomorrow, I’ll call you okay?” His face is pulled into concern, eyebrows raised and pinched together

You salute him and wave, laughing at his mop of hair flopping around as he turns to leave. Struggling for at least ten minutes to get your denim overall shorts unbuckled, cursing and giggling at your own drunken stupor. You finally manage to get them un done shucking them off your legs, leaving your upper body covered by your tank top, the black panties you were wearing still on. Sliding your arms around your back you manage to unhook your bra and thread it through your shirt, tossing it into the shower beside you. Exhausted, you rest your head on the toilet bowl— falling into a dizzy sleep.

-

“Cece, come here!” Carol whispers loudly. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight of the slumped over figure hugging the toilet bowl.

“Holy shit!” She says, emerging from Eddie’s bedroom. “Is that? No fucking way.”

“I didn’t know he was screwing her too!” Carol breathes jealousy spewing from her lips.

“You really think he’d want to fuck that? Look at her! She’s a walking basket case. I heard that her family moved away because she wigged out and tried to kill her own mom.”

“Actually, the rumor is that I killed them all,” you add, raising your sleepy drunk face from the toilet, seeing double and trying not to puke on the spot, you try to stand, using the toilet to support your weight as you push off from it, wobbling horrifically.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, vision dancing as you try to point to the front door, holding onto the sink to stabilize yourself wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, “now.”

“Yeah?” Cece spits, folding her arms across her chest, “you gonna make us? Last I checked we were guests—“

“Not anymore,” Eddie hissed, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants as he looks into the bathroom at your disheveled appearance. Your makeup is smeared from throwing up, you’re half naked and barefoot, clutching onto the sink. Your overalls are covered in puke, and in a heap of vomit on the floor, a purple bra hangs over the edge of the tub. He wedges himself into the bathroom between you and the two girls, covering you with his tall frame from their view. His nostrils are flared and his chest is puffed out, “you heard her, get the fuck out.”

“What the fuck Eddie?!” Carol gripes, looking into his mad eyes.

He glares back, bored with her, “Did you really think you were gonna stay the night?” He prods, “Please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. Get your shit and go.”

“We live across town!” Cece squeaks, face pulled into shock and humiliation.

“Don’t care.”

Carol crosses her arms and glares into his eyes, “It’s late!”

“And?” He asks glaring back, and pushing through them, “Here let me help.”

Eddie takes their purses and shoes, tossing them out the front door into the yard. Pointing to the open door and fuming, he spits, “Out.”

The girls leave screeching ‘fuck you’s’ as they walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.

He turns back to the bathroom, hearing you vomit again, one small glance and he can tell you hit the sink at least, puke splattering all over— the same reaction if you held a spoon under running water.

He turns around and comes back with the cleaner and a roll of paper towels, gagging with each wipe of the sink as he cleans it up.

Your crumbled body is slumped over the toilet again.

“Gonna live? Or should I call the coroner.” He says leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.

“ ‘s Robin’s fault,” you mumble, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, “woulda been fine if it wasn’t for the sh—,” you gag thinking of the vodka, “—shots, I’m usually not like this.”

Eddie sits on the side of the tub. You’re wasted and half dressed. He was a lot of things but taking advantage of a drunk girl wasn’t him. He finds your robe hanging in its designated spot, and drapes it across your bare shoulders.

“Sit up a bit,” he instructs. With great effort you sit up, almost falling backwards but Eddie catches you, careful of his hand placements not wanting to graze you in your inebriated state. He helps you sit and you put your arms through the holes of the robe. He reaches gently around your middle to tie it. Putting delicate pressure on your back as he leans you forward towards the toilet. You hum with satisfaction as your face feels the cool plastic of the toilet seat. Fighting the urge to rub your back.

“I’m dying, you can have the house when I’m gone, scatter my ashes in the rose bushes out back.” You say with a whine. Groaning as your stomach churns again, puking up more and more of the mixed alcohol you drank earlier in the night.

“Need some water?” Eddie guesses.

You nod your head, feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds you set it back down.

He leaves and comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, swirly straw included. Tapping your shoulder he hands you the Disney cup, taking a long pull from the straw, you set the cup down on the linoleum floor.

“Thanks.”

“Agh, you’ll be alright. The porcelain Gods and I are great friends— well we used to be back in high school. I haven’t prayed to them in a while,” he says with a chuckle. Sliding down against the wall behind you, sitting on the cold floor.

“Don’t forget the time you and Kev ate those shrooms and puked all night in the basement of our house.” You mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and flushing the toilet.

That was a night Eddie would never forget, he was only sixteen, and he somehow scored some homemade brownies and shrooms from one of the seniors. Being young and dumb, him and Eyeball each ate three brownies and an entire bag of shrooms. The high was insane, but the aftermath was death. He hasn’t touched shrooms since.

“Shit,” Eddie exclaims, “how old were you? Ten?”

“ ‘leven,” you say, holding your elbows on the toilet seat and your head in your palms, “old enough to know you and Kev didn’t magically get the flu at the same time.”

“Man we were dumb,” he says with a laugh, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Were?” you say slyly.

“Easy, I’m not the one who can’t hold their liquor, Princess.”

“Oh Jesus please no more mention of it or I will barf—again.”

He stands to leave, laughing and stretching his arms out over his head as a small yawn escapes him. Exhausted from the day's events: work, concert, threesome— ain’t no way he’d be up before noon tomorrow— you either.

“Think I’m gonna go to bed, you going to be okay?”

Sitting up and looking at Eddie for the first time tonight, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re drunk, but it’s almost as if it’s the very first time you’ve seen him. His amber colored eyes are surrounded by a forest of black eyelashes, his mop of curly hair hanging in them slightly, smooth pink lips, surprisingly full, a sharp jaw with a days worth of stubble, his veiny neck dances as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His shoulders are thick snaking down to muscled forearms, veins protruding from them, his hands are easily double the size of yours, thick fingers adorned with the same chunky stupid rings he’s worn forever. His broad chest stretches across his ribs, nipples pierced since the 80’s. He stands with confidence. His slender waist with the tiniest patch of hair ducking into the gray waistband of his hanes boxer briefs. And the prettiest alabaster skin peeking out from his collection of black tattoos.

Mouth suddenly dry, you stutter, “I—I’m done throwing up, gonna go to my bed.”

You stand on Bambi’s legs, hitting the wall hard with your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughs and scoops you up making sure he’s holding under your bent knees and around your upper arms. He carries you to your bed, his skin burning hot against your cheek. He lays you down, throwing the blankets over your head for good measure, trying like hell to ignore the flutter in his stomach as you huff and pout pulling your eyebrows inward and frowning as you place your blankets to your liking.

“Get some sleep Tooty.” Eddie says all too softly. Pushing your cute sleepy face from his mind, rocking back on his heels as he starts to leave your room.

“Eddie?” You call after him, your small voice ripping through him like a knife. “Thank you, seriously. For everything.”

Shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair flows like a curtain around him in the dark as he leaves your room, “you owe me,” he says with a small grin, shutting the door behind him.

//

////

/

SEE YOU IN VOLUME: V

[volume: 5]

putting random symbols in hopes that read more will eat this instead of the last paragraph 😩

-

-

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I know that you don't take request right now but I just had to submit this one before I forget it lol. I'm hoping that you'll write it when your requests are open again?

So anyway, reader is ridoc's twin/sister (he's hilarious) and she walks in on someone trying to kill bodhi so she helps bodhi fight him and later takes care of his injury and he falls for her. The following days someone keeps leaving little gifts for her (protective ridoc lol) and reader approaches bodhi to ask what he's doing and he confesses that he likes her

Not exactly like the request but close by and way longer than I thought it would be. So many of you bad missed Bodhi so here we are.

Angel eyes

It truly was luck. Luck and nothing more. You had separated from the girls after your nightly walk. A way you bunch decompressed after a long day of training. It felt better like that. Easier. With no one able to walk in on you chatting. You had stayed out longer after swearing to be careful, simply because the night was warm and you enjoyed nothing more than being able to watch the stars. They reminded you of home. All the people you had left behind.

You had rounded the staircase not longer than an hour later when you heard muffled sounds. Not a lot of cadets followed the curfew hours so at first you brushed it off to someone sneaking around the same way you were. Just the higher you climbed the more it didn’t sound like innocent chatter. No. It sounded as if someone was struggling. The scraping against the rock walls. The pained growls. You pulled the blade from your boot, one that your brother had kindly gifted you. Testing the weight of it in your palm before letting your senses guide you to the noise. It probably wasn’t all that smart to approach something like that alone but something from deep within urged you to.

And there there they were. Two males held Bodhi’s hands while the third one sent punches into his stomach. The sight made you stumble for a moment. Bodhi was a great fighter. You had the honor of being assigned him as a partner on the mats. This felt wrong. They have had to drug him. Used something to weaken his link with Cuir. Blood that soaked the gag now had been the thing that sent you into action.

Using the shadows to your advantage. You crept closer. Sending your brother’s dagger flying. Not stopping to look if it landed the target because you knew that it did. And there was no time to admire your handy work. The less time they had to realize that they weren’t alone anymore the better. Right as the dagger met the guy who’s been punching Bodhi neck, your hands were already around the second male's neck twisting it with a painful crack.

It’s the third guy who instantly backs away from Bodhi, sending his body crumpling to the ground. He’s the one to meet your black eyes. You can feel that he wants to run. That he’s panicking. That he’s petrified because he can’t move. Your power is too deep in his system. “Lucky for you, I need someone to speak about this to”, you step closer to him, “And you will voluntarily do it, won’t you?”, he barely nods, shallow breaths barely hitting his lungs. You smile up at him watching as he tries to do the same but your power seizes his muscles. Making him hit the floor too as he wriggles in soundless spasms.

You turn back to Bodhi, who had crawled to rest against the wall. Hand draped over his middle. You cross the distance in a couple of smooth strides, dropping to your knees. Bodhi instantly flinched trying to pull back. You two weren’t necessarily strangers but you weren’t friends. He was in the ranks up above the group of people you hang out with. But you saw him around, trained at times.

“Let me help”, you muttered, “Can I pull your shirt up?” You caught his gaze, right as he pulled the blood rag from his mouth. His nod was subtle. Easy to miss but you caught it nodding alongside him. Gently pull up the material.

“Shit”, you hissed. The skin was already turned black and blue. They sure didn’t hold back, “You need to… We need to get you to the healers”. A slight panic flickered in your chest. His friends were on patrol tonight too. Meaning you quite literally had no help to call out to. But Bodhi didn’t even nod as he watched you.

“Bodhi, you need to show me that you can hear me, okay?”, you muttered, cupping his cheek with your palm. “I will get you some help”, you nodded at him, looking into the eyes of someone who seemed to look past you now. Cursing beneath your breath you turned around looking at the corridors that stretched out, hoping to find any sort of movement. “Pretty”, the sound was groggy and tired. You halted. “So… pretty”, he breathed out. “What?”, you muttered, your eyes catching his one last time before his body slumped down.

Bodhi felt like his whole body was on fire. At times he was sure that he had died and it was the flames of the underworld liking at his skin. But in flashes of consciousness, there were voices. Muffed ones and unrecognizable. But most importantly there was a girl. One that constantly leaned over him, brushing at his hair. Her cold fingers felt heavenly against Bodhi’s burning skin. And those eyes. Those gorgeous eyes looked down at him. So pretty. So unbelievably pretty.

Quite frankly Bodhi was convinced that whoever his angel was he had dreamed. Hallucinated. Until he had finally been able to get to the main floors. Both Xaden and Garrick were on either side of him. Even if they said that they weren’t worried they had been mother hens to him ever since.

But only a couple of steps in Bodhi halted. A full-body shiver ran through him. It felt like a fever dream all over again. “What is it?”, Garrick gripped Bodhi’s upper arm but he didn’t know. He couldn’t seem to get his words out. “I told you that you should have still stayed in bed, Bodhi, damn”, Xaden stepped in front of his cousin. Bodhi shook his head, pulling at Xaden’s shoulder, “Her”, he breathed.

Both males turned to where Bodhi was pointing, before sharing a look. They had interrogated the one suspect who had been neatly delivered all tied up. But no one knew who had done the handy job because Bodhi’s stories had been well… rather delirious. “What about her?”, Garrick asked, look at the way Bodhi glanced at you as if you had carried the moon and sun. “That’s Ridoc’s sister, Bodhi. Violet’s friend”, Xaden muttered.

Bodhi pulled at their grip, rushing through the crowd. He knew he had seen you before but this. You looked like an angel in his head and now you were here. “You”, he breathed, making you turn your head at the new voice. “Durran, good to see you on your feet”, you shot him a smile. You didn’t want to make a big fuss. No one knew what had happened that night and you preferred it that way. “You were there. I saw you”, he muttered. Your brother raised his eyebrow shooting you a strange look. So much for a secret.

“Come”, you pulled at his hand, wanting to get away from the crowd of people. “Look, I did what I had to”, you breathed as you two rounded the corner of a more secluded area, “If your friend needs help with solving…” but you didn’t get to finish the sentence as two strong arms warped around your shoulder. Your body stiffened for a second. He was hugging you… You slowly raised your arms as well, careful to not hurt him. The bruises on his body still vivid in your head.

“Thank you”, Bodhi breathed, “I thought I had imagined you”. You chuckled, “Most would say that’s quite a nightmare”. Budhi shook his head as he slowly pulled away, “I thought quite the opposite”, he admitted, swallowing thickly, “I thought you were an angel. Your eyes…”, he muttered moving to cup your cheek. You felt your face burning crimson, fighting the urge to look down. “So pretty”, he breathed out.

“Is that what you were referring to back in the corridor when I…”, you frowned. Surely, not. He wouldn’t have noticed that. “Yeah…”, Bodhi breathed, his face growing red as he pulled back, clearing his throat, “Sorry, that’s stupid”. But you caught his wrist, “No, it’s sweet. No had ever thought that they were… well… pretty”. Your eyes locked and for a moment you two just stood in silence. “Can we meet up sometime?”, Bodhi breathed after a moment. You chuckled, “Sure, if you’re not scared that my brother will kill you with a fork”, you nodded towards the table where Ridoc had unfortunately seen you two talk. So much for a secluded spot. Bodhi huffed, “I think, I can handle a fork”.

[treason-and-plot]

6.55 pm

Connor opens the door to Saffron and before she even has a chance to speak pulls her to him and kisses her.

"It's not too late to change your mind," he says once he's released her, rubbing her wrist with his thumb. "You can still escape if you want to-"

"Stop it. You're making me nervous now," says Saffron, biting her lip to keep from giggling. He gives a deep sigh and leads her by the hand to the living room. His mother is placing a cheese platter on the table. She looks up and walks towards them, staring intently at Saffron. She is an attractive, slender brunette with Connor's cheekbones and dimpled chin.

"Mum, this is Saffron," says Connor. "Saffron, this is my mother, Helene."

Helene continues to stare at Saffron.

"Well, thank goodness," she says in a husky voice. "Connor has never brought a girl home to meet us before, and we had no idea what to expect. But I'm so relieved that you're pretty and slim and feminine, and not covered in tattoos or piercings. That would have resulted in a very awkward evening!"

"Christ almighty. Mum, do you know how disgustingly shallow you sound right now?" says Connor.

"I'm only being honest," says Helene. "Now, your father's in his study on a Zoom call, but he should be down soon. I'll just check on the oven. Help yourself to some cheese and biscuits, Saffron!"

"I don't have the vocabulary to express how sorry I am," says Connor after she's left the room. But Saffron can't erase the grin from her face.

"What are you sorry about?" she says. "I think your mother's hilarious. This dinner is going to be great!"

[quartztwst]

QUARTZ

QUARTZZZZ

HAVE YOU SEEN JADE AND FLOYD'S DREAM YET

jade's one is pure hilarious

but floyd's one tbh is kinda sad; I feel bad for the boy, it's like he's in a nightmare instead of a sweet dream

Yeah I stood up until 7 am going through all of the chapters right before it was published which is my only flex but it's really pathetic HELP

IVE SEEN JADE AND FLOYD'S DREAM LMAOO

Floyd actually made so much more sense since Malleus' shallow perception of a happy ending is "no negative things" which Floyd doesn't really mind or actually wants. He likes being entertained and interesting things so negative things are part of that.

It was really sad but at the same time it was pretty silly since Floyd himself was acting pretty silly and bored. I was expecting Floyd's dream to be a bit more complicated but it was actually something that made much more sense once you put the Malleus magic explanation.

Jade's was pretty funny LMAOOO through the whole time I was thinking "Jeiazu. This is gay." But Jade's funny perception of Azul and Floyd in his dream was really interesting.

And the part where he says "They need me" or something similar to that takes a real good look at Jade's character too. When the Idia collection crew said something about Jade's self-importance and his stubbornness, I wasn't really surprised but at the same time intrigued? His character is genuinely so confusing but it keeps you wanting to learn more (but HE WON'T LET YOU.)

Azul's dream was actually shocking to expect but it makes sense. I was actually hoping for my "Azul with a fish tail" dream to win but UEGRGHSHERH it didn't happen. However, something similar happened with him being in a sports team where everyone adores him.

I know it's Malleus controlling his dream but I can't help but feel that Azul wants that adoration and acceptance deep down. But Azul's feelings are more complex than what Malleus thinks it is and that's why it isn't want Azul actually wants. He doesn't want to be like that and it isn't what he truly strives for. It might be what could've been but it isn't what he wants.

That's why Malleus' "always happy, no negative emotions" ideal of a happy ending is so shallow. And I'm not saying "well malleus is a heartless demon." He means well and it shows. The ideal is wrong but the intention is good. He wants everyone to have a happy ending but it's a bit controlling.. Okay. Not a "bit"..

A lot but he means well ok

And I also heard a lot of people say, "It's so sad that the octotrio don't really dream of eachother...."

I think it makes sense. I don't know about yall. They don't always stay together but I really like them when they do stick together. I mean like.. Floyd literally reminds us that they don't have to stick to eachother every time a character goes "Oh, you don't dream about eachother?"

And the scene where Floyd and Jade let Azul sink down makes even more sense because they say, "Azul can take care of it." That's how much they respect him and believe that he is strong because Azul can handle himself. It's not like they don't care. They do. That's why they fell in with him in his second "happy ending."

They only make up rules so they don't become attached because they claim they are just like co-owners of some business (they are in denial and don't wanna say that they care for eachother because that's cringe to them but they care for eachother.)

Jade and Floyd may act cold but that's because they believe Azul is strong. That's how much their trust is. If he can't handle it, oh well (they literally save him after).

And also it's not like they don't care. They literally yell for Azul when Azul gets pulled in again and try to pull him out. Then some people say "omg they don't actually care."

ARE WE READING THE SAME THING??

Anyways I think thats my thoughts for right now. I'll have to go through the all of the chapters again so I can understand more about them lmao

[lovevuni]

Double Dare Romance : Enoch O’Connor x Reader : Part 1 Challenge Accepted

Warnings: Kinda Rude, Back and Forth of being kinda mean, Your mom joke(yes that is needed as a warning), Insecure Enoch

Summary: Reader is new to the loop and they doen’t get along with Enoch at first. Both are at each other’s throats, enoch then double dares the reader to try and get under his skin. The reader accpets this challenge. Will they succeed.

A/N: I got the idea to write my conversations with Enoch on my chai app. I am invested in the app and decided it would be fun to share the chat with people. I know I was off about the app at first but now I love it. I am basting this fully on my chat convo not on the book or movie, I know some people are picky but I have only read the first book so far.

I hate using Y/N but I use my name and he uses it a lot so Y/N is what I will use.

I am standing in the entrance of the estate admiring the surroundings. I had just finished my introductions with most of the house hold however I was waiting on the last member I have not become acquainted with. Miss Peregrine told me that he is the most stubborn.

In comes a boy average height with dark hair.

“Miss Peregrine said to come down here and introduce yourself? Don’t bother. You won’t last more than a week.”

You look at him offended, “rude, I am Y/N, my peculiar is [insert peculiar]”

He scoffs, “Who cares? You still won’t last. Good luck trying though.”

You stick your tounge out at him.

“Is that really the best you can do, Y/N? A little childish don’t you think?” He says.

“Says the hundred year old emo” You fight back.

“At least I’m not stuck in one year like you all. And I’m not going to die young either. So there’s that. But sure, keep acting like a five-year-old. See where it get you.” You can tell he is getting annoyed but you don’t care.

“It gets you annoyed apparently so I call that a win.” You seem proud of yourself.

“Well if that makes you happy. I don’t have time for your petty games tough. I have better things to do than argue with a child.”

“What like playing with your dolls, very grown up” You make sure to sound extra sarcastic.

“Such sarcasm, Y/N. Growing up fast, aren’t we? Listen, I don’t mean to upset you. I just don’t se the point in small talk or introductions. There’s nothing you can say that will make me want to stay here any longer than necessary.”

“well seeing as we are stuck in a loop might as well.”

“That much is true. But I prefer to occupy myself with more meaningful pursuits than idle chatter with the likes of you. Tell me something interesting, Y/N. Something peculiar.”

“Your mom” You laugh at your own joke. (I thought this was hilarious, I love your mom jokes)

He groans, “Typical. Immature jokes from an immature girl/guy/person. How original. You seriously expect me to respond to that? Pathetic.”

“You just did. Come on, I’m just trying to have fun.” You smirk.

“Fine let’s play a game then. Let’s pretend that I actually car about this conversation and engage in some sort of meaningless banter with you. Go ahead, impress me with your “funny” wit.”

“You are a boy who uses insults as a way to seem better than everyone, am I right?”

“Oh, you caught me red-handed. Yes, I suppose I am a bit of an insult mastermind. It’s how I maintain my superiority over others. In reality, it;s simply because I find most people to be beneath me.” He admits.

“As I expected, an insecure man.”

“How perceptive of you, Y/N. Yes, I admit it. My insecurities run deep. I compensate for them by putting down others, but ultimately it’s a shallow attemp to mask my shortcomings.” You feel ashamed for bringing that to the surface for him and quickly shift the focus.

“It’s cool, the insecure ones break the fastest.”

“Interesting deduction, Y/N. However, I assure you that my resolve is impenetrable. Try as you may, you cannot shake my confidence or rattle me emotionally.” He seems cocky as he speaks. You take this as an opportunity to take a step closer to him.

“Is that so?” You tease.

He smirks at this, “Indeed, it is. And if anything, I would relish the opportunity to test your mettle. So go ahead, try to get under my skin, I double dare you.”

“Challenge accepted” You play with the collar of his shirt, then flick the tip of his nose with your finger.

He grinns, “Oh I like this. You’ve got spunk, Y/N. Perhaps there’s potential for us to interact civilly after all. Although now that we’re playing games, perhaps I should return the favor.” He leans in close, whispering menacingly, “ Watch your back Y/N.”

“Oh but I believe you would enjoy that way more, especially as I walk away,” You walk away to go to your room while swaying your hips.

He is watching as you walk away, a smug smile spreading across his face.

“Well played, Y/N. You’ve certainly caught my attention with your cunning antics. But don’t think this means we’re done here. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, to see what other tricks you have up your sleeve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 : Success

[ominous-feychild]

✦ OC DEEP DIVE ✦

Thanks for the tag, @the-letterbox-archives! This looks really fun!

Otherwise it would get added to my ever-building "answer this tag eventually" list... 😭

I'm going to answer these for: Sun and Shadow: Freya and Crow The Arcane Rifts: Gene and Tazin Rising From the Ashes: Sammy and Kieva

Warning: long post!

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

After the start of Sun and Shadow? A fear of the ocean, easily.

However, she's also afraid of being vulnerable, being lost, feeling alone, and not being able to trust her own senses.

Abandonment and failure.

It'd be easier listing the fears he doesn't have...

He's afraid of: the forest, being lost, not being able to trust his own senses, being deceived, anything anywhere near the uncanny valley, being/feeling trapped, saying the wrong thing (aka social anxiety literally always), authority figures, angry people, not angry people, people--

Okay, I'll stop now. I think you get it.

Is and has almost always been haunted by the fear of being abandoned. It's his greatest fear, and he constantly pushes people away or abandons them first, before they can do it to him.

Besides that, he's afraid of responsibility and ghosts (which are provably real in-universe... and he's met plenty).

Fear of losing control. Is a major control freak social manipulator who panics (internally) the moment he feels like he's lost control of a situation. Is also terrified of being/feeling trapped and being "physically constricted" (read: shackles, handcuffs, and the sort).

Terrified of feeling trapped--both physically and situationally. Particularly hates small spaces and constricting clothing. Afraid of abandonment, failure, and disappointing the people he cares about.

Instead of angsting about his fears (besides the claustro- and cleithrophobia), he uses them as a motivation to do better.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Rich people. I'm only slightly kidding. She hates fake people and nobility/the wealthy elite have always been fake in her experience. She also hates small talk, people not taking her seriously, asking her about her family, and people calling her by her full name, "Freya", instead of Frey. ... whoops.

A curse they've brought upon themself--people not taking them seriously when they want people to, haha. It's a backfiring from their acting silly to get people to underestimate them.

Similarly, people getting distracted in conversations. Their job would be SO much easier if people didn't deviate from subjects Crow wanted them on. (Though, the distractedness also makes it easier for them to happen onto subjects Crow wants to investigate, so...)

People assuming he's dumb, or asking him how he figured things out when they're super obvious? Like, c'mon. Also he's sensitive to a lot of sounds and gets annoyed by repetitive noises.

People asking him questions, hilariously enough. (Makes for a horrible and yet perfect combination with Gene...)

Similarly, hates people asking about his background, family, and nationality. Also hates repetitive noises!

Discrimination, people obsessing about/over his magic, the "elite" class in general, the shallowness of society, and people assuming things about him. He grew up on the streets and faced a lot of discrimination focused on his apparent poverty and age--though it's especially worse because he looks even younger than he is. Despite his distaste for it, he's learned to use it to his advantage.

People.

I was only slightly kidding--he's incredibly asocial, hates people trying to bother him, and mostly minds to himself. However, has a particular distaste for people asking prying questions--and especially those about his biological family.

Also, fake people, fake compliments, and people interrupting him in the middle of him doing other things (aka, literally always)--and, fuck, I've made HIM autistic, too???

(Not saying those things make him autistic. However, seeing him in my mind, as a fellow autistic... I've done it again.)

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Books, tea, and various kinds of writing utensils.

Newspapers, hidden knives, and even-better hidden art collages from newspaper and magazine cutouts!

An endless amount of books, writing utensils, Mislav and papers. Blank, filled with drawings, filled with writing--papers of all kinds!

Anything and everything fun and/or "different" for him to set on fire. Also, knives/daggers, his Svarog masks, and each of Gene's old Volos masks--up until the last version, which is still in Gene's possession.

You're assuming he has a bedroom? /hj

More seriously, haha--although he grew up on the streets, he does have a few possessions that he's kept with him at all times. One is a damaged and rusty photo locket. The other is an expensive-looking dagger and sheath given to him by someone in his past. He's never sold either, regardless of the struggles he's gone through.

After getting a bedroom upon joining the knight's college, it's perpetually full of endless potted plants, books about medical subjects (primarily composed of photos or doodles he's added to help him understand the contents), and the aforementioned dagger... though it's hidden very well.

Several sketchbooks, some filled out and others blank or half-filled out; a VERY well-hidden collection of notes from his adoptive dad, Caron, addressed to him when Kieva was younger and he's kept for all these years; and tons of hidden weapons.

Don't worry!--he got that habit from his dad, Caron. As the saying goes--a man who sleeps with a knife under his pillow is a fool every night but one. (Except there's way more than just a knife under his pillow.)

What do they notice first in a person?

How they're dressed, almost tied with how they hold themselves.

How the person holds themself. Then, their face. They are very good at memorizing faces.

Spoilers! 😁 In other words... their magical energy. But that's not very helpful here, is it? Haha, so beyond that, I'd say how they're dressed.

Their skin tone. (Because he expects white people to be immediately / especially racist toward him. Glavnran ain't a great place for a Jhandan kid to grow up.)

Their emotional state. He's always prepared to maneuver around a difficult social situation, and needs to be ready to manipulate someone into reacting more positively to him if necessary.

Simultaneously notices their face and posture. He's good at memorizing faces--partially because of how much he draws them--and uses their posture to gauge a lot of things, as taught to by his dad. You can use someone's posture to help figure out: confidence level, if they're experienced in a fight, their social class (nobility often exaggerates certain behaviors), and many other things.

(He also goes out of his way to look at their hands. One's hands can tell of their profession.)

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? (I'm doing this assuming 5 is "average")

Emotional? 7. Physical? 3.

Physically? 9. Emotionally? 9.

Depends how you define "pain tolerance"--if it's "doesn't notice it" or "is able to ignore it".

If it's "doesn't notice": Physically, 5. Emotionally, 8. (But later books see "emotionally" drop wayyyy down to 3)

"Is able to ignore": Physically, 10. Emotionally? 9.

Physically? 6. Emotionally? 2.

Depends on a lot of factors. He's able to magically shut off his ability to feel physical pain, for one (though he only realizes/learns to do so on command to later in the series)! Otherwise, he's similar to Gene in having a variable "feels it" vs "is able to ignore it anyways" level of "tolerance".

If it's "doesn't notice": Physically, 6. Emotionally, 7.

If it's "is able to ignore it/doesn't show any signs of feeling it": Physically, 8. Emotionally, 9 or 10 depending on the emotion and situation.

Another case of "can ignore what he can feel".

Threshold until he feels it? Physically, 7. Emotionally? 8.

Threshold until he can't ignore it anymore? Physically, 10 (aka, only the worst pains imaginable). Emotionally? 10. (Aka mental breakdown territory.)

(Kieva is very bad at noticing his own emotions until he gets overwhelmed by them. His stress builds to very high levels before he actually notices them and can account for them. He's alexithymic and has to use therapeutic methods to figure out what he's feeling before he gets overwhelmed and snaps.)

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (I'm also including freeze and fawn)

Fight!!! She's an incredibly angry person (that thinks she doesn't have anger issues, lmao), and goes on the aggressive very easily. However, it's usually verbal. She doesn't have any experience in actual fights.

Technically freeze, technically flight, but actually fight. They'll either turn into or hide in their own shadow with their magic to orient themselves to the situation before acting if surprised with combat. Their "freezing/flight" is only a defensive measure to gather more information before proceeding.

However, they're also a fantastic actor and tend to be playing a persona. While their reflex is defensive/fight, they can and will fake having a different "reflex" under pressure.

It depends on when/where in the books and in his life, haha.

Early books? Freeze or fawn depending on the situation. If it's something dangerous or more than one person, freeze. If it's a single person, fawn.

In the middle of the series? Fawn 7 times out of 10. Fight the other three.

Late in the series? Fight.

FIGHTTTTTTTTTTT!!! (both verbally and physically, though he tends to more adapt a threatening posture or imply he's ready to get violent rather than immediately getting violent. Not that he hates violence, though--he just doesn't like getting hurt.)

Before the beginning of Rising From the Ashes, his reactions are tied between flight and fawn, depending on the situation. He's used to running away from his problems to the point that Caron--the head of the knight's college--silently notices it and pegs him as a flight risk. However, he also very commonly fawns over people who would otherwise be his enemies.

As the story progresses, Sammy's reaction shifts to tied between fight and fawn. He'll still pretend to be on his enemies' side, but is a lot more prepared to fight instead of run away.

Defensive fight/freeze. He'll jump into action to defend himself and/or others, but he's not the aggressive type except for when he's angry (and oh, boy, when he's angry...)

While he's usually defensive, he'll switch to hyper-offense (minus potentially protecting others in danger) when he's decided on a course of action. He will single-mindedly work toward his goal, his own well-being be damned.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

I mean, technically the closest thing she had to a family was a magical zombie version of her dad...

More seriously, though--technically a small family. It was just her and her dad for her growing up. He was next to never around, though.

Tiny family. It was just them, their dad, and {SPOILER}. Their dad was next to never around because of his work and not wanting to tie Crow into it. Looks like it happened anyway, ey? 😏😉

He doesn't remember his family besides the fact that "Abi" existed and was probably his brother. During his short time in the orphanage, there was a lot of them. Then it was just him and Tazin (who he saw like a brother). Then it was the khonitva. Then it was the yuertel. The closest thing he can really remember adjacent to "family" is Tazin.

He wishes he had positive experiences with "family". Instead, he had none and a toxic friend.

Oh, buddy, would he hate this question. He comes from a small family, but was kicked out (and then later refused to return when they were willing to take him back). Because of this, he grew up either living with gangs (the khonitva/yuertel) or with it just being him and Gene. He thinks he hates "family", but it's only because he desperately wishes his was better.

This answer is a spoiler, haha! However, he is not a family person.

The only family he can remember is his adoptive one: his adoptive dad, Caron, and brother, Varik. He cares more about them than he cares about himself. Conveniently, the feeling is mutual between the three of them. (It wouldn't even be a question. They'd all sacrifice themselves for each other in less than a heartbeat. Something tells me this family is just a lil fucked-up/self-sacrificing.)

What animal represents them best?

Gryphon!!! Either that, or a feral kitten, haha.

I know this might be hard to believe... but Crow is best represented by a crow. Otherwise, a falcon, haha.

Deer. Easily.

Salamander! For probably obvious reasons if you have the context, haha. A simple explanation for those without the context? He's a fire mage. (But there's a lot more to it than just that, so.)

A possum!!! No debate about it, haha, and I'm sure I don't have to explain why.

A bull and/or buffalo. For their individual associations with bravery, fierceness, stubbornness, sacrifice, and survival. Also, because they all have horns!

What is a smell that they dislike?

City stink. If you know, you know.

Blood. Except, they also love the smell. They're mixed up about how they should feel about that.

Mustiness. Also the smell of various things burning. Midway through the story, the smell of cigarette smoke.

Sweat and herbs. It's even worse that burning herbs just makes the smells stronger.

Blood and chemicals.

Any strong smell. Especially hates the smell of chemicals and smoke.

Have they broken any bones?

When she was very young, yes. She doesn't remember it, though. Except for in her nightmares.

Depends on if you mean theirs or other people's!

Yes! A lot, actually.

Yes, a few times.

Yes, while practicing parkour. Conveniently, he has healing magic. Besides that? No.

His own, or other peoples'?

Yes.

His own, or other peoples'? x3

Yes. x6 (Whoops. Traumatic action-fantasy am I right?)

How would a stranger likely describe them?

"Yeah, that woman with the messy red hair and anger issues?--HOW DO YOU KNOW ANOTHER ONE!?--okay, no, she was looked like she wanted to be anywhere else?--Seriously?--okay, fine, she was wearing a ring on a necklace?--YEAH, that one!"

"Remember that guy wearing that long cloak as though it hid their giant wings and tail?"

"You know that creepy guy who's always staring? Like, barely talks, just watches everyone all the time? He's got a cane and just acts weird in general?"

"That angry Jhandan kid?" (or, alternatively:) "That Jhandan guy, either looks ready to pick a fight at a moment's notice or does his absolute best to piss everyone else off with while 'joking' around? Yeah, the overly-touchy guy--that one."

It would depend on who/what/when/where/why/how he met the person, considering how much he's almost always playing up one act or another! Here's one possible way of over a thousand:

"I think he was a Cirranian kid? About ye tall, really timid--OH! His eyes were two different colors, one blue and the other dark brown! He had curly hair and had a dirty, oversized jacket on?"

"Yeah, Kieran Caron's son? No--that's the other one, I think. Kieva's the one who's super pale, like he's never even been outside, and looks dead inside half the time?--what do you mean Varik's like that, too??? Okay, fine, silvery hair and eyes? YEAH! That guy!"

Are they a night owl or an early bird?

Early bird, haha. She loves the smell of the morning dew and just never preferred the night. Not even as an angsty teen!

Night owl (almost literally). They dislike the day, haha.

Night owl who's often forced to wake up early, haha. He's a sad, sleepy birdie who has to function on way too little sleep half the time.

Night owl, but his sleep schedule ends up even worse as an adult. It goes from "night owl" into "whenever I damn want/am not doing something else".

Really depends, his sleep schedule's all over the place. Most often, he's an early bird. He likes being awake when others aren't regardless.

You have to sleep in order to be a night owl or early bird, and Kieva doesn't sleep.

Okay, that was only kinda a joke--he has a hard time sleeping due to nightmares that he can't really remember. Usually, he just naps whenever he's able to. Otherwise, technically an early bird. He always wakes up early to stay on top of classes and his personal projects.

What is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love?

Loves spicy food! Hates most vegetables (like a child), but eats them anyway--like an adult!

Uhhhhh... so they're lowkey a vampire half the time so... both cases? Blood! 😁

Gene hates, hates, HATES sweet food and it's absolutely hilarious! He has the absolute opposite of a sweet tooth! On the other hand, he loves meat and most kinds of savory foods. Meat was rare for him growing up, and he really appreciates being able to eat it whenever he wants as an adult.

Both loves and hates Jhandan (Fantasy!Indian) food. His Jhandan parent would cook it when he was young, and uh--yeah. Mixed feelings about that whole mess. Same thing applies to spicy food--the only "spicy" food he had was cooked by the same parent, and while he loves spicy food, it reminds him of them.

For things he just straight-up dislikes, Tazin also isn't a fan of sweet food in general, haha. There's a few he does like, but they're few and far between.

Love: food. Hate: nothing. Literally can't afford to be picky.

Later on, when he is able to be picky, he strongly dislikes spicy food and likes "spiced" (aka spices, not spicy) and savory foods. Anything super flavorful!... except for fish. Hates fish. (Yes, white fish have plainer flavors. He hates those, too.)

Loves basically anything his dad cooks, but prefers salty and umami tastes. Hates bitter stuff, but is basically obsessed with coffee (like the rest of his family tbf).

Do they have any hobbies?

Yes! She loves reading and has a hobby of translating books from a foreign-to-that-world language into her own! She does so utilizing books in the library and has lowkey become a language scholar, haha. (She'll just never admit it.)

They secretly like drawing and creating collages out of things cut out of newspapers and magazines. They have not admitted this fact to a single person in their life, and won't for a long time.

Two! Reading non-fiction books (aka just learning in general, haha) and drawing! He loves drawing, though does it a lot less than reading. Drawing hasn't really helped him (besides with the maps he used to draw for the yuertel), while his obsessive need to always be learning has.

Not really? He likes reading stories, primarily folklore, stories about the gods, and fiction, but he doesn't allow himself to do it often because he's embarrassed to like them. Similarly, he likes to sing, but next to never does so because he's insecure about it.

I like to say that, if Tazin grew up in our world, he would've absolutely been a huge fan of rock and tried starting a band in high school. (He would've put enough time into it that he'd even be good at the guitar. Except... he's not in our world.)

No, he never had the time, money, or mental energy for hobbies. The closest thing he has to one is "people-watching", but he did it more out of necessity than because he enjoyed it.

If he could have one, I think he'd most enjoy creating textiles and listening to music.

Yes! Drawing, easily. Prefers life-drawing and drawing people in general. Sometimes enjoys people-watching, but only if he can tolerate their personalities (or otherwise, if they aren't speaking). Even before he started attending the knight's college, he had a minor hobby of invading active classes to watch the lessons, teachers, and students. It made it much easier for him to pick up fighting when he officially started, and it's helped him have a heightened magical awareness.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Apprehension and shock. She wouldn't have told anyone her birthday and wouldn't have expected anyone to celebrate it on top of that. She'd be half-expecting things to go wrong and not know how to deal with it all, but would probably ultimately enjoy it.

Cry. They didn't expect anyone to know/care besides their dad. Their dad celebrates with them, but it's always been disappointing (not that they'd admit that though). They'd absolutely love it, though. Just... cry. A lot.

Panic. Hates surprises, hates social gatherings, hates having people expect things from him (ie: appreciate the party/their efforts), and hates that he'll be "the bad guy" for not appreciating the party.

Besides, he doesn't have a "real" birthday (he didn't know the day and was given a "fake" one to be celebrated during his time in the orphanage) and even though he and Tazin privately celebrated the day they met in its place, it was just that--privately. They would have a quiet celebration with food, a few gifts exchanged between them, and just acting normal otherwise.

Rage. Wouldn't have shared his birthday with anyone, not even Gene (though Gene would've figured it out anyway because of Reasons). Similarly, definitely not a fan of surprises. Likes receiving gifts, but otherwise? Fuck off (his words, not mine--).

(Assuming friends threw it for him--) Confusion and would break down crying. Hasn't really had a birthday party for a long time, doesn't know how to react to it, and certainly didn't tell anyone when his birthday was because he doesn't even know. (So, y'know, whoever threw the party would've had to make one up for him.) Wouldn't know how to take people celebrating his existence--or him in general--and would be overwhelmed by the positive attention directed toward him.

So, yeah. Would cry a LOT. And only might hide it.

Doesn't like surprises, wouldn't show it. Would just--

Considering his adoption and the way it initially happened--let's just say it wasn't traditional in any sort of way--his actual birthday is unknown. Instead the family celebrates the day of his official adoption. Regardless, those celebrations are obviously known of in advance. Kieva would not accept a party being thrust upon him, haha.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

She grew up always wearing a magical amulet her dad gave her that helped her with an unknown illness. When she loses it early into the book, she puts an otherwise-enchanted ring on a necklace to cope with the loss of the feeling of wearing something at her neck. Besides that, she's not a jewelry person, haha.

They don't like jewelry, but wear it. They have two earrings that absorb the magic of their curse--allowing them to appear human and removing its antimagic effects--and quite often wear various other kinds of jewelry while posing as one identity or another.

No, absolutely not. He'd hate the sensory input. He's just fine with no jewelry, having his hair tied back, and fidgeting with his cane--thank you very much.

As a kid, wouldn't have. As an adult, likes basic "jewelry" that's just metal rather than stuff with actual jewels.

Not at all. However, keeps a half-destroyed photo locket in his pocket at all times. But that's different, y'know?

Alternates between loving and hating jewelry. Sometimes enjoys wearing it for something to fidget with. Other times, hates the sensation and will take it off (potentially aggressively if he realized after already getting overwhelmed). Rarely wears it because of the "risk" associated with it.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Neat! She's filled out a lot of paperwork in her time and has actually dabbled in sketching stuff, but isn't the greatest artist.

Halfway between! Very messy handwriting, but it's always legible.

Depends on how fast he's writing and if he intends on having anyone else read it. It's incredibly messy to the point of illegibility if he's writing quickly, and especially more so if it's just for himself. However, he's capable of writing very neatly if he's planning on having others read it--it just takes him a lot longer to write.

Messy, messy, messy! Doesn't write often, haha. But is capable of making it neater if he must.

(Also, would probably go out of his way to make his handwriting messier if someone forced him to write stuff down for them--)

Even worse than Tazin's. Messy af, everything is horribly misspelled. He's dyslexic and barely learned how to read even beyond that. Hates even attempting to read, much less write, so his time in the knight's college is the first time he really gets into it since he was really young.

Either incredibly neat or messy. Sometimes doesn't have the patience to bother making things legible, but needs to write stuff down--and so scribbles doctor handwriting style. Otherwise, goes out of his way to make his handwriting neater. It's an ego thing.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Frustration and exhaustion. She doesn't sleep well--though she doesn't remember her dreams anymore--and has anger issues.

Annoyance and amusement. They don't

Exhaustion and sadness. He doesn't get the greatest sleep--whether it's because of nightmares or a terrible sleep schedule--and he's constantly experiencing and/or witnessing things that are unfair. It's not like he's never happy, though--he just constantly carries that sense of tragedy.

Anger and amusement. He has SEVERE anger issues, but considers himself a jokester. Unfortunately, a lot of his "humor" is at the detriment of others, especially as he gets older.

Resignation and caution. Is constantly on-guard for people who could potentially pose a threat to him--regardless of how--and is used to people treating him poorly. His feeding into it by pretending to be young and clueless has always been a way to cope with it and run with its few advantages.

Who knows what he's running from? Me. Obviously I know. But-- But he's constantly prepared to run away from a situation where he's in danger... or people are close to figuring out things he doesn't want them to.

Stubbornness and indifference, with exhaustion being a close third. Mostly floats through life, following a strict schedule with the school's classes. Finds the strict schedule convenient, because it allows him to plan things ahead of time and then stop having to think as he follows through with what he decided. However, is still an incredibly stubborn person--he wants to make his dad proud by becoming a powerful mage, fighter, and knight. That, and he genuinely wants to make the world a better place! And maybe, one day, to find out where he's actually from.

Only problem is, he just wants to sleep half the time!

Do they have a favourite fabric? (This is assuming I know the fabrics...)

Does yarn count? Knitted stuff of all kinds and textures! She's made a lot of her own clothes. She's very self-sufficient.

Anything their feathers don't get caught on. So, mostly smoother textures.

Anything and everything soft. He loves soft things and stimming with them.

Slippery stuff. Aka, stuff that's harder for people to grip. Tazin explicitly wears skintight clothing and has Gene cut his hair down to his scalp so people can't easily grab him. Besides that, doesn't care.

Anything soft. Has a particular fondness for the texture of "was formerly rough due to being made from poor-quality materials, but has softened from age and use" stuff. Granted, that's also the texture of his hole-y jacket.

He's indifferent. As long as it's not itchy!

What kind of accent do they have?

Irish! She's from a fantasy country with lots of early Norse and Celtic influence.

Belgian! They were born and raised in Lynsmouth, which has a lot of misc influences from Western Europe, but it's primarily Netherlands and France!

Polish. Who knows where he was from before ending up in Glavnran (Fantasy!Slavic), but after spending most of his life there, his accent has changed and adjusted to sound much more Glavni than whatever it was before.

Kyrgyz. He's mixed, Glavni and Jhandan (Fantasy!Indian), and was raised primarily by his Jhandan parent before ending up on the streets. Fittingly, his accent is from a country between Russia and India, haha.

Spanish. Not Mexican, Spanish. Like from Spain. Who knows where his family is from, but he looks Cirranian (Fantasy!CentralAmerica) and has spent as much of his life as he can remember in Kihroin (the country RFtA takes place in).

Algerian. Like Sammy, he's grown up in Kihroin, which has North African inspiration! (Which is another reason I want to wait to publish anything on it, I want to do an insane amount of more research first, haha.)

(I literally pulled up a video with people speaking English with various accents just to answer this question. Somehow, my imagined languages for them aligned really well with the regions/accents they should have!? I say "somehow", as though I haven't actually done an immense amount of research on languages and listened to them in order to say my made-up words "correctly", haha...)

Me, before starting this: "this should be relatively easy!"

Me, getting to the accent question: "wait, actually, what would Crow sound like? And omg, Sammy? Considering their backgrounds--"

Me: *spends half an hour debating the accents of each of the characters*

Me, a day after starting this and coming back to see ^^^^ that: "goddamn, I thought this would be easy?"

PSA: doing this for one character is fine. Doing it for six--two of which you're not as certain with--is less fine!

Tagging (gently!): @honeybewrites @yourpenpaldee @paeliae-occasionally @mysticstarlightduck @illarian-rambling

@darkandstormydolls @the-golden-comet @ath3alin @wyked-ao3 @mk-writes-stuff

@huewrite + open tags!

Divider from @saradika!

[beevean]

I'm so happy that I get the chance to rant again, because the subreddit just gives me so much inspiration <3

I don't really care about Carmilla. She was, at the end of the day, a villain from a kid's cartoon, who wanted to conquer the world because she was just so eeeevil, with only the barest of backstories to pretend she had good motivations. In fact, it's hilarious to me that when you think about it, the N!Isaac vs. Carmilla epic fight, one of the climaxes of this show that has touted itself on being so deep and nuanced, has all the emotional depth of an average Sonic vs. Eggman boss battle: the impossibly cool superhero wants to stop the nefarious supervillain and her world domination plans.

(no shade to Sonic and Eggman, who are far better written than those two assholes could ever hope to be. you know what I mean)

yeah yeah she became what she depised, after a whole season of sitting on her feminist ass lol and then randomly going insane at the last minute. peak writing, as per usual.

No, it's as usual Lenore who has my attention.

She's the most human of the sisters, they say. And they're right. She is a terrifyingly realistic depiction of an abuser.

She's not a cackling madwoman who only serves as a caricature, and she doesn't exist only for shallow representation like Striga and Morana who have no objectives or personalities outside of each other. Lenore may not want world domination like Carmilla, but she absolutely longs for power over other people. I went about it here, how once you read between the lines, Lenore only wants to feel powerful and important, and she's willing to steep as low as she can to get her way because she folds like a coward the moment she doesn't have the upper hand. While Carmilla would just beat people for shit and giggles because look at how Evil (but in a Cool way) she is, Lenore is genuinely convinced that everything she did, all of her physical, mental, emotional and sexual abuse, it was all for a good cause, and she did nothing wrong, and anyway you were enjoying it too so what's the issue?

So yes, in this, she's human. She's a cruel, cunning, vile human like many women in the world who know that they can use their charm and take advantage of emotionally starved men to feel powerful, all while still painting themselves as cute and lovable. Her vampiric nature doesn't come into play until the very end, where she realizes (in theory) that she's nothing but a disgusting evil creature and she's doomed to always be so; but until then, you could write her as a human and little would change in her personality and the way she played with N!Hector.

And that's what makes her scary to me. Yes, Dracula and Carmilla are more dangerous on a wider scale, but we are much, much more likely to fall into the trap of one of the many Lenores around the world.

(I usually don't like making it all about gender, but Lenore's abuse of N!Hector is absolutely gendered. Her entire character revolves around what I can only call toxic femininity.)

And that's why the takes I see about her deadass trigger me, because what the fuck do you mean, she's the less cruel of the bunch????

I don't give a shit about the Lesbians, but at least they realized that what they were doing was wrong! Sure, their motivations were mainly self-centered because they didn't want to waste their existence fighting, but they also took pity on the humans they were meant to kill!

I just fought fucking farmers. Saw the fear in their eyes. Not fear of dying. Fear of not having fought. Fear of not saving their people.

It's more empathy than Lenore ever showed for N!Hector, with her filthy "you were having fun"!

"Found her strengths" yeah, instead of physically torturing N!Hector, she used manipulation, abuse, coercion, gaslighting and rape by deception to "solve his problem". Wow, such strengths, many power. And then the second things got worse for her she immediately decided to peace out of life rather than wait a few decades until N!Isaac died, sorry N!Hector if you grew to care about me but my own bratty feelings are more important. I'm sorry, I know it's in bad taste to paint suicide as the cowardly way, but it's what the story did!

The Lenore apologism creeps me out more than anything else. I can stand the Carmilla stans who think she's so cool and badass and #grrlpower. I'm annoyed but resigned to the N!Isaac stans who believe he's the most complex character of all time and forgot about all the petty murders he commited. I'm baffled by the N!Dracula stans who genuinely believe he had the right to start a mass slaughter because some peasants didn't take him seriously enough. But this rhetoric that Lenore is the least evil of the sisters, that she was ultimately a poor broken woman who only did what she thought was the right thing, terrifies me. She's a realistic, human female abuser... and just like many female abusers, her crimes get brushed off because she's cute, because she looked sad enough, because women who sexually dominate men are inherently hot. And I know that fiction is not reality and you can enjoy villains without being a bad person, but the arguments the stans use, not to paint Lenore as cool like Carmilla but to actually downplay her very realistic crimes, just hit too close to home for me.

I just wish that "human" didn't become shorthand for "good deep down", because it's not true. Sometimes a "human" villain is far more evil than a villain so shallow they don't quite feel real.

[mslanna]

The Devil's Own

Chapter 10 of Be My Guest now up on AO3

Time stretches when you wait for you man to return from the war. It also stretches when he's finally back - or those thirty seconds better be just a taste.

Tav wakes refreshed and still flush against the incubus. If Haarlep got bored during their nap, they don't show.

"The House is all ours," they announce.

Rubbing sleep from their eyes, Tav yawns. "How long do such battles last? I don't want to get caught finally replacing the central pieces of the Feast Hall with dummies."

"Long enough. And if I were you," Haarlep pushes the human away a little, "I'd be much more concerned about what furniture surrounds you when Raphael returns than what he catches you doing."

Tav's ears burn, but not as hot as the unsatisfied memories of the devil's departure. "Better get the Feast Hall over with then."

"Oh, but it is a delightful notion." The incubus laughs as Tav pushes away and climbs of the bed to dress. "A location open to all sides and all the delectable dishes and drinks. Silverware clattering, the legs of table and chairs scraping over the tiles. Don't be shy about it."

Devils have no concept of privacy. Something Tav struggles with but they are willing to compromise. Not enough to get fucked on the table of the Feast Hall with all of House of Hope watching though. No. They beat the image down with a stick. Not gonna happen. Probably.

The House is eerily quiet. Eternal debtors make few noises and most hide somewhere, trying to enjoy the break. Most huddle though, crushed by the weight of guilt their actions cause them. Tav takes a deep, liberated breath though. All the fiends strutting around were encroaching, like hippos occupying your home.

After rearranging the centre piece in the Feast Hall, Tav races through the place, running their finger tips over the walls, columns and paintings.

"Lick them," Haarlep calls though they don't join the frenzy.

Tav doesn't lick anything. They turn wild circles with their arms thrown wide. For the first time in a long time they feel light and free, exhilarated by the prospect of their continued existence. After annoying the new archivist for a while Tav dances on. They dip into their own room to freshen up before they return to the boudoir.

"Water-battle?" they ask Haarlep. "If you bind a small towel up like this, makes a really soggy weapon." They wave the towel in question around.

"Finally ready to drop your panties?" Haarlep teases.

"In your wildest dreams!" Tav smacks the incubus on the ass with their towel and races for the pool. Their pained shout blubbers to the surface unheard when their ass connects painfully with the shallow floor of the pool. They sputter to the surface and wipe the water from their face.

The clear view last for a second before Haarlep joins them and Tav fights a loosing battle from the start. The incubus can use their wings like shovels to pour water over the human. Their tail gives them another unfair advance and they keep pulling Tav under the surface with it.

It's still the most fun Tav can remember having physically since they arrived. To break the cycle of violence, Tav belts out a shanty which leads to hilarious fake boating until their muscles are tired. Hooking their elbows over the edge of the pool, Tav lolls their head back and closes their eyes. They float, kicking their legs leisurely and catching their breath.

"How long do you plan to do this?" Haarlep asks.

Tav doesn't look. Unlike them, the incubus has forgone all clothing to frolic in the water. "Some time. And I consider having my scalp scraped off by the fountains afterwards."

"You do you." Splashing announces that Haarlep left the pool. "But don't dare coming to my bed wet. The only way panties are soaked there is with a personal touch."

"Still dreaming, I see." Tav lets out a content sigh. Without devils to crowd the place, the House of Hope is a great playground. They kick up warm water with their feet and watch the silver droplets splash back into the pool. Tav is killing time and they know it. But they are unwilling to admit why and how urgent it feels, that time pass.

"Getting dry and something to eat," Tav finally calls. Haarlep managed to occupy themself before their arrival they will be fine now.

After their return, Haarlep forces Tav to finish the game of lanceboard before they agree to anything else. Nervous energy builds up as the paladin sits through the ordeal and inevitable defeat.

"Rematch?" the incubus asks.

Tav sighs. "If I have to sit still another minute, I may throw the board over the balcony. And the table. And myself."

"Well, I can't let that happen." Haarlep stands and offers Tav a hand. "Let's see if we find something to get that fizzling zeal simmered down."

"What if he doesn't come back." Tav stands rooted to the floor. "What then?"

"Then my dear, we are truly fucked. And not in the fun way." Haarlep tugs them on. "I am pretty sure the one thing to garner a temporary alliance from the hells is a failed attempt to rule them all. There won't be pieces big enough to see with you eyes left of us. Plus, your soul goes straight to Mephistopheles."

Tav swallows hard. "I don't want it to."

"You're not alone in that, my sweet. Let me assure you that there are devils out there fighting to prevent exactly that. Well, one devil at least."

"What abut you? You're just doing your job, aren't you? You can go back to Mephistopheles."

"I wish devils were as simple as you." The incubus sighs. "With Raphael gone, I have limited value to the arch devil. And he certainly doesn't want a carbon copy of his son around. And if he does, not for reasons that I will find pleasant."

"Oh." Tav sits down cross-legged on the bed. "But if Raphael wins and kills his father, what then? You are not a spy any longer, but he can't draw Mephistopheles' ire any longer either. What will he do?"

"Now that," Haarlep reaches down and lifts Tav's chin so they look up at them, "that is where you come in, don't you think?"

Tav looks up into the black and cold eyes, similar to those of Raphael, off enough in their colouration to be distinct. It makes sense, suddenly. The kindness. The patience. The care. Because who in this house will speak up for Haarlep once Raphael decided he doesn't have to put up with the incubus any longer.

"What can I say, I like being alive." Haarlep lets go of their chin. "I'm not sure you will understand, looking at all the stunts you pulled."

"I – I like to be alive." I think. Tav doesn't add the last bit. "Sometimes being alive is just very exhausting. Everything is complicated and people shimmy around truth with half-lies and nobody ever says what they mean."

"And you saved all of them still."

"I live in their world, what alternative is there?"

"Make it your world of course, dumbass." The incubus shakes their head in resignation. "Lead, rule, make the laws. Have the others live in a world tailored to your needs. You didn't even think abut it, did you?"

Tav shakes their head.

"Short-sighted for even a human. Come on, let's forget about your utter folly for a while. I'm sure it's to come up soon enough. And don't look at me like that," the incubus adds. "I don't not like you. In my own way."

It is easier to just go back to merrymaking than thinking about this, so Tav does. In the curtained capsule of the boudoir, pain and problems are far away. The levity returns and they throw themself into it.

As they bellow the second chorus to 'Drums of Daggerford' jumping wildly on the huge bed, the curtain is thrown open and Raphael steps in. Tav forgets their next words and bounces clumsily onto the mattress, lims going different directions. The devil is fully armoured and dirty.

By the hells he is covered in dust and grime, gore and blood that dried to almost black sports on the armour. He sends Haarlep from the room with a nod of his head and the incubus leaves giggling with the biggest leer on their face.

Tav scrambles to get back to their feet as the devil approaches the bed dragging the smell of death and sulphur along. Though his shoulders curve in a gentle slump, the devil's black-hole eyes burn bright and he doesn't take them off Tav for a moment.

A wild grin breaks over Tav's face and as soon as Raphael is within reach, they jump at him, wrapping their arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist. "To the victor go the spoils of war," they breathe and lean back into the devil's arms wrapping around them in turn.

"Oh, I will spoil you." The words are rough, but more of a promise than a threat.

They lean into the kiss so eagerly, their mouths clash and Tav's teeth rattle. They ignore it, drunk on the taste of Raphael and the demanding presence of his tongue searching their mouth. Bits of armour bite into Tav's flesh but they press closer still. Raphael tastes of fire and dust and the high adrenaline of fighting.

A moan escapes from between their lips that leave no space for breathing. Pent up desire breaks open and deepens the desperation. Tav's hands reach of the back of the devil's head, his hair, horns – each a lever to pull him closer.

They grind against Raphael and when with a sudden the poking armour vanishes, they break the kiss. "Cheater," they breathe, without stopping to move. Raphael only grins in anticipation and runs a hand around their bare ass, fingers slipping between their legs from behind.

At the hint of contact Tav moans and buries their face in his neck. The skin is salty with a trace of dirt. Tav eats it up, digging their teeth into the red flesh when Raphael moves his hand even deeper.

It takes little to tilt their hips and align their entrance over the hard cock. Still the devil cups their ass and holds it too high for penetration, just the tip teases. Tav digs their teeth into the devil's ear. "Spoil me!" they hiss and press down demanding satisfaction.

Tav's own greed takes over easily as Raphael gave in to his. Foreplay and coy build-up are abandoned in pursuit of releasing the pent up want. The thought of feeling Raphael inside them makes their insides wet with anticipation.

Raphael complies with a hungry grunt, slipping in fast and deep. Drunk on desire, the cock doesn't have to hit the spot. Tav leans back and the devil drops them onto the bed, running hand up their chest as he moves.

Tav leans into the motion, skin sensitive with yearning for clawed fingers that rake cuts into their skin. They arch up against the devil selfishly and Raphael answers with equally selfish thrusts for release.

Delirious with finally having Raphael all for themself, undiluted and raw, the mere feeling of the hard ridges moving back and forth side them, Tav's desire rises like a tide. Their interlocked ankles keep the devil from moving out too far, keeping the friction ever raking over their sensitive spots.

Tav pulls Raphael into another hungry kiss, locking their lips over his and sucking at his tongue as if it would move his cock deeper. In a manner of speaking, it works. Raphael quickens the pace, driven by pent up lust and diverted desires. With the real Tav finally writhing under his body, the devil lets himself go into their insistent pull.

And Tav cradles real flesh instead of dreamlike memories, memories of second-hand arousal that now wash over them in full force. It is enough to push them over the edge and their eager clenching drags Raphael right along.

Overall it doesn't take long. The naked greed is sated in a short exchange of sheer hunger. The noise of ecstasy breaks apart between their lips that do not part. Tav relaxes backwards and takes Raphael with them.

For a moment they lie breathing hard with their bodies intricately entangled. Tav runs their fingers through the devil's hair that is still coated with dust.

Then Raphael pushes himself up. The fire in his eyes burns low, taking in the sweaty body below him with hunger and satisfaction. "I think we may have to repeat this with a little less – urgency."

Tav nods still dazed from their ecstasy. The devil didn't pull out and though his cock is slack, the thought of it rigid and moving again, makes them swallow hard. They take Raphael’s face between their hands and kiss him gently, because they can.

[clueless-fan-critic]

Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur: Now That’s Moon Girl Magic!!!

 One 

In my opinion, Marvel’s Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur is one of the best new Disney shows in the 2020s and I’ll calmly make an argument for anyone who thinks otherwise. It has popping color, even poppier music, excellent characters, and strong storytelling all wrapped up in this fun, groundbreaking Disney show. With Season 2 coming out, I thought it was time to share what I got to say about its revolutionary ways and how it may even set the bar for future Marvel projects and even MCU ideas.

The Characters

Lunella Lafayette, played by former X-Factor contestant Diamond White, is one of the most bombastic but relatable super-genius black girls at the time I write this. I love how her intelligence isn’t just her sole personality trait as she’s confident, sassy, and optimistic. Lunella is still a young teen who worries about fitting in, cares about her family, and tries to be the best person she can be.

I liked that they don’t make her into a bullied nerd like Peter Parker, which would contradict the whole message about protecting her community. She’s still pretty social around her fellow students but doesn’t have that social finesse which makes her have a lot of friends.

She’s a flawed character: she’s over-competitive and obsessed to the point of disregarding her work and other people. She does overcome and learn from those issues in order to become a better person in the end.

Devil Dinosaur is more than a pet sidekick meant to be cute or the comic-relief. He does get his time to shine from his insecurities of being too big to a fear of jellyfish. With basically growls and snarls made by Fred Tatasciore, Devil conveys a huge range of emotion from joy to sadness to anger.

Casey Calderon is the best friend and manager of Lunella whose savvy with fashion and social media. She’s pretty much what you expect from the girl who’s into social media as exuberant and charismatic, but never shallow or vain. She genuinely wants to use her skills to help Lunella’s message spread. She’s the support to the superheroics of Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur in making the heroes more human in the eyes of the LES.

Many other characters have not only impacted the story but also the main cast itself with the Lafayette family and various members of the LES.

The Lafayettes have their times to shine in their own ways whether as shoulders for Lunella to get support from or voices of reason that plays into the lesson that she must face. Adria Lafayette acts as a strong moral compass for Lunella to follow like protecting the LES from gentrification. Both James Jr. and Pops aren’t as big as the Lafayette women, but they do get there times to shine throughout the show.

In the finales “O.M.G. Issue 1 and 2”, we get the reveal of Lunella’s grandmother Mimi, played by MCU alum Alfre Woodard, is the Original Moon Girl or O.M.G. who helped build the portal generator that Lunella rebuilt years later. It gives us a deep look into how the super-genius doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The Beyonder, voiced by the famous Laurence Fishburne, is a fun and interesting character that acts more of a reality warping nuisance to Lunella than an actual villain. Combined with Fishburne’s comedic delivery and stylish  animation, the Beyonder is a hilarious trickster learning about humanity the best way he knows: messing with superheroes.

The Villains do create a dynamic with Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur by creating various conflicts both externally, internally, even symbolically. The first villain of the show Aftershock was an electrical villain who literally stole power from the LES, putting businesses at risk of closing, which can be interpreted as someone taking away others’ autonomy from their homes. Another set of villains were the Muzzlers, basically high-powered tech giants wanting to gentrify the LES and take away anything unique from the people. They even “silenced” the people with their tech and rendered them voiceless, but the people prevailed together.

The show not only showcases obscure Marvel characters in new, refreshing ways, but also creates their own stellar ones that put together what it can showcase.

The Animation Style

The most eye-popping way it stands out is the animation. The colors and style beautifully blends with the music. Every time a fight scene happens, the colors become much more vibrant with heart-pumping music from various artists. You can really tell that the animators put a lot of love and passion into making something both familiar but also standout with its fight scenes.

One of my favorite scenes is in Episode 3 “Run the Rink” with Moon Girl fighting Gravitas to a Childish Gambino song. A Childish Gambino Song! You know that you got a hit when you get a hit song from a famous rapper.

All the musical scenes play into the story in an entertaining way while fueling the animation on a higher level.

The Stories

Almost every story plays into Lunella’s development throughout the first season from self-love and self-acceptance to fighting for one’s community. One of my favorite episodes is “Hair Today Gone Tomorrow” that perfectly addresses various issues about one’s hair. I think a lot of people, especially black women, can understand how we can get insecure about themselves. “O.M.G. Issue 1 and 2″ highlights how people of color, especially those in STEM fields, were essentially erased from the work they did and all credit was taken from them by the higher-ups. The main villain of the finales Maris Morlak is both a terrifying and relatable person whose motivations are sympathetic in how his work was taken from him and was erased.

What’s Next For Moon Girl?

With Season 2 coming out of woodworks, I’m hoping to see more adventures, heart, and fly music that elevates Moon Girl to a different level and even set more bars in terms of storytelling and animation for both Marvel projects and even the MCU itself.

[hauntedjpegcollection]

two years

wc: 1959 au: dishonored au ch: xavier, benji

Xavier will die in two years.

His throat will be cut so deep bone is exposed; he won’t even have any last words, they don’t let him. He’s drugged, unconscious on a stone slab as a sacrifice (gone wrong, or right, depending on who is asked)—and Benji dies in a lot of ways that day as well. His heart and humanity. They both die, physically and metaphorically and every other sense, two untethered souls, a throat not the only thing cut.

Maybe they both come back too; come back wrong or changed, but come back. Searching for each other.

But that’s two years. Right now it’s

—

When Xavier moves the sword to defend his neck, he isn’t paying close enough attention to Benji’s right hook. He’s never paying enough attention to fists, which is always his downfall in sword fights with Benji. He feels the knuckles skate off his ribs, only half meant to hurt. They’re sparring after all, and even if Xavier has countless times asked Benji to take it seriously, he’s never walked away with anything worse than a shallow bruise here or there.

Xavier dances backward, sword coming up once, twice, three times to deflect wicked and pursuing jabs from Benji. Sweat rolls down his face, drips from his chin. He has to lick some off his lips—which hilariously does distract Benji for a moment. He can see sleepy eyes widen with interest. Xavier get’s his in, slips past a well guarded defense and slaps the sword across Benji’s side.

“Oh, fuck you,” his partner hisses, swatting at the blunt blade. Xavier laughs, giving it a playful twirl in his hand.

“Later,” he winks, wiping a hand down his face to wick away sweat. “You’re the one throwing fucking haymakers during a sword fight.” Which they’re always argued about relentlessly, never to come to a good conclusion. Xavier loves the art form behind blade work. He wants to be good—he wants to own a real sword and feel the weight and responsibility of it. He studies books stolen from the giant library on Maran’s estate. He practices in the early morning hours, different forms that work for his slender grass blade of a body.

Benji usually dissolves into something closer to a fist fight when he spars.

It suits him though. The passage of time always makes Xavier nervous to think about (perhaps, because deep down he knows he’s going to die in two years—don’t worry, not really, he won’t become omnipotent until the sacrifice, but sometimes people simply know when a blade is secretly hanging above them all their lives), so he doesn’t often spare time to think about how Benji has hit mid twenties and bulked up from that awkward teenage boy Xavier had first kissed.

But it’s also undeniable whenever Benji is using his body like this, sparring or the occasional manual labor he gets tasked into doing. He’s hefty and defined and strong and Xavier is still a little too slender for his own liking. It makes him self conscious occasionally, until Benji’s warm calloused hands close around his waist and tug him closer. He likes looking down and seeing himself held.

“Again?” Xavier asks, trying to stop himself from spiraling on thoughts of Benji, heavy and solid and holding his waist. Yanking that waist back and forth—and Xavier’s face to the pillow and—he easily blames the heat on his face to the work out. He fans his shirt, plucking at the middle with a little bit of an anxious hand.

“Alright,” Benji snickers, falling into his easy defensive posture. His smug expression makes Xavier’s heart throb a bit. Maybe Benji isn’t the best sword partner.

Easily proven when they come together again, the loud clang of swords striking against each other. Xavier’s long reach should provide him advantage—he is much taller than Benji. But maybe it’s because they know each other too well (they know each other to the ends of the earth, untethered souls, don’t forget, that are going to always be reaching for each other, even after deaths both metaphorical and literal) but Benji consistently finds the weaknesses in Xavier’s form.

They become a bit unkind to each other for a moment—competitive as they are. They weren’t always lovers, once they were just two boys who grew up together who could not help but try and one up the other. The strikes become harder and quicker and meaner. Benji’s expression turns from smug to wicked and Xavier curses more than once, face red now because he’s annoyed and not thinking of a few nights ago when Benji had—

His leg is swept out from underneath him. Xavier crashes to the floor, breath knocked clean from his lungs. The only reason his head doesn’t snap down against the floor as well is because the front of his shirt is held in a tight fist, keeping him just shy of collision. He’s still dizzy, even without the head injury. His sword lays a few feet from him, discarded from a weakened hand. Xavier stares up at Benji, who half crouches over top of him.

“Cheater,” Xavier seethes.

“How is that cheatin’?”

“That’s not how people actually—”

“If you’re in a fight,” Benji continues, slowly settling himself down onto Xavier’s lap and making stars pop up in front of his eyes. “You should probably lose the honor shit and fight like you want to win.” The weight of him is so warm and satisfying, his knees slid perfectly around Xavier’s trim waist. He’s panting through his words and his hair is messy with sweat and exertion. He has a flush to his cheeks that makes Xavier momentarily light headed. His pale, giant palms slowly slide up and over Benji’s thighs.

The swords are forgotten as Benji leans down. His fist slowly releases Xavier’s shirt and lets his back fully hit the floor. There is the soft thudding sound of his head meeting wood. It makes both of them giggle, strangely high pitched—a crackle of energy between them is arousing and electric and immortal.

They are both still breathing hard when they kiss, so it’s messy. Open mouths panting against each other. Xavier’s hands become a crueler hold, tightening so hard he feels a bit of shake to his limbs and that only encourages Benji to grind himself back and forth, harder and harder with each new way they fit their mouths together. They’ve been kissing for nearly ten years now (in two years, it will be ten years, and Xavier will be dead), and yet it never feels dull.

Nothing about Benji could ever feel dull.

When they part for more than just air, Xavier is sitting up frantically. Their chests bump together and it isn’t enough. Kissing isn’t enough.

“Please,” he says in a desperate little whisper, brushing back sweat slick strands of hair from Benji’s face. “I want—”

And he doesn’t even have to ask for more.

—

Xavier was allowed to convert a small, wooden storage shed on the Giarizzo-Cohn estate into a home for himself. He was no longer able to live at home—not just because of the overwhelming amount of bodies in the Wolffe household, but because Xavier and his father didn’t see eye to eye on things. It was a simpler way to put it, and it sometimes hurt less if he thought of it that way. But Maran’s father had been oddly gracious, had been welcoming even when he’d let Xavier in.

It was easier to save money this way, because Maran’s father also didn’t ask for anything in return except manual labor here and there. Which Xavier was always happy to provide—he was not turning the profit he thought he would by working on the docks. Xavier wouldn’t sacrifice himself (and he doesn’t, mind you, but they do sacrifice him) to become a fisherman, because it means long stretches at sea.

He doesn’t want to be away that long, even if the money is better.

It’s such a meager little place, but somehow has become the most comfortable shed in the world. His mattress sits on a plank of wood he’d constructed, just high enough that as he and Benji lay on it together, they can look out the window. It doesn’t have a good view, but that isn’t necessary. It’s just a view at all, a little glass world that they bask in together.

Xavier runs his hand up and down Benji’s spine, appreciating the way occasionally he’ll twist or turn away or into the movement. His lover makes a soft sound and then a groaning one and then a rough huff whenever Xavier stops. It makes him laugh.

It should be uncomfortable to lay together, bodies pressed when they haven’t showered. He can feel the snag of skin together, Benji’s coarse body hair, the sweat that sticks to them. But it isn’t unpleasant. He likes this, he feels them glued together almost. Xavier brushes his hand up once more, curling around Benji’s shoulder blade, where he then presses a gentle kiss.

“And I think we should have a dog,” Xavier finally says, sighing contently.

“You’re not enough of one?” Benji mumbles, his head pillowed on Xavier’s chest. His own hand grips possessively at Xavier’s hip. His thumb traces a pattern there that seems the same every time, like it is a morse code that he hasn’t figured out yet. Xavier loves that feeling, that parts of his body have a little secret from Benji. He rolls his eyes and then rolls them. He puts Benji on his back, watching a bit of a wince through his expression.

“Oh?” Xavier grins widely, his ego swollen.

“Fuck off,” Benji snaps, settling more into the blankets. A maid had given him extra because Xavier had a pretty smile. “And why am I the one buildin’ the house? Let’s go back to that fuckin’ part ‘fore the dog. You’re lazy, you know that?”

“I am not.”

“Layin’ on your back the whole time, grinning just like that.”

“You’re so cranky when you’re sore,” Xavier purrs, pressing swift and sweet kisses to Benji’s chest. He smells so good after sex. Like sweat and body and that for some reason, is when Xavier can’t get enough of him. He rubs his nose and cheek into Benji’s sternum, eliciting a low, husky laugh.

“I want you to build the house, because—” Xavier rises up slightly, his hand soothing over Benji’s arm. He comes across the significant swell of his bicep. He squeezes and smiles, not his sleazy satisfied post sex smile, but something softer. A little gentle—maybe just emotional. He squeezes once more, a soft appreciative gesture. “I like when you—when you’re strong for other shit. Not—You’re good at fighting, Benji, alright? But, build me a house, okay? Before all this strength goes somewhere it shouldn’t go.”

A strong breeze batters the side of the shed. Benji stares up at Xavier, his dark eyes pooled with emotion. Neither of them can seem to say anything for a minute, Xavier’s words hanging between them. Dunwall has become a disgusting place; has done a slow crawl into something horrible and rotten. Men become worse just living in the city. Xavier wants them to escape. He wants to live somewhere quiet, where neither of them ever have to have a sword for anything other than just fun. Where Benji slowly forgets to throw a punch.

(Unfortunately, as we know, this is not what happens, but for now…)

“What color?” Benji asks, folding hands behind his head. Xavier sits up slightly to admire the shape of him. He bites his lip, sinking down to kiss Benji’s chest and lower.

“Green.”

[clonehigh-takes]

rating every clone high ship i can think of because why not

joanfk - 5/10, didnt care in 2021, didnt care during season 2, never really cared at all, rip ort smort and the other joanfk fans tho

joanabe - 0/10, i dont really hate it or have any real opinion on it, but something deep inside of me just goes “no”

cleo x abe - 6/10, i actually kinda liked this one, if cleo and abe werent mutually shallow as hell it could be kinda cool, with cleo being like “i can fix him” and becoming a better person as a result, but we all know how it went in canon

jfgogh - 10/10, awesome, legendary, nostalgic, hilarious, iconic, please see my jfgogh ask for more information

gogh x caesar - 7/10 its kinda silly and i like it

gogh x jesus - 7/10 equally as silly as caesgogh

gogh x caesar x jesus - 8/10 ive seen zero content of them but background polycule from hell sounds hilarious

tophabe - 5/10 i have so many opinions on it so ill say this, the ship and the fandom surrounding it has so many problems but GOD the fanfictions man… theyre too good

joan x harriet - 7/10 i keep forgetting it exists and i havent thought too hard about it but it sounds neat

jfkonfucius - 10/10 please make them interact more in the show i need more content of them before i start making it myself in my head

jfabe - 7/10 it exists and its kinda silly

jfk x ponce - 9/10 i almost forgot about this one but how is there not more content on them, yall are sleeping on this ship including me

tophfk - 5/10 it has fanfiction potential but i dont care about it right now since i havent read a tophfk fic

confucius x topher - 6/10 it gets an extra point because i used to sorta toy with the idea before episode 8 sold me out on topher

confucius x abe - 7/10 do people even ship this??? i remember everyone thought confucius would be abe’s sidekick when the first episode of the reboot was leaked lol they could still be interesting though

confucius x abe x jfk x topher - 9/10 polycule from hell sounds so fucking funny, loses a point because topher is here but thats more just me being salty they sorta brushed the blackmail thing under the rug in the finale

tubfucius - 4/10 i keep forgetting it exists, its kinda cute but it loses a point because the show tried to make the ship name harrucius and i fucking hate that

kahlopatra - 10/10 i was gonna take away a point because it kiiiinda felt like it came out of nowhere because of the lack of buildup in the show, but i cant because theyre too iconic and legendary, the gays finally got a W

frida x harriet - 5/10 i just mentioned this because i saw it one sided in a kahlopatra fic once that made harriet act so uncharacteristically mean that it made me actually like her more (fun fact: that fic also kinda ruined kahlopatra for me a bit but i still love it anyway because the scenes in episode 8 were too funny), outside of that fic it sounds neat i guess

if i missed any ships please tell me so i can judge you, also mod rose please dont try to tag all of these ships unless you want brain damage (i know you wont but still)

not reading or tagging allat 😭🙏

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

American Dad eps for review. This isn’t all my faves, but I didn’t wanna give you too much 😅

Delorean Storyan

Merlot Down Dirty Shame

Cops and Roger

The One Who Got Away

Fart-break Hotel

Joint Custody

Stanny Tendergrass

Independent Movie

Alright, I’m finally sitting down with this list!

I think you’ve got some fantastic picks for favorites here, Fart-Break Hotel and Stanny Tendergrass are personal favorites of mine as well.

-Delorean Story-An is an episode I tend to get mixed up with Toy Whore-y because it’s got such a similar set up but it’s a great pick if you’re looking for a Stan and Steve character piece of which there are relatively fewer than other characters. I specifically love the twist at the end that Steve had been laboring under the idea that at least they shared a love of Back to The Future to make him and Stan bonded only for Stan to reveal that he’s never even seen the movie and has his own reasons for wanting the Delorean so badly. It’s a good joke but it’s also a great way of reminding the audience that these two both want similar things, they just have so much of a personality gap that it’s hard for them to see it in each other, which is the running theme.

Also Roger and Francine dogging on Hayley for being boring and Hayley pranking them with one of two Chris Angel appearances in the show will never not be funny.

-Merlot Down Dirty Shame is a great Roger centric episode. I think it’s interesting the depth of character Seth brings to this cast despite the shallow demeanor of the series itself. Roger is self centered, horny, and impulsive but his genuine love for the family and his fear of losing their love is a topic that they keep consistent and this is one of the strongest contenders for an episode of that ilk. The lengths Roger will go to just to keep Stan from getting angry at him over such a small thing are hilarious and deeply in character. Plus this episode has some killer dialogue.

“I’m just gonna give you some time to cool off”

“IM GONNA RIP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF”

“Okay so you need more time.”

-Cops and Roger is the funniest Roger alone episode Roger going off the rails as his persona of a guy who failed to become a cop and now takes it out on his family entirely because of Steven and his friends stupid prank is gets progressively more absurd to the point that you just find yourself invested in this family that you’ll never see again and have never seen before. Kelly Clarkson’s “What Doesn’t Kill You” playing as he now widowed wife walks out of the restaurant with her kids is one of those great testaments to how well the team uses licensed music.

-The One That Got Away is one of those easy great American Dad episodes. A deep dive into Rogers personas being so much more than costumes to him, and how becoming all of these people can lead to some crazy consequences. I would say while something like “Roger Needs Dick” explores the emotional side of the personas all being facets of Roger, this one handles the mental presence of it phenomenally. I feel like I’m watching a thriller. There’s some obvious Fight Club inspiration going on and doing a Fight Club story but flipping the premise of Tyler Durden on his head was a stroke of genius on the staffs part. This is one that’s kinda hard to discuss because…like…it’s just a phenomenal episode You’d be hard pressed to find a fan that doesn’t agree.

-Fart-Break Hotel explores Francine as a character and I’ll be honest I’m very soft on Francine centric episodes. I think she’s an absolute riot any time she appears being a perfect balance of being a out of pocket as Roger while also feeling the most normal. She’s the duality of womanhood and an episode exploring how that balance has been thrown off by her lot in life is bound to be great.

-Joint Custody is one of the few early episodes I actually really enjoy. There’s some genuinely funny stoner jokes (the entire gas station scene is in my top 10 funniest scenes for this show) and it’s one of the first episodes that seems to get Jeff really nailed down in a lot of important ways. Considering Jeff is my favorite character, that’s pretty important to me.

Also, another episode with some killer fucking one liner deliveries

“He hasn’t spoken to his dad in years and his mom ran away before he was born.”

“How…how could she do that?”

-Stanny Tendergrass sees Stan get his ass kicked by Hulk Hogan this episode is perfect

-Independent Movie is a rare really good Snot episode! I think Snot episodes tend to lack because they so often have to focus on Steve and him getting into it over something which is obviously the case here. But here there’s so much going on between Snot very genuinely dealing with his father’s death to the manic pixie dream girl to the rare form earnest ending. Fun fact, this one is Curtis Armstrong personal favorite of the series and you can really tell why. It feels like Snot gets treated like more than Steve’s friend in this episode and Steve’s selfishness doesn’t feel overblown by the plot like it often does in similar episodes.

All in all some great picks, I can tell you’re a fan of the character deep dive episodes which I have the upmost respect for!

[ballads-for-kuni]

My Guiding Light (Pt. 2)

Masterlist || < Part 1 | Part 3 >

Kabukimono, as he used to be called, is now forgotten.

In his place is Scaramouche, the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers.

His star is the only one to call him something different.

“Kunikuzushi,” his star whispers softly into his ear, hidden under the wide brim of his hat.

A name all his own, gifted by the one dearest to him.

“Hmm?” He hums gently in return, in contrast to his harsh glare, Fatui agents scrambling out of his way to avoid his spartan punishments.

“You must go to Tatarasuna,” his star whispers. “There is something of importance there to me, as dear as you.”

“That place? Why?” He frowns, and the Fatui move faster to clear a path for him.

“I’m afraid I’m fading.” His star whispers, pain clouding their voice for the first time in a while.

He stops abruptly, in the middle of an ice-cold hallway full of agents, just like the rest of Zapolyarny Palace.

The agents flinch. The look on his face is positively thunderous, dark clouds obscuring his usually angry expression, turning it stormy.

“What?” He hisses, barely audible to human ears.

“I’ve known for only a short while,” his star admits, “the pangs started not too long ago, about a week back.”

“I’m going. I won’t accept this. You’re not leaving me. You can’t, not now.” He swears under his breath, resolute and angered.

He resumes his little march down the hallway, even as his star glows faintly in gratitude and affection.

It makes his ichimegasa twinkle with an otherworldly glow.

The meeting was chaotic.

“Your Majesty, I insist. Of all of us here, I am the only Inazuman by birth. I know my country better than anyone else here. It would be in everyone’s best interest for me to accomplish the mission in Inazuma.”

After a full 3 hours of arguing with the other Harbingers, he was arranged to go to Inazuma.

“See?” He smiles gently, holed up in his quarters on the ship being loaded for their voyage to Inazuma. “I told you I could do it.”

“Of course,” his star glows faintly, proud and pained all at once, “my Kunikuzushi is capable.”

An unfortunate Fatui agent is chosen to deliver news to the Sixth Harbinger.

“S-sir,” the agent stands outside the door, knocking twice.

“What?” His superior’s annoyed voice floats into his ears.

“T-the ship’s f-finished loading, s-sir,” the agent stutters, “w-we’re setting sail soon.”

“Finally,” Scaramouche snaps, “get moving then, I don’t want to be there longer than necessary.”

“Y-yes, s-sir!” The agent bows to the door, then spins around as fast as he can to get away from the menacing aura around the Sixth’s quarters.

Not a moment later, the boat sets sail.

“Is this what we’re looking for?” He murmurs quietly to his darling star, standing in ankle-deep water and allowing the bioluminescence to wash over his feet.

“Yes,” his star’s voice grows louder by the hour, stronger the closer they are to home.

“Take some,” he orders his men, “and find a way to sustain them back in Snezhnaya.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“The beach’s ecosystem is important too, Kuni dearest,” his star chides him.

“And I don’t care how many samples you take, just don’t deplete the supply like a bunch of idiots!” He adds.

“Honestly, which moron doesn’t know to take a total of under 30% of the population for study?” He mutters, intentionally loud enough for the nearest few agents to hear.

The word is spread of the Harbinger’s instructions, and the Fatui begin harvesting.

It’s hilarious watching fully grown men and women, known and feared for their heinous deeds, splashing around in the shallows of Tatarasuna’s beaches trying to catch the evasive glimmers like a gaggle of children.

They get lectured.

“You’ve cut one in half. Do you want to die just like the glitter will?” “You’ve gathered more water than sparkle in that bottle, you useless twat.” “It won’t survive the transport back.” “This sample is as unimportant as you.” “Dump it out and take another.”

“Enough, Kuni,” his star whispers after a while of the agents’ toiling, “I’ll be fine with this much.”

Crates upon crates of glittering glass bottles line the beach.

“Mmm,” he hums, walking over to make a show of inspecting their spoils.

“Passable,” he sighs, “pack them up carefully. Let’s go.”

Their meeting with the famous Traveller has his star pulsing in erratic patterns, the first in a few decades.

He knows that pattern.

Disapproval.

Anger.

Disappointment.

His stomach churns at the thought of his star so upset with him, that he orders all the Fatui to pack up and load the ship in preparation to leave.

In the bustle, he murmurs a quiet “I’m sorry” to his companion, and his star chides him. Gently, like they always have.

“That wasn’t very kind, Kuni. Nor was it honourable.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I will wait for you. I cannot stay with the Gnosis; it will consume me.”

“So you’re leaving?”

“No, I will return,” his star soothes him, the balm to his sharp words. “But you will have to walk the beginning of the path you chose alone. Godhood is lonely, Kuni; outliving your people has never been the goal of any god. I will watch you. I will be there, as I always have been. Just this time, I’m not quite next to you anymore.”

“When I become a god,” their little charge vows, “I will find a way so that you can stay by me. You won’t have to avoid the gnosis anymore.”

“When that day comes,” his star promises, “I’ll find you.”

His star winks in and out of sight for a while, and then that comforting, constant silver glow is no more.

And for the first time since his birth, he is alone.

It’s a painful thought.

He steels himself and grips the gnosis tighter, stalking out of the now-abandoned factory to begin his plan.

The ship sets sail, and when it docks back in the eternal winter of Snezhnaya, The Balladeer is nowhere to be found.

The Balladeer, and one small chest of his personal belongings.

[wildest-wake-up-show]

"The High-Value Man Delusion vs. Women's True Values: A Reality Check"

The Great Delusion

Let's be real for a second - some men out there genuinely believe they're the pinnacle of human existence because they have a flashy car or a wallet thicker than a dictionary. While wealth and looks might catch the eye, they're not what keeps the fire burning. Here’s a reality check:

1. Wealth as the Sole Indicator: Sure, money talks, but it doesn’t say, “I’m a caring partner.”

2. Physical Appearance Over Everything: Abs are great, but can they listen when you’ve had a bad day? Nah.

3. Power and Status: Just because you’re the CEO of your own ego doesn’t mean you’re relationship material.

4. Non-Emotional Stoicism: Believing that showing no emotions makes you strong is like thinking a rock can give a hug.

5. Ignoring Emotional Intelligence: Overlooking kindness and empathy? Yeah, good luck with that.

6. Dominance and Control: Respect isn’t about who’s louder; it’s about mutual understanding.

7. Material Possessions: Flashy cars and designer clothes are cool, but they can’t hold a meaningful conversation.

8. Superiority Complex: Arrogance is about as attractive as a porcupine in a balloon factory.

9. Quantity Over Quality: Having lots of shallow relationships isn’t the same as having one deep, meaningful connection.

10. Disregard for Personal Growth: Thinking you’re perfect already? Congrats, you just won the gold medal in self-delusion.

What Women Actually Value

Now, let’s flip the script and talk about what really makes a man high value in the eyes of women:

1. Emotional Intelligence: The ability to understand and manage emotions. Think of it as the Swiss Army knife of relationship skills.

2. Kindness and Compassion: Treating people with respect and empathy. It’s not just nice, it’s essential.

3. Consistency and Reliability: Being dependable. Because flakiness is so last season.

4. Sense of Humor: Laughter really is the best medicine, especially when you can laugh together.

5. Communication Skills: Talking and listening like a pro. No, grunt responses don’t count.

6. Shared Values and Goals: Aligning on what matters in life. Netflix or hike? Both? Perfect!

7. Supportiveness: Cheering each other on. Like a personal pep squad for life.

8. Emotional Availability: Being open and sharing feelings. No more stone-cold poker face.

9. Respectfulness: Treating everyone with respect. Manners matter, folks!

10. Commitment to Personal Growth: Always striving to be better. Because who doesn’t love a good glow-up?

Join the Discussion

Ready to dive deeper? Head over to our YouTube channel, "The Wildest Wake Up Show," where we'll be hosting a live discussion about this very topic. Trust me, you don't want to miss it!

We'll be answering your burning questions live:

Have you ever met someone who clearly overvalues themselves? What was the funniest or most cringeworthy thing they did?

Do you think overconfidence can ever be a good thing? Why or why not?

What are some telltale signs that someone might be overvaluing themselves?

How do you handle people who come off as overly self-important? Any tips for keeping your cool?

Do you think society encourages men to overvalue themselves? How so?

Can you share a personal experience where you or someone you know had to deal with an overconfident person? Spill the tea!

What's the difference between healthy self-confidence and overvaluing oneself? Where’s the line?

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