#Also Rose has a collection of things she doesn't use

[cookies4evry1]

Here is my guys from the Humble Village!

Also here are some fun facts about them.

1: Rose was the first to be created out of the guys. She actually had purple hair, well she was mostly purple. Also she wasn't named at all!

2: Blob and Balloonie both were inspired by how siblings act. Both annoy each other, also they were created out of a whim.

3: Eyeball was created out of curiosity to mess around with something new. Also he and Toothpick had kids in a early production. I forgot their names!

4: Angel is tiny so she likes to huddle under tables to chill. Also she likes to eat jelly.

5: Toothpick was named toothpick out of a joke when I first thought of making her a actual wooden toothpick. But I liked way the word sounds so... Toothpick it is. (Also cause I'm not good at names.)

5: I have trouble naming my ocs so I either search some up, or just use a random name if it sticks. Like Blob, he was named like that cause it started with a b like Balloonie.

6: They sometimes have a divide with where to go to eat. Like Condense Textures or Savoury Flavours. It's either go eat a flavorless crunchy disk or eat a textureless salty dish.

#random #digital art #ocs #oc stuff #oc art #oc info #fun facts #some art #The Humble Village #Do you guys have problems with naming things if so how do you deal with them #I really like Eyeball he's fun to draw #Also Rose has a collection of things she doesn't use

[ssahotchnerr]

jealous!Aaron would be super interesting in a situation where the reader has a meeting with an agent that has vibes similar to him and Kate Joyner (Whoever the reader meets kinda resembles and ex or maybe even Aaron himself and they're oddly friendly 🤭)

the one

OMG cw; bau!reader, jealous!aaron, aaron's petty (and a bit insecure), established relationship (and a healthy one at that <333), vague allusions to sex, fluff wc; 1.8k

"your team will be stationed here." the chief of police led you, aaron and jj into one of the conference rooms, complete with a large table, vast seating and numerous bulletin boards. "our head detective will be in to assist you shortly."

"thank you." once he had exited, aaron exhaled a breath - more so a let's get this show on the road, "alright, let's get settled."

jj began unpacking the evidence from the boxes collected so far, as aaron and yourself hung up photos; crime scene as well as images of the victims so far.

as promised, the door soon opened, allowing the noise of the precinct to drift in. it ended as abruptly as it had started, the door clicking shut.

"mornin', i'm detective parker." you heard from behind you, the name and voice strangely familiar, causing you to slow. "it's real nice of y'all to come all this way to help us out."

jj introduced herself, and then aaron, but no introduction was needed on your end; you turned and your eyes connected with the voice, both of you recognizing each other instantly.

"no way!" you grinned, moving forward and bypassing a handshake for a hug. he reciprocated your energy, exclaiming your name as he embraced you just as tightly.

aaron immediately stiffened, and jj was equally taken aback, studying the man. the first noticeable thing, the resemblance. the dark hair, dark eyes, tall frame...

while aaron began to seethe, and jj took the initiative to vocalize what they both were wondering - she had also noted the vein beginning to bulge in his neck. "the two of you know each other?"

"we worked together back in the tuscon field office." you explained, turning back to parker with a smile. "that was what, three, four years ago?"

"has it been? doesn't feel like it." he released a hearty laugh. "look at you, you haven't changed a bit. you look good, and i mean real good."

a swarm of jealous heat filled aaron's body, and only grew as you and parker began chattering away like lifelong best friends.

eager to draw it to a close, he cleared his throat, loudly. it regained both your attention, and cut your small reunion short.

"huh, a bau profiler," parker said as he sobered down, his smile lingering as he gazed at you. "who would've thought."

jj inserted herself into the conversation again, intrigued yet perplexed. "so the two of you were close, then."

aaron refrained - with a large amount of effort - from physically rolling his eyes. clearly. he opened a file, solely to maintain his composure.

"oh, absolutely," parker answered for the both of you, while also throwing an arm around your shoulder. "there was one time we-"

"fascinating." aaron deadpanned as he interrupted, closing the file in hand, rather aggressively as it produced a quaint slap. his eyes rose and studied the agent's arm placement for a few, obvious seconds, his lips drawing into a tight line before continuing. "need i remind you we currently have three victims and a killer who is unraveling as we speak. it's in our best interest to work diligently and remain focused."

parker nodded, his cheeks producing a faint blush at the injunction.

"the recent victim's family still requires an interview. you can start there."

"the two of us can go," parker said, gesturing to yourself, "it's quite a drive away, could give us the opportunity to catch up."

"that won't be necessary, jj can accompany you." aaron stated firmly, not even looking at him, nose buried in his file again.

an amused yet disdained expression formed on jj's face, nodding slowly in confirmation. "that i can."

parker opened his mouth, probably to protest, but aaron had already turned his back. he surrendered and headed out, jj following.

"aaron." you transferred your weight onto your hand as you leaned on the edge of the table, raising an eyebrow.

"what?" he looked at you. despite his query, his eyes were a telltale - he knew what he was doing.

you arched your eyebrow more, giving him a look.

he sighed, shutting the file. "i didn't like the way he was looking at you."

"he wasn't-"

aaron gave you a pointed look this time, prompting your words to trail off. he tore his eyes away from you again, allowing his next inquiry to exit his mouth more easily, "so, were the two of you...?"

"oh, no." you began to shake your head, but halfway, you hesitated. "well... almost."

his lips fell into an uneasy line, a pained expression painted on his face as his gaze shot back to yours. "almost?"

"we went on a few dates, kissed and..." you released a breath, choosing to keep the summary short, but the brooding envy in aaron's eyes deepened. "but nothing ever came from it. we were better off as friends."

after a moment though, you added, on the quieter side, "and besides, i transferred before anything really solidified."

the lines in aaron's face only grew, biting down briefly on his bottom lip.

"but it's in the past." you quickly reassured, bringing your hands to his cheeks for a moment to relieve the tension. "i won't deny that we were close, but you know how partnerships work. i depended on him, him on me, and the majority of our time was spent together. it caused a lot of emotions, all of which, are gone. i haven't even spoken to him since, seriously."

aaron wanted to counter, does parker know that? but from the earnest expression on your face, and loving look in your eyes, he withheld from doing so.

the bitterness on his face still didn't falter, but "okay. that's fine."

you still weren't convinced. "are you sure?"

"yeah. you're allowed to have a history, but that doesn't mean i need to be optimistic about working with him." he said as he exhaled a breath. he meant it, fully secure and confident in your relationship. he simply detested the idea of another yearning for you, especially one you had a past with, and one who looked quite like him - a potential competitive force.

you were his.

"of course," you nodded, with full understanding. "if the roles were reversed, i know i'd feel the same."

"and as long as he doesn't try anything..."

you laughed, your fingers playing with and then smoothing out the lapels of his suit jacket - positioning them in perfect place just as they belonged. "he won't. trust me, he's not like that."

aaron nodded, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you. if it weren't for the current setting, he would've brought his lips to yours.

"i have you." you offered him a loving, genuine smile, the affirmation to his just-previous thought calming his heart rate further. "i have everything i could ever want."

-

despite aaron being a bit (very) high-strung, and keeping a close eye on parker, he kept his word - he remained civil. naturally, he still was passive aggressive, short, and didn't dare smile while interacting with him.

the team noticed the 'chemistry' too. you knew they were whispering about it; they had gazed questionably between the two of you upon their arrival at the precinct, and through the substance of the case - the naturalness, the easy meshing, bouncing ideas off each other. but you had worked with parker for years - you knew how he worked, and likewise. it was like riding a bike, old habits resurfacing.

they also noticed the familiar characteristics to aaron (morgan of course teased you about it, you simply waved him off). and even penelope all the way back home asked about it, "so this guy, what's the story there?"

but despite the at-times, annoying attention - the case proceeded and resolved easily. within a few days, it was time to return home.

as the team settled other matters - exit reports, paperwork, etc. - you found yourself with parker, packing up and clearing out the conference room.

the two of you were alone for the first time all week, and you could sense it in the silence - a pending question. it was a matter of time before it was brought to focus.

"what do you think would've happened, if we would've given it a shot?"

you froze, facing him. "what?"

"you and i." his eyes searched yours, creating a sense of deja-vu. it was familiar, having spent so much time with him and once it had sent shivers throughout your body. but as strong as they seemingly once were - it wasn't like with aaron. it didn't leave you feeling lightheaded and giddy and as if you could simply burst at the seams.

when you remained silent, he continued.

"we were good together." he stated, insistently. "you can't deny it. good partners, a great team."

"yeah... we were," you agreed, fiddling with some papers as you thought. "but in the field. romantically, no. we couldn't see eye to eye on anything non-work related, don't you remember how much we bickered?"

"that was good for one thing, at least."

you ignored that, firm and conclusive in your answer. "we wouldn't have lasted."

"and he's in the picture now." he chuckled as he crossed his arms, a tinge of irritation present.

"yeah, he is." you hardened your voice - he knew it as your tell to quit it. "like i told you the night before i left. i couldn't stay. there was more for me out there. and after joining the bau, i now know it was in more ways than one. i love the work, although it's tremendously difficult and gruesome at times. i love the family it's given me. and most importantly, i love aaron."

parker nodded silently, rather disappointedly, but understanding nonetheless.

"i love him. he's the one, i'm positively certain he is."

he sighed as shoulders dropped, his words melancholy but supportive. "well, he's good for you. if anything about him being attached to your hip, or giving me the subtle death glare constantly the past few days, has something to say for it."

you laughed gently. "profiling the profilers?"

"oh c'mon, the way he looks at you? anyone can tell."

-

on the jet, you weaved down the aisle, past the team finding their seats, getting comfortable for the ride home. when you reached aaron, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

aaron's lips tipped upwards in a smile, his arms mirroring yours. "what's this for?"

you only tightened your grip, mumbling into his chest. he could hear your smile in your voice. "just 'cause you're mine."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

[rxmqnova]

Winning you

Story: It's Wanda's birthday and Y/N is trying to win her over Vision… ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV It's Wanda's birthday today and Y/N's been super excited for it. She's planned a lot of things for the day and plans to finally confess her feelings for the witch at the end of it.

Y/N has a huge crush on Wanda ever since she met her. She's been wanting to tell her for a long time, but every time she's tried something happened, so hopefully she'll finally tell her tonight.

But Y/N is not the only one who has a crush on Wanda. There's also Vision who always happens to somehow drag Wanda away when her and Y/N are spending time together.

According to Y/N's plan, she starts with making breakfast for the birthday girl. She makes some pancakes, knowing Wanda loves them.

And once everything's ready, she picks everything up and starts walking upstairs to Wanda's room, meeting Vision half way through and receiving a not very nice look from him.

Y/N couldn't care less though. She's determined to win Wanda over for good.

As quietly as possible, she sets everything up on Wanda's desk, adding a little sweet note for Wanda when she wakes up.

Leaving Wanda's room again, she makes her way over to her own room to get ready for the day.

———

Holding the first gift for Wanda, Y/N makes her way back to the kitchen. Wanda should hopefully be there soon.

"Someone's in a good mood today" Natasha teases, seeing her best friend walk into the kitchen.

"Mhm. You know well why, so stop teasing. The day needs to be perfect" Y/N states, taking a seat on the barstool to wait for Wanda to come.

"Wanda will have the perfect day with me, don't worry" Vision interrupts, a smug smile on his face.

Before Y/N can respond, Wanda steps into the kitchen, a bright smile on her face, making Y/N's worries go away immediately as she gets lost in Wanda's beauty.

"Yeah, sure" Wanda's sweet voice gets Y/N back to reality, her eyes widening when she sees Vision talking to her and handing the brunette a bouquet of roses.

Vision's quick to send Y/N a smirk when he turns around to walk aside. Y/N shakes it off, making her way over to Wanda, a warm smile on her face.

"Happy birthday, Wands!"

"Thank you" Wanda smiles, her cheeks turning red a little bit. "And thank you for the breakfast. It was delicious"

"That was nothing. I-I got you something" Y/N says, nervousness taking over her as she hands Wanda the box she's been holding.

She watches nervously as Wanda opens the box and gasps when she finds inside an entire The Dick Van Dyke Show sitcom collection.

"How… how did you know?" Wanda asks, trying to stop the tears that are filling her eyes as this sitcom reminds her of her childhood.

"You mentioned you used to watch it with your family when you were small, so I thought you might like it" Y/N explains, immediately getting pulled into a tight hug by the brunette.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N" Wanda nearly whispers, giving Y/N a warm smile which Y/N returns.

"I. Hm. I-I was hoping that maybe you and I could have lunch together? I-I have planned something and-"

"Sorry to ruin that for you, but Wanda's already going out for lunch with me" Vision jumps in, cutting Y/N's sentence off.

"Oh… well, maybe when you come back we could spend some time together?"

"We'll go straight to Tony's party" Vision answers for Wanda who was about to say something. "Go get ready, darling. We should head out soon"

Vision rushes Wanda out of the kitchen, Wanda only having time to shoot Y/N an apologetic look.

Cursing under her breath Y/N watches as Vision disappears along with Wanda.

"He ruined everything, I planned a picnic for Wanda and he just needs to ruin it" Y/N sighs, looking at Natasha. "Why would he even take her out on lunch? He doesn't even eat food… Calm down, Y/N. You still can do it. Surely you'll have a chance to dance with her on the party. Then you'll take her on the balcony and give her the bracelet" Y/N takes a deep breath, calming herself down before turning around and going to her room, leaving an absolutely confused Natasha in the kitchen.

———

Spotting Wanda dancing with Vision Y/N heads straight to the bar, ordering a drink and taking a seat, watching the pair having fun.

But when two hours pass and Wanda is still with Vision, either dancing on sitting on the couch and sipping a drink, she stands up, deciding she needs some fresh air.

Tears fill her eyes as she sits down on the balcony, taking out of her purse the bracelet she bought for Wanda.

Wanda's always looked at this exact piece of jewelry every time they were passing the jewelry store and Y/N's been super excited to see Wanda's reaction once she would give it to her.

Thinking she completely lost her chance and Vision won Wanda's heart, the sweet voice speaks up behind her.

"There you are, I've been looking for you" Wanda says, taking a seat next to Y/N on which Y/N's quick to wipe away her tears. "What are you doing here all alone?"

"Just thinking" Y/N mumbles out, looking down on the ground to avoid any possible eye-contact with the witch. "Why are you here? It looked like you're having a good time with Vision"

"Well, having a good time is not how I would describe it" Wanda sighs.

"I… I have one more gift here for you. Can you close your eyes?" Y/N mumbles out a requests.

And just like Y/N wanted, Wanda closes her eyes, so Y/N takes Wanda's hand in hers, putting on the bracelet.

"Y/N" Wanda sighs. "This is too much. It's really beautiful and I really wanted it, but I know the price. I can't take it"

"Wanda, I'm not going to return it. I know how much you liked it and I want you to have it… I like the green gemstone in it, matches your beautiful eyes" Y/N smiles, noticing the pink color on Wanda's cheeks.

Instead of getting a verbal response, Wanda connects her lips with Y/N's. She's been wanting to do this for as long as Y/N has and today only proved her right… that Y/N feels the same way.

----------------------

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WANDA!!! <33

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #scarlet witch #natasha romanoff #vision #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

[apple-salad]

Rose Ribbon Embroidery "Mini" Projects (for BABY NYFW) Part 2: Embroidered Bonnet

I decided semi-last minute to attend BABY's fashion show at NYFW!

BABY had mentioned in their NYFW brand description that their newest collection would be a return to their origins, as well as presenting archival items.

You have to dress to impress for NYFW, right? So of course, I had to pull out all the stops and wear my Rose Ribbon Embroidery.

Also at the last minute, I decided to make a few extra complementing items...

A matching RRE kumya JSK, and a bonnet.

What follows is more of a sew-along/journal rather than a tutorial or guide, mainly for my own memory's sake. But if you enjoy looking at my process (sometimes sloppy), I'm happy!

Also feel free to take a look at the more romantic process video I edited.

Part 1: Kumya JSK

Part 2: Bonnet (you are here)

This post will be my process pictures and notes for the bonnet, as well as a matching mask as a bonus.

I don't believe BABY released matching headwear for Rose Ribbon Embroidery, although I've seen an unknown velveteen headbow with rose lace sold with RRE before.

BABY usually coords RRE with the bunny ear bonnet since Ichigo wears it this way in Kamikaze Girls.

I do own this because I wanted to wear an Ichigo-like outfit at some point, but for this occasion I decided to do something different and make a "matching" embroidered bonnet.

I originally wanted to make a hard bonnet with a very defined brim that could show off the embroidery clearly as I don't really like soft bonnets, but when looking at existing BABY bonnets as a reference, it doesn't look like hard bonnets were a thing back in 2004 (and as it is, BABY rarely releases hard bonnets). So to keep with the oldschool theme, the bonnet is a soft one, although I later make some decisions to make it slightly more structured.

The next decision to make was full bonnet vs half bonnet. The bunny ear bonnet is a full bonnet and I think this is technically more "period accurate", but I am not a fan of how they look like a weird hood from the back so I opted for half (plus, that makes construction and patterning easier for me).

I still used my own bunny ear bonnet as a reference for approximate brim dimensions!

The kumya JSK was a little easier to carelessly sketch out and embroider since I was copying 1:1 from an existing design, but I felt I needed to do at least a bit more careful planning for the embroidery on this. I'm quite bad at creating embroidery designs from scratch, but with the mental image of the rose clusters and swags of vine, as well as referencing the embroidery from the film, I came up with this:

I wanted to emulate the embroidery style of the Momoko's (well, in reality likely the embroidery designer Onoe Megumi--unclear if she did the actual embroidery, but it's likely) embroidery, which I figured wouldn't be too difficult if I was also embroidering by hand.

For material, I am using the same velveteen I used for kumya's JSK. Not my first choice and I actually purchased some thicker looking 100% cotton velvet that I thought would be more similar to the original JSK material, but was worried it wouldn't arrive in time and wanted this project out of the way in case things went wrong/took longer than I expected (it did arrive about a week before the event, but it was totally wrong IRL so I'm glad I just went with this acceptable option). I also bought some more torchon lace, so I used that and another lace from my stash.

The colours of the embroidery in the film also seem to be quite different than BABY's dress. I'm not sure if the pink of the roses has faded over the years, but it has a slight salmon tone whereas the film's roses seem to be more of a pale cool/neutral pink (hard to tell with the yellow tint of the entire film) with some variegation. I love the colour scheme of the film's embroidery, but to keep things coordinated I try to opt for the same colours as the actual dress I have.

I only have white silk ribbon in the width I wanted, so I opted to attempt to dye it to match. Previously I have used alcohol markers to colour the embroidery afterwards, but I find the colour hard to control and it tends to bleed into the fabric. I've also tried colouring the ribbon with the marker before embroidering, but without heat setting the colour transfers onto the fabric as well (and it seems like trying to do so with the amount of ribbon I need would be a waste of ink).

I don't have a lot of experience with it, but since the ribbon is silk, acid dyeing seemed like the way to go.

Very interesting photo of ribbon in pot (the pink ribbon gets eaten up by pinwheel roses much faster than I expected so this is the second batch I had to dye--not ideal as they are definitely slightly different in colour but it's not too noticeable). In total, I think I had to dye 3 batches of ribbon and 4 for the pink ribbon as I just barely ran out near the end, and they are all slightly different colours. Thankfully the undertone is the same so it's difficult to tell unless you are really comparing up close.

I thought I would take this opportunity to use the "peach" acid dye that I bought years ago for another project, but this ended up being a mistake as the colour was totally off (maybe the red dye was too expired). I ended up using my regular fiber reactive procion dyes (with heat/acid), because I have many more colours I could mix together, and that was much better. I really should have done this from the start as I wasted perfectly good silk ribbon by making it too dark/off for my purposes (I ended up overdyeing it in pink so it's a usable colour now, but not for this project).

The silk seems to take on dye extremely fast--even just heating up the dyebath will colour it. In some cases I removed the ribbon before adding any acid at all because I felt the ribbon was already getting too dark.

I managed to get a fairly usable mossy green colour for the leaves and vines, however the pink still ended up being a little off/dark compared to whatever BABY used. It's not too bad here as one strand of ribbon, but when many layers are on top of each other in a rose it seems pretty dark. While not ideal, I think it's still okay, especially considering the embroidery colours used in kumya's JSK match nothing else (many pinks will be going on in this coord).

After dyeing and drying, the ribbon is super wrinkled so I ironed it and wound it on some spare card so it's ready to use.

And now I can start the arduous process of embroidery.

Like before, I mainly use a combination of ordinary ribbon stitches, pinwheel roses, and french knot roses. However, this time I try harder to duplicate, or at least evoke the appearance of the embroidery of the film.

It's interesting how plain and somewhat boring the roses look on their own, especially with this monotone colouring. The varied colours of the film's embroidered roses are lovely, but I decided against it here because the BABY dress has monotone ribbon roses.

The roses definitely seem to just be pinwheel style which is very easy and doable, however I am a bit more confused about the leaves. They look like a number of straight stitches in various lengths and directions that fill in a leaf-like shape. I have no idea if this technique has a name and if there is a proper method for it, because I am a silly beginner who is very uneducated in embroidery.

Anyway I do my best and hopefully I got close enough. Ribbon embroidery is really all about the texture, which is really lovely to look at. Except I have trouble looking at my own work for too long because I start nitpicking all the mistakes I made...

Adding the green and leaves really helps the embroidery come to life.

I took even fewer pictures of the embroidery process than kumya's JSK this time because it's not that interesting. I was definitely getting sick of doing the same pinwheel over and over...

I stupidly decided that aside from embroidering the front of the brim, I also wanted a little bit of embroidery on the back of the brim for interest, as well as on the side.

The designs I drafted out for these two pieces is much simpler, but still, more work....

Almost ready for construction! Hopefully a lot faster with the handwork out of the way.

I iron on some interfacing onto the back brim panel and the bonnet band for slight extra stiffness.

The bottom part of the brim is plain cotton sateen because I was worried that the part that touches the head would get dirtier more quickly it if was velveteen.

I wanted some lace gathered around the brim and an extra velveteen ruffle on the back of the band, so I prepare that now. The lace is gathered with a single gathering thread and sewn down before sandwiching between the two brim panels.

Brim sewn and topstitched (and band is ready for attachment).

The upper flowers ended up a little closer to the top of the band then I intended, but I think it's okay.

Gathering brim and attaching it to band. Because the velvet fabric is so thick, the usual "sew one line of stitching with a wide stitch length" not only made the fabric incredibly difficult to gather, but the thin polyester thread also continually broke when trying to do so. Therefore, I opted for an alternative method I think I'd remember seeing in my sewing machine manual of all things--a zigzag carefully stitched over a central gathering thread. This worked much better, although I probably should have used a thicker/extra strong thread as the central gathering thread because it did break the second time I had to gather the brim due to a mistake.

I also add a bit of lace to the inside of the brim. I think this adds some luxury and frilliness between the head and the bonnet's brim, so I wanted to add a small width. I probably could have used even more of the lace's width since it turned out very subtle when worn. But I still think it adds a small amount of interest to the innermost part of the brim and was worth adding.

Unfortunately here after sewing on both brim parts I realize that I gathered both using an incorrectly marked centre line, so I had to rip it out and do it again ;_;

Next, I can carefully align and pin the bottom of the brim to the bonnet and sew it down. I tack this down by hand because I'm not skilled/accurate enough with a sewing machine to topstitch both sides nicely at once (look closely, and my messy stitching is quite visible...)

I also fold in the raw edges and finish the sides of the brim by hand, leaving some openings for ribbon ties.

At this point I spray almost the whole bonnet with water to disperse and fade my markings. Unfortunately, some of the earlier batches of ribbon that I dyed (Can you tell the variance in the 3 dye batches I needed to do?) were probably not washed well after dying and seem to have bled into the fabric from the water...but hopefully it's not too noticeable.

Next I topstitched all around the brim and attached the ribbon ties.

I bought some double sided velvet ribbon in my last minute supplies shipment and made some bows from it. I think the material is a little thick and petersham would have worked alright as well, but the consistent velvet material feels more luxurious, doesn't it? I also think as an added benefit (?) the ribbon being plush and double sided made the bows more puffy looking.

I add some clips to the sides and a toupee clip to the top for security. I opted for a toupee clips because I think it's really the way to go if you don't want the head item to move at all, no matter how thin or slippery your hair.

Finished.

Bonus 1: rose accent pin

I was in a bit of a rush at this point as it was near the end of the week coming up to the show, so I didn't take any photos of the process here but the technique and templates I used were identical to my handmade faux rose rosettes I made for UM (and the bonus corsages). I have a post with all the details of this sitting in my drafts that I will post eventually, and I will update this post when that happens.

The brooch was just meant to add a bit of 3D faux flower accent to the bonnet, bringing in the rose motif even more. Partially inspired by the faux flowers BABY adds to their bonnets sometimes, like on Milk Tea Doll.

The fabric was "custom dyed" with the same fiber reactive dye I used for the silk. The fabric was further starched, cut out by hand, and shaped with flower iron tools before gluing together.

Bonus 2: matching embroidered mask

I wasn't sure about whether or not I wanted to wear a matching mask, but decided to do so for situations when I would want my face at least half-covered in public. I didn't really expect to be visible in fashion show pictures as someone in the back, but just in case. (I think this decision was worth it, although my makeup transferred all over the thing and in most pictures my face was even more unflattering. eh well)

I forgot to take a lot of pictures of my process for this, but it's very uninteresting and not dissimilar from every other mask sewalong from 2020. I draft out a design similar to the bonnet motifs on both of my mask panels (cotton sateen), and embroider.

I should have embroidered closer to the centre of the mask because when worn the embroidery is not very visible/covered by my hair at the sides. What can I do since the panels were already cut though...oh well!

The lining material is some Japanese CLEANSE Ex fabric I had bought previously to make masks during the pandemic. It's supposed to be antibacterial and antiviral, as well as washable, but I have no idea how well supported those claims are.

Sew together normally on both upper and lower sides, turn inside out, add a channel for nose wire and side channels for elastic.

I also have some mask elastic on hand so I use that.

And the finished outfit again with all my items~

Thank you for reading! If you ever feel inspired to take up a similar project, such as the kumya JSK, I'd love to see it!

#lolita fashion #rose ribbon embroidery #ribbon embroidery #handmade #baby the stars shine bright

[itsabouttimex2]

How would the platonic yandere Demon Bull Family react to a reader who, unlike Redson, did not grow up with a strong connection to the family or love for them? reader can be loyal to them but usually acts indifferently when it comes to "family love" and sometimes refuses to call Princess Iron Fan "mother" and Demon Bull King "father" but instead calling them "king" and "queen" would also be the same thing to Redson, with respect but like the others two doesn't want to call him "brother"

Fiery Reunion: Part One

(Part One) (Part Two)

“This is your father,” Princess Iron Fan says to you, her voice thick with devotion and love. “Restored to us after centuries of oblivion. How long I have waited for this moment…”

That’s right. It has been a long time, hasn’t it? For all your life, your mother and brother have had one single motivation pushing them forward- find a way to save your father.

Technically, you could say that your goal was one and the same. You’ve been helping them all throughout your life, after all. But even though you’ve shared centuries with them, fighting for the very same man…

You just can’t bring yourself to be as passionate about saving him as they are.

“This is your father,” Princess Iron Fan has to say, because you were barely beyond infancy when he rose against Sun Wukong and was struck down and buried under a mountain for his crimes.

You’re sat on the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes. After having stumbled backwards and fallen to the floor in surprise and fear at the sight of him, you now stay there, gaping at the tremendous demon before you.

Your father, the terrifying Demon Bull King casts a hard gaze to your cowering form, raising an eyebrow.

“So the youngest of my children… has grown up. I had assumed the worst when I did not see them at my prison. Tell me, my love- have they become a powerful warrior for the Bull clan?”

He’s talking like you aren’t even here. Maybe that’s to be expected, given that you were barely a toddler when he was imprisoned and sealed away for hundreds of years. It’s not like he’s ever spoken to you.

Maybe it’s fitting punishment for not remembering the man your mother and brother adore. No matter how unreasonable the feeling is, you can’t stop hating yourself for something so far beyond your control.

“My love, Y/N is a skilled alchemist… they’ve proven their worth many times over. I’ve brought them here to restore your broken horn- and the rest of your body, while they’re at it.” She turns to you, her gaze growing determined. “I will have a troop of Bull Clones assigned to your command. Use them to procure whatever you need to create-“

“That’s alright,” you say quite confidently, interrupting her. “I have all I need to restore him to full health. I’ll only need two, to help me with my cauldron.”

The irritation from being interrupted by one of her children quickly dissipates, her creased brow and frown replaced with a satisfied smirk.

“Wonderful,” she breathes out, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

You politely bow to her, then to your father.

“If you would follow me, my king?”

He pauses to raise an eyebrow at how you’ve addressed him, but shrugs it off and walks along after you.

(He’s your father, he wants to say. He didn’t come back after hundreds of years to be addressed so formally/coldly by his own flesh and blood. But he’ll let it slide… you just need some time to adjust, perhaps.)

———————————————————————

“A room dedicated to the alchemical arts, I see… and you’ve quite the collection of rare and valuable specimens. Then you will be able to restore me in short order, I take it?”

You reach out to reposition a small pot of glowing crimson star-shaped flowers, shifting it out of the way and leading your father deeper into your room. Two Bull Clones stand uniformly still against the back wall, ready to assist at a moments notice. Really, you only use them when you need a cauldron continuously stirred or heavy ingredients relocated. If you need petals plucked or seeds stripped, you do that delicate work with your own two hands.

“I have dedicated myself to the herbal arts. With the right supplies, there is little I cannot do, my king.”

“Good. It seems you have grown useful in my absence, little one.”

You briefly stagger at his words, unfamiliar to your ears and so, so very strange to hear.

Promptly you compose yourself and grab a well-worn ladder, leaning it against one of your many shelves. Before you can start to climb it, DBK reaches up to grab the glass canister you need. After lifting it close to his eye for examination, he holds it just out of your reach.

“What do you need lotus seed oil for? How will this restore my body to health?”

(And is it dangerous for you? He might just have to take a look through this room of your and confiscate anything you could hurt yourself with.)

“My king, the oil is merely a catalyst- it will allow my other ingredients to mix together properly without interfering with the alchemical process they’ll undergo.”

He allows you to have the canister, watching as you pour nearly a gallon of the oil into an ancient cauldron, emblazoned with glowing sigils. You keep a firm grip on the delicate glass, holding it firmly and slowly pouring the oil-

Then the door to your room opens with a slam, Red Son’s foot leaving a notable crack running through it.

You drop the canister in shock, flooding the cauldron with far more oil than any recipe would need. Grabbing a clean rag in a huff, you turn and shoot him a displeased look, just in time for to see him lunging for you.

He snags you by the shoulders and shakes you back and forth as he yells, “Have your brains taken a vacation, Y/N?! You aren’t supposed to work alone! You know that you’re not allowed to play with your little cauldron if mother or I aren’t with you!”

You push his hands away, pointing up at your father to prove that you aren’t alone in here, that you aren’t breaking any of the frankly unnecessary rules set that he and your mother have set into place for you.

He takes one look at your father, the goes right back to yelling at you for not telling him you’d be using the cauldron anyways.

(A nostalgic pang resounds in Demon Bull King’s chest as he watches the two of you squabble. Before he had been sealed away, you and your brother had been a child and young teen respectively. He had missed so much…)

When he snaps back to his senses, you are on your knees, carefully ladling the excess oil back into the now slippery glass container you had fished out of the cauldron with a rag. Red Son stands over you, frowning as you do.

“Why don’t you just get a Bull Clone to do this for you, Y/N? Even they could do it more efficiently. And you’d be able to prepare more of the elixir-“

“I hate to be disrespectful, my prin-“

“Brother,” he seethes, dark and low. “I am your brother, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, brother.”

“Now, explain yourself… and do it clearly, little sibling. I don’t have time for any nonsense.”

“The Bull Clones don’t have the precision or gentle touch required to handle my plants and containers. Last time I tried to set them to such a task, I had to relegate them to sweeping up glass instead.”

“Tsk. I’ll make some minute adjustments on two or three of them for you. Perhaps reduce their grip strength and increase their joint dexterity… don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, Y/N.”

Red Son turns and leaves, and to your surprise, your father goes with him, leaving you alone to finish your work.

Just barely, you hear your father’s voice from the hall, low and hushed.

“You seem… to be quite ‘adept’ with your sibling.”

Somehow, you feel that this doesn’t bode well for the future.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Demon Bull King #Demon Bull King #Yandere Princess Iron Fan #Princess Iron Fan #Yandere Red Son #Red Son #Yandere Father #Yandere Mother #Yandere Brother #Edited #Fixed the second to last line to be more in character

[synodic-lupine]

Nine and Ten's arcs go hand in hand as a collectively great PTSD narrative imo. I think Ten's wishy-washiness about relationships and inability to fully open up to Rose is often characterized as plain old fear of commitment yet I see that as a progression to another presentation of PTSD. When we first meet Nine, he seems like he's halfway to planning on how to get himself killed. He meets Rose, he heals, he changes, he grows. Then he regenerates into someone with a desire to live and the seeming capacity to just be happy. At the same time, he regenerated for and because of Rose. Recovery that hinges on one person is a tricky thing. When you're with that person it can feel like there's no more work to be done, like you're totally 'fixed'. Every moment with that person feels like the best thing in the world... which makes it significantly harder to open up about anything trauma related. When you're feeling high on a person's presence why would you ever want to think about the bad things? THEN because he finally properly wants to live, The Doctor gets hit with the realization that living a full life means losing Rose in the end and it's downright intolerable to him. It makes him push and pull and act like a bastard sometimes. We get glimpses of who he is without her in the moments when she's threatened. He loses his damn mind any time she's threatened- he gets that crazed look akin to Nine in Dalek more than anything. This is also in contrast to how Nine used to react to Rose being threatened, where he used to still be able to keep it reined in. THEN... he loses her for real and he backslides majorly. We see the effects in Turn Left, that if Donna hadn't been there he would have died right after saying goodbye to Rose. He's more or less back where he started as Nine in the beginning of series one, looking for a way to die. He lives though, and has to accept that no, he's not perfectly recovered and keep on working on it. He opens up about things in ways we saw him struggle to in series 2. Though he's more callous in series 3 and 4, he seems to struggle more with relating to humans, his bastardous tendencies pop up more. He's also a freaking disaster man in series 4 with the number of times he offers or tries to give up his life for others. He DOES make recovery progress through series 3 and 4, just is slow like in real life. All of that makes JE make sense to me in that this is a man who is experiencing turbo PTSD triggering. He pushes everyone away all at once, because maybe being alone will hurt less than losing people after all. Even after all that in the end when he is dying he says he doesn't want to go. He was born into wanting to live and be happy so of course he doesn't want to go.

#doctor who #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #rose tyler #9th doctor #10th doctor #timepetals #there's a lot more nuance to this than I had energy to write about rn #but regeneration as ptsd recovery story is so interesting to me in general #bc it literally does/can feel like you have to become a whole new person #and it's so so easy to hinge it all on one person or thing that makes life worth living #ten is a somewhat toxic mess #and i love him for it #he's a bastard who is also trying his damn best

[weemssapphic]

Hello🌺 i'm just here to say that we need more of your accidental voyeurism fics, they are soooo good, please can you write another one?🥺

Maybe Larissa has a huge crush on y/n (y/n feels the same) but she doesn't want to let it show so she act like she can't stand her by always fighting with her about everything and never agreeing with her on anything. And when they fight, there is always a lot of sexual tension between them, of course they don't talk about it. So now they're fighting about another stupid thing and y/n get out of Larissa's office slamming the door shut. Then Larissa is alone and she never felt so aroused before and she "can't" do nothing about it. But for whatever reason, y/n comes back and in her angry state, she forgets to knock and then she sees something she never thought she would see?

You don't have to use this idea, or if you use it, you can change or add whatever you want. Use all the kinks you want, i don't mind that at all💋

A/N: thank you for the request! I combined it a little with another request that I had for accidental voyeurism as well. It ended up not getting very kinky or anything because I felt like it didn't feel very natural otherwise, but I do hope you enjoy it <3

Hesitant

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Words: ~4.1k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: unhealthy power dynamic, hurt/comfort, nsfw (smut) - accidental voyeurism, masturbation, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering (Larissa receiving) * MINORS DNI

“Why are you constantly undermining me?” Your voice echoed off the walls of Larissa’s office as it slowly rose in volume. Arguments between you and Larissa were commonplace since you’d gotten hired - you didn’t know why, but the principal seemed to have it out for you since day one, so much so that you often asked yourself why she’d even hired you in the first place. The arguments were only getting worse as time went on, and today was no different.

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re referring to,” Larissa replied coolly. She was able to keep her voice level, but her face showed every bit of the annoyance she was feeling. 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about! I haven’t heard about you going into any other teacher’s classroom and belittling them in front of their students.”

“I haven’t belittled you. However, if I see something I disagree with, I have to voice my concerns. And that goes for all of my staff.” Larissa raised an eyebrow in challenge.

You sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose. You had to collect yourself, lest you say something that could cost you your job. Despite constantly being in Larissa’s line of fire, you did love your job. You were also in love with Larissa - even though it seemed she couldn’t stand you. But there was something about her that drew you in, like a moth to a flame - a certain energy about her that you just couldn’t resist, no matter how heated the arguments between the two of you got.

“So you think the best opportunity to ‘voice your concerns’ is in the middle of my lesson?” you replied, your voice shaking with anger.

“Are you challenging my authority, Ms. Y/L/N?” Larissa took a step closer to you - she was practically towering over you now, using her height to her advantage. Something about the way she loomed over you turned you on immensely, and that made you even angrier - mostly with yourself.

Larissa’s lip twitched as she glared down at you. You could have sworn her gaze had briefly landed on your lips, but you weren’t sure - now, she was staring daggers into your eyes instead. Her own eyes were so piercing, so blue, that you had to look away. You could feel your arousal growing as her hot breath washed over your face - a blush began to form on your cheeks, and you didn’t know how much longer you could stand to be in her presence before you would lean in to kiss her senseless.

“You know what, forget it. Do whatever you want - you’re the boss, after all! I have better things to do than argue with you.” You turned on your heel and stormed out of Larissa’s office before she could get another word in, slamming the door behind you with as much force as you could muster.

~~~

Larissa stood at the center of her office, her heart racing and her underwear drenched - arguments with you always managed to leave her flustered and aroused. Her stomach clenched a bit as you slammed the door - she hated that you seemed to despise her so much, but it was her own fault, really.

She’d realized her attraction to you soon after she’d hired you - the way she would get butterflies in her stomach and her heart would flutter madly whenever she’d interact with you, the way she seemed unable to keep her eyes off of you whenever you were in the room. 

At first, she tried to befriend you, to treat you as family as she did the rest of her staff - but her heart would ache whenever she interacted with you and she realized she couldn’t have you. She couldn’t risk ruining your professional relationship, not when you were one of the best teachers she’d ever hired. So she had to reign in her emotions, be professional, perhaps a little cold - and, perhaps, she’d taken it a bit too far. 

With a frustrated groan, Larissa stalked back to her desk and sat down, shifting uncomfortably as her damp panties rubbed against the inside of her thigh. You just looked so hot when you argued with her - you were usually more on the gentle, soft-spoken side when interacting with colleagues and particularly students, but seeing you become aggressive and dominant was something that turned Larissa on more than she cared to admit.

She frequently imagined you bringing that rough energy to the bedroom, fucking her senseless, telling her what a filthy slut she was as you pounded into her until she was no longer able to speak properly. Even now, she pictured you pushing her roughly into the desk, your mouth claiming hers, your nails digging into her skin…

With her workday over and more sexual frustration than she knew what to do with, Larissa didn’t bother to go back to her quarters as she hiked up her skirt until it bunched at her hips, cupping her sex over her underwear. A soft groan escaped her lips when she bucked up into her palm, her eyes fluttering closed as she began to grind her pussy into her hand.

She could feel her panties grow even damper as her wetness soaked through the thin cotton, and she slowly pulled them to the side in order to tease her folds with the tip of her finger, smearing her arousal across her clit and letting out a guttural moan. Slowly, she slipped a finger inside of herself, imagining it was yours, that you were above her, watching her as she lost herself in pleasure - so lost that she didn’t hear the creak of her office door opening again.

“Principal Weems?”

Larissa felt her heart drop into her stomach.

~~~

There was a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach as you stormed out of Larissa’s office and back to your quarters. Your fights with Larissa were only getting more intense - and more trivial - as time went on, and it was starting to weigh on you.

You were halfway back to your quarters when you decided you were going to turn around and face her again - and this time, you wouldn’t back down. You’d get your answers - you’d find out why she hated you so much, once and for all.

Larissa was sitting behind her desk when you entered her office - you didn’t bother knocking, intending to catch her off guard and start interrogating her, but something about her expression made you pause. Her eyes were closed and there was a little crease between her brows, but there was a distinct rosy tinge to her cheeks and her lips were parted. Your gaze wandered lower and you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest - you couldn’t see what was going on beneath her desk, but the way Larissa’s arm moved, the way she slumped down in her seat… Then she let out a loud moan and you realized exactly what you’d walked into.

It was a mesmerizing sight, the tall blonde fucking herself at her desk. You could see her start to pick up her pace, and you clenched your thighs together when she tilted her head back a bit, baring more of her throat towards you. At once, the anger drained from your body, replaced by pure lust.

You knew you should have turned around and left, but your mouth worked faster than your legs and you found yourself calling out her name, watching her eyes fly open and her face turn red as a tomato as her gaze locked onto yours.

She seemed speechless for a moment, frozen in time, before she pulled her hand out from between her legs and rushed to smooth her skirt. She was obviously flustered, her eyes darting about the room as she tried to subtly wipe her fingers - fingers that had been buried knuckle-deep in her cunt seconds prior - on the leather seat of her chair.

“Is there a reason you decided to barge into my office without knocking?” she asked coldly, though her voice was much more gravelly than usual, and her cheeks were still blazing. 

“Larissa, I…” You were, truly, at a loss for words. Before you knew what you were doing, your feet were carrying you towards Larissa’s desk. Her eyes widened as you approached and she swallowed visibly when you stopped next to her.

You swiveled her chair around to face you and placed your hands on the armrests, boxing her in as your face stopped inches away from hers. Glancing down, you could see that her skirt was still bunched up a bit around her thighs, that her fingers - which she twisted nervously in her lap - were still glistening slightly. She pressed her thighs together and you smirked, looking up into her eyes.

“Am I correct in assuming our little argument made you just as wet as it made me?” you teased, watching Larissa’s pupils dilate. She didn’t answer - she seemed to be holding her breath. “Oh, so now we’re speechless, hmm?”

The thought of your boss, who never seemed to be at a loss for words and usually had no shortage of clever quips to throw at you, being a speechless mess for you had started an almost painful throbbing between your legs. You leaned in closer, your gaze honed in on plump, pillowy red lips - Larissa’s eyes wildly searched your face, nearly going cross-eyed as you came closer and closer.

“Do you want this?” you murmured, your breath washing over Larissa’s lips and sending a visible shiver down her spine. “Do you want me?” 

Larissa let out a shaky breath, her voice hoarse as she tried to reply. “I… I don’t know if we…”

“Oh, Larissa, don’t get all flustered now, as if you didn’t just have your hand up your skirt because of me.”

Larissa bit her lip, a strangled whimper clawing its way out of her throat at the sound of her first name dripping from your lips like honey. “That… was very unprofessional of me, I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to look you in the eyes.

You hooked a finger under her chin, guiding her to meet your gaze. The action caused her breath to hitch audibly in her chest and you grinned in response. “I didn’t ask if it was professional… I asked if you wanted it.”

Seconds felt like minutes as Larissa’s gaze penetrated yours, clearly waging an internal war. When she finally replied, her voice was barely above a hoarse whisper - if you hadn’t been staring intently at her lips, you might have missed it entirely. “Yes…”

You crashed your lips into Larissa’s with unmatched ferocity as an insatiable hunger was set loose within you. Larissa hesitated at first, but soon she was melting into your kiss, allowing you to lick into her mouth and swirl your tongue around hers. Your hands came up to cup Larissa’s face, sliding into her hair and completely dislodging her pristine updo - Larissa groaned into your mouth as you pulled out some of the pins and scratched at her scalp.

Pulling back, you couldn’t help but grin at the messy sight before you - Larissa’s lipstick was smudged over her chin and nose, half of her platinum curls fell in a tangled mess onto her shoulders. Her breathing was labored and her cheeks were flushed, and she watched you with blown pupils as you cleared off her desk.

“I want you to take your skirt off and hop up on your desk for me.”

You half expected Larissa to argue with you - that’s what she always seemed to do, after all. Instead, she complied - and rather quickly at that, tugging her skirt over her hips and allowing it to pool at her feet before sitting gingerly on the edge of her desk.

“Good girl,” you purred, directly into her ear - your breath washed over the side of her neck and left a trail of goosebumps on the pale skin. Your words had the desired effect - out of the corner of your eye, you saw Larissa clench her thighs together and shift her hips slightly.

Placing your hands on her knees, you spread her legs, your eyes dropping to the wet patch at the center of her underwear. You knelt down in front of her, licking Larissa’s cunt over the panties and pausing to place a kiss to her covered clit. She let out a whimper and you could feel her thighs tremble on either side of your head.

“I need you to tell me what you want.” Your voice was low as your fingers toyed with the waistband of her underwear, looking up at her through your lashes. Her eyes darted between your own, her lips parted to let out shallow breaths. As if in shame, she closed her eyes.

“I want you to fuck me,” she breathed out.

“There, that wasn’t so hard.”

You grinned as you tugged the panties down over her hips, pulling them slowly down mile-long legs and pressing soft kisses down one leg until reaching her ankle, then switching to the other leg and kissing up the inside of her calf, her knee, her thigh.

Larissa squirmed impatiently beneath you when you reached her inner thigh, hissing in pain as you bit down on the soft, pale flesh. You spread her open even further by hooking her leg over your shoulder - the tip of her heel dug into your back, but the pain was nothing compared to the arousal you felt as her scent filled your nostrils.

Larissa’s cunt looked absolutely delectable, spread open for you - soft, pink folds glistening. Part of you wanted to dive in and devour her, feast on her as if she were your last meal. But the part of you that won out was the part that wanted to savor every second, every bit of herself that Larissa was willing to share, not knowing if you would ever get this opportunity again. 

You flicked your tongue over Larissa’s sex, taking your time to explore her folds and reveling in the soft, breathy moans you were able to produce from the principal. Your first taste of her essence was enough to make your own clit throb with desire - she tasted even better than you’d imagined she would (and you’d certainly spent many a night imagining Larissa coming undone in your mouth).

Your groan vibrated against Larissa’s center and she bucked her hips against your face in desperation.

“Stop teasing,” she groaned, settling her hands on the back of your head and pushing you forcefully into her cunt.

Your tongue then drew a slow path up her slit, collecting her wetness, until it reached her clit - you pressed it firmly down on the sensitive bundle of nerves and a strangled groan escaped her lips, her fingers tightening in your hair.

Wrapping your lips around her clit, you began to suck, flicking your tongue over the bud. Then your tongue traveled downwards again, worshiping her folds before finding her entrance and dipping into it, just enough to feel Larissa’s walls flutter around your tongue.

You could tell that she wasn’t going to last long - her breathing was heavy above you, her thighs trembling and tensing around your head, her fingers tugging at your hair.

Glancing up at the blonde, you felt your own wetness grow - Larissa’s free hand was fondling her breast, squeezing it roughly over the fabric of her blouse.

“Take it off.”

Larissa paused in her movements, looking down at you in confusion.

“Your top, take it off.”

A deep blush tinted Larissa’s cheeks as she opened the buttons of the blouse with shaky hands and slid it over her shoulders, dropping it to the floor. 

“The bra, too,” you teased.

Larissa reached around her back, unhooking her bra and allowing it to fall away from her chest, exposing small, pale mounds of flesh and rosy nipples.

You couldn’t help how your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the sight of Larissa’s bare torso - the soft swell of her stomach, pert nipples that were hardened by the chill in the air, the little freckles littering her shoulders.

It almost made you feel sad - in another world, where she didn’t hate you so much, perhaps you could have even meant something to one another. Perhaps this would be a sight you’d see more often, something you would wake up to in the morning - perhaps you’d make love to her every night, able to admire her freely and tell her how much you love her. 

Burying your face back in her cunt so she wouldn’t be able to see the flash of emotion cross your face, you sucked her clit with renewed fervor, trying to lose yourself in her taste, her scent, the feeling of her slick coating your chin.

“Darling,” Larissa warned, “I’m g-gonna-”

Darling. She’d never called you darling before - well, once, during your first week at Nevermore, before she’d decided that she hated you. Back then, it had made your heart flutter pleasantly - now, it made your stomach churn.

Larissa cried out in protest as you pulled back from her pussy and stood before her. Her cheeks were gorgeously flushed, her eyes dark with desire.

“I changed my mind. I want you on your stomach,” you growled. Larissa’s eyes widened - she whimpered as your hands gripped her hips, urging her to turn around. With a little help from the principal, you flipped her onto her stomach, her cheek pressed against the hard surface of her desk.

Slipping a knee between her legs, you forced them apart again and wasted no time in reaching out and running your fingers through her folds - finding her even wetter than she’d been seconds prior. With a smirk, you gripped her hips, fingernails digging into the sensitive flesh as you leaned over her back. You trailed your lips up her spine, stopping when you reached her ear.

“Do you like it when I’m rough with you?” One of your hands slid slowly from her hip over her ass, down to her dripping hole - reveling in the feeling of Larissa’s soft skin under your palm. Your fingers circled her entrance and Larissa shimmied her hips, pushing her ass into the air in an attempt to get closer. “Does it turn you on?”

Larissa’s heavy breathing was the only answer you got in return - but you wanted to hear her say it.

“Answer me.”

“I-it t-turns-” Larissa’s reply was cut off by a guttural moan as you plunged two fingers into her without warning, stretching her out. Her walls clenched around you, drawing you in.

“Oh, look what a good girl you are - taking me so well,” you purred as you began to pump your fingers in and out of her, quickly finding a good pace.

While your fingers thrust into Larissa from behind, your lips began their assault on her back, littering her smooth skin with hickeys and bite marks which you then soothed over with your tongue. Her skin was salty with sweat and you groaned at the taste, feeling Larissa squirm underneath your lips.

“P-please,” Larissa whimpered softly, her slick walls clenching needily around your fingers.

“What was that?” Your breath was hot on Larissa’s neck and she moaned.

“Please - oh-”

You added a third finger as your other hand reached between her legs, your fingers firmly circling her clit and causing her legs to begin spasming. Larissa’s fingers twitched against the desk, her mouth dropping open as her eyes rolled back into her head. 

With a final curl of your fingers, Larissa’s thighs slammed shut around your hand, trapping it between her legs. A deep groan left her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut, shifting her hips and rubbing her thighs together until she finally went limp, releasing your hand.

You slipped your fingers slowly out of her, immediately missing the warmth of her cunt.

The office that had been filled with soft moans and the obscenely wet noises of Larissa being fucked just seconds prior, was now eerily silent. You looked down at the principal, whose mouth hung open to let out labored breaths and whose eyes were shut tightly, and you felt a pang of guilt. You couldn’t just leave her there on the hard, cold desk, but you hadn’t exchanged a pleasant word or caring touch with her since your first week at Nevermore, months ago - you weren’t sure you knew how.

“Larissa?” you whispered, gently placing a hand on her lower back. Her eyes fluttered open and she craned her neck to look blearily up at you.

Her gaze was intense, even through her exhaustion, and you felt your mouth go dry, words dying in your throat.

Slowly, Larissa pushed herself off of the desk and turned to face you, wobbling a bit before straightening to her full height - once again towering over you. Her expression was unreadable as she searched your face, her upper lip twitching slightly. A wave of insecurity washed over you under her scrutinizing gaze. When you finally spoke, you hated how unsure you sounded.

“Do you get off on hating me - is that why? Is arguing with me some sort of foreplay to you?” You meant to sound hard and accusing but instead you just sounded insecure and a little sad. You felt pathetic, to love someone so desperately who clearly saw your emotions as just a game, who saw you as a toy to play with.

To your surprise, a little crease appeared between Larissa’s eyebrows and she frowned.

“That’s not… I don’t hate you.” Larissa spoke slowly and with great care, but her words made absolutely no sense to you. A bitter laugh bubbled forth from your chest before you could stop it.

“Sure you do. You’re constantly complimenting the other teachers, but you haven’t said one nice thing to me since I started working here.”

A look of deep sadness flashed across Larissa’s face, and she crossed her arms self-consciously over her bare chest. “I’m sorry for that.” She looked genuinely remorseful, and you stared at her in confusion. “I never meant to make you think I dislike you. It’s quite the opposite in fact - you’re a brilliant teacher, possibly the best I’ve ever hired. You have a unique way of engaging with your students and fostering an open, caring environment with the other staff that I greatly admire.”

Your heart fluttered at the compliments, but they left you even more baffled than you were a minute ago - if Larissa was being honest, then it made no sense why she was constantly undermining you.

“If you think I’m so brilliant, then why have you been treating me like shit?”

Larissa hesitated, before sucking in a deep breath. “I like you.”

You furrowed your brow, opening your mouth to argue, but Larissa cut you off.

“I didn’t want my attraction to you to affect our working relationship and… well, I was afraid my affection for you would show and would drive away not only one of the best educators I have had the pleasure of employing, but also one of the kindest, most open people I have ever met. I… am afraid I may have been a bit too harsh on you as a result…” Larissa swallowed visibly, her gaze faltering, dropping to the floor as her cheeks turned pink.

“You… like me? You really like me?” You tried not to let the little seed of hope that Larissa had planted in your chest grow roots, but it was too late - it was already in full bloom, causing a swarm of butterflies to make a home in your stomach.

Larissa closed her eyes, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. “I do.”

“I like you, too,” you whispered breathlessly, stepping forward and cupping Larissa’s cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, searching your own. “A lot, actually.” You smiled sheepishly, and from one second to the next, the worry on Larissa’s face turned into hope and joy.

You closed the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips to Larissa’s in a soft, languid kiss as your heart thundered wildly against your ribcage. As the kiss progressed, you could feel her hands slide up your hips, slipping under your shirt to rest against your belly. The tips of her fingers began to tease at the lace of your bra, and you smiled into the kiss.

“Do you think I could return the favor?” Larissa purred against your lips.

“What, without taking me out first?” you teased, grinning widely as Larissa’s face flushed.

“Would you want to go out with me this weekend?” she whispered - she started to laugh when you nodded enthusiastically and pulled your own shirt over your head, pushing yourself flush against her.

“Yeah.” You captured Larissa’s lips in another kiss, which you deepened ferociously as Larissa’s hands began to caress your bare skin. It was a feeling you could quickly become addicted to, you realized. And maybe, just maybe, that could be okay.

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @Ssappling2004 @yourlocaldisneyvillain @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @imgayforwoman69 @zillah-ofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @willowshadenox @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @mysaviorfalsegod @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @sweetderacine @lilfartbox1 @daydream-cement @catechristiesstuff @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @sapphos-ode @mrs.prentiss @ilovetlcc @toutoubum @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @ladylarissaweems @makemyworldworthliving

Join my taglist here! :)

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems #principal weems x reader

[malanasims]

Taylor Swift Eras themed Legacy Challenge

i wanted to put together two of my favorite things: the sims and Taylor Swift. so i came up with this 10 generation legacy challenge in which each generation is inspired by a different album. I created this challenge for the sims 2 ultimate collection since that is the game i normally play, but i am sure it can be adapted for sims 3 or sims 4. i also implemented the traits project for ts2 but you can easily do the challenge without it using different personality points. i set up this challenge so that each generation alternates genders but you can switch that up. i also chose first names for each generation based on references of the album. also some of the writing is very cheesy and has a lot of references because why not go crazy. this is my first legacy challenge so if you have any critiques let me know. the rules are not strict and cheats can be used as its a story-based challenge.

Debut- Gen 1: Mary

“Take me home where we met so many years before. 

We'll rock our babies on that very front porch: After all this time, you and I”

You grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other. Your parents never had the greatest relationship and your mom was always with her best friend. Since birth you and her kid have been inseparable. Will you fall into the same patterns as your parents…or will you find a place in this world?

family/romance 

LTW: reach golden anniversary

nurturing, jealous, loves the outdoors, great kisser, family oriented

marry your first love

have 2 children (at least one son)

formal wear is a little black dress

Fearless- Gen 2: Stephen 

“You played in bars, you play guitar

I'm invisible and everyone knows who you are”

Your parents raised you well but something about the fact that they only ever knew each other scares you. You want to get out there and make a name for yourself. You know no ones coming for you on their white horse. You’ll have to be fearless to become a superstar: but for now all you have is your mothers eyes and her old guitar.

fortune/pleasure

virtuoso, charismatic, irresistible, ambitious, non-committal

LTW: become rock god

go on at least 5 first dates

have at least one daughter

date a fan

Speak now- Gen 3: Emma

“When Emma falls apart, it's when she's alone

She takes on the pain and bears it on her own”

You often felt overlooked by your rockstar father. He was always busy and you spent most of your time with your mother until her mysterious disappearance. You feel like you grew up too fast, and now you love to travel back to your youth and fantasize about castles and dragons. So you become an actress; a character. Will you break out of your fathers famously destructive patterns, or will you regain your balance on the tightrope and break out before fire can catch you?

popularity/romance

LTW: Become Icon

natural born performer, childish, bookworm, shy, hopeless romantic

your first love doesn't work out/ you break their heart

have at least one son

have a strained relationship with your father but a good relationship with your mother

meet your true love at a party and then never see eachother again

Red- Gen 4: Bobby

“How you took the money and your dignity, and got the hell out

They say you bought a bunch of land somewhere

Chose the rose garden over Madison Square”

You grew up in the starlight of your mothers fame. You two were always close but after suffering from the tabloids and the camera flashes you decide this life is not for you. You move out of the Angel City and start anew. Your mother has given you some funds and you build up a family home. You tell everyone you left because the city wasn’t right for you… but maybe it was partly to run from your playboy/girl ex who you know was trouble. Now you spend your life painting and searching for your muse. Will you stay paralyzed by time or finally begin again?

Knowledge/family

LTW: become visionary

artistic, eco friendly, night owl, loves the cold, loner

Have an on and off toxic relationship

Move out of your parents house

Settle down with someone nice

Have 3 children (at least one girl)

1989- Gen 5: Love

“You searched the world for somethin' else

To make you feel like what we had

And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad”

You grew up secluded from the world, surrounded by your mothers paintings. Your mom loved the environment but you couldn’t wait to get out of the woods and explore new places. Somewhere along the road, you fell into a rabbit hole of insanity: mascara running in the bathroom and rose gardens filled with thorns. You blow money and string lovers along. You have fantastic delusions until your wildest dreams turn into nightmares. Will you accept the help from your family and abandon your affinity for screaming, crying and perfect storms? Or will every day continue to be a battle?

knowledge/pleasure

LTW: Become space pirate

Insane, unstable, diva, adventurous, jealous

Join the adventurer career

Have 3 loves at once

Have children with multiple people (one must be boy/girl twins)

Lose money in poker

Reputation- Gen 6: Burton (the name is so bad help)

“I don't like your kingdom keys

They once belonged to me

You asked me for a place to sleep

Locked me out and threw a feast”

Yeah, your mother may have done a number on you, but who's counting? Maybe your twin sister… Everything you did, she just had to do better. In the wake of your mother’s madness, you turned to dancing. You found peace in swaying as the room burnt down. Your twin sister on the other hand hated how you were lit up every room you walked into, but you couldn’t help it. There's nothing she hates more than what she can't have… so she turned to sabotage. Just when you think that your life is perfect- you're at the top of your career and you finally found love- your sister starts a rumor that you cheated on your love. Your reputation as a famous dancer goes down in seconds. But to your surprise, your lover isn't reading what they call you lately and your relationship is stronger than ever. Will you get revenge on your sister and become exactly what you despise, or sit back and let karma take over?

Popularity/romance

LTW: Become world class ballerina

Party animal, irresistible, social butterfly, hot headed, unlucky

Be enemies with your twin sister

Never be unfaithful

Have a bad reputation

Have at least one daughter

Lover- Gen 7: Cornelia

“I’d be a fearless leader, I'd be an alpha type

When everyone believes ya, what's that like?”

You've always known you wanted to change the world. Who cares if you were overlooked and discouraged. Snakes and stones won’t break your bones. You never had a big family as your father walked away from his. Sometimes it gets lonely trusting the wicked, and your loyalty was often a fault. You turn to politics to combat your feelings of helplessness, but no one takes you seriously and you feel lost in the light. You have to start from the ground up with the help of your best friend. You start to build your picture-perfect life: the kids, the lyrical smiles and the power. Will you drive away your lover by searching for their dark side, or will you put aside your ways and find the daylight?

Popularity/family

LTW: Become mayor

Good, easily impressed, brave, unlucky, perfectionist

Fall in love with your best friend

Have 10 best friends

Have children (at least one son)

Folklore- Gen 8: James

“I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that”

You grew up trying to meet the expectations of your politician mother. Everything had to be picture perfect, even your private life. So she set you up with the daughter of one of the most powerful families in town, Betty. At first you are skeptical, but over time you fall for her integrity and affinity for old cardigans. Along the way you begin to feel stuck, tired of the sensual politics and your mother’s watchful eye. That's when you meet August -the polar opposite of Betty- and some part of you has to know what she is like. You meet in parking lots and dive bars, but after Betty finds out, you realize that summer is dwindling. In wake of losing two girls, you turn to writing: poetry and sad prose. You get lost in your stories, but once you start to gain traction, you can’t help but wonder how different your life could have been. Will you rekindle your wild flame with August or go back to the peace you felt with Betty?

knowledge/ romance

LTW: Publish 5,000$ best seller*

Great kisser, coward, bookworm, brooding, commitment issues

Fall in love with Betty

Fall in love with August

Confess to cheating on Betty

Write novels

Move into a cottage by a lake

Finally choose the one girl

Have at least one daughter with her

Evermore- Gen 9: Ivy

“And the skeletons in both our closets

Plotted hard to fuck this up

And the old men that I’ve swindled

Really did believe I was the one”

You always resented your father because he abandoned the good life for a cottage in the woods and his stories. You don’t want that; you want power and wealth. You don't need love, just a fancy car. So you turn to crime, because it’s easy for you; you love the gold rush. You con men and no one will ever prove it. You marry rich men and inherit their money when their time runs out. But then one day you meet your match, a fellow criminal, and wonder if this life will really bring you happiness. But you realized this a little too late, and now you're forced to drink your husband's wine… but he was the wrong guy. Will you leave the life of crime behind or will you stay frozen in time?

Fortune/pleasure

LTW: Gold digger

Kleptomaniac, genius, charismatic, mean-spirited, rebellious

Go into the criminal career

Marry a rich sim

Fall in love with a criminal and have an affair

Have a son

Midnights- Gen 10: Snow

“And I don't dress for villains

Or for innocents

I'm on my vigilante shit again”

You knew your mom wasn’t the most ethically-correct person. You like to think you inherited her better half; but that isn’t entirely true. You are determined to be different, so you become a spy; you get the satisfaction of working for the good guys and the pleasure that comes with great wars. Being a spy is difficult though, and you never know when things could go wrong. You are constantly burning files and deserting old lives. But you’re a mastermind, nobody can deny that. You finally meet your perfect person, but it's hard concealing your true occupation from them. You have money and respect… But can all of that pay for someone to just know you?

Fortune/knowledge

LTW: Become head of the SCIA

Perceptive, disciplined, loner, proper, daredevil

Join the intelligence career

Move homes at least twice

The rest is up to you since it is the last generation 

*50 new LTW mod can be found here

if anyone decides to do this challenge tag me! i'd love to see it

#ts2 cc #ts2 #sims #sims2 #sims2 challenge #sims challenge #legacy challenge #sims legacy challenge #ts3 #ts4 #sims 3 #sims 4 #sims 3 challenge #sims 2 legacy #sims 3 legacy #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #taylor swift #taylor swift eras #swifties #taylornation #taylors version #sims 2 cc #sims4cc #ts3 simblr #ts4 simblr #new simblr #sims 2 stories #sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 build

[rallamajoop]

Did Ethan play the piano?

There are a bunch of little hints scattered through these games about Ethan's character. He seems to have a love for the retro ‒ at least, his drawer is full of jazz CDs and he drives a 1971 Dodge Challenger. As Rose notes, he's clearly a wine drinker. And he may have played he piano.

I don't want to overstate the hints RE7&8 give us on that last part. Resident Evil is, after all, a universe where apparently being able to bang out a full sonata at a moment's notice is just a basic life skill for anyone who might want to infiltrate a suspicious facility (though just jamming a few bars of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star may also do in a pinch).

There's a piano in the Winters' home, but then, maybe Mia's the one who plays, or maybe the BSAA set them up in an already-furnished house ‒ who knows? You can't actually interact with it as Ethan, nor does Rose comment on it. But Rose does wonder out loud if her Dad played any instruments (after he jokes about whether baby Rose banging her spoon to the Miss D. record suggests she's going to grow up to be a musician) ‒ and that at least primes you to notice that piano, if you hadn't already.

There are also two different pianos you can interact with in the Baker property ‒ one in the guest room, which will slam shut if Ethan reaches for the keys, and a second in Lucas' room that merely prompts the message 'it's broken'.

It's not until Dimitrescu's castle that Ethan himself finally gets to make like all those other Resi heros, and bash out a quick solo to open a mini door in the piano, in which you'll find a key that will open another door... look, you've heard this one before.

There's an argument to be had whether any of the puzzle solutions in a video game like RE should be taken as truly diegetic. But if nothing else, this does at least suggest Ethan can read sheet music. Here's the asset for the sheet, by the way (and again with the bit you actually play highlighted). You can hear someone play the full song ("Sogno" ‒ which means 'Dream' in Italian ‒ by Francesco Paolo Tosti) here.

There's even a version with lyrics, though I doubt they necessarily meant much to whoever picked this piece for the game: more likely it was chosen for being a song with a very simple treble clef (so the player doesn't have to do too much work to solve the 'puzzle') but a much more complicated bass (so it still sounds sophisticated when played). Regardless, you can hear it sung here.

There's also one other little clue that might suggest that someone in the Winters' household has some real musical leanings: one of the CDs you can find in that drawer is titled 'Jazz Standard Theory'. Which sounds a lot more like an instructional CD than easy listening (though they're certainly not winning any prizes for those other titles).

Actually, while we're talking Ethan's CD collection, here's the asset for that Miss D & the Pallboys CD too! Surprisingly, it has a back as well, suggesting that at some point you might have been able to pick it up and examine it. The text is all pretty illegible, however.

(I've talked before about the theory that 'Miss D' is actually Lady Dimitrescu, but if you want the short version ‒ given that she's not from the village and is 'descended from a fallen noble', this one's surprisingly plausible!)

Hilariously, a love for jazz might just be one thing Ethan has in common with the Bakers, given you can find some records lying around the rec room upstairs.

Mind you, even RE2R managed to work a jazz festival flyer into this one puzzle solution...

Does someone in the team at Capcom have a thing for Jazz? Evidence is starting to stack up...

But getting back to our original topic, does Ethan play the piano? You can make a case either way, as the game never tells us explicitly. But there's enough here to point that way that I'd like to think he does, anyhow.

Which only makes the implications of this so much more tragic.

#Ethan Winters #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil 7 #Rosemary Winters #Shadows of Rose #Resident Evil #RE lore #RE assets #jazz #Miss D and the Pallboys

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part V)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, friendship comes and goes, discussions of anxiety, discussions of virginity, discussions of sex shaming, frottage (PUSSYJOB), everyone’s very vulnerable.

Word count | ~11,800

A/N | Oooh, mama. It’s been a while. I hope most of the people who like this fic are still around.

Taglist

Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You like calling Eddie, the sound of his voice over the phone. The way he answers it differently each time:

“This is Eddie Munson, lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin; available for christenings, bar mitzvahs and weddings.”

“Munson residence. The old guy’s out so if you’re looking to buy a collection of novelty mugs now’s the time.”

“You’ve reached the church of Satan; Abaddon the Destroyer speaking. For your free introductory handbook on summoning circles just dial six-six-six.”

And then there’s the happy rise in his tone when he hears it’s you on the other side, the surprised laugh at the sound of your soft hi, Eddie even when he’d asked you to call. The crackle of his breath through the receiver, the way conversations with him are easy however they happen. With anyone else, phone calls feel stilted and awkward, but Eddie talks as if you’re sitting right in front of him. 

It makes you warm all over to think about. Eddie wants to see you and kiss you and touch you, but he’s also happy to sit on his couch miles away and speak to you, listen in return to everything you can bring yourself to say.

You have taken to dragging a chair from the kitchen and sitting by the hallway table to talk to him like this whenever you don’t see him in the evening. You spend an hour or two at a time smiling at your mom’s address book, twirling the coiled cord of the phone around your finger while Eddie talks about this day, asks about yours, explains why he’s really into this new Swedish black metal band he’s discovered, checks what you’re reading, shares an idea he has for Hellfire, plans your next date.

Today is no exception. Your dad has walked past muttering about the phone bill twice. Your mom, as usual, has stationed herself in the kitchen within earshot, but what exactly she gets out of hearing the low buzz of Eddie’s voice and your laughter, you don’t know.

"And you're sure you don't wanna come, sweet girl?" 

"Yeah, I-" You hesitate, playing with a rose petal from the bowl of potpourri that sits by the phone. "I think I should stay here. Just in case." 

In truth, you don't have much hope that May will call, but imagining that she does and you aren’t here to receive it fills you with worry. The last thing you want is to make things any worse between you after you messed up so badly. 

It’s not unusual for you to feel this type of regret. When overthinking something delays your actions until it’s too late. You worried so much about how to tell May about Eddie that you left it too long. You should have told her the day you kissed him, should have phoned when you got back from your first date. Instead, you spent your time imagining the conversation, and let your best friend find out something important through somebody else. 

You hurt her. She is wounded enough that she really has given up defending you. When Caroline remarks on your silence now, May doesn't attempt to fill the emptiness your lumping throat leaves. 

"She's just shy," May used to say, waving her hand. Her embarrassment over your stumbled words and fidgeting hands was clear, then, but you knew she felt for you, even if she didn't understand why she had to. Now she just looks at you expectedly like everyone else, pulls awkward, embarrassed faces when you stumble and fidget through a non-answer.

You had taken to spending more of your lunches helping Heather with her new responsibilities as class president, sitting quietly at debate club and nodding along to her speeches, taking the role of a small country at her model UN meetings. But you are starting to feel her frustration with you, too. 

“You don’t have to come to every meeting if you don’t enjoy it.” She said to you after the last UN encounter you’d sat through without uttering a word.

“It’s just, I don’t really know much about Anguilla. But I like hearing you speak.”

Heather smiled with her lips closed. “That’s not what it’s for, though. I think maybe you’d prefer having lunch with May and the cheerleading girls again.”

You felt your cheeks burning, pulled the sleeves of your cardigan down over your hands and fiddled with the woollen edges. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Sometimes you think about sitting at Eddie’s table instead. To have another hour of him every day. The picture is nice on its own. Talking to him, to Jeff, even the freshmen Eddie has adopted since the beginning of the year. But then the image zooms out; you at the Hellfire table, May with the cheerleaders, Heather at her clubs, and your chest aches. You don’t know when it happened, when you had to start holding on this tight, digging your nails into them. You only know you’ll leave claw marks on your friendship before you let it go easy.

And while you can never get enough Eddie, you aren’t normally deprived of him outside of the school walls. With anyone else, you might have worried about suffocating him, being clingy. But Eddie makes it clear at every turn how much he wants to be around you. His grin in the mornings when you climb into his van. The way he leans into your space, hair tickling your cheeks, and asks all soft and earnest if you want to go home with him. Some days, he invites you into the trailer to touch and taste you. Others, to sit on his couch or his bed and talk. Or to just spend hours just breathing the same air as him, listening to him scribble in his D&D notebook or strum at his guitar while you read or do your homework. 

But you won't see him tonight. Eddie is going to see Fright Night with most of the boys in his club, and it's all he's talked about the past week. He'd asked you to come, all wide brown eyes and dimples, and your stomach had twisted. 

"Normally May and I do something around this time each month." You hadn't been able to look him in the eye when you said it, fiddling with his hands instead. You'd rubbed the softness of your thumb over the callused pads of his fingers, knowing he had that look he'd been getting whenever you found yourself bringing your friend up. A little sad, guilt he shouldn't be feeling. Irritation, at you or at her you're not brave enough to ask. 

"You sure?" He asks over the phone now. "It'd be pretty easy for me to pick you up. I'm giving Wheeler a ride. He's just down the street from your place." 

You feel a wave of fondness for him, for the lie he’s just told. He isn’t aware that you know exactly where Mike Wheeler lives. You’ve babysat Holly since you were sixteen, and the route to her home takes half an hour in your dad's car. 

"I'm sure," you say, trying to sound firm. "But I hope you like the movie."

"If it's good, maybe we can see it together another time." 

"You wouldn't mind going twice?" 

"I'd watch the same movie twenty times in a row if you promised to come to the last one." He laughs, sounding enough like he means it that your smile hurts your cheeks. 

"That might be a touch excessive," you murmur. "Twice sounds like enough."

"How about tomorrow? We could get dinner first, make a real date out of it." 

Your face heats up like the first time Eddie asked you out. You touch your toe to your ankle, winding the cord of the phone tight around your finger. You whisper. "Okay."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." You press your knees together. "That sounds nice."

"Unless the movie's shit, then we'll have to call the whole thing off." You laugh down the phone, imagining the tease in Eddie’s smile. "I'll have a review for you by tomorrow, sweet thing."

"Okay, Eddie."

"And I'm not leaving for another ten minutes. If you change your mind, just call, okay?"

"Okay, Eddie," you repeat. "Have a nice time."

"See you soon, beautiful." 

Your toes curl. "See you soon." 

When he's gone and the phone is back in its holder, you have to sit tense and still for a second to avoid making some kind of happy squeal, settling for curling your fingers into your skirt and tapping your heels wildly against the floor. 

You still feel a little dizzy with the thought of him when you pull the chair back into the kitchen, enough that you jump when your mom speaks. "That Eddie on the phone?" 

You fix her with a look, because she knows exactly who you were talking to, and she gives you a mock innocent smile that shifts into a real one. 

“You were laughing a lot.”

Her hands drip soapy water from the kitchen sink, finishing up the dishes that would have been done ten minutes ago if she hadn't dragged it out for an excuse to stay where she could hear you. You chew the inside of your lip while you take the next freshly cleaned plate from her. Grabbing a dry dish cloth to drag across the ceramic, you shrug one shoulder. 

“He’s funny.”

“And you like that about him?”

“Mom.”

“Just a question!” She says, holding her hands up, before grabbing the dish towel from you to wipe her wet hands. “You talk more, when it’s him on the phone. Did you know that?”

“You listen to all my conversations?”

“I’m your mother,” she laughs, bumping your hip with hers. “And I’ve never heard you so chatty.” You give her another look and she reconsiders. "Chatty for you. There's been times I've rounded that corner surprised you were even on the phone, you're so quiet. I mean, with that last boy-” She hums a disapproving tone, reaches out to fix the collar of your cardigan. "I swear you'd sit there and not say anything at all."

“It's easier to talk to Eddie,” you admit, thinking about how pleased he looks when you ramble about what you're reading, the last kid you babysat, even the new eyeshadow palette you’d saved up for and felt a touch immature being so excited about. All his encouraging nods, all the questions and affirmations afterwards. "He's…" 

He’s a million good things. Too many to name, too many to put in order. You glance at her to the side, raising one shoulder. 

"I like him," she declares. "I think he's good for you." 

Your face is hot and uncomfortable, but it still feels nice to agree. "I think so, too." 

When the dishes are away and your mom is settled on the couch with your dad watching Quincy reruns, you walk slowly upstairs, hoping that the phone will ring again before your door closes. 

You make a bet with yourself in your head. If it rings before I get to my room, it’ll be May. It’ll be May and she’ll want to be friends again and everything will be alright. You reach the top, spy the door the end of the hall. Any time after, it’ll be somebody else; a sales call, a chatty relative. 

All you hear as you pad across the landing is your parents laughing at the TV. 

With your door closed, your heart sore, you glance at your desk on the other side of the room, the cork pin board behind it decorated with memories. There is your first concert ticket, next to a postcard from the first time you left this country by plane. An askew origami frog that a boy you used to babysit made for you. A pom-pom that detached from the winter hat you wore from October to March three years running in middle school. 

There is Heather. One photo as she is now, smiling at you over a yellow smoothie. Another couple from your first years together, at the edge of womanhood. Her in braces and her mother's lipstick, the aquamarine taffeta dress she wore to your first high school prom. 

And there is May. She is everywhere, over and over again, in all the stages of her life since you met. She is in pigtails, her small hand in yours, her gap toothed grin next to your close lipped smile. She is in this room, with sparkling eyelids, the earliest and most keen model for your interest. She is at the Spring fair of 1979, holding cotton candy you'd shared soon after the photo was taken. She is at that first concert, decked out in Wham! merchandise. Swim meets and cheer competitions. A line of photo booth strips. You are there with her; both giggling, eyes crossed and tongues rolled. 

May has been a constant in your life, but now your life has shifted. Maybe you have to accept that she doesn’t want to shift with it. 

The phone rings downstairs. 

You hear your dad huff, the sound of your mom rising from the couch and heading through the hall. You hold your breath, listen to the buzz of her landline specific voice, all breezy politeness. Then she calls your name.

You practically throw yourself down the stairs, slipping at the last couple in your socks. You have to hold yourself back from grabbing the phone from her. Taking just a second to glance over your shoulder to check that she's actually walking away, you whisper into the phone. “Hello?”

"Where are you? I rented Footloose." Tears prick in your eyes at the sound of May’s voice. You look up to the ceiling, silent for too long. “You still there?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Where are you?” She repeats. “Second Friday of the month. It’s movie night.”

“I didn’t-” You swallow, blinking tears away as they rise and trying not to sniffle. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

"Of course I want to see you,” she answers. “You're my best friend."

You feel your bottom lip shaking, can’t fight the sniffles this time. You drag the sleeve of your cardigan across your eyes, voice cracking when you speak next. "You really mean it, May?"

"I’m inviting you round, aren’t I?” She says, sharp tone softened by a sigh crackling in your ear through the receiver. “Of course I mean it.” You hum a high sound, a stifled sob of relief, eyes squeezed shut. “Now, come watch Kevin Bacon shake his ass with me." 

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You are warm under the silken soft quilt pulled from May’s bed. Your stomach is heavy with buttered popcorn and gummy worms. Your skin is soft from the homemade face masks you made in her kitchen, singing along to Cyndi Lauper and listening to May read the recipe aloud from the newest YM magazine dropped on her doorstep just this morning.

Stirring oatmeal and yoghurt together like a potion, you felt a pang of nostalgia. For a second, you were seven years old, standing with May over a muddy puddle, your makeshift cauldron brimming with gathered leaves, stones, and red berries. You’d mix it up with long, gnarled twigs and cackle together like the witches. The mucky water wasn’t just mud, then. It was poison, it was love potion. It was magic, made together. 

Today, at eighteen, you glanced up at May’s concentrated face while she attempted to separate egg whites from yolks, and let yourself be soothed by the thought that maybe some things are still as they were. 

Footloose was abandoned after Kevin Bacon finished throwing himself rhythmically around an empty warehouse, May’s interest in it vanishing swiftly after that. You found yourself on the couch talking while the film played on in the background until the popcorn was finished and the oats could be washed from your face. 

Then May led you up to her room, almost as familiar to you as your own. 

The cream lambskin rug, still matted and stained in one corner from that time you’d spilt nail polish over it. Terrified you might not be allowed to come over anymore, May told her mom it was her, and she was grounded for a week. 

You bought her those fairy lights, the ones that hang above her bed. Last year, you wrapped them in pink tissue paper, felt the satisfying swell of a present well chosen when she’d hugged you tight with the box still in her hand. 

May has her own cork board. Amongst plastic medals and concert tickets, there is you at that fair, you and Heather at prom, the second strip from the photo booth. 

“And it’s like, when was it decided that we had to pick our whole future at eighteen, anyway?” May asks, eyebrows twitching like she wants to furrow them. She fights through it, keeping them high on her forehead to let you smooth powder over her lids. “Here I am, barely out of the cradle!” You snort, and her mouth tilts a touch. “Feels like I started walking last week, and now it’s all, what do you mean you don’t have a clue what you want to do with your life? It just feels crazy to me.”

“It is.” You shift forward on the soft shag carpet, your knees bumping hers under the throw keeping your legs warm. 

“Right? I mean, you know that your brain doesn’t even really mature until you’re, like, twenty-five? So I am close enough to a child that I really shouldn’t have this responsibility.”

Humming in agreement, you rub your thumb at the corner of her eye, smudging the edge of the lilac eyeshadow there. 

“At least I have an idea where I’m going. Indiana State, here I come. You’re still applying for NYU, right?”

“Mm. Maybe,”

“Oh, come on, you have to apply at least!” She insists, eyelids twitching. “It’s the place to be, for your poetry, right?”

You hum. “I might still do Chemistry.”

“Chemis- absolutely not!” Her eyes fly open, and you make a noise of protest.

“I’m not done!”

“You are not doing Chemistry.” May says, a comic picture with one eye bordered by soft pastel tones, the other bare of colour, while she looks at you sternly. “You don’t enjoy it!”

“But I could get a job at the end,” you reason. 

May snorts, eyes closing gently, chin peaking out to let you get back into it as though she’s already won the argument. “Job schmob,” she says. “When you’re in New York, you can find a rich man to worry about that.” You frown, and like she senses it, the eye you’re not working on opens again. “Or find a rich man for me. He has to be really rolling in it though, so he can look after us both.”

You hear Eddie’s voice in your ear like he’s in the room with you. Just wait, I’ll look after you. 

“Think you can do that?” May asks. “Keep an eye out for me, when you’re making all your arty, interesting friends in New York?”

You swallow, tuning back into the conversation. “I don’t think really want me to find you a man.”

“Mmph. The way my love life is going, I’ll need whatever help I can get.” She moves a little then, a slight tilt of her head that would be imperceptible to anyone but you, who's seen every degree of emotion on May’s face. You know she’s going to drop something serious before she even opens her mouth. “I saw Liam last week.”

You fight through the temptation to stop blending the eyeshadow on her lids, keeping your tone as even as possible. “Oh?”

“When I was in Indianapolis with the girls?” Those trips with the cheerleaders you avoid desperately. The thought of being stuck in a car with Caroline on the way there and back can make you break out in a cold sweat. “He was at one of the bars. He apologised, said he wanted to maybe go out again.”

“Mm.”

“Oh, don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything-”

“That was your judgy mmmh,” she says, batting your hand away from her face to look at you straight. “Last time I heard it was when I showed you that top I bought last month.”

Despite yourself, you crack at the memory of the flouncy pink thing she’d shown you with an awkward, self-aware smile. You’d been working out how to gently tell her to burn it when she’d figured out the tone of your hum and thrown it off in front of you with a whispered, “what was I thinking?” 

Now, your tilted lips turn down at May’s solemn expression, her eyes shiny. 

You shuffle closer, tucking the blanket around the both of you gently, cocooning your legs in together. “He hurt you, last time. Used you.” 

She chews her lip. “That’s what boys do.”

“May-”

“I know you think what happened with Andy was bad, but you’ll learn, that’s just how they are. They need a little more forgiveness than girls, and some of them are worth it.”

You feel the beginning of the argument she might not be quite past. “Andy didn’t really like me, May. He only wanted-”

“The same thing they all want. The only thing they all want.”

Your heart aches for her. “That’s not true.”

“You think it’s not true right now, but when you hold out on Munson the way you did with Andy, you’ll see that it is.”

You fiddle with your fingers then, wondering if you should tell her. The guilt of not sharing that you’d started seeing Eddie prickles along the back of your neck. Your knee starts to bounce, and May blinks at you, just as attune to the meaning of your expressions. “Well, with Eddie-”

“Please, please, tell me you haven’t fucked Eddie Munson.”

“No. I mean, not yet but,” you begin, fiddling with your skirt. “Like, we’ve done, y’know, other stuff.” You glance at her shocked face, worry rising. “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Why would I tell anyone something that would literally ruin what’s little is left of your reputation? You wouldn’t let Andy do anything but you’ve been seeing the freak for a few weeks and you’re, what, sitting in his dirty van giving him hand jobs?”

“Oh my god, May!”

“What? What am I supposed to think?”

You shake your head, tense your hands in your clothes. “It’s not like that with Eddie.” Your mind is awash with shiny brown eyes, soft pink cheeks, Eddie’s voice tickling your neck. “I don’t worry about anything, with him. It’s fun.”

“It’s fun.”

“It’s like, I thought sex was something a boy would do to me, something I’d have to let him do. With Andy, it was like if he took me on dates, it was what he would get in return,” you say, fiddling with the blanket. “But with Eddie it’s like,” you hum, hating how awkward this all sounds, so unused to talking about sex yourself, so used to hearing it from other, experienced, confident people. “We go on dates together, and talk together. And then with the, y’know, sexual stuff, we’re doing it…together.”

“But not really doing it, right?”

“No. But my point is,” you continue, grabbing her hand, clasping it in both of yours. “I know I don’t really know anything about boys, and I know you’re not Eddie’s biggest fan. But even though it’s not been long, I think he’s proof that, maybe, sometimes, boys aren’t what either of us thought. And if you really like Liam, then maybe he deserves your forgiveness. But I really, really don’t think he does if he hasn’t made you think twice about what all boys want. And maybe if you found somebody like Eddie-” She makes a face, but you ignore it. “I mean, somebody who doesn’t ask you to forgive them all the time. I think that would be better.”

“Well, I can tell you right now, I don’t want an Eddie.” You press your lips together, listen to her sigh. “But you’re also…probably, maybe right about Liam.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, May. I mean, to apologise when you happened to be at the same bar! If he was really sorry, he should have come to see you with flowers and everything. He probably just saw you, all pretty, and realised what a dunce he’d been.”

She smiles a little at the vitriol in your voice, usually so soft and quiet. “I missed you.”

You almost flinch. “I’ve been here.”

“You stopped sitting with me at lunch.” 

“I…” You close your mouth, shrug instead. 

“I know it’s partly my fault. I was angry, so I stopped defending you. But then, I mean, you just gave up.” 

“I just- Some of the cheer girls are so intimidating, I never know what to say to them.”

“But you don’t try.” Your heart is sore, the guilt of knowing you’ve made life a little more difficult for her. “Listen, if you want to date Eddie Munson, I can be okay with that. I am okay with that.” She nods, seemingly trying to convince herself. “But will you just try, a little more, with the cheer girls? You don’t have to defend your relationship all the time, but maybe just try talking to them about something else? You could come on our next trip!” 

Your toes curl at the thought. “I don’t know.” 

“Please? We can’t let a boy come between us.” You wonder what she’d say if she knew how hard Eddie seems to try not to come between you. “I like Heather, even though she abandoned us. And I like the cheer girls. But I love you. You’re my best friend.”

“I love you, May. It won’t change.”

“So you’ll try?”

You chew the inside of your lip, give her a little nod that has her breaking out into a smile. “Okay. Okay, great.”

You try not to think about exactly what you’ve just compromised on while you finish her make up. May sits, silent and smiling while you sweep dark eyeliner across her lids, brush mascara over her long lashes.

“There, all done.” You love this bit. May turns to the floor length mirror beside you and grins at her reflection, her pretty eyes bordered by soft pastels from your new palette. It sends a warmth through you that you’d never admit to. Knowing you’re good at this, that even the cheer girls who think you’re weird admire the way you’ll do their make up at competitions. “It’s cool, right?”

“I love it,” she breathes, shifting closer to the mirror enough that the warm throw pulls from the tops of your legs, leaving your thighs chilly. “Just one last question. You’re not gonna play that Satanist game, right?”

Your brain short circuits, having thought you’d just agreed that you wouldn’t have to explain yourself. “Um, It’s really not what you think.” 

The scene plays out in your mind. Eddie, his lips on yours, your hands tangled in his hair, letting you tilt your hips to rub yourself over his thigh, suddenly pulled away from you with a gasp. He’d thrown himself from the bed dramatically, holding his open jeans up by the waistband. You’d watched him, breathless and warm, while he scrambled for a pen before writing in his D&D notebook and looking up at you in excitement. “I just thought of a really cool way to lure them into this whole cave thing I’ve been planning. Shit. They’re so fucked.” Before you could consider being offended that that’s what he’d been thinking about while kissing you, your legs were over his shoulders, his lips were smiling at your thigh. 

You can’t help your fond laugh. “Eddie’s such a dork about it. Last week-” You pause at her expression, realising that May probably doesn’t want to hear that story. You clear your throat. “They just pretend to be fantasy characters.” Witches over a cauldron, Princesses sharing a Kingdom. “Like we used to do, sorta.”

“Yeah, when we were kids.”

You have to swallow the lump that brings up to your throat. To hear her dismissal of the time you’ve been daydreaming about since you walked through her front door. “It’s not Satanist.”

“But you’re still not going to play it, right?”

“No,” you say, feeling cold. “I don’t think I’d be very good at it, anyway.”

She watches you for a second, but says nothing before grabbing the eyeshadow palette from the floor beside you. “Let me try, then. Get you all glammed up for making s’mores later.”

You smile with closed lips, let your eyes fall shut. You have to ignore the pang in your heart, the reminder that some things are entirely different from when you were seven. 

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

“You know, I kinda thought there’d be more trembling.” Eddie’s breath tickles your ear as he whispers, again when he blows cool air on your neck just to see you wriggle a little while you look up at him, wide eyed. His pale face is illuminated only by the screen at the front of the room, but you can still see the mischief in his eyes, in the barely there turn of his smile. “I was told that taking a pretty girl to a scary movie would have you grabbing my thigh in pure terror. That you’d need me to comfort you with my masculinity.” 

You just about fight off the laugh, still glad that you are sequestered together in the back row when a soft amused noise escapes your throat. On screen, the newly transformed and aptly named Evil Ed laughs maniacally. The special effects and practical make up are impressive, but the whole thing has enough of a teen movie vibe that you’ve been about as scared as you were watching Kevin Bacon stuck on a tractor yesterday. 

“You and your masculinity should have picked a scarier movie.” You feel the flutter of nerves that accompanies teasing Eddie back, still always a little worried that it will come out wrong. The answer of Eddie stifling his laughter, eyes crinkling at the sides, has the butterflies scattering. 

“Noted,” Eddie whispers, cheeks dimpled. It strikes you how close he is now, his breath spreading over your cheeks. He leans down more, his nose at your temple, his lips pressing soft to the skin beside your eye. You shut both, breath shaking as Eddie’s mouth leaves a handful of kisses down your cheek to the corner of your mouth. There, he feels you twitch, and his eyes open to find you tense in your seat, fingers curled in your sleeves. 

You are fighting the urge to turn and check the rest of the row, the whole room, to make sure nobody is watching. The image of an attendant appearing with a flashlight taunts you, the thought of being escorted out of the theatre in shame. You open your mouth, trying to work out what to say, but Eddie just smiles at you. His hand finds yours, fingers tangling together in a gentle squeeze. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, licking his lips quickly. “M’sorry, baby.” 

You watch him lean back in his seat, face set in contentment to be sitting with you and feeling your palm against his. You’d been worried for a second there, that he might be angry with you, or that you might have to explain your worries until he understood. But it’s Eddie. 

You stare at his profile, the soft curls the brush his face, his pouty lips, and find you really, really want to kiss him, here and now. Eddie’s your boyfriend, you remind yourself with a shiver of happiness. Teenage girls have been kissing their boyfriends in the backs of movie theatres since the projector was invented, so why, why, shouldn’t you kiss yours?

You rub at the sleeve of your cardigan with your free hand, letting yourself have the comfort of looking around you quickly to make sure there really isn’t anyone else in this row, or even the one in front. With your eyes closed tight, you remind yourself that the boy who ripped your tickets looked about fifteen, not quite dedicated enough to this job to search the rows looking for kissing teenagers with an invasive flashlight. 

Pressing your knees together, you cuddle into Eddie’s side, smell his two-in-one shampoo and his aftershave and his skin. You press a kiss to his cheek, feel a little scratch of early stubble against your lips. His head turns, eyes scanning over your face. “We don’t have to, sweet thing.”

“I know.” You nod, tilting your chin up in petition. “Please?”

Eddie watches you for a second, giving you time to back out before he leans down to press his lips to yours. It’s a chaste thing; so quick that he has your mouth following him when he pulls away to make sure you’re still happy to kiss him here. Eddie breathes a soft laugh that has your stomach twisting, then his hand is covering your cheek. You feel his breath, your eyes close, and he’s kissing you. 

Eddie’s mouth is warm, but it tastes like blue raspberry slushy; sweet and sharp. At the first lick of his tongue against your lips, you feel a soft noise wanting to escape your throat, but it’s beaten back swiftly by the remaining fear that has your heart racing even as Eddie’s thumb smooths a gentle caress over your cheek. Underneath that is a new giddiness. The feeling that you’ve pushed past something, overcome a fear, however small. And to be doing this, making out with your boyfriend at the back of a movie theatre, like other girls have done.

Your arms find his shoulders, hands clasped together behind him, and Eddie smiles to your lips, just barely pulls away. His thumb stretches to rub your swollen bottom lip. “My brave girl.”

You shiver when he kisses you again, your toes curling in your sneakers. You think you could live on Eddie’s praise. Every pretty girl, smart girl, good girl he gives feels like it’s designed to leave you wanting to crawl onto his thighs, or else sit between them. Eddie’s mouth, intent on yours, wet enough that it feels like the start of something he definitely won’t finish in the back row of screen three, has you remembering how free he can be with his praise when your mouth is on him.

You weren’t expecting to like it so much, but thinking about the weight and taste of him in your mouth makes you squirm as much as the thought of his own tongue where you are most sensitive. You’ve enjoyed it every time since the first moment you spent looking up at him from between his thighs. Watching Eddie fight to keep his eyes on you, mess his own hair up when he forces himself not to take yours in his fist and push you down. His voice, desperate and breathy, coaxing you to try and take him just a little deeper, sweet thing. The quick hot flash of degradation when he taps his cock against your cheek or your tongue before pressing inside.

There is even something pleasant about the lasting ache in your jaw afterwards. The feeling that you’re willing and wanting to do something that hurts to make Eddie feel good is a sick satisfaction you're not yet used to.  

Cinema speakers fill the room with a swelling, dramatic soundtrack. A girl screams, a monster cries out in pain, no doubt making everyone else in the room jump in terror and shake with anticipation for how the whole thing will end. You can hear it, but only just, so firmly in the world of Eddie-Eddie-Eddie. 

Eddie has the beats of the movie memorised already, pulling away from you with a soft gasp just as the opening notes of the music over the end credits begin, a little line of spit connecting your lips until Eddie makes one last move to lick it away. 

The lights come up seconds later, the first groups of people standing to leave. They walk past you and Eddie, both breathless and dishevelled, without a second glance. Under the new lighting, Eddie’s cheeks are now clearly pink. It warms you from the inside out to know that you did that.

You feel the need to be close to Eddie as you leave, grasping onto his hand with both of yours when your jackets are on and he’s guiding you from the theatre. “How’d you like the movie?” He asks in the parking lot, dimples deep in his cheeks.

You hide your face in his arm, feeling that strange new embarrassment crawling up your spine. You mumble into the leather of his sleeve. “I hope nobody asks me how it ends.”

“Yeah, hadn’t thought about that.” Eddie opens the door to his van, holding your hand to help you up until you’re settled in the front seat. He leans in through the door with wide eyes. “Hey, maybe we could see it again next weekend?” 

You chew the inside of your lip. “Would I really see the end if we did?” 

His head falls forward, hair following in a wave. When his head tilts back up, one of his eyes is closed. “You figured me out that easy, huh?”

You smile at each other, Eddie looking over your face as you look over his. His big eyes, dark eyelashes, light freckles, sweet nose, plush pink lips. You’ve never seen another boy you could so comfortably describe as pretty.

You think he might walk round to his side, but instead you feel Eddie’s palm, warm at your knee. “So, uh, the thing is,” he rubs a circle with his thumb at the bottom of your thigh. “It’s Wayne’s day off, and most likely if we go to my place he’ll be in the living room watching MacGyver.”

“Oh.”

You feel guilty for being disappointed. Wayne is always polite, never breathes a word of complaint at the fact you seem to be in his home most days. The only inkling of irritation you get is never at you or Eddie. Instead, there is something in the way he drags himself from the trailer every evening, ready to stay up all night at the factory. When you’d asked where he slept, realising that the only bedroom in the trailer was the one decked out with posters and amps, Eddie had shown you the fold out bed in the living room with a close lipped smile. 

He is, more than anyone, due a day off. But you were gearing yourself up for being in Eddie’s bed tonight, trying to prepare the least awkward way of asking him. 

“And I’m happy to just hang out with you, sweet thing, you know that.” His hand squeezes, even the metal of his rings warm from his skin. “So we can go back to mine and watch MacGyver with the old man, or I could try to teach you some guitar again?” 

That’s tempting, certainly. You doubt sitting between Eddie’s legs with his arms around you, guiding your hands over his acoustic guitar was the most effective teaching method, but you certainly preferred it to any alternative. 

“But if you wanted,” Eddie continues. “Only if you wanted, I could maybe drive us to the quarry or something?” Eddie blinks, tucks some of his hair behind his ear with his free hand. “It’s, uh, quiet.”

Your heart beats a little faster, you can hear the sudden rush of it in your ears. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asks, in that sweet way of his, wanting to make sure you’re not just acquiescing to everything he suggests. 

“Sounds good, I mean.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Belt on, sweet thing.” He gives your knee one last squeeze while you pull the belt over your front, then pushes away from the frame of the door. He taps a quick rhythm under the window when it’s closed, grins at you through the glass. You watch him jog round to the other side, hair flying out behind him, and wonder if every single thing he does will make you want him more. 

You sit in companionable silence while Eddie drives, feeling that soft comfort you only get with a few people, knowing that he’s not waiting for you to speak. You look out the window, watch the shops and gas stations disperse into houses which in turn give way to trees. All of them appear more as streaks of colour than clear pictures with the way Eddie drives, like he’s being judged on time. 

“Hey, can I play you something?” 

You turn from the window, taking a second to fully register the question before you hum a positive noise. Eddie’s right hand reaches out to turn on the stereo, the sudden attack to your ears of wailing guitar making you jump until he turns it down all the way with a sheepish smile, a murmured, “sorry.”

You watch Eddie’s hand, pale and lithe, as he skips through tracks. The metal chain that adorns his wrist is twisted a little at the leather clasp, and you reach to straighten it out with your thumb and first finger. When he’s found the right track, he turns it back up a touch, wiggles his fingers until you grab his hand. An urgent rhythm fills the van, the tell-tale guitars of all Eddie’s music, and he sighs, leaning back into his seat with a grin. 

“Hear the rime of the ancient mariner, see his eye as he stops one of three, mesmerises one of the wedding guests. Stay here and listen to the nightmares of the sea.”

Something clicks.

“Oh, that’s a Coleridge poem!” You lean forward to turn it up further with your free hand, trying to concentrate on the words. It tells the whole story from the lyrical poem you’ve had a copy of since you took an interest in the romantics when you were fifteen; a mariner who kills an albatross and is blamed for the resulting misfortune by everyone on his ship. 

“I knew you’d know it. My smart girl.” Eddie is the picture of pride, eyes crinkled at the sides. “I was reading a Steve Harris interview - he, uh, writes most of Iron Maiden’s songs? And he mentioned the reference and I just thought, you know, you might think it was cool.”

“I do.” You picture Eddie, soft and comfy in his bed, flicking through a magazine. You imagine him reading about his favourite thing, and a spark lighting in his head relating to you. Something that made him excited to share it with you. “Thank you, Eddie.”

He shrugs, like it doesn’t mean anything, but his cheeks are blooming with pink. You can’t say anything else, for fear of blurting out every thought running through your head. 

You listen in silence, trying to decide how you want to ask him. Every way to say it feels awkward and wrong. Fuck me, take me, have sex with me. You picture asking Eddie to make love and feel a mix of yearning and nausea. By the time you reach the quarry, you have been playing with the ring on Eddie’s right hand, feeling the smooth stone, twisting it round his finger, for a good five minutes.

Eddie steals his hand from you while he parks by the trees opposite the quarry, pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing them on the dashboard before reaching out to let you take hold of his hand again. The easy quiet is gone. You can feel him waiting for you to speak. Your mind screams at you to remain silent, hating the thought that you might risk humiliation with Eddie. 

“Will you look at me, baby?” Eddie pulls your hands from between you. You follow it with your gaze, watch him press a kiss to your knuckles before you meet his eyes. "I really didn't mean to, you know, imply anything by bringing you here."

You shake your head emphatically. “I know. You’d never.”

Eddie breathes a little sigh from his nose, looking relieved. You think he has to be the sweetest boy ever born, and then you can’t help yourself. Eddie makes a soft happy noise when you bring your face to his, lets you kiss his soft bottom lip. He licks softly at yours, so you open your mouth to let him in, holding back a whine and reaching up to play with the collar of his denim vest; the material rough and familiar in your fingers. 

Eddie pulls from you, licks his lips, and breathes, "I can't get enough of that." 

"Mm?"

"The way you grab at me when you get a little shy."

Your eyes widen, processing the reminder that your silly little habits are not as inconspicuous as you might wish to believe. Of course Eddie has noticed the way you fiddle with his hands, his rings, his hair, his clothes, the second you feel an uptick in the pace of your heart. But then, Eddie just said he likes it. 

"S'not annoying?" 

“Not for me! They call me Eddie the stress toy, you know. People used to come for miles around to give me a squeeze."

You laugh at his attempt at an earnest face. "Used to?" 

"Yeah, well, you got exclusive rights, these days." Eddie says, tilting his head with a touch of endearing shyness. “What kinda idiot would I have to be, not to like my girl touching me all over?”

You want him, want him, want him.

You press your heated face to his shoulder, still playing with the frayed denim of his collar while you mumble into the vest. “Eddie?” You feel the vibration of his answering hum against your cheek. “I want-” You shake your head, as if you could bury yourself into his clothes. “Can we-” You turn your face, looking at the seat behind, all the space there. 

Eddie strokes at your waist. “You wanna, uh, get in the back?”

At your quick nod, Eddie clasps your cheek with his warm hand. He tilts your head, kisses you soundly. “Stay right there.” 

Eddie jumps from the van, legs swinging, and jogs round to your side to open the door for you. “Princess,” he says, offering you his hand with a flourish. You giggle, jumping down towards him and letting him lead you round to the back of his van like a gentleman. Still keeping up the routine, he opens the back door and gestures with a bow before helping you up. 

The back is a scene of amps and wires, a bass drum with CORRODED COFFIN scrawled over the skin. Luckily there is space enough for the two of you, so you settle yourself in the middle, surrounded by enough little pieces of Eddie that the back of this van feels a little like home. When you look up, Eddie’s still outside, staring in at you.  

You press your knees together, turn them to the side. “Eddie?”

“Yeah-” his voice breaks. He tries to hide it with a cough, clearing his throat and giving his chest a couple taps with the side of his fist. “Yeah,” he repeats, deeper now, as he climbs up after you. When the doors are closed, Eddie shuffles towards you, half squatting. “So, you’re happy with the carriage, Princess?” You nod, throat tight when Eddie kneels down in front of you. “That’s good.” Something in his face changes, a spark of excitement in his dark eyes. “You wanna lay back for me?” 

The space between your legs pulses. “Mm.”

“Here,” he says, pulling off his jacket and rolling it up into a makeshift pillow. You lean back and he leans in to place it below your head, face above yours while you settle into the soft leather. His hair tickles your cheeks until he tucks it back, staring down at you. Your heart, your body, screams at you, ask him, ask him, ask him. Eddie kisses your neck quickly, shakes his head like he’s emptying out a thought. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had this dream.”

Again, ask him, ask him, ask him.

“Eddie,” you start, mind caught between the worry of how this will go and giving in to the gentle fuzziness of Eddie’s hands rubbing gently at your waist. You swallow, look to his eyes, then his forehead. “Will you-” The words catch, leaving you with a warm face and eyes squeezed closed in embarrassment. 

Eddie hums, gifts your cheeks his lips. His nose brushes the side of your face, and he murmurs. “Anything you want, pretty. Let me hear it, mm? ”

It’s Eddie, you tell yourself. From the first time you spoke to him, he’s never judged you for anything. He won’t judge you now. It’s Eddie, you repeat in your head. My Eddie. 

“I’ve never, um-” Your toes curl at the clear nerves in your voice, the beating of your heart that you swear he must be able to hear. “Nobody’s ever- Mmh.” 

“It’s just me,” Eddie says, thumb at your cheek. “It’s only me, sweet girl. Wanna know what you’re thinking.”

“I think,” you sigh, let some of the nerves out with it. “I think you’re beautiful, Eddie.” He blinks, surprised, but gives you a sweet smile when you touch gently at his pink cheek, feel the beginning of bristle under your finger. “And I want you. I mean, I want you to be first.” And second, and third, and every time after.

You stare at each other, breath heavy in your chest. Eddie’s eyes shine until he blinks it away. “Come- come here,” Even though he says it, he’s the one to lean down to you, giving you a chaste kiss that turns desperate when you reach up to play with his curls. 

Your head swims, relief and anticipation swirling together. A quiet moan escapes you when Eddie’s mouth moves to your jaw, down your neck. “Do you, um, have, like, protection?”

Eddie freezes. His face comes into view, brows furrowed. “Wait. You want me to fuck you right now?”

Oh. You hear the rush of blood in your ears, a ringing noise. You pull your hands from his hair, fingers curling, hands tucked to your chest. You suddenly wish he wasn’t on top of you, wish you could hide your face from him. Your head starts working overtime, supplying all the things he’s no doubt thinking about you now. You think of Erin, writing on the bathroom wall. Slut. Desperate. Whore.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft. Eddie presses his pointer finger to your temple, gives it a playful rub. “Are you doing that thing you said you do? Lying there convincing yourself you’ve fucked something up?”

A little part of you resents that he nailed it down so quickly, but you nod, blinking away the first bubbling tears, staring at the collar of his Metallica shirt rather than his face. “I just thought you’d want to.”

Eddie makes a soft noise at the back of his throat. “C’mere.” He pushes himself up from the floor of the van, grabs your hand to pull you with him. You end up curled at his side, knees just resting on the side of his thigh, his arm tucked around your shoulder as he leans you both against the back of the seats. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fidgety even as Eddie is rubbing at your shoulder softly. 

“Course I want to,” he says, leaning into you. “I wanted you on that picnic table. I want you all the time.”

That soothes you a little, enough that your right hand peeks out from your sleeve to play with the hem of his shirt. But your sensitive heart still throbs, tentative and sore. “So, why…?”

“I- Shit. Give me a minute.” Eddie hugs you tight for a second, then shuffles across the floor of the van, practically launching himself out of the back doors with a practised ease that makes you smile despite yourself. You can’t see him from here, but you hear him outside, the passenger door opening and closing behind you. When he returns, he’s got that metal lunch box he carries around with him. A different kind of confusion blooms when he sits next to you and opens it, rummaging through the little plastic bags of illicit substances. He pulls out a wad of rolled bills, a little chunkier than when you’d bought weed from him in the woods that first day.

“Wanna know what this is for?” Eddie asks, looking unusually serious when you glance at him. He opens his mouth then closes it again, eyes fixing on where he is thumbing at the band holding the bills together. “I thought you might ask me, eventually. Hoped you would, at least.” He breathes a laugh, pings the elastic. “So I’ve been saving up, you know?”

“Saving up?”

Eddie nods, turns his wide gaze to you with a tilted head. “Wanted to take you somewhere nice. Buy you dinner, something other than a burger or a pizza slice. Get a room at a hotel, with a big comfy bed. Thought I could show you-” He twitches, eyes flickering away from your face and back again. He swallows, shrugs. “S’like I said. I wanna deserve you.”

Your tense shoulders slump. Your chest aches. “Eddie,” you whisper, shaking your head. Trying again to blink away tears, you grab the roll of dollars from him, throw it back into that dumb obvious lunchbox. You climb up into his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your wet eyes meet his. “You don’t have to prove anything. You deserve-” Me, whatever you want, everything. Your fingers twitch. You close your eyes tight, ashamed you can’t look at him when you say it. “I think, all the time, about how much I wish I knew you earlier. It’s like, before, I just spent the whole time missing you.” You find it in you to look at him then, gaze at his pretty face; pink, lightly freckled, shiny under his eyes. “I want you, Eddie. I want to be with you wherever you are.”

You stare at each other, listening to the steady rhythm of your breaths until they move in sequence, chests expanding and contracting together. You get that same feeling you got when Eddie held your hand after touching you for the first time, how he listened when you told him about how you blow out of proportion in your head, the way he was angry for you when you recounted how Andy treated you. When Eddie told you that he couldn’t understand you liking him, that people have held him at arm's length for being too much, that he refuses to give up on school, believes wholeheartedly in his dreams. One moment at a time, you are peeling back layers, exposing soft tissue. You are offering each other all your hidden parts, whispering, please look after this with every squeezed hand and kissed cheek. 

Eddie sniffs, wipes his eyes. Seeing his shaky smile, hearing his wet laugh, is better than any soft bed in any hotel.

“That’s good, cause, uh, I really hadn’t saved that much.” You giggle together through lumped throats. “At the rate I was going, you were gonna be waiting till you were forty-five.” You shake your head at him fondly, reaching up to play with the feathers of hair that brush the side of his face. Eddie pulls you in closer, ducks his chin. “But I still can’t take your virginity in the back of my van, sweet thing,” he says. “It just wouldn’t be right. You should be in a bed, at least. And if you’re happy for it to be mine? I’ll just make sure my sheets are washed.”

You rub the soft ends of his hair between your fingers. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” His hand comes to your cheek, helping you look at him. He must be able to feel the warmth of your face in his hand, but you lean into his palm anyway. When Eddie kisses you, it’s a gentle thing, a promise. 

When his tongue peeks out to lick into your mouth, it’s a request you’re happy to fulfil. Eddie groans at the taste of you, the sound of it registering across your whole body. Your hips roll subtly, and you feel the quirk of his lips. 

Eddie sighs into your mouth. “My pretty girl wants me to fuck her in my bed, mm?” 

The increasingly familiar zing of pleasurable shame zips up your spine. The air around you shifts, crackling like the split second of awareness before an electric shock. “Yeah, Eddie.” 

“But you need to be touched right now. So desperate,” he murmurs, the word that had mocked you minutes ago, now a warm tease. “So desperate you wanted to take my cock for the first time right here. In my van, parked by the side of the road.”

You shake your head, because you’re not really at the side of the road. Eddie was right when he said it’s quiet; nobody comes here. You’re about as likely to be found by the quarry as you are in his room. Eddie’s eyes light up with dark amusement, his hand drifting to the back of your neck. The pressure of his fingers there makes your hips twitch, your body recognising the signs, the promise of what’s to come when Eddie’s palm starts holding your head up. 

“No?” He asks, tilting his head, a teasing pout finding his pink lips. “You sayin’ I didn’t hear your right?”

Your toes curl. “No.”

The lines that run from the sides of Eddie’s nose to the corners of his lips deepen. “No, I did hear you right?”

“Eddie,”

“Ahh, yeah,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you lie back. He reaches out for his jacket, still rolled up on the floor, and places it back under your head. “That’s the good stuff.” You open your legs for him, let him settle his body on top of you, feeling the hardening length of him through denim and cotton at the apex of your thighs. Eddie licks his lips, tucks his hair back with a breathy laugh. “Shit. You got me thinking about it, now.”

Eddie sinks his face to your neck, the warm sting of his tongue making the mess between your legs increasingly hard to ignore. His big hand pulls at the hem of your skirt, lifting it up to your tummy. He glances down your body, eyes closing tight at the pale blue cotton cupping your mound, dark and sticky where it’s soaked up your wetness. “Wanna feel your little pussy on my cock so fucking bad. I can’t tell you how-” He cuts off a groan at the first run of his fingers over the wet material. “Christ. How many times I’ve thought about it.” 

You blink at him slowly, mind drifting into the calm of knowing Eddie’s going to make sure you both feel good. Your hips tilt naturally, helping him rub the curve of his finger over your clit through soaked cotton, then wiggling to help him more when his fingers hook into the elastic to pull them down your legs. Once they’re past your sneakers, he holds them in his hand for a second, rubbing his thumb along their centre. When you tilt your hips, pussy barely catching the rough denim over his crotch, his nostrils flare. “Don’t distract me, I’m holding precious cargo.”

He seems to settle on where to put them, draping the cotton over the top of one of the amps rather than letting them touch the floor. You giggle at his careful consideration, and Eddie’s dimples press into flushed cheeks. 

“You thought about it?” Eddie asks, watching your face when his thumb sweeps over your clit, noting the sensitivity before he starts up with tight circles that have you keening. “Thought about me inside you?”

He has to feel the new wetness between your legs that comes with your desperate nod. In truth, you’ve thought about it almost endlessly. You know it can hurt, have heard enough stories of virginity loss from the girls at the cheer table to know that it probably will. But when you imagine being close to Eddie that way, the only thing you can conjure up is the feeling of his fingers inside, how much further you’d have to stretch to take Eddie’s cock, the one that makes your jaw ache. Maybe the prospect should give you pause, but thinking about how Eddie would guide you through it sends excited shivers down your spine.

“Yes, Eddie.”

“You wanna feel my cock now?” He breathes, watching confusion flicker over your blissed face. “Know you like riding your pillow, sweet thing,” he says, your face hot at the memory of telling him how you masturbate. “But I think you might like rubbing up on me a little better.” 

Your clit twitches. You clench inside. Eddie either feels or sees the reaction of your body because he’s humming in excitement the next second, leaning down to kiss you, press his tongue to yours until you’re groaning into his mouth. He looks a little manic when he pulls away, hands scrambling with his belt when he throws himself to the side, lying on his back, ready for you to climb up on him. 

Without thinking, your hands catch his, stopping him from pulling at the loop. You squeeze his palms. “Let me?”

In answer, he moves his hands from his jeans, letting them rest flat across his stomach. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to sit on his thigh and grind against the denim just to get some instant relief. You reach out to the side of his head, grab his jacket and slide it to the back of his head. Eddie tilts his head up, lets you position it just so. You check, “comfy?” and he nods. 

Satisfied, you return to Eddie’s belt. The action of pulling at the leather is excitingly familiar to you now. The button of his jeans comes next, then his zip humming as you pull it down. His boxers are a soft check, the waistband positioned just under the first tufts of dark hair that lead to where Eddie is filling out the material. You think about his hands teasing your clit through your panties, mimicking him by brushing a knuckle over the mound peeking out from his zipper. It’s enough to make Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut, his fingers twitch. 

You hook your fingers into the elastic, start pulling them down. Eddie sighs in relief when his cock meets the air, hard enough to rise from his underwear the second he’s free. You imagine the stretch of him again, and clench down on emptiness. Eddie’s cock is a pretty pink all over. The furled skin at the top is a little shiny, and you know if you grasped his cock and pulled that skin back, his head would be wet with excitement. 

The thought strikes to just lean down and take him in your mouth, surprised to find that that’s already something of a comfort zone for you. But your clit throbs like it’s protesting, so you shuffle on your knees, feeling the sticky spread of your cunt when you open your legs to bracket his hips. You reach down, let yourself stroke Eddie’s cock just to hear the soft noise it draws out from his throat. You rub your thumb over that sensitive spot below his head, press his cock down until his length rests over the hair above it and the bottom of his soft tummy. 

With your free hand, you drift your hand between your legs, letting your fingers drift over your clit. You make a V with your fingers at the top, splitting your cunt open for him and feel a bone deep certainty that Eddie is the only person who could watch you doing this without real shame casting its shadow. 

“C’mon,” Eddie says, getting impatient. “Sit on it, use my cock how you want, just let me feel you.” 

Nodding, body instinctively wanting to follow his direction, you settle yourself on his cock. Eddie groans at the warm slick that surrounds him, hands immediately moving to your hips to help guide you. Your entrance flexes at the base of him, and he tries to pull you straight down like he could find more space between your lips for his girth. “Jesus Chri-”

Eddie’s words cut off with a choke when you glide yourself forward, hearing your wetness spread along his dick. You whine at the feeling, Eddie’s cock stimulating not just your twitchy button but your soft, clenching hole. Shifting back, your legs twitch when his head, exposed as the surrounding skin is pulled back by the clasp of your lips, catches just right against your clit. A few more blissful drags, and you are whining, hands flat against Eddie’s chest, fingers pulling at the softness of his shirt. 

You wiggle your hips, close to hysteria at how good it feels to have Eddie this close. Eddie grins up at you, the pride on his face making you all the more desperate. He looks overwhelmingly pretty like this, hair fanned out across his jacket, lips wet and swollen from his constant licking and your own kisses. His neck, as blushed as his face and his cock, is exposed and tense. His dark eyelashes that flutter every time his head drags over your clit and emerges from between your lips. His eyes, dark in the centre where his pupils have swallowed up mahogany, flicker back and forth between your face and where his cock vanishes and appears again, enveloped and released by the wet split of your pussy.

“You feel me now, mm?” He says, sounding hurried like he’s trying to get it out before his voice is swallowed up by groans. “Haven’t even taken three of my fingers, but you thought you could just lie back and take my cock?” You bounce a little when his head flicks your clit this time, torturing the swollen button with him a little longer. “Couldn’t’ve done it right, not how my desperate girl needs it. Just wanna make you feel good, you know?” 

“Feels good,” you murmur, wiggling your hips to feel his cock flex and shift over all the tender skin where you are most sensitive. “You always feel so good, Eddie.”

“Yeah? That’s it, that’s it.” Eddie’s fingers dig into your hips, no doubt leaving you with marks that will be satisfyingly tender by morning. “Fuck. Fuck, baby, I love you-r pretty voice.” He swallows, eyes now fixed on your pleasured face. “Love when you talk to me.” 

“Eddie, m’gonna-” You start to shake, and his hands grab at your hips, helping you keep moving along him even as the stimulation edges towards painful. 

“That’s it, cum on me. Let me feel it.”

Your body spasms, letting yourself move only with Eddie’s pushing and pulling as the throb of your clit spreads through your body, sends tingles up your spine. You feel your clit numb for a second, know enough now about your own body what that means for the intensity of your orgasm. You sit on that precipice, gasping in air. 

Pleasure bursts, has you shaking and moaning and, unbeknownst to you, repeating, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” while the boy beneath you chases his own high, wanting to finish before you’re too oversensitive to keep your perfect warm pussy on him. 

Bending his knees, he grinds up into you, helping you slide along him. When he pulls your hips just so, and the tip of him barely catches the soft entrance of your cunt, Eddie finally cries out beneath you. The almost violent twitch of his cock between your legs makes you squirm, picturing that happening inside you. Eddie’s cum, thick and white, lands across his stomach in droplets, the last rope clinging to the tip of his cock in a way that, shamefully, makes your mouth water.

Sensitive, twitching, you rise from his body. Your shaking thighs fail you almost immediately, and you fall back on your butt between his open legs, a hand coming to cover your stimulated pussy like it needs protection. Eddie sits up, wipes his own hand across his stomach and draws his cum into his mouth with an ease that might surprise you if you hadn’t seen Eddie casually taste his own cum just about every time he’s orgasmed in front of you. 

This is what you meant, when you told May that being with Eddie is fun. Sex has always been something with disclaimers attached. Something to be enjoyed, but not too much. Something to get lost in, but not enough that you cross the line into acting slutty. It seemed to you like a tightrope nobody had shown you how to walk. 

And then there’s Eddie, who just watched you cum so hard on top of him that you immediately fell on your ass, and he’s grinning at you like he’s never been so proud of anyone in his life. “Now tell me that wasn’t way better than your pillow.” He reaches out for you, and you let him pull you into his arms, rest your head against his chest. You watch, warm in your face, while he tucks his softening cock, still covered in you, back into his boxers. “You feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, tracing the blue lines of lightning on his shirt with your finger. Your thighs twitch again, and you laugh together, soft and breathless. You settle into that post high afterglow, letting yourself be comforted by how surrounded by Eddie you are. His arm around you, his chest under your head. You can hear the way his heartbeat shifts from an intense rhythm to a steady beat under your ear. There’s another sudden uptick just before he speaks.

“I was missing you, too.”

You shift, look up at him from his chest, find him staring at the ceiling. 

“Sometimes my life has felt like being dealt one bad hand after another.” His gaze shifts then, eyes finding yours. “Now, I think, maybe I was saving up for something really good without realising.” 

Eddie Munson; town freak, rumoured Satanist, bad news for sweet girls like you, on the floor of his van, arms wrapped tight around you, says; “You’re a lifetime of good luck, sweetheart.”

And then you know. 

Next Part

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #tmyg

[horse-girl-anthy]

Mikage: Boy of the Black Rose

I've long struggled to write about Mikage, who I find to be an intriguing yet elusive character. or rather, his character is understandable--his motives and feelings are communicated clearly enough--but his narrative is one of the most inexplicable in RGU. thinking it over tonight, I put my finger on one aspect of the Black Rose arc which I previously didn't know how to approach: specifically, Mikage's relationship with the Boys of the Black Rose.

the boys act as a kind of collective character, a mass of faceless people who whisper in dark corners. since RGU is about social reality, it often uses extras to deliver exposition or set the mood. the Shadow Girls are meta characters, existing somewhat outside the narrative, but regular schoolgirls at Ohtori can serve a similar purpose. they might demonstrate that Touga and Saionji are considered the hottest boys in school, or gossip about Ruka and Shiori's recent breakup.

the Boys of the Black Rose are slightly different, maybe a little closer to the Shadow Girls. rather than acting as bit characters in the larger world of Ohtori campus, I believe their existence is contigent on Mikage. while this could be put in various ways, in the most straightforward terms, the writers created them to help reflect on Mikage's character.

only one Black Rose Boy is given a face: the first one Mikage (Nemuro) talks to. when Mikage asks not to be called "professor," since they are the same age, the boy replies:

obviously, RGU relies on making its main characters visually distinct from "normal people." Wakaba calls them "special" and resents them. Utena is popular for her specialness, well-liked; in contrast, Mikage is an outcast for his. for a person to be special or a genius, there must be others for them to stand in opposition to. Mikage is set apart from his peers by his pink hair, by his unique uniform, and by being a professor.

after Mikage is introduced to his new work, the boys begin to gossip about him, saying he knows nothing about what's really going on at Ohtori. towards the end of this conversation, there's a shot of Mikage, and then he actually replies from the future to the gossip they were spreading about him.

this is Mikage's eternal reality: his recollection of the past. even during the "present" of Utena's narrative, he is still walking through Nemuro Memorial Hall, which is why it's still standing, unburned. the Boys of the Black Rose that the audience sees are filtered through Mikage's memory; whether or not the boys really said these things about him is ambigous. it's possible, but the important fact is that Mikage believes they did.

this transpersonal mirroring keeps Mikage trapped, unchanging. he feels himself defined as unable to connect with others, so he keeps away from them. this becomes a self-perpetuating cycle, leaving Mikage a total outcast.

even outcasts, however, are members of society. the Boys of the Black Rose actually have more in common with Mikage than the average Ohtori student. they're all scientists working on the same project. they have much of his coldness, sense of superiority, and intellectualism. the main difference is that they're the in-group.

while Mikage believes himself to be emotionless, it's made clear that his social isolation hurts him. he doesn't want to be set apart, but he doesn't know how to break through the barrier between him and others. it's very easy to do a queer reading of the character, given the way this is conveyed to the audience.

Mikage's fixation on Tokiko and Mamiya is easier to undestand with all this in mind. the world he was living in, occupied by the Boys of the Black Rose, was a cold and alienated one. in contrast, Tokiko has genuine passion, caring for her brother deeply. Tokiko's tears move Mikage, allowing his own buried emotions to break through the surface. but she also reinforces his social isolation; he is equally as hurt by her as he is drawn to her.

this is part of why Mikage is so determined to "defeat" Tokiko; she offered him hope of connection, but he was never able to "win" her, as men so often try to do with women.

Mamiya is something else altogether; a boy, like Mikage and the Black Rose Boys, but altogether different. warm, friendly to Mikage, not intimidated by his intelligence or reputation, and insightful. in a show full of characters obsessed with holding on (to the past, to a person, to their self-image), Mamiya is the only one who can see the wisdom in letting go.

Mikage at first is open to Mamiya's words, preparing to call off their quest for eternal life. but like every character who threatens the system in RGU, he is faced with Akio. in a prototype of the later "End of the World" sequences, Mikage comes across the kissing Tokiko and Akio. this proves to be too much for him; there are some things he can't afford to lose.

the scene has significance to Mikage far beyond disappointment in love. he wanted to create a family with Tokiko and Mamiya; marriage to Tokiko would tie them together "forever." if he could be by Tokiko's side as they lost Mamiya, then at least he wouldn't be alone after his death. but if he's only Tokiko's coworker, when their work is done, he's back to being a computer.

in desperation, Mikage plays into Akio's hands. under contract, he sacrifices the Boys of the Black Rose and burns down the hall that bears his name. when justifying himself to Tokiko, he claims that this act will allow them to attain eternity. in the events of the series, he's still at it: installing Mamiya as the Rose Bride will, after all, make him eternal, even though it's the very kind of eternity Mamiya wanted nothing to do with.

Mikage retreats into delusions on feeling the sting of Tokiko's rejection. though he is the one who betrayed her, he turns it around and feels betrayed himself. going even further, he casts Mamiya as the one who set the fire.

the Boys of the Black Rose are also used to emphasize his inability to face his own actions. throughout the arc, the boys are seen pushing coffins around. however, in episode 23, Mikage takes their place right before he is forced to face the truth about himself.

at the end of the arc, Miki claims that no one was hurt in the the fire, contradicting the previous story of Nemuro Memorial Hall. this possibly indicates that the murders are a figment of Mikage's imagination--the older Tokiko doesn't seem to react to him as if he's a murderer. more than anything, he seems guilty of self-denial and retreat from reality. Tokiko went on to accept Mamiya's death and even mourned for Mikage, while he ignored her in favor of his memories. the fact that he does not recognize her feelings is another aspect of his tragedy.

Mikage, through his fruitless revolution, loses the very things he always wanted. he attempts to throw away his past self, the cocoon of Nemuro hatching into the butterfly that is Mikage. with it, he burns away the boys who rejected him, who embodied the cold world he used to live in. he uses their sacrifice to enshrine Mamiya, idealizing him as the perfect companion. but as Ikuhara said, he was doomed to fail from the start:

Those who reject that place are, conversely, rejected by it as well. This is the nature of systems: the moment you reject them, you are forced to realize that they’re the very ground you’re standing on. Mikage noticed the trick behind the system, and he hurriedly attempted revisions. But the adult who’d created the system just said “Let’s not,” and unilaterally brought the curtain down.

the "trick within the system," is, I think, the fact that it's socially constructed. Mikage believed that on realizing this, he could simply remake the world as he wanted. he was allowed to do so for a time, when it was useful. when he ceased to be useful, he was dispatched with, because while he had operated within the system, he was not in control of it. and beneath his delusions, there was still a reality.

Mikage is the true Boy of the Black Rose: the true ghost, the true sacrifice, living in the desiccated world of a preserved flower. throughout the arc, he takes possession of Ohtori students who suffer from the same afflictions as him, and every time Utena defeats one of his duelists, another part of him is exorcised--another Black Rose Boy burned away. in the end, the only thing left of him is the ruin of Nemuro Memorial Hall, shown briefly in the final episode. he graduates at Ohtori, but only after losing absolutely everything. that seems to be the only way to step into adulthood: naked and shivering, like the day we are born.

#rgu #revolutionary girl utena #commentary

[thewertsearch]

TT: We are like the emissaries to what lies beyond this small bubble in their unfathomable dark foam. TT: Derse skirts its edge, and during the lunar eclipse, we graze it, and that's when their intent for us becomes clear.

Is that it, then? You can only understand Horrorspeak when you're in the Furthest Ring?

If so, it must take nerves of steel to actually try and negotiate with them. We've seen what that place looks like without Bubble protection, and it is not pretty.

TG: what am i supposed to do [...] TT: They will teach you how to navigate the unnavigable. TT: The result should be a map. [...] TG: why TT: To plot a course through the Furthest Ring. TG: plot a course to what

Aradia said Rose would never find the Green Sun - and she was right.

But Rose isn't the only Derse-born Player in the session.

TG: whats the deal with this thing [...] TT: I don't know that there is a deal with it. [...] TT: It is what it sounds like. TT: A huge sun out in the literal middle of nowhere, and it is bright green. TT: It is simply, TT: The Green Sun.

I feel like Rose is being a little too flippant here. If you're planning on messing with one of the cores of reality, I don't think there's such a thing as too much caution.

The Sun is an enormous, intensely supernatural pseudostar of unknown, possibly unknowable origin. The game taps it to create First Guardians, but we don't know if that's its intended purpose, or if it even has an intended purpose. Unlike everything else in Sburb, it is not duplicated across sessions, doesn't feature in the game's storyline, and is only referenced in a cryptic stone monument buried hundreds of feet under LOLAR.

It's not even in the Medium! It's 'part of Sburb' only in the loosest possible sense, and feels more like something completely foreign to the game that Skaia is just using. Even the Horrorterrors feature more heavily in the game than the Sun.

Rose doesn't seem too curious, but I am. Just what the fuck is this thing? Is it the only one of its kind, or does Skaia draw its power from other enormous structures, hidden deep in oblivion?

TT: It is nearly twice the mass of our universe.

Scaled against every Sburb session, that's actually pretty small.

We know from Doc Scratch's introduction that every planet supporting intelligent life will have a First Guardian. Every universe will have at least one of these, since its creators will want somewhere to live. There are also universes with a surplus of intelligent species - the Alternian Empire has to be conquering someone.

In other words, this Sun is powering, at an absolute minimum, one First Guardian per universe. It's impossible to estimate how many universes there are - but if (as was implied) every intelligent species is destined to spawn sessions, and if even one session on a planet is successful every million years, the numbers get exponential really fast.

From a metaphysical standpoint, 10^50-ish kg just isn't that much. The First Guardians themselves probably have more collective mass than the Sun.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s90 #3040 #Rose could also be using the actual non-observable mass of the universe (since all bets are off at this point re: relativity) #But she still has a number. So the universe is finite #The number of universes should dwarf it by any measure after just a few iterations of session nesting #Really this is all just for fun; even without timeline branching the actual number is probably just infinity - or it may as well be

[wazzappp]

I drew. a lot for this. Also heads up for non RE mutuals this is going to be. confusing for you. I'm going to do my best to annotate and provide context but you are in for a wild ride.

Anyway long ass lore post for how Lisa and Robbie go from fighting to working together in this AU.

In the RE8 cannon all of the Dimitrescu daughters are made at the same time but for the sake of ✨the situations✨ I am going to change that. Lisa lived the longest as a human before being assimilated into the mold with a Cadou (infecting extension of the Megamycite). Technically her 'sisters' are older than her, as they were assimilated a while ago. Lisa has been a member of house Dimitrescu for about 2 years now. This puts her in this. Weird middle child zone. She wants to make her 'family' proud but she's also aware that what makes them proud isn't really the most achievable thing in the world (expecially with Bela to contend with. Older sibling overachiever to the maximum). She's got a certain degree of distance from them and sometimes wonders if she wasn't better off before all of this. Her memories are fuzzy but still there for the most part. She cant remember faces or names but she remembers feelings and situations. She doesen't remember families being like this (she wants OUT).

Chasing prey brought in is fairly standard for her. It's some of the only entertainment she gets. So when she catches Robbie exploring around the castle she has no idea that he's special in any way. He's just some new guy she gets to mess with before eating and DAMN he's FUN. If she didn't know any better she could almost think that he has experience being chased around (he does. he very much so does. all of RE7's worth). What she ALSO doesn't know is that Mother Miranda (big bad. Different from Lady Dimitrescu, who she refers to as 'mother') is planning on using Gabe (who is replacing baby Rose in this) to try and resurrect her dead kid with a 'perfect vessel' and this requires. uh. disassembly (in the base RE8 gameplay the reason Ethan goes to each house is because uhhhhhhhh his infant daughter has been dismembered and stored in jars and he needs to collect them so he can put her back together.... yeah). Robbie intervenes before this can get going and is instead going house to house because if he wants to get out of this stupid fuckass villiage he needs to collect the key components to unlock the gate keeping him in here (i need him to have a reason. to kill everyone. its important to me ok).

When Lisa finds out this random, but fun guy, she's been chasing who she thought was JUST SOME NORMAL GUY killed one of her sisters she mentally goes 'Oh. OH. THERES A CHANCE FOR ME TO GET OUT OF HERE'. That in conjunction with discovering Mother Miranda is planning on FULLY DISMEMBERING A CHILD she uh. Makes some decisions.

What you have to understand about her plans of matricide is that neither Lady Dimitrescu or her sisters can actually really fully die. Sure, their bodies are gone, but their consciousness is stored in the hive mind and they can reform later after gathering their strength. If she has to put her kinda shitty found family in time out for the sake of getting herself out of here + keeping her newly revived conscience clean she's absolutely going to do it.

(fuckin. backgrounds. dialogue. fuck. why can things not just take place inside of the void. DUKE MY BELOVED WE LOVE AND RESPECT DUKE IN THIS HOUSE HES A REAL ONE fuck now I got it in my head that he keeps trying to play matchmaker for them and i need to. go draw that because its too funny not to.)

Lisas plan involves this lab I had her mention in the comic above. It's where Robbie needs to go to synthesize more poison for the dagger of deaths flowers, and SUPPOSEDLY where a medicine that might allow her to go outside again might be (enemies of Lisas type become SIGNIFICANTLY weaker in the cold. She could try to bundle up but its still really not a good idea). She would love to go there herself, but it's in an area of the castle thats exposed to the cold of the outdoors.

The Two of them make a fairly decent team and Lisa finds herself having a LOT more fun hunting with someone else than she does on her own. They balance each other out pretty well; Robbie works primarily with guns so he can watch Lisas back while she's up close wrecking any grunts they run into. It's also pretty helpful having someone who can turn into a swarm of flies for puzzle solving purposes.

After all this Robbies trust for her increases SIGNIFICANTLY. He's still not really sure about her, but she's moved out of the 'active threat' classification into the 'kinda helpful' zone.

Lisa's plan has three ways it could go:

They all fail miserably and get sent to mental and physical time out in the megamycite.

They win and get to go free but either the medicine isn't there or it doesen't work. In which case she's just planning on getting as many coats as possible and Try-or-Die-ing it.

The medicine is there and she actually gets to roam free

Luckily for her, the medicine IS there, it DOES work, and Robbies sense of honor / noticing her usefulness (its hard to wage a one man war on an entire community of mutants ok you cant blame him for appreciating having some ACTUAL HELP for once) all align for the best possible scenario.

The cold does still affect her; her healing isn't as quick as it usually is and her increased strength / speed is a bit reduced, but she can go!! outside!!

She decided to stick with Robbie in getting out of the village as a whole. She doesen't really know what the world outside is like but anything has to be better than here (plus if she stays here she's probably getting shoved into the Megamycite by Mother Miranda PERMENANTLY and that just. wont do).

Also yes Lisa being with Robbie for the rest of his adventures means that she is there for Heisenbergs 'proposal'. She uh. Does not like that much.

this all made. more sense in my head I hope it at least makes a little sense out loud.

#Ive been trying to write this out for 3 hours now. how do fic writers do this shit. HOW. #moose i thought i understood your 'brainworms of a different type'. i was w r o n g #my art #ghost rider re7 au #lisa (ghost rider) #robbie reyes #gabe reyes #sketch #RE!lisa

[metallicaislife]

Okay but like Kirk with a clingy gf is my favorite

Like he seems like he wouldn’t love it, but he’s came to really love it.

Like he hopes that she’ll cling on to his arm while walking,

he brings her along on tour because he knows that it would be hard for her while he’s gone. It would be hard for him too

Every time he sits on the couch, his arms are wide open because he knows that she’ll get right into his arms for a cuddle.

If she doesn’t do these things, he gets so freaking pouty. Like looks at her as if she’s just abandoned him.

If she doesn’t get a hug or a kiss every time he sees her, she becomes pouty.

So they are always on eachother, not in a gross way, just in a loving way.

They end up falling asleep everywhere, cuddled up. Lars has a whole collection of photos of them asleep on the bus, plane, hotel, couch, studio, literally everywhere.

Eventually he just becomes as clingy as her, and it’s so obvious how much they love each other.

OMG ROSE YOU'RE SO RIGHT!!! I FREAKING LOVE THIS!!

at first Kirk would like be flustered a bit, and not in a rude way be like "uhhh can I have some personal space?" Just because he was not used to that much physical touch.

Then like you said, as he grew more accustomed to it, he would just like expect it!!

Sometimes in public he'll have a moment of panic bc he doesn't feel his gf holding on to him so he like looks around, and she's right behind him, "Why aren't you holding one to me?" He'll pout then mutter something about her getting lost if she isn't interlocking pinkies, holding hands, or holding onto his elbow.

OMG LARS ALBUMS ARE GOLD!!! Like not only does he have a gabjillion of these pics they are all in perfectly curated photo albums. He has his copies, but for their anniversary he makes copies to give to Kirk and his gf 🥹

James, Lars and Cliff have timed it, from the time Kirk's gf enters Metallimansion, sets her things down and is in Kirk's lap is less than 5 mins. Her record is 47 seconds. longer if they catch her before she makes it that far. They also have a game of seeing how long they can stall until she gets irritated bc she is touch starved and just needs her Kirk.

Moral of this, such a cute freaking concept and thank you for sending it!!!

like look at that guy, tell me he doesn't like all the sweetest snuggles!!

#isa asks #kirk hammett headcanons #love this #always send asks like this they make me happy :') #metallica imagines #metallica headcanons #metallica x reader #kirk hammett fluff #kirk hammett x reader

[bee-birb]

tails nine theory - sonic prime spoilers - this is a long one

so we established that the prisms have like, mega energy and are way too much power for one person right? like, dread knuckles got a taste of the power from the noplace shard and went mad over it, and thorn rose also went a bit crazy with the boscage maze shard. afterward, she even said that it was far too much power for one person. eggman went wacko trying to get the whole prism initially, though that could have just been eggman being eggman.

my theory is, nine probably never would have gone as far as he did in s3 if he wasn't exposed to the prism. and not just one shard like dread and thorn, mind you. all of them. he had full exposure to all five shards, and was regularly drawing on their power to shape reality with himself as a conduit. first the new yoke shard, then the grim shard, (both in s1), then as the council collected more shards during s2, he was presumably exposed to more prism energy. (though, i think the energy field holding them in the dome would have blocked most of the energy, but you get my point.) that much prism energy could not have been good for his mind, especially because he's still portrayed as rather young in the series. in fact, we only get the ultimate betrayal while nine is in the presence of four of the five shards. thats a lot of power.

because the prism's energy is so strong, and with evidence from thorn and dread that it makes you volatile, nine probably wouldn't have betrayed sonic over the miscommunication. in fact, sonic had mentioned repairing green hill multiple times before, and nine didn't speak up or ask about it. this could be because he was biding his time to get all the shards in order to transform the grim, but he probably would have made at least a sarcastic comment about it. he also leaves the resistance behind after having the new yoke shard in his possession, the same thing that dread does in s2.

over the course of season 3, we can also see the effect of longterm use of prism energy in nine. he gets tired, falling over atop his citadel, and is always mentioning needing more power. this screams that something else is at work in his subconscious. another example is when shadow remarks that it was always all about power. sonic goes to disagree because sonic, but nine agrees. except, i dont think it was all about power initially. it was about building himself a safe haven in the grim. he was originally going to include sonic in his safe haven, too, as evidenced by the hammock and the palm trees they reference in the citadel. it was about finding a place for him to belong- a blank slate for him to start over.

and after the prism is gone, nine gets far more sympathetic and seems to be more himself. this also could be sonic being, yaknow, on the verge of completely falling apart without prism energy, but that doesn't make as much sense. nine was more than ready to extract the energy from sonic in s3e1, and do so mercilessly- after he had used the prism to create the alpha grim bots. are you seeing the pattern? nine gets steadily more unstable, unsteady, and unfeeling as he is exposed to the prism and harnesses its energy through himself.

and i do understand that hurt people hurt people, and the kid is just doing what he can to make himself a home. it makes complete sense to do anything you can to make yourself the safe space that you've never had before. but the fact that he doesn't listen to reason and facts goes completely against nine as a character- he's the logical one. the thinker. he was the first to tell the council that using the prism would cause shatterverse wide decay. and he flat out ignores all that during s3. its not correlative to his character, hence my theory that something deeper is happening with nine.

now, for those of you saying that sonic never had such side effects- he already has prism power in his being. it wouldn't affect him as much as a completely outside source would.

anygays, thank you for reading my rambles and have a good night. remember, its just a theory- a gAME THEORY-

#sonic prime #sonic the hedgehog #tails nine #theory #thats just a theory #a game theory #sonic prime spoilers #sth #headcanon

[kylo-skywalkerr]

It has come to my attention that some people apparently didn't know about the Duel of the Fates script??

Okay so here's some of the official concept art for the original (and better) direction that the sequels were meant to go down.

1. Many cool fights were cut from the script. Kylo was supposed to fight a form of Vader to outline how he's always been in the shadow of expectations that Vader left. The Knights of Ren actually got used for more than just a brief battle. The Knights hunted the Resistance actively, and as seen in the art, it wasn't just Ren or Rey fighting them. In fact, Rey kills them, and it makes her fear that she's slipping to the darkside. Rey runs off as Luke had and goes into hiding so that she doesn't use her teachings to be anything like Kylo. In her fight with Kylo Ren, she's blinded.

2. The story also went a far darker route. Years had passed between the movies. Characters were older, and changes were made.

For example, Rose and Finn get sent away to a First Order labor camp for their crimes against the FO.

While I can't find an image for it, the Resistance also takes fewer prisoners with them. Rigging FO ships to explode if they attempted to escape, disguising bb8 as a FO droid to rob their ships, all that fun stuff that wasn't featured as much in the sequels we got.

My favorite part was that Hux was the chancellor. All of the power he wanted was his, and Kylo was alright relinquishing it. It was proof that they were stronger together, with Hux admiring the force and even having a lightsaber collection of his own. Chancellor Hux wishes he had the force and is frustrated that he doesn't, so he keeps Kylo as a tool to use instead of banishing him from the FO or simply killing him.

The darker aspect comes from what Hux does after the Resistance defeats the First Order. In shame for all that Hux lost, he commits suicide with a lightsaber. Another thing to note is that if you read about it, it's mentioned that the lightsaber was supposed to be purple. The concept art, however, shows a red one, like Kylo's. (I'll have to note this particular fact down for later.)

3. Kylo gets stronger. A Sith holocron guides him to a new master, from whom he learns to drain life from and use force lightning.

Eventually, these teachings are used to kill Kylo's new teacher, bringing him closer to the dark side than he was before, despite the internal conflict still being present.

Kylo was also intended to get a new mask! It may or may not have been intended to be a show of his journey, but imo the concept art seemed interesting enough to note.

4. How Kylo's redemption was handled. While hunting a sith artifact, the artifact senses the light in him and pretty much explodes, leaving him disfigured and severely injured. The locals of the planet, despite knowing who he is, help him recover. Kylo begins to reconsider his actions due to the kindness he was shown and works his way towards redemption.

He still dies, but only when Leia stops him from killing Rey. He sacrifices his life to save her as in the original, making his death the endgame in both scripts.

5. Relationships. Reylo isn't a thing, I think she actually kisses Poe or something at a point. Rose and Finn are canon and at the end of their story have force sensitive children. That could have been in the original if not for Disney's "issue" with them being together. (That's not a story for today)

6. Rey's true name was revealed to be Rey Solana. Not Skywalker.

To conclude, the script was fascinating to me. There was redemption, suicide, new characters, different relationships to explore, and so much potential for a darker yet more interesting story than what we got. Thank you for reading!

Here's some sources if you'd like to read more about it yourself, those were just key things to note about the script!

(And of course, a source for where I got the concept art from)

#I loved the potential so much for this script #btw are you proud of me for not mentioning kylux in this one because you know i wanted to #they were so kylux coded in this script... #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars sequels #kylo ren #general hux #ben solo #duel of the fates script #leia organa #rey skywalker #finn #rose tico #poe dameron #knights of ren