#b/c I’m a full loss here

[c-duceusclay]

YO, WHO TF IS OUT PUTTING HITS ON CHETNEY???

#no one answer this #I genuinely don’t know #but I want it to be a surprise #b/c I’m a full loss here #critical role #criticalrole #critrole #crit role #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers

[merowkittie]

hiii! I was thinking about fem reader asking hobie to pierce her nipples bc she thinks it’ll look cute to which he agrees. but when he gets them done he’s literally so horny bc of how hot they make fem reader look..

hope you have a great day/night <3

Thanks :), you too, sweets!

Piercing Problems — Hobie Brown

Summary: Hobie gets a little horny while piercing your tits.

Warnings: lots of talk about your boobs / very suggestive / not proof read I’m sorry but it’s 2AM / talks of needles, piercings / a short smut scene (a flashback) / umm I think that’s it..

Sorry is he’s ooc, still trying to figure out his character also this was rushed because this was requested a good week or two ago..

Hobie was back at it again with piercing your body.

He had you sitting on the counter in your shared bathroom. Your locs were put up in a bun behind your head with some pieces hanging out and framing your soft face.

You were dangling your legs from your sitting position, swinging them back and forth, waiting for your boyfriend to finish getting his stuff together to pierce your nipples.

To say you were scared was an understatement. You were sure this would feel like you were dying and you were 100% sure you’d pass out in the process. Hobie had told you that you didn’t have to do it but you thought about all the perks about getting them.. and they were really cute!

“Ya ready, love?” He turned to you with a sharpie in hand. He walked move in front of you to be standing between your legs.

You nodded your head and lifted your shirt up to reveal your hardened nipples. They were cold from the chilly air of the bathroom. Hobie cupped your breasts, fondling them childishly.

You kicked him in the thigh and sighed. “Stop! Mark the area already and pierce it.. I’m going to piss on myself, I’m so fucking scared Hobie.”

He looked at you and rolled his eyes. He pressed a kiss to each of your nipples and then to your lips as a way to reassure you. You knew he knew what he was doing but he liked to play a lot.. too much.

Here’s how the conversation went with him to even agreeing to pierce your nipples in the first place:

“Mm.. fuck! Hobie, please..!” You placed your hand on his head somewhere in his wicks and tugged his further into your body.

His lips were attached to your nipples and his fingers inside of your cunt. His fingers were pumping in and out of you at a fast pace. Your hips were meeting his motions but stopped after you felt your cunt start to squeeze him hard and your stomach felt so full.

“Please what, babe?” He stopped his fingers for a moment, waiting to here the words he was looking for from your pouty lips.

You whined and whimpered at the loss of his thrusting fingers. You tried to move on your own but he held down your hips with his free hand.

“Please.. Please B, I need to cum so bad! I need you..” you looked at him with your lust blown eyes and he nodded, biting at your nipple which made you yelp.

“There you go, baby punk. I’ve gotcha ya. Lemme hear those pretty noises, yea?” He smirked up at you when he saw your eyes roll back in your head as his fingers started their movements again.

When you two finished, you kind of just laid around watching movies and talking mindlessly about stuff. Your nipples ached because of all the biting and sucking Hobie was doing to them. They were so sensitive. Though, how would it feel if you had piercings? I mean besides the feeling you thought they’d look cute on your breasts.

“B. What do you think about nipple piercings?” You peered up at him.

He didn’t say nothing at first, seemingly in thought and then nodded.

“Yea, they’re hot. What about ‘em?” He questioned, his eyes now on you. He knew where this was going but he just wanted to hear it from you.

You hummed. You didn’t know if you were very sure about your decision so you sat in silence for a minute, thinking it over. The pros and cons. The pain, pleasure, what about it be like? Then you were like fuck it.

“I want ‘em. I think they’re cute. What do you think, querido?” You bit your lips in anticipation of his response.

“I think you’d look quite lush.” He smirked at you. Instantly agreeing with this decision and he wouldn’t mind piercing it for you.

Now here you two were in your bathroom, at probably four in the morning, piercing your nipples.

You prayed a good six times during the prep process. You really weren’t one to handle pain well. A bit dramatic people would say.

After Hobie marked little dot indications on your nipples he placed the clamp on one and you gasped.

“What the fuck. B! That shit hurts. Is it supposed to feel this tight?” You winced as he adjusted it a bit and grabbed the needle.

He shrugged, “I wouldn’t know, lovie. How did it feel when I pierced your stomach?” He raised a brow waiting for you to respond.

You thought for a second and it felt pretty similar.

“The same way.”

“Then you’re good, shut your gob.”

You huffed and playfully kicked him again. He was getting annoying.

“Alright Alright. Don’t move, I’m gonna pierce ya now.” He grabbed the needle from the napkin he placed down besides you and steadily aligned it with the mark on your nipple. “Count with me, one?”

You felt the needle start to poke you and sucked in a breath, Hobie gave you a look and you let out a shaky breath. “Tw- FUCK!”

Before you got done saying two Hobie already put the needle through and slid the bar through your bud and quickly screwed the ball onto it.

“Oh my god, Hobie. Are you mental?” You stared at him wide eyed. Your face scrunched up in disbelief and confusion. You had tears coming down your face and you didn’t know what to do with your emotions at the moment.

He snickered at your reaction and clamped your other nipple, preparing for the next piercing. He cleaned the needle he used and the bar. He already cleaned the area he was gonna pierce and marked it. He thought you were doing alright, could tone it down with the screams cause it was, super early in the morning. You guys didn’t need another noise complaint.

As he started to line the needle up with your nipple he asked you a question, “Did you know Gwen and Miles kissed? Finally, right?”

“What!” You exclaimed and then that turned into a muffled yelp as he did what he did last time, slipping the barbell in and quickly screwing on the ball.

“Yup. Lad took forever!” He chuckled.

Once he finished cleaning any blood from the piercings you took a look at them in the mirror. Your tits looked beautiful with the shiny silver of the piercing sticking out of it. Hobie was behind you admiring his handy work.. and how your nips looked. His hands came crawling up your aides and he cupped the bottom of your breasts, holding them up as they sat perky in his hands.

He kissed your temple and rubbed his hands up and down your stomach and back to your breasts. You knew what he was doing and you felt butterflies in your chest at his movements.

“You like them?” He asked you. It wasn’t really a question more of a statement.

“Hell yea. They’re awesome, B.” You smiled, tilting your head up at him and kissing his jaw.

He hummed and pinched your sensitive nipples, earning a whine and a playful swat from you. You could feel him press against you and you knew he was hard from just staring at your tits with the newly added piercing.

“You know.. I should repay you right?” You turned around and placed your hands on his chest. Looking him in the eyes you bit your lip. He nodded, as if to tell you to go on, “Do you want me to help you out with that?” One of you hands traveled down to the bulge in his boxers. Rubbing it slightly causing him to groan.

“Mhm.. I want a view of those tits when you ride me.”

#reader insert #black reader #atsv hobie #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider man across the spider verse #hobie brown #hobie brown spider punk #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brown smut

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem! reader

master list

summary: Christmas time is here, eddie + you dance around the fact you’re both in love, corroded coffin performs.

w/c: 15k

warnings: NO MINORS —18+ only- mentions of Chad and his awfulness, thoughts of sex

a/n: s/o to my lovely coven for helping me tweak parts of this story, beta reading + letting me insert them through out the story @jo-harrington @blueywrites @newlips @pastel-pillows @loveshotzz @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse @br0ck-eddie @courtingchaos @fracturedarkness @word-wytch @hellfirehottie420 @chestylarouxx @big-ope-vibes 💋 @agentmarvel @hxllfired ♥️♥️

“Don’t peek!”

“I’m not!”

“I mean it, you’ll ruin it if you peek!”

Large hands cover your already shut tight eyes as you walk forward blindly through the crunch of ice and heavy snow. The soles of your chunky boots leave behind inch deep footprints in the parking lot of Boom’s Auto shop.

“Eddie! oh fu— your hands are freezing!”

A deep husky chuckle hums in your ear, skating across the air and landing warmly on your cheek. A flushed heat accompanying the welcomed tickle of his laugh.

“Just a little further,” Eddie says with a laugh, still walking behind you, big hands blind folding your eyes. Maybe you should have mentioned that you don’t like surprises. The last surprise you had trusted was from your parents. And that resulted in them moving across the country to be closer to Kevin, cutting you out and leaving you behind.

Practically stamping your foot and stopping altogether you let out his name in a small whine.

“So impatient, Tooty,” he whispered like a ghost into your ear, sending a flock of goosebumps down your neck. His calloused hands itched at your soft skin. Your eyelashes tickling his palms. “I promise it’s worth the wait, just a little bit further.”

Sighing with hmmpfed pout, you trudge on, squishing snow beneath your feet.

“Okay, are you ready?” Eddie gleams, hinted delight in his voice like a child showing his parents his cubby at school.

“No,” you tease, eyes still closed, “I think I’ll just turn around and go home.”

Eddie breathes out a groan and tickles his cold fingers into your neck, giggling as you squeal, “see you brought your infamous attitude, sweetheart.”

Gasping for breath from the cold and trying to get away from Eddie’s frigid digits you quip, “ah, you know me, I don’t leave home without it.”

“Brat,” Eddie jokes, moving your shoulders into the perfect position he sees fit. “Alright b—Tooty, open your eyes.”

The sun shines blinding against the frosted white ground, stinging your eyes as you open them from the darkness of your eyelids and Eddie’s sheltered hands. Nestled in the back corner of the parking lot next to a pile of snow sits your car, sitting on 4 brand new tires.

Stunned beyond believe, heart full and ready to burst you are at a loss for words.

“Uh—, sorry it took so long, I fixed it up a little bit more than what was initially wrong with it, replaced the tires—they were pretty bad, fixed the headlights, completely flus— ”

Eddie’s mechanical explanation of what was wrong with your car and how he fixed it goes dead with a grunt and a gasp as you throw yourself into his arms, forgetting his healing ribs you fully wrap your legs around his waist. Ignoring the way the snow on your boots is soaking through his shirt making his back wet, his leather jacket riding up from your sudden jump into his arms. He is completely consumed in this moment. He doesn’t care. The whole world is in his hands, and he doesn’t want the warmth of your body to escape him. Soul on fire and the barricade around his heart completely down, grass growing where they lay now, he is enamored by you. The smell of your hair, how tight you are squeezing him around the back of his neck. Your thighs clutching him. He’s a mess. Melting more than Frosty did on the warmest day of the year.

Welling tears spill from your eyes, you whisper shyly, “thank you,” Floored by your own emotions, you are speechless. Outside of the Wheeler’s, you haven’t had someone care for you on such a personal level before. Eddie made you feel safe, he gave you a sense of calm that filled you with hope, filled you with joy. Not being able to fathom how your life has changed so much since he moved in, the anxiety of everyday life washing away with his smile. His goofiness rinsing the doubt out of the air. The bruise around his eye is fading, color returning back to its original beautiful paled complexion. Emotions running high, you can’t convey with words how grateful you are, instead you pull your head from his shoulder and turn it slightly. Pressing delicate mauve painted lips to his cheek. It’s sweeter than sugar. A dainty quick kiss as sudden as the first drop of rain hitting your cheek in the summer.

Wiggling down his body with one last squeeze around him, he doesn’t register that you are sliding away from him on purpose until he releases his hands on the back of your legs. Thankful for his long hair more than ever today, his ears are tinged red much like his cheeks, one colored with a mauve set of lips he never wanted to wash away. Keeping you with him forever.

Looking into Eddie’s eyes you notice how big they are, a smirk is dancing across his lips. Not wanting to ruin the sentiment, but anxious all the same, you push his chest lightly, a coy smile on your lips, “hungry?”

Oh he was hungry. Starved for you. Your touch, your lips, your smile, the way the sunlight caught your hair. He’s never been so hungry for affection in his entire life, and you were feeding him crumbs. Couldn’t you see he was on his knees begging, pleading for more?

“Always,” he finally sputters out, desperately hoping you didn’t see the tiny hearts floating around his head like a cartoon character in love, “but you’re driving,” he says tossing you your key ring, “time to be my chauffeur, babe.”

It feels weird to be behind the wheel of a car again, considering you haven’t driven in months. The same yellowed tree scent hung from your rearview mirror, no longer full of aroma, fake blue and green Mardi Gras beads jingle together as you bump along the neglected roads of Hawkins. Polaroids of you and Nancy smile back at you from beneath the dash. Various materials of scrunchies litter the gear shift. Loose change fills one of the cup holders.

The sound of a window rolling down and the smell of burnt tobacco has you looking over at Eddie. He looks like he’s in a clown car. Bent bare knees from the holes in his jeans are cramped against the dash. His long arms lighting two cigarettes, a brown filtered end for himself, and a white one for you. He inhales deeply, pushing the smoke out of his lungs and looking out the window, arm bent lazily, palm up to hand you yours. Shamelessly flirting, you carefully place your mouth around the cigarette, your lips grazing his knuckles as you look up at him, with a wink you retreat from him, your lipstick leaving another mark on his skin. Burning into him, inking his skin better than any tattoo he had gotten so far. The bob of his throat is more than noticeable as he gulps deeply. He trails his eyes from your devilish lips to your innocent eyes. Wide enough that Bambi would cry at the sight of them.

Eddie shakes his head with a sigh, choking on smoke as you smile to yourself. You don’t notice the way he readjusts himself in the seat, desperately trying to cross his legs, a heat in his cheeks that he would blame on himself getting a cold if you were to ask.

He’s like a child at a fair, touching every single thing in his line of vision, jokingly grabbing the oh shit handle with every turn you take. Flicking his lighter, moving the visor up and down and to the side, pulling this way and that. Adjusting his seat all the way backwards and then all the way forward when you stop at a stop sign, hand still on the lever, a laugh stuck in his throat as he’s practically folded like an accordion in the front seat.

Blondie’s “Call Me” plays and Eddie grabs the hairbrush he found in the glovebox as a microphone. He’s moving his shoulders in a way that suggests he’s a seductive lounge singer, throwing his hair behind him, then in front of him. His eyes dipped in alluring sex appeal, throwing his head back and showing the expanse of his neck. He laughs a maniacs giggle and so do you. Relishing the time spent with him.

“Thought metalheads didn’t dig Blondie,” you question, inhaling the last of your cigarette and discarding it out of the window.

Eddie chuckles, “Surprisingly enough, one of the regulars at the Hideout plays it on repeat while we’re clearing the stage. Every. Single. Night. Speaking of which, uhh—,” he wasn’t sure how to ask you, not even sure if you wanted to go— but it was worth a shot and what would it hurt— worse thing that could happen would be you saying ‘no’, “ya got plans the day after Christmas?”

Thinking for a while you didn’t want to let it on that you in fact had zero plans. It’s not as if your parents came home to celebrate with a dinner or take you to a movie, fuck they never even bothered to call.

“Merry X -mom dad & kev”

Barely a greeting. Just slanted, chicken scratch handwriting inked onto a blank 99 cent Christmas card. The cheapest of pens was used to write the five words, noted by the scribble at the bottom of the card, when the ink went dry. The card itself was very basic, crimson red with a cartoon Christmas tree on the front. More than likely purchased at a gas station with a carton of Marlboros and a microwaved bean burrito. Cold fingers wrap around the envelope, cotton gloves smoothing over the handwriting as if it were a cherished love letter from your husband lost at sea.

Without fail, the one time a year you heard from them, left you more hollowed than the previous one. And as bummed as you were, when Eddie saw the card in the trash can when he tied up the garbage for the curb, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t pry, didn’t ask. Just tied up the trash and didn’t say anymore about it.

“Hmm.. well the salon is closed so I won’t be working, why what’s up?”

Eddie leans over and turns the knob of the radio down, insinuating how serious he was, “well the band is throwing a gig at the Hideout, kinda like a party for everyone who needs to blow off some steam after the holidays… and I thought maybe you’d wanna go? I haven’t seen you at a Corroded Coffin concert since the 80’s.”

He was right, you hadn’t seen them perform outside of your own garage since high school. Busting his balls a little, your lips curl in a sweet tease, “would I make the fifth or the sixth drunk there?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and makes a face, “I’ll have you know, we actually have to sell tickets now, but you? I'm making you pay double for that mean comment.”

“Oh kiss my ass,” you laugh as he shove him lightly, “I guess I can make an appearance.”

Eddie grins ear to ear, he can’t wait to see you in the crowd smiling up at him. Since he’s moved in, he’s dreamt of the day you finally went to see him play again.

“Well I guess I’ll see you there, maybe even buy you a drink, if you’re lucky.”

He thumbs through your cassettes oooing and awing over your beloved tapes, plucking Stevie Nick’s Bella Donna tape and flipping it over to read the song list on the back.

Head spinning you imagine how sexy Eddie would look on stage. Imagining the sweet aroma of sweat dripping from his hair on his bare chest has you practically drooling, thankful that Eddie is pre occupied with your cassettes, you squeeze your thighs tight.

Eddie begins to hum dumbly along as the end of REO Speedwagon sings about taking it on the run, the mixed tape you’d had since high school plays the next song, Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”. The beginning guitar melody rings into his ears, a song he hadn’t heard in years.

“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better. Starting from zero, got nothing to lose. Maybe we’ll make something. Me, myself, I got nothing to prove.”

The lyrics hit your soul, Tracy’s gentle voice singing calmly to you, roped tight with Eddie’s deep serenade, must be what the gates of heaven sound like when they’re opening. Like the two people in the song, you were both tortured by your pasts, aching for something real something new. You ached for him. Did he for you?

Looking over at him, the cords of his neck stretched tight, prominent muscles jutting out around a chain necklace he never took off. It’s impossibly thick, veins lining it perfectly, the best candidate for a vampire’s snack. Stopping yourself from wondering what your teeth would feel like against his skin there, you tear your eyes away from him. Would your tongue tickle from the bitter taste of his cologne? Would the slight drag of your teeth beneath his jaw drive him wild, feral like how you’re feeling? Heat blooming along your cheeks and flooding your belly. You can practically feel the silk of his skin on your lips, daydreaming about the noises he would make if you were to flick the tip of your pink tongue along his adam’s apple. Sucking sweetly, softly… you spend the rest of the drive to Benny’s lost and dazed, desperate for any sort of relief. Body, and soul.

-

The aroma of bacon grease hung thick in the air when you walked into Benny’s. The sagging, water stained wall paper and faded formica table tops were a staple for the dingy diner. Anyone not from Hawkins, would turn up their nose and leave, fanning their face like a woman in church in the south in the 30’s at the sight of the disheveled diner that somehow kept passing inspections. Benny kept the kitchen area spotless, but could not be bothered with the decor and upkeep of the simple things such as wallpaper and art that dated back to borderline colonial times.

Eddie licked his lips as he eyed the sticky and tattered menu. His stomach was an endless pit, a never ending gaping hole the size of the Grand Canyon. Two baskets of fries, a patty melt, a stack of pancake and a piece of cheesecake, “it’s for later,” he said with a smile, only to devour it in two forkfuls once it arrived in its “to-go” box.

“Thank you, by the way,” you murmur around a mouthful of peach cobbler, voice growing small. “For my car, and well everything you do— oh shit, what do I owe you guys?”

Eddie swallows hard, throat coated with the velvety cheesecake, “Nothing,” he answers as if it were an insult you even asked.

“C’mon Eddie,” you say rolling your eyes, “what do I owe you?”

He enunciates the word again, making syllables where they are otherwise not needed. Moving his head left and right as he gets closer and closer, moving over the booth’s table like a snake, the ends of his curls dancing over the tabletop, a smug look pressed on his lips as he licks his fork.

Pulling your eyebrows in and folding your arms across your chest, you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s not gonna work,” Eddie says, leaning over to take the last bite of your peach cobbler, savoring the warm peach and sugar infused treat on his tongue, “your pouting games won’t work on me, no matter how fucking cute you look.”

The scowl set on your face would have impressed Medusa, before his smile broke you. He was good at that, breaking you out of your shell and opening your eyes to show you that life didn’t always have to be taken so seriously. Your smile matches his and he reaches for the bill, sliding out of the booth. Twisting your body to stand from the under stuffed cushion Eddie is standing in front of you, leaning with one hand on the table, bill curled in his grasp, the other on the back of the booth. He looks like he’s going to say something but it’s lost on his tongue. Defeat and uncertainty cloud his eyes, not here, not now. He hangs his head, shaking his curls lightly. Shaking the nervousness from himself. He reached a ringed hand out to you, eyes dripping with want and cheeks pinked in the prettiest blush on his cream colored skin, along with the mauve lipstick he never wiped off, wearing your lips proudly, a prize greater than gold burned into his skin.

Words fail him, he notices how when you’re around just how much you steal the breath from his lungs. Almost as if he is prepubescent, full of acne and a buzzed head all over again. Scared of girls, a gangly freak who people made fun of. A lost sheep. It had been years since anyone has made him feel that way, usually women were throwing panties at him, bras, themselves at times. It wasn’t hard for him to fulfill his temporary needs. One faceless broad at a time. You? You were nothing like that. He respected you, trusted you, wanted you to feel safe with him. Wanted to take you out and show you off as his girl, his Tooty. Would you want that? Would you want to be his?

“Ready?” He asks, voice low and his lips dripping with a teasing smile.

Nodding, he pulls you up to him, your smooth fingers wrapped in his rough calloused hands. His face tilted downward to yours, yours up to him. And all of his questions are answered by the look in your eyes. They’re warm, dreamy, sucking him in like a magnet to your soul, frantically yearning to connect yours with his. And he’s ready to give it all to you.

-

Standing at the faint remnants of color of the checkout counter, a waitress locks eyes with you first. Smiling warmly and making chit chat. Eddie slides the check around you onto the smooth surface, her bubble gum persona fleeting immediately at the sight of him, her brown eyes staring heavily through her bangs at the stained lipstick on his cheek. Giving you and Eddie a quickened glance, she makes a beeline for the back, knocking the stack of rolled silverware over as the door slammed home behind her.

It doesn’t take an expert to put two and two together. She was either an ex girlfriend or simply an ex lover. Either way, at one point in time they meant something to each other— and you weren’t sure how much or how little that something was.

It hits you then just how inexperienced you are. Eddie has probably slept with 100s of women; being the lead singer of a small town band gave him that privilege of doing so. Of course he has, he practically , if not not so practically told you himself. Wheels spin in your mind and you’re embarrassed at the way your nose tingles trying to push down the small inkling of jealousy brewing in your belly. What the hell would he want to do with you if there were so many other women, better looking, and definitely sexier— ready to be his flavor for the night? Being with Eddie was a joke and you were the punch line— why would a guy like him settle down with someone as vanilla as you?

Suspicion creeping it’s ugly face in your mind and making room for all its baggage as a large hand meets your lower back guiding you gently towards the door. He’s talking but it falls deafly around you. Not wanting to know, but finding difficulty in keeping your mind from wandering, you stretch into the unknown of just how many women Eddie has slept with.

The number didn’t matter.

Shouldn’t matter.

But it begged the question looming in your mind for weeks: would you be enough for him? Walking in jaded silence back to the car, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, wind whipping your hair in your face, Eddie’s warm hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he joins your silence. Desperately looking through the clouds of your mind trying to find where you went.

Eddie might be a lot of things. He may not be that great at math, knowing the ins and outs of fractions to make his sales when he was a dealer for Rick didn’t exactly qualify him as a mathematician, he struggled with making friends when he was younger, learning that being an obnoxious kid didn’t win any gold stars in the popularity department. But he was profoundly excellent at recognizing people’s emotions, any tiny slip, slow shift— he could sense it immediately. So when you shut down, leaving only nods to his never ending questions, he knew you were hurting.

Fumbling with your keys from your pocket they are plucked from your grasp by thick ringed fingers,”Eddie what the h—”

“Just—,” he pauses then, unsure of what to say, how to explain how he feels about you, the words are thick on his tongue but he knows he needs to explain something first, “wait,”

He runs a hand through his hair and points back at the door to Benny’s, “I— I’ve never given a shit about any girl I’ve been with.” The line is not at all how he wanted it to sound, what was meant to be sincere came out as cocky and like he was almost bragging.

“Oh—kay?” you answer even more confused than you were already feeling. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

He huffs a breath and kicks around snow with the toe of his boot, “I’ve never w— fuck,” he takes a few steps backwards throwing his paled face to the now blackened charcoal sky, muttering to himself. This was not going well. He could feel you slipping from his fingers. What was meant to be a nice night was now being spoiled by his incoherent thoughts, mouth moving faster than his brain could think. He looks back at you, your eyebrows raised, weight shifted with your arms crossed. Whatever message he was trying to convey was spilling a capital ‘F’ of his blood all over the snow, crimson coloring the white ground.

Chewing his tongue, jaw tightening with aggressive anticipation that he’s just fucking everything up—he finally spits it out, his mind cooperating with his mouth and all in one heavy, heated breath he practically screams, “goddamnit, Tooty— I’ve never cared about someone like how I care about you.”

Stunned, you stand stone still, watching him with large eyes.

“You— you’re the— fuck.” He moves quick, wrapping his fingers around your cheeks tilting your head up to him, the breath stolen from your lungs as you watch his eager eyes swirl with browns and blacks, Dr. Pepper fountains of bliss. He hesitates, licking his lips. Looking from your lips to your eyes and back again. Deciding not to do what he so desperately craves. But it’s not the right time. Not here. Not now. Not before he asks. Not before you understand the multitude of his seriousness. Not before you make it known that you want it too. Taking a deep breath he finds the courage to press forward, voice strong and steady, no longer breaking, no longer unsure. Confident. “No other girl— no groupie, no ex girlfriend no past fling— no one means shit to me except you, okay?”

Heart exploding piñata candy allover your body, tootsie rolls flowing through your arteries, cotton candy dancing in your lungs, sugary mars bubblegum filled lollipops peak from your eyes as you fall hopelessly further in love with him. His fingers melt into your cheeks, burning and dissolving your candy coated insides into a liquid fire of a molten river filled with pinked sweet syrup. You want to swim in his chocolate eyes like August Gloop. Never full of him.

Would he taste sweet? Oh how your lips cried a sorrowful song not being able to lick the sweet words that drip from them.

Later that night your stomach flutters thinking of his lips on yours. That small kiss on his cheek meant more to both of you than could be imagined. Solidifying there in the parking lot of Boom’s Autoshop, just how much you meant to each other. A silent agreement. An understanding. The line was crossed. The only question now is: who would jump with both feet first?

-

The dusty overstuffed Christmas tree box slides across the kitchen linoleum with a drag as you shove all your weight into it from the basement steps.

“You’re a stubborn woman y’know that?” Eddie grumbles from the other side of the box, pulling it further into the kitchen, circling back and reaching his hand out to help you up the steps. “I told you I would get all of this up after I got off work.” His work coveralls coated with deep stains of motor oil and grease, snow melting slowly on his boots.

Huffing low and climbing the last step you explain, “yep, and I told you, mister,” a long nail poking him in the chest, “that I didn’t need any help.”

“Yeah yeah, just gonna do everything by yourself your whole life, never asking for help?” Eddie asks, matching your attitude, booping your nose with a dirty greased soaked finger, his toothy grin on full display, “always just a little shit aren’t ya?”

A heavy scoff leaves your mouth, fake shock from your lips as you place a hand to your chest, “me? Think you have me confused with someone else, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie’s face twists with gross turmoil at the name. “Christ, I haven’t been called that since high school in Higgins office,” he turns his nose up and scowls, “please sweetheart, consult a doctor you must be ill.”

Bantering back and forth for a few minutes Eddie agrees on taking a shower before starting to set up the tree. “.. and whatever other girly shit you have planned for us.” He says with a laugh as he shuts the bathroom door and turns the silver knob for the shower head.

It was Friday night and since Nancy had moved out starting her own Christmas traditions with Jonathan, you were left with her same traditions in the same house but with a new someone to make them special with.

Chili was simmering on the stove. Rich and spicy just the way Karen Wheeler had taught you to make it, the counter held her famous cinnamon roll recipe, rising gently on the counter. It was engraved in your mind after watching her make them every Sunday for years, and you had yet to make them for Eddie. The kitchen smelled savory yet sweet, the mixed concoction floating heavenly notes of hunger induced stomach pains to the bathroom as Eddie toweled off, pulling a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips. His hair hung in wet lengthy ringlets, dripping down his back as he emerged into the dim lit kitchen, a hunger in his belly— but not holding a candle to the fiery burn of want in his stomach at the sight of you.

The flour dusted lightly on your cheek could be mistaken for pixie dust with how magical you looked to him, the sleeves of your baggy red velour knit sweater were bunched around your elbows, bringing a spoon to your plump lips as you made them into a small ‘O’ blowing gently on the contents of meat, tomatoes, peppers and kidney beans cradled in the the silver utensil close to your lips.

Eddie had never been jealous of silverware before but he would give his left nut and his guitar away to be that lucky heated spoon for just one minute. Slotting the metal into your mouth, you hum a sigh of satisfaction as you savor the delectable bite, chewing slowly and licking your lips, Eddie is gripping the counter tighter than an old woman gripping her life alert as she tumbles to the ground. Fuck, he’d break a hip— hell no, he’d break every bone in his body just to have you hum around him, any part of him, his earlobe, his fingers, his cock, he didn’t care. Reaching up and brushing his own cheek like a coy school girl, he still felt the way your lips touched his cheek— and that was weeks ago.

“Think Jonathan still does secret investigative pictures for Murray Bauman if you were looking to snap a few pictures you little perv.”

Head swiveling towards him at your last word, you can’t keep the act up anymore, your cheeks feel like they’re going to burst with how wide you’re smiling, your laugh echoes off his naked chest and hits the cabinets, pinballing around the room, striking him like lightning in a summer storm— bright first and the thunderous boom coming after.

Snorting at your own joke and the way his cheeks heat with shame—caught with his hand in the cookie jar, drool practically falling from his lips as his mouth hangs open. He has never looked better. Your boldness stays long enough to send him a wink, and your stomach flutters when he returns it, rubbing his cheeks to will away the blush implemented on his skin.

“Are we going to eat or are you just going to keep making fun of me?” Eddie presses, a light shade of pink still tinged on his cheeks, his smile bright and cheerful.

Walking closer to him you let your body take control, mind not thinking. Useless in your head as you move with sure steps closer to him. Not wanting to know the repercussions of your actions, yet something about him has made you so sure that what you’re feeling was real. That he felt it too, reassuring you with his body language, his words. He wants this and so do you. Time to dive in. But the ache of rejection, fear of making a mistake, afraid to let yourself be loved when you aren’t worthy of it. Has your stomach in knots. Stopping short of your hands on his chest, the confidence is gone, buried beneath the savory smells of the kitchen and the heated stares between you both.

Uncertainty soaring, you place your hands on your waist, head hung in a cloud of anxiety, “tree first, then we can eat.”

Silently moving through the motions, you unbox the tree monotonously. Eddie’s raging war against himself. Begging the question of what happened to make you turn the flirting dial off. The tree is up, and you’re busy fluffing the branches after a year of being squashed in a box and stuffed into a basement. Overthinking what you said to Eddie, you can’t move past how he makes you feel.

It’s not as if you have had a boyfriend other than Chad, or even had anyone other than him kiss you, touch you, and none of that was enjoyable. Being with him was crippling, suffocating in a way that you weren’t ever sure you’d ever be able to breathe normally again. Living in a state of constant fear for years, waiting for the day he would return. And when he did—Eddie was there to comfort you, hold you while the panic attack riddled your body, collapsing in on itself. Eddie was there to pick up your broken pieces and mend them together with his silliness, his arms wrapped around your body shielding you from demons he couldn’t see. Taking the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. He was impossibly charming, good-looking and even though he could be a pain in the ass— you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

“Fuck, ow ow, shit, Tooty! I’m not a genius or anything, but there is no way this is right!” A quick jolt back to reality has you turning your head sharply to see Eddie tangled in emerald green ropes of colorful christmas lights. Entwined in his hair, around his thick fingers, and arms. Christmas clashing with his tattoos he’s all furrowed brows and huffed breaths. You desperately try to stifle a smile but fail miserably. “It’s not funny! It hurts!”

“Eddie,” you choke out in between laughs, reaching up with delicate fingers, and a laugh buried in your chest you begin to untangle his messy curls from the strings of lights. Adjusting his curls this way and that his brows lax at your pretty face so close to his. There they are again, the lips that kept him up the last few nights. The lips that could be full of vinegary insults, and sweet sultry compliments. The silky skin of them call out to him in his dreams, purring his name.

Feeling the need to explain himself for earlier, “for the record, sweetheart, I was staring at the spoon, n—not at you.”

Smooth. Jesus Christ.

“The spoon huh?” Giggling at his lie, untangling his rings and fingers from the lights, releasing him from the holiday handcuffs, “really? and what was so interesting about it, hmm?”

Eddie grabs your hand as it slips from his hair, leaning close enough that his chest is brushing yours, “I have a grudge against it.”

Confused, you pull your eyebrows inward, “what?”

His lips are licked and he holds your hand palm to palm your fingers between his, hugging his rings in your small grasp. His other hand travels up to your chin, laying lightly against your delicate skin. Small strokes of his thumb outline your top lip, and you suck in a quickened breath. Your knees are weak, and you lean into his touch, pushing yourself closer, skimming your fingers along the charcoal outlines on his chest.

The satiny pillows of your lips against his rough calloused skin send him to heaven on angel’s wings. His eyes are trained on your mouth, thumb lining your Cupid’s bow. He circles downward, studying your lips like a map, following the path of Magellan to the corner of your mouth. Face studied hard he doesn’t see the way your eyes have closed, and barely registers the nails on your hand scratching his chest in delight. If your lips were a test, he’d pass with flying colors. Every line is memorized, the color is painted more beautifully than that asshole on tv painting sceneries of birds and rivers. He’s not even breathing, and you aren’t sure if you’re awake or asleep. His fingers act like melatonin lulling you to sleep with each sweep across your lips. Pulling your bottom lip down, a noise escapes his throat as he watches it pop back up against your teeth with a soft thump.

“The spoon is lucky,” Eddie admits through broken breath. His words flow through you like the smoothest water against a creek bed, rippling and bubbling in your veins pooling in your core and heating your body with lust.

“Eddie,” you hum, sending a vibration through his fingers to his now throbbing cock. The oven beeps and you jump in his hands. Forced back to earth from the ethereal spin of Eddie’s warm fingers massaging your skin. Pulling away from him is harder than erasing a permanent marker, getting year old puke stains out of a carpet, harder than overcoming the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Padding into the kitchen you straighten your sweater, lungs burning with aching want to be filled with Eddie’s essence.

Placing the cinnamon rolls into the center of the warmed oven, you turn to find him behind you, silver Christmas ornament bulbs hanging from his nipple rings. “Think Walt would hire me to dance on stage for Christmas?”

This was routine for you and Eddie, intense moments followed by giggling laughs. An endless circle on repeat. If you weren’t ready to jump he wasn’t going to push you. He’d wait for you, however long it would take for you to be ready to admit that he loved you and you loved him back.

-

The tree was up and lit, beautiful colors of red, blue, yellow and green shone brightly against the dark evergreen. Sitting at the table eating chili and cinnamon rolls, Eddie looks like a kid in a candy shop. Eyes blown wide and sparkling. “Y’know I’ve never done that before.”

“Put Christmas bulbs in your nipple rings?”

After the light fiasco Eddie hung the decorations with care and slotted two silver Christmas bulbs in his nipple rings, shaking his chest around, a twang in his voice, “my stage name is Elejandro but honey you can call me big E.”

“Well that either,” Eddie laughs, wiping a rogue dribble of chili away from his chin, “but no, I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree.”

Swallowing the mouthful of cinnamon roll you mull over his confession, “did I just take your Christmas virginity?”

“Guess so,” he grins, shoveling another spoonful of the hearty chili into his mouth using his cinnamon roll to soak up the tomatoey broth. “Aren’t you lucky?” It was your turn to battle away your thoughts as he licked the back of his spoon then his lips. Oh his wicked tongue would be more than delicious on more than a few places on your body.

“Who’s the perv now, Tooty?” Eddie gleamed, his smile turning upwards in a satanic smile. The heat from your cheeks would fill a cold room with warmth. A wink from his eyes has you both smiling again. Teetering towards uncharted waters but not quiet dipping toes into the waters of giving in, not yet.

-

After cleaning up supper and listening to Eddie thumb through the medicine cabinet for the Tums, you whipped up the sugar cookies and pulled them out of the oven.

They were cooling on a wire rack on the counter. Icing, sprinkles, Christmas themed m&ms and twizzler pull apart licorice were filling the brim of small styrofoam bowls. Hot chocolate was bubbling in mismatched ceramic mugs in the microwave. Awaiting their marshmallow floaties to join the rich chocolate bath.

“Cookies too?” Eddie asks, a shit eating grin on his face as he’s coming back inside from his after supper cigarette, the chill of the frozen air following him on his heels, “baby, you’re spoiling me.”

Baby.

The sentiment falling to the deep pit of your stomach making you clench your thighs tight, a skipped heart beat sending heat through your body. It’s definitely not the first time you’ve heard him say it but the way his eyes sparkle and are half lidded have you liquified into a soupy puddle of goo.

Pushing down the heat building in your body, inhaling deep through your nose, you try to keep it together. It’s getting more and more difficult. The feelings you have for Eddie have been steadily growing fonder since Halloween. That stupid Jesus costume had you thinking the unholiest thoughts for weeks. And now he’s sweeter than ever before. Looking like heaven’s fallen angel, Satan's favorite son. A cherub face with a demonic mind, the perfect disguise. There wasn’t a single square inch of him you hadn’t thought about in ways that would make holy water simmer on your skin. Fuck.

“—Tooty?” fingers snap in your face as you’re pulled from the fiery depths of pure joyful sinful lust filled hell. Eddie as the devil and you sitting at his right hand, his hands.

“Christ, you look possessed,”

Oh how you were.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, a nervous laugh pushes from your lungs as he smiles at you.

Eddie and you were just two misfits, throwing together a Christmas like it was normal for you both. A normal that you could very easily get accustomed to.

-

“You what?!” Nancy shrieks in the booth next to yours as she rolls another perm rod into her mother’s hair. Her thin eyebrows are hidden beneath her straight bangs a look of disbelief planted on her face, “holy fuck, you’re serious?”

Explaining to Mrs. Nancy Byers and Karen Wheeler about your developing feelings for your roommate, left one of the related women stunned, the other with ecstatic delight.

Karen claps her hands, a fuschia smile on her lips, eyes bright and fighting back tears, “oh sweetie I am so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say shyly, fiddling with the combs on your counter, “and yes Nance, I am serious.”

Fingers moving rapidly she rolls the rest of Karen’s hair before saying anything else. “I’m happy for you, too ya know,” Nancy finally admits, “I saw the way he stared at you on Halloween.”

“Saw who stare?!” Robin chirps as the bell above the front door dings, announcing her Kramer-esque arrival, spinning chaos in a denim jacket. She slots her wirey frame in your chair, snowy boots plopped on your counter.

Nancy spins Karen around and motions for her to sit under the dryers. “Seeing Eddie stare at Tooty on Halloween,” she explains to Robin.

Robin nods and flicks through your brushes and hairsprays on the counter. “Oh for sure, he’s in love with her, it's so obvious.”

A bloom in your chest erupts as heat floods your cheeks. Robin’s confirmed words spread open your chest with adoration and love. It’s one thing to think someone might like you, hope they will reciprocate the same feelings, but it’s quite another thing to have multiple other people notice the feelings growing between you and someone you're crazy about.

Robin, Nancy and yourself gossip for the rest of your shift. Robin leaving with fire engine red hair, matching the blood pooling around your heart, beating for Eddie, aching for his touch, his smile, his stupid jokes. All of him. You were ready to take the dive.

-

“Oil change on this thing already?” Eddie laughs as Steve jumps out of the midnight black G-Wagon, tossing the keys in the air to himself.

Steve chuckles and threads his fingers through his hair, “yeah, new job has me traveling most of the time, and whenever I don’t want to fly— they provide me with this bad boy,” a sparkly gold plastic credit card is pulled from his wallet.

He goes into detail about how he has been taking Leighanne with him on his trips and just got back from seeing the Christmas tree lighting at Rockefeller Center in New York, how he’s sure he’s in love with her. “I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie says, “she seemed like she really was into you.”

Steve smiles, a cigarette between his teeth, “how’s the whole situation with Tooty? Make a move yet?”

Eddie lights his own cigarette, mulling over his answer. The short of it was, things were going … steady? They weren’t moving forward but not necessarily moving backwards either. He thought you felt the same way he yearned for you, but what if he made his move and you recoiled? He would die if he made you feel uncomfortable in any sort of way. You were his main goal, his end game, his one in a million, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he screwed it up.

His stomach in knots he feels like he could puke all over the patent leather of Steve’s shoes.

“I think it’s good?” Eddie blurts, confusion in his tone and a nervous hint of dread. “I care about her a lot— and I’ve told her that, I— ” he swallows hard, unsure of his next sentence but needing some advice, “I just don’t know how to show her that she means more to me than just a friend or a roommate or my friends’ sister.”

Steve looks at him confused, “dude,” he asks in all seriousness, “are you a virgin?”

The choked out bellering laugh Eddie emits from his body scares away the birds resting their feet on the telephone line. “Steve, what part of me being in a band and a cocky asshole screams virgin?”

“Well, you’re acting like one! ‘I don’t know what to do!’ Fuck man, stop being so scared and just tell her how you feel!”

Eddie's laugh turns sour, “I’ve never had to do this before, I haven’t been in a relationship in six years, and even then, I never once felt how I do about Tooty. So yeah I am scared because I don’t wanna fuck it up or have her think I’m just some creep like that fuckwad Chad.”

Steve shakes his head, and grabs Eddie by the shoulders, “you’re overthinking this, like a fuck load—she likes you, I know she does because whenever I talk to her she’s always telling me about something you did that day, but if you want some guidance— I’ll help you out.”

The greatest heads of hair in Hawkins, Indiana work for the next half hour, developing a plan for Eddie to make his move before he lost you.

-

Soft, pillowy blankets of pure white snow cover the cramped poverty stricken Forest Hills Trailer Park. Illuminating the impoverished community in a mask of Christmas spirit. White, and pristine. An illusionists dream, one so great that someone might have mistaken the rotting trailers and the broken down vehicles as heaps of snow instead of the decrepitness that would show truth when the masking snow melts and brings forth the ugly harshness of muddy roads and sinking foundations.

Spending Christmas Day with Eddie and meeting his uncle had brought a sweetness to your insides, eating away the sourness that the holidays delivered most years, a steady reminder that you were passed down like a pair of jeans. It had been Eddie’s idea to bring dinner over to his uncle's place and you were more than excited to get another peek at his world. Having talked to Wayne on the phone about what he would like you to make for food, his voice was gruff but serene, calling you ma’am and answering your questions between puffs of his cigarette.

“Darlin’,” Wayne answered after the second time of you asking if he was sure that it didn’t matter what you brought over; he didn’t want you to fuss over him, “we could have Surfer Boys pizza for all I care, but if you do make something— you make damn sure that nephew of mine is helping ya, alright? I ain’t raised no man to sit and watch work bein’ done, no matter what he thinks.”

Giggling with a hand to your mouth, Eddie rolls his eyes, cheeks burning crimson, “Christ Wayne,” he breathes, “pipe down or I’ll take your Christmas present back.”

A hacking cough rumbles from the other end of the phone as the two Munson men bicker back and forth.

Settling on garlic mashed potatoes, swedish meatballs, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and the second pumpkin pie since Eddie ate the first one with a fork and a container of cool whip on the couch after work yesterday; you and Eddie stand at the door of the sky blue trailer the morning of Christmas Day, arms full with casserole dishes and desserts.

The door opens and the waft of a bachelor-esque aroma hits your nose. Stale cigarettes, and laundry soap combine is a surprisingly comforting smell as Wayne Munson meets you at the door. Icy blue eyes crinkled at the edges take a look at all the food balanced between four arms and immediately grabs the containers from you, cigarette planted between his fingers as he slides the food into his own arms. “Lord,” he huffs, “you been cookin’ all morning?”

Eddie holds the door open with his foot and ushers you in, hot on your heels to get away from the bitter cold. “Hell yeah she has been,” Eddie said proudly, showing you off like a 4H blue ribbon, “she wouldn’t even let me taste test it.”

Shying away from his compliments you place the mashed potatoes on the counter, turning around to get a full look at the tiny trailer.

Mugs of various assortments, sizes, colors and shapes decorate the wall above the door. A row of dusty long forgotten hats, balances over the window above the brown couch. A small tv is set in the corner of the living room, a table that has seen better days is wedged into a tight corner across from the cabinets in the kitchen, two matching chairs and a third aluminum folding chair propped against it, the seat hard cracking plastic, stuffing spilling out. The fridge is small but functional, a brass magnet with a clamp holds a hand written note of dates, some crossed out in red ink, others upcoming left alone, next to a calendar. The home is well loved and portrays everything you expected from a bachelor pad. Simple, tidy, cramped.

Imagining Eddie in high school living here, you wonder if the brown couch held more than just dust and well grooved ass prints. Memories of Eddie’s previous lovers? One night stands? The thoughts make you shiver with jealousy and disgust as you take lids off of containers and place aluminum foil from the meatball tray on the side of the counter. Eddie and Wayne are on your right talking about a leaky shower head, the cost of replacement parts and how much it would cost to get a new one.

“… agh,” Wayne argues, “it won’t take me long to take it all apart and figure it out, ain’t no need to go out and buy a new one.”

“Alright stubborn ass,” Eddie pokes, a toothy grin on his face, “just trying to make it easier on you.”

Wayne and him laugh, greeting each other with a hug. Eddie is a whole head taller than Wayne, their stark differences are completely night and day. Where Eddie is pale, Wayne’s skin is weathered and tan, the piercing blue eyes are ice against his tan complexion, meanwhile Eddie’s eyes are so dark they could be mistaken for black holes in the galaxy.

The Munson men pull away with slaps on the shoulders and jokes about frail bones and old age. When Eddie looks at you next Wayne’s eyes follow, his ruddy ringed hand gesture to you with a palm upwards, presenting you like a celebrity, “Wayne, this is Tooty, Tooty, this is my uncle Wayne.”

Smiling sweetly and stretching your hand forward for Wayne to shake you are enveloped with his warmth through his heavily calloused hands. “Pleasure to meet ya darlin’, Eddie ain’t ever brought a girl home for me to meet before.”

Never brought a girl home.

How could you be the first? Eddie dated Chrissy for an entire year, and you’re sure he’s had more than one girlfriend in the past. Including the waitress at Benny's. Why wouldn’t he have brought any of them to meet Wayne? Clearly his uncle means a lot to him, and you remember how Eddie was with Chrissy, how much he cared about her… why did she never come back to the Munson home?

Eddie interjects your thoughts, his cheeks pinked with embarrassment, “Wayne what the f—.”

“Ah hell, I forgot I bought some paper plates, let me go get ‘em from the truck.” Wayne tuts, walking quickly past you and Eddie, the cool rush of air fills the room and the snap of the screen door has Eddie shaking his head. Murmuring to himself about needing to keep his mouth shut as he busies himself with getting forks and knives from the wonky drawers.

-

Empty plates and full bellies coordinate into a sleepy haze between you all. Wayne’s contagious laugh fills the kitchen as Eddie groans when the small photo album is passed around the table. “Remember this one Ed? Damn you were madder’n a hornet that day when Mrs. Milford asked you to mow her yard.”

“Ya,” Eddie yelled, “that’s cause there is no yard she just made me pick up rocks, and most of it was dog shit from Rocko!”

Wayne’s bellering laugh brings tears to your eyes at Eddie’s misfortunes. A picture of a younger Eddie no older than ten years old, dirt and a scowl on his face, same big doe eyes and a bad haircut.

A smile finally breaks on his face seeing your smirk dance on your lips as you wipe the laughing tears from your eyes.

The three of you spend hours laughing, Eddie and Wayne clean up the table as you put food in Tupperware containers for Wayne, slotting them into the fridge and stacking them neatly.

The Christmas present Eddie had for Wayne was in the back of the van and was heavy. Wayne jumped in to help Eddie carry it in, tutting and making a fuss when you told him you could do it, “no ma’am, you sit down right there, I mean it!”

Once outside, the two Munson’s light up cigarettes, exhaling puffs of smoke into the chilled air, the crunch of snow beneath their boots.

“Sure was nice to meet your girlfriend Ed, I think she’s a keeper,”

Not missing a beat and rolling his eyes Eddie all but screams, “Wayne for fucks sake we are not dating, I told you this! Or did you turn senile since I moved out?”

“Well I just thought that if I’d tease ya enough about it you’d do somethin’ about it ‘stead of gawking at her all night like she’s gonna break.”

Eddie's ears burn, “I have a plan, it’s just not something I wanna ruin— I gotta do it right, she isn’t like anyone else— she— she means more to me than that.”

“I’m proud of ya son, finally grew up,” he claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “you be good to her. Don’t know anyone of your other girly friends, or whatever you call ‘em, who'd dare step foot out in these parts.”

-

Eddie's gift to Wayne had been a bigger tv, one he could watch Gunsmoke on and be able to see it comfortably from the couch instead of squinting. Wayne smiled from ear to ear and kept on smiling when he stood at the door and waved goodbye to you both.

Cheeks sore from laughing, exhausted from the day you yawn behind a mittened palm. Watching the street lights bounce and sway as Eddie drives you both home.

“Can’t be tired already are you?” He asks, smoking a cigarette lazily, smoke billowing from his nostrils and around his curls.

You stretch your back, arching it against the cracked leather of his seats, a yawn slips from your mouth, “Just a little bit,” your voice is small and strained from the stretch, eyelids heavy.

He pleads with slight desperation in his tone, “don’t fall asleep on me yet,” his eyes are soft and tender, blinking slow and gazing into yours, “I still have to give you your present.”

“Present?”

Eddie and you hadn’t talked about getting each other presents even though you had one wrapped neatly in a small box in your bedroom at home.

His face lights up as your eyebrows pull into a quizzical ponder. “It’s nothing big,” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly even though his insides are fiery pools of gummy liquid, tangled knots of rope, “just something kinda silly.”

Heated cheeks and a delicate fluttering in your stomach keep you awake the rest of the way home, the fluttering increases anytime Eddie catches you looking at him, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Inside, you speak few words. Eddie tosses his keys on the table, a jingled clink as it skids and stops amongst the stack of mail. The creaking leather of his jacket is soft as it rubs with the flannel fabric of his shirt as his arms are pulled from it, tossing it on the back of the wooden chair. He sits to unlace his boots. The overhead light dances off of the silver of his chunky rings, highlighting his large veiny hands, working in a fluid movement of untying the laces from the eyelets. Those powerful hands. His talented fingers. Aching for them to be on your skin you are tantalized by them. Eyes never moving from the skin pulled taut on his knuckles, chapped and pink from the chilled air and the refusal to wear gloves.

Your own shoes are off, toes begging for warmth as you walk gingerly to your room and change into pajamas. What gift did Eddie have for you? Would he think your gift was weird? Pushing the negativity from your mind, you change into comfy pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in the living room with your gifts behind his back. His mind racing and heart thumping noisily in his chest. He had run this through his mind more times that he could count, obsessing over the fine minute details for days. He had calculated the perfect way to do this with the help of Steve. Tonight was the first part and tomorrow, after ‘A very Merry Corroded Christmas at the Hideout,’ he was going to ask you on a date, a real one. One that he borrowed fancy cologne from Harrington, cleaned his van out for, one that ended with him telling you how crazy he is about you, how he thinks you hung the moon, any and all cliches surmounting every horribly sad country song that Boom made them listen to at work, he’d sing them if you wanted that from him. He’s never felt more like a sap in all his life, but for you, he’d be everything and more. And if he was lucky— and you were ready—maybe he would steal a kiss.

His daydream is cut short when you shuffle from your room to the living room. Christmas tree lit behind him, makes him look fit to be an angel sitting atop the tree rather than standing in front of it, the same smirk he always wore skirting across his face.

The red flannel he’s wearing is rolled to his elbows, pushed up haphazardly. A silver chain hanging delicately around his neck and disappearing in the opening to his shirt. Heart nearly stopping at the sight of him, you walk the same way towards him that he’s standing, hands behind your back, fingers digging into the foiled Christmas wrapping.

“Okay,” Eddie says nervously licking his lips, “let’s countdown from 3 and we can exchange? Does that work?”

Nodding enthusiastically, your mind is screaming at you— your gift is too much, he’s gonna hate it, he’s gonna think it’s weird that you bought this for him. Stomach churning like butter, you hear Eddie’s low velvet voice counting down. At his voice dipping lower when he gets to one you slip the sweat slicked thin box from behind your back and lean hold it out in front of you.

Your chapstick smile is sweet and adoringly beautiful, Eddie nearly drops your present from behind his back at the sight, fingers clutching to the silky wrapped handles of the gift bag with Santa’s fat white ass climbing up into a chimney on the front. His arm swings forward and holds the bag by its handles on one thick finger, like a bomb ready to explode at any second.

Eyes wide and bright he places the gift bag in your hand and exchanges his present for yours. “Eddie you didn’t have to do this,” you gasp at the sight of the bag, “you already fixed my car and wouldn’t let me pay you.”

“Yeah well,” Eddie starts rubbing the back of his neck, “open it and we’ll decide if I should have or not.”

Placing the bag on the ground and taking the crinkly emerald green and sparkly gold tissue paper out one sheet at a time, Eddie’s eyes never leave your hands as you reach the bottom of the bag and they hesitate. His heart jumps to his throat, stomach falling out of his ass. It’s too much, you hate it. Of course you do, it was a stupid idea to begin with. Why the fuck did he ask Gareth for his help? His original idea would have been better than this, and now look! You’re about ready to rip his goddamn head off like a praying mantis or some shit. SON OF A B—

A shrill laugh erupts from your lungs as Eddie feels a tidal wave of relief wash over him. Tucked into the bag, folded as neatly as Eddie could, you pull out a black t-shirt, safety pins decorate the hem, a homemade ripped neckline. Corroded Coffin's sadistic logo is printed on the front and beneath it reads, ‘Eddie’s babysitter’ in bold white lettering. Fingers tracing the lettering you haven’t stopped laughing yet.

“I—I was deciding between ‘babysitter’ or ‘manager’ but went with th— I just figured you needed something to wear for tomorrow and I thought this would be c— do you hate it?”

“Hate it?!” you squeak between giggles, “Eddie this is the best gift I’ve ever received, I can’t wait to wear it.” You meant that, the thought that went into this, the personalization. The almost possession of being anything of Eddie’s made you weak in the knees.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes, finally able to take a breath and relax, “shit I have something else for you too, but uh.. close your eyes and turn around for me.”

His breath on your neck drives goosebumps and flutters all over your body. The cool feel of a necklace tightens on your neck as Eddie latches it closed, and goes slack once he’s finished. His hands trail down your back and land on your hips to turn you back around. His fingertips digging into your flesh ever so lightly.

The necklace is heavy, something weighing it down but you can’t be sure what it is, it’s not until you glance at his hands that you notice one of his rings is missing, the chunkiest of them all, the pig head is no longer on his middle finger, but around your neck instead.

His fingers skate along your neck as he adjusts it into place, tickling your collar bones with his finger tips, sending shivers across your skin, he keeps this up and you’ll be permanently goose pimpled for the rest of your life. You’d wear them proudly if it meant his hands never left you.

“There,” he announces in finality, his eyes dip to your lips, the necklace and back to your eyes, “aren’t you just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Core throbbing and pooling with molten hot lava at his complimentary words, his velvet, panty dropper voice. Fuck, he is so pretty it hurts.

“Better open your present before your mouth gets you into trouble,” you whisper, blinking long and slow as you stare back into the depths of his eyes, lost in the muddy galaxy.

He grins, his fingers walk up your neck and cup your chin, bringing you ever so slightly towards him, enough that you can feel his breath on your own lips, his tobacco voice pulling you in and wrapping you tight in a nicotine high that they’d make quit ads for in the upcoming future, “oh princess, I’d pay to be in that kind of trouble.”

and you’re floating, in this moment there is no sound, just two souls shedding the last layer of self doubt, the last inkling of the unknown as your toes dip in the warm pools of the burnt caramels of Eddie’s eyes. His lips are slick and you want to get a taste, want to feel the chapped crack in his bottom lip nestled against your tongue, busting the crack open and savoring his blood in your mouth.

The fervoring tension has never been this strong and you wonder if you’ll be able to pull away or if you’ll push yourself up on your tippy toes and close the inch gap between you, sealing your feelings with a kiss. But it’s Eddie who pulls away, taking a ragged breath and hitting himself lightly in the head with your carefully wrapped present.

He could feel the flames from your lips, the sweet venom of your tongue was sirening out to him, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. He has a plan in place and no matter how hard all puns intended it was for him to pull away from you, he had to. Wanting to follow his plan, making sure his i’s were dotted and his t’s were crossed he’d never studied harder for anything in his life. He’d pass this test for sure, having obsessed and studied the material for months, staying up late most nights to tune out the fine details. He’d get this right.

Your eyes droop as he steps away from you tangled in his web of desire you can’t get unreleased from. His fingers slide along the taped edge of the wrapper and you’re certain you’re going to fold like a chair at the way the veins bulge in his hands. He’s looking at the gift you bought, a silence on his lips as you drool for the way he’s holding it. He’s stammering, suddenly an impediment in his vocal chords as his tongue twists thickly against his teeth.

“No way— No fucking way!” He’s screaming, pulling his hair and jumping around the room in a boyish giddiness.

“M-Metallica! Tooty!! No way, dude no way! These are fake right?!”

They weren’t.

Robin always had a craft for winning stupid shit and when the radio station out of Indianapolis announced they were giving away tickets to see Metallica in February to caller number 18, Robin just so happened to call the radio station requesting to do a shout out for Vicky and ended up winning the tickets. The night she came to you to color her hair, you exchanged the service for the tickets.

Before you can answer he grabs you up in his arms, spinning you around the room, holding you tighter than a safety belt on a rollercoaster. He spins and spins as you both laugh like kids.

“Merry Christmas Eddie,” you whisper in his ear when he stops spinning. He’s holding your waist, and you’re on the tips of your toes, his head buried into your neck.

“Why are you so good to me?” Eddie asks solemnly against your neck, his voice vibrating your skin in a heated pulse.

Not answering for a long time, you bathe in his musky scent, his hair tickling your face in silky curls. His strong arms holding you tight against him, your fingers playing with the opening of his flannel and the ends of his curls, your cheek right against his chest, moving with his breathing.

“Because I want to be,” you finally answer, pulling away and getting lost in his inky warm eyes, “you deserve it.”

He reels you back in, his chin atop your head. Minutes melt together and you aren’t sure how long you stand this way, hip bones fusing together as one with your hearts aligning, your eyes have been closed for a while and you feel cracked lips on your forehead, making you shiver as he whispers, softly into your hairline, “my angel.”

-

The next day is filled with chaos. The guys are in and out of the house at the ass crack of dawn bouncing speakers and other odds and ends you didn’t even know were in the house against each other into the back of Eddie’s van. Wearing Eddie’s necklace proudly close to your heart you make them all sit to eat breakfast burritos. They eat and leave with a flash, but not before Eddie comes back through the door. He grabs your hands, holding them softly in his calloused grip, “See you at the show?”

Smiling widely and trying to will the heat from your cheeks away, you answer, “wouldn’t be a proper babysitter if I wasn’t there to watch now would I?”

“Should have made you the janitor,” Eddie grins and as he sees you still wearing his ring around your neck, he tosses you a wink that could liquify smoke. His tall frame slinks out the door driving like a bat out of hell to go set up at the bar.

-

The jeans you’re wearing are so tight accentuating your ass to explicit levels, the worn docs you’ve had for years are perfectly broke in and comfy on your feet, the shirt Eddie made for you wrapped around your chest perfectly, the letters of bending the ‘C’ and the ‘N’ on either side.

Steve, Leighanne, Robin and Vicky pick you up around 6, Robin with her fire engine hair and fishnet stockings under holy jeans. Vicky in a plaid printed overalls and a beret. Steve and Leighanne are both wearing jet black, her in a sheer sleeved button up shirt and a long black skirt. Steve wore an old band shirt he borrowed from Eddie. Your nerves were frazzled but settled slightly when Leighanne and Robin cat called out the window as you paraded down the front steps.

The drive to the Hideout had you stifling a chunky vomit in your throat. Nervous beyond belief you couldn’t shake it. Eddie had asked you to come, made you your own shirt to wear just for tonight, he clearly wanted to see you, wanted to have you watch his band play. Breathing in and out in exaggerated breaths Steve parks the G Wagon and it’s time to go inside. Here goes nothing.

-

Eddie wasn’t kidding, the bar was busy and posters with the bands silhouette were sticking on every surface in the bar and outside of it. Outside the bar was a girl around your age, short in stature, her brown hair piled high on her head, brooding green eyes piercing your own as she smoked a cigarette, selling tickets.

Eyeing your shirt she rolls her eyes, “you must be Eddie’s special guests,” she spits, eyeing you up and down, a jealous pitch in her voice, “guest of honor my ass,” she mumbles to herself as she lets you in free of charge. The Hideout was exactly how you remembered it to be. Pungent smells of spilt liquor and cheap keg beer fill your nose, the smoky haze filling the bar is a welcomed reminder that this place was a legendary spot in Hawkins.

Eddie and the boys were on stage setting up amps and speakers. His long curls catch the light and showering the room with amber swirls of caramel and chocolate. He’s wearing a cut mid drift shirt that looks like it would fit a toddler, his tattoos and fine definitions of his hips and slight abs are on display. Every vein in his arms are protruding and river lined. He’s the single sexiest man on the planet and your body was running over with want.

“Let’s get a drink, yeah?” Steve motions to the sticky counter of the bar. A dark curly haired woman with enormous boobs and red lipstick wearing a t- shirt reading “daddy’s girl” is behind the bar. She’s familiar to you but only in passing, the more you think the more you recognize her as Max's older brother’s girlfriend. Her long red nails clack on the sticky counter as she waits impatiently for you to make a decision.

Steve orders for him and Leighanne and orders Robin a water with a straw, never living down her behavior on his birthday. Vicky and you both order beers that probably should have been cold but with the daggering stare the bartender drove into your skull you didn’t dare ask.

Pocketing the cash Steve slapped into the counter in her bra, she made her way over to the extremely intoxicated drunk girls there for a bachelorette party.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you’re like my bestfriend,” a girl with wavy brown hair and glasses slurs to her friend, her voice up an octave as they power slam fruity drinks that resemble melted skittles.

“I hope Greg realizes what you’re giving up to be with him,” the girl with pinked red hair shouts above the others her leopard print jumpsuit stretched tight across her heaving chest, fussing over her friend with cropped lavender hair’s appearance, holding her up like they’re re-enacting Weekend at Bernie’s.

The bride-to-be pouts and makes a face, “who said I’m giving up anything? This whole bar is free game and according to Jo’s guide for the night, we still have ‘make out with a mustache’ to cross off.”

Snickering as you pass them, Leighanne linked her arm through your left as you make your way to stage, sipping the lukewarm beer in the barely clean glass, its hop tickling your throat with each travel in your mouth. Corroded Coffin has gone backstage and are waiting to be announced. The bar is flooded with people young and old. Reliving their glory days one sparse balding mullet at a time.

“I had no idea Eddie was in a band,” Leighanne whispered loudly into your ear, “he was in such a bad mood when I met him I didn’t really get to know him.”

The memory of Steve’s birthday still stung but the moments after and the day after that were still singing sweetly in your soul. “He’s come around quite a bit,” you explain.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Steve told me about the two guys he fought at work, said they were mouthing off about you and he just snapped.”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

The bruises on his face, the broken ribs, his cracked and bleeding mouth. That was for you? He fought two guys off because of you?

Mind spinning on its own axis you can’t grasp why he would do that for you. Why he would get himself severely hurt just because some douchebags said some shit about you. It wasn’t worth it. Your eyebrows pull inward and your heart aches even more for Eddie. He was hands down the sweetest man you’ve ever come across. Putting himself in harm’s way just to prove a point. He could have lost his job, could have gotten even more hurt than what he was. It was stupid, reckless and dangerous— but somehow you couldn’t think of anything other than your heart hammering into your chest.

A booming voice fills the speakers and coaxes your attention to the center stage. “Please welcome, all the way from Forest Hills Trailer Park, our own, Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie and the boys trot on stage, Gareth takes his seat behind his drum set, followed by Jeff picking up his bass guitar and Big D picking up his instrument, you notice him winking towards a girl beside you, the blush on her pale cheeks could be seen from another planet.

Eddie is the last out, strutting forward with his runt red warlock guitar slung around his neck and a bullet belt hanging on his slender waist. His smile radiates across his face as he approaches the mic. He looks through the crowd with twinkly eyes and when he catches your stare front and center he winks and bends down, voice low as he speaks only to you— as if no one else is in the room but the pair of you. “Prettiest girl in the world made it all the way from Cherry Lane to come and see me huh?”

“Well since you practically begged,” you quip, heat warming your cheeks as his smile spreads wider.

“Wait for me after?” Eddie asks, eyes dripping deeply into yours, cartoon hearts floating from each blink of his lashes.

His stare could heat a kettle it burned into your soul and cozied up with your heart, softening it to a beautiful graying ash. Nodding and smiling like a fool in love you can’t form words when he shoots you a wink and stands in a swift, fluid motion, grabbing the microphone and shouting, “Hawkins! Are you ready to get this party started?!” The lights beat down on the band as they begin their set for the night.

Thrashing on his guitar, Eddie starts the tinny opening to Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam, followed by Gareth beating into his drums. Having watched them play this song many times in the garage it never ceases to amaze you how deep Eddie’s voice can get in the beginning of the song, his liquid sultry tone curls around your skin and holds you tight. The cords in his neck are profound jutting out in delectable delight. A feast for the wicked. His fingers move deftly along the fretboard as he sings and plays. Hair already slicked with sweat and hanging in a curly wet curtain of onyx down his back and stuck to his face. He’s never looked better. Hardly recognizing anyone around you, you're completely enamored like a moth to a flame by his appearance, his sex appeal on fire, licking up your skin’s gasoline, orange hues in a smoldering fire.

The song finishes and Eddie yells into the mic, “I’m Eddie, and we are Corroded Coffin, if you don’t like metal or the 80’s…”

The crowd chants as Eddie holds the mic out to them, “THEN GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Screams, whoops and hollers are bouncing off every surface of the dingy blackened bar. The beginning bells of For Whom The Bell Tolls chime and the crowd goes wild. When Big D rifts the beginning of Love Bites, Eddie takes a giant swig of Jack Daniels and your tongue aches to lap up the drops coursing down his stomach and finding solace in the waistband of his jeans.

Does he need a chaser? If so, you know the perfect antidote. Hungry like a wolf for him you can feel the soaked panties between your legs, the friction of your jeans give little relief where it’s needed.

The band plays a few more songs, and you are surprised that Eddie’s voice never falters or cracks during the entire nine minutes of Freebird, he nails the guitar solo and his sweltering smooth voice hits your core with each belting ache of the sad song. Steve holds Leighanne from behind and they sway together through the lyrics, he’s whispering into her ear and she’s fighting back tears. Robin and Vicky are slow dancing in a drunken stupor of smoke, completely in their own world.

The drunken girls from the bachelorette party are each making out with men double their age, the bride is getting a piggyback ride from a balding man you recognize to be wait what? Wayne Munson, reliving his glory days and having the time of his life as her white veil is worn around his head, cigarette hung limply from his thin lips. It’s safe to say the entire bar is drunk and having one of the best nights. The bartender has a line of party go-ers to do body shots from her cleavage. It’s hot and humid in the bar but Corroded Coffin doesn’t take any breaks, they keep playing and you can tell exhaustion is evident in Eddie’s face as he sings his heart out.

Eddie’s voice booms as he grabs the mic with a maniacal laugh, he looks down at you and points to you with an outstretched palm, “this next one is for the biggest brat, pain in my ass, absolutely the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever known, we haven’t played this song in years, but I know it’s her favorite.”

Jeff starts thumbing on his bass guitar with Gareth hitting the drums, immediately you know the song. You can’t believe he remembered. It was months ago when you had mentioned it to him, asking shyly if they still played it. Eddie starts singing the first verse,

There’s a place just south of Witches Valley

Where they say the wind won’t blow

And they only speak in whispers of her name

There’s a lady they say that feeds the darkness

It eats right from her hand

With a crying shout, she’ll search you out

And freeze you where you stand

Lady Evil, evil

She’s a magical mystical woman

Lady evil, evil on my mind

She’s the queen of the night

Tears well in your eyes and you can’t help them from falling. Grabbing the necklace he had placed so delicately on you yesterday you rub the tarnished steel between your fingers. It’s not even a sappy song, but the fact he remembered from all those years ago when you were just a bratty sister to his best friend and he was an asshole teenager, made your heart soar. You were in love with him. More than just a little crush, more than just a one night fling, you wanted him as yours— yours and yours alone.

The bar is full of screaming fans, girls with their tops off, throwing their bras at the band, but Eddie’s eyes never leave yours. His soul reaches yours and tells you without words the same thing you are thinking.

The rest of the concert you stand in one spot still staring up at the beautiful man in front of you, utterly intoxicated on him. The valleys of his neck as it vibrates and stretches with his vocal chords, the veiny thick hands as they strum his guitar, his wet hair that would look so delicious wrapped around your fingers. You yearned for him, carnally desired to have those hands wrapped hotly around your skin, between your legs, on your neck. Fuck.

-

The gig ends and the boys slip backstage. “Fuck man! I haven’t seen that many people at one of your gigs ever, where the hell is Gareth?” Big D asks, squeezing a can of spray cheese into his mouth.

“Oh you know him,” Jeff chides, downing a warm beer, “he’s bumping’ uglies with his main, probably locked in the men’s bathroom again.”

They all chuckle and Eddie hurries to grab his stuff, anxious to meet you up front and buy you a drink, maybe take you out for midnight pancakes at Benny’s. Looking as beautiful as ever tonight he had a hard time keeping the gig going, all he wanted to do was jump off stage and kiss you so deeply your bones would sing from his fervor, and now that it was over, he moved into the final phase of his plan, making you his.

“Ash is waiting’ on me, you still riding with us Big D or is Em gettin’ lucky tonight?

Big D wipes his cheese filled lips, “ah I might give her the ol’ pickle tickle, hey man,” he says gesturing to Eddie, “a whole song dedicated to the most gorgeous girl huh?”

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, “am I wrong? Tooty not pretty enough for you?”

Big D holds his hands up in surrender, “damn dude that’s not what I was getting at— I’m— we are happy for you. Don’t let her get away.”

Eddie smiled sheepishly, “that’s the plan my man,” he says slinging his worn duffel bag over his shoulder, “that’s the plan, gotta go.”

He makes his way down a narrow hallway back to the bar when he’s stopped by the twins. Arms crossed and looks of vengeance on their painted lips.

“Ladies,” Eddie greets, head down and making to pass them, but the stand stone still, blocking his way.

“Daddy,” Cece answers, “that wasn’t very nice the way you treated us the last time we played.” her lips pursed in a pretty pout, a tight faux leather mini skirt exentuating her curves.

Carol purrs as she walks towards him, her hip gripping leather pants and a denim vest adorned with band pins pushes her chest up and nearly to her eyeballs, soft Farrah curls surrounding her face and sway down her back. Her finger curled under his chin, “I think you owe us… a favor.”

“Ooh yes,” Cece agrees, “a big favor,” her hand wraps around the soft length outside his jeans. Lips pressing into his sweaty neck.

“I’m gonna pass,” Eddie says firmly, avoiding Carol’s needy fingers in his hair, “but Gareth might be up for another round, give him about a half hour or so.”

Carol grabs Eddie by his crotch and walks him back into the wall, pinning his shoulders with her arms, her lips tantalizingly close to his neck. “A song dedicated to that bitch roommate of yours?” she seethes, “how pathetic.”

Cece speaks now, her words laced with venom long slicked back pony tail cascading down her back, “bet she can’t fuck like us, word around town is her pussy was trashed by Chad Cunningham.”

Eddie instantly feels a fire in his belly; he's ready to tell them both off, ready to get to you and take you out for a meal. But when he looks up he sees you standing at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and a hand over your mouth. He calls your name but you ignore him, throwing a middle finger over your shoulder and swallowing the lump in your throat as turn on your heel and stomp away, down the hallway and through the loud chattering of drunks in the bar, passed the stage that you finally felt like you were getting somewhere with Eddie, and out the door.

The wind had picked up, blowing snow all around the parking lot. A white wall of opaque blindness, you don't have a jacket but you know the general way on how to get home. Crossing your arms across your chest you put your head down and began to trudge through the parking lot.

Not being able to fathom what you saw, you are pissed that you’re jealous. Pissed that your rockstar roommate, who was known for being a ladies man and a player, pulled one over on you. Made you think he loved you just for him to be sucking face with the twins who were at your house all those months ago. Tears sting and practically freeze to your lashes as you stomp further and further away from the hideout, heart frozen and rigid once again.

With the wind blowing hard you didn’t hear the door being flung open frantically or the loud music being sung by the drunks from the jukebox. Eddie barely catches a glimpse of your black shirt and barrels through the deepening snow to get to you. “Tooty!”

A warm hand wraps around your arm and pulls you around to face him, your eyes are like steel knives into his as he stares into them pleading with you to understand. “You gonna walk the whole way home?”

“What the fuck do you care?” you shout, trying to wiggle your arm away from him, “you must think I’m really fucking stupid huh?”

Eddie is perplexed, face twisted in confusion, “what the hell are y— Jesus Christ it’s freezing out here, let me take you home. We can argue and fight all you want without getting hypothermia.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you!” you cry, trying to shove him away but nearly falling in the snow. You didn’t want to be in his presence ever again. He hurt you, he made you feel like you were special, turns out you're just as common as a penny on the sidewalk, not even face up for luck.

“Tooty,” Eddie barks, voice angry, sharp and full of pain, “if I have to drag you by your goddamn hair into the van I will. I have no problem doing that. Let’s. Go.”

Shoulder checking him on your spin back through the parking lot, you stomp through the thick snow and climb into the passenger seat, shivering and pouting.

Eddie is close behind you, hands raw and red from the elements, trembling as he reaches for the knob to blast the heat. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls out of the parking lot, only looks your way to try and read your face, your peripherals catch him more than once— but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your tears.

The ride home is full of slippery snow packed roads, at the stop sign before turning onto Cherry, Eddie looks your way, “are you mad at me?”

Are you mad at me? What a stupid fucking question.

“No Eddie I’m over the moon, jumping for joy, mother fucking delighted to see you with not one girl but two— groping you ready to feast on you like a snack.”

Eddie shakes his head, not wanting to argue but seeing no other way through it. “That’s all you saw huh? And where were my hands Tooty? Was I touching them?”

You think hard, unable to to process or give a shit what he was talking about. “I was too distracted to see what you were doing, sorry for leaving so soon and disrupting your rockstar ego in the act— I’m sure you’re into other people watching you fuck.”

Eddie lets out a taunting laugh that is anything but trying to be funny. He’s flabbergasted by how mean you’re being, 100% only seeing what you wanted to.

“You are seriously talking out of your ass right now, ya know that right?” Eddie sneers, pulling into the driveway, he’s hurt and like an animal, he’s lashing out, defending his pride, “Why do you even care if I am, which for the record— I’m not, with someone else? We aren’t dating, you’re not my girlfriend.”

The poisonous words sting worse than the first fight with him ever has. Not giving him a chance to explain, you throw open the door, not slamming it but leaving it wide open and stomp inside. Kicking off your boots you hear two doors slam and Eddie’s boots stomping behind you.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts, “do you ever finish a conversa—”

“Fuck you! You wanna be some rockstar prick with his dick in anything that walks? Be my guest— but keep me out of it!” Turning to your bedroom, Eddie jumps over the couch to block your path, arms stretched across the door frame.

“We,” Eddie yells again, “are going to talk about this, stop running away from me!”

“No,” you chastise, “we aren’t!”

Eddie hears you but presses on, “why are you mad at me because you think you saw me kissing or touching those other girls?”

“Uhh,” you groan, defeated, “leave me alone.”

“Tell me,” he continues.

“No.” You announce crossing your arms.

“Tooty, Jesus Chr— tell me,” he’s losing his calm, agitated by your bratty attitude and refusal to talk to him.

Fidgeting and stamping your foot you don’t want to give in to him, can’t tell him why you’re so upset. How embarrassing to tell someone you’re jealous.

“Eddie— get the fuck out of my way.”

“Tell me why and I will, be a big girl, use your words,” his venomous teasing only fuels your fire.

“Jesus Christ you incessant fucking gnat! Get out of the way!”

Eddie presses forward, inching towards you, making you draw away from him, “are you jealous, Tooty?”

The word makes your cheeks heat, admission written all over your face as he keeps pressing into you further, your back is at the wall and his arms box you in, face inches from yours. “Did seeing me with someone else make you mad?”

Grumbling his name you try to push away from him but he is persistent. “Tell me I’m not crazy, baby.” His whispered tone seeps through your skin, flooding your panties even more, your heart screaming with each beat, mind inching you impossibly closer to him.

“Tell me you want this just as much as I do,” his hooded eyes, pour into yours, licked lips wet with spit.

Toes in the water, it’s surprisingly warm despite the frigid cold of the weather outside, but he’s been keeping you warm now for months.

Hands on his chest you finger the holes in the neck of his shirt. His cold wet hair tickling your hands as you yank him closer to you, practically bumping noses, “you’re not crazy, but I will be if you don’t kiss me.”

Hesitation long forgotten, the smooth silk of your lips are hugged tight against Eddie’s pinked and chapped ones. Floating higher to the galaxy he swore he would take you to, tank full of gas, dancing you around in his arms on Saturn’s rings, diving head first into Jupiter’s springs.

Blissfully euphoric is the language of your spilled lust infused love.

-

for readmore 🦋

#honey i’m home #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

[xanthippe74]

Masterlist of my “12 Days of Fandom” recs, inspired by this post. As always, please check the tags and author's notes before reading. Enjoy!

🔸 Terminal Lucidity by @romaine2424 (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated G, 3K) This bittersweet fic has Harry putting his abilities as Master of Death to good use by comforting those close to death themselves. We see him at work here, adeptly easing the way for someone dear to him with compassion and care. I found this story incredibly moving and a beautiful portrait of family ties in the face of an impending loss. Featuring older, established Drarry and the Black-Malfoy family.

🔹 Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (Drarry, rated E, 46K) Gorgeously and vividly written, this university rowing AU drew me in right from the get-go, despite the fact that Muggle AUs are not my typical cuppa. The enemies-to-lovers tension is perfectly paced as Harry and Draco fight for the same spot on the Oxford team. Citrusses did a fantastic job translating their backgrounds and personalities (as well as those of other familiar characters from the books) into this world. Class divisions and the pressure of a highly-public sporting event stand in very effectively for Harry’s canon experiences. All in all, the story has the poignancy and drama of a lush coming of age film, and I can’t recommend it highly enough!

🔸 The Pile by @b-vul (Drarry, not rated, about 1.5K) This hilarious ficlet was born out of littlewinnow’s tumblr post about Veela!Harry performing an intricate mating dance to impress Draco. Delightfully, it’s from Harry’s POV as he blindly “trusts his instincts” to guide him into increasingly bizarre actions. And the evolution of Draco’s reaction is pure comedy gold. I’ve come back to reread this one a couple of times, and it never fails to have me in stitches. (The tumblr thread also contains adorable art by regretfulcorrine!)

🔹 Shine on, You Crazy Diamond by @lagerloutfic (Drarry, HD Mpreg Fest, rated E, 42K) This is one of those fics that you can’t stop reading once you start (something I confirmed this morning when I went to skim through it for this rec and wound up spending a few happy hours devouring the entire thing again). It’s laugh-out-loud funny and deliciously smutty, with a full cast of delightful side characters and just the right amount of feelings. The story begins with the discovery of Draco’s surprise pregnancy, then switches to a long flashback of Harry’s gay awakening and his fast sexual/slow emotional burn relationship with Draco. The entire fic has a joyful feel—banter-filled pub nights, chaotic family dinners, audacious curse breaking—culminating in the baby’s arrival, which left me in happy tears and wishing for another 40K of this fabulous story. Featuring confident Harry, supportive friends & family, hot Charlie, and some shamelessly kinky Unspeakables.

🔸 Silhouettes by @sweet-s0rr0w (Draco/Ron/Harry, Dronarry Fest, rated E, 16K) Draco/Ron/Harry is not a ship I’d ventured into before I read this fic, but I’m so glad I did! Sweet’s writing always hits the right spot in my brain, and her alternating POVs and spot-on characterizations of all three boys are delightful. I especially loved Ron’s sexy self-assurance here. The unique magical theory around sentient houses is fascinating and ultimately poignant, once Draco gets to the root cause of the Burrow’s behavior. Sweet-sorrow surely lived up to her username with this one, weaving grief with humor and a heartwarming resolution.

🔹 Harry Potter Gets a Job (A 106-Page Comic) by dustmouth (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated M) Dustmouth’s comics never miss, I swear! In this one, we find Harry overcoming his distrust of Draco with the help of the Weasleys, especially Ron (who is definitely up to something himself). All of my favorite Dustmouth elements are here: the expressive characters, Draco’s wild wardrobe choices, and punchy dialogue galore. Also featuring drunken shenanigans at the Burrow, adorable Teddy, and some first-class Slytherin-ing by Draco to win his man (and find Harry that job). What a treat!

🔸 the earth from a distance by spqr (Drarry, rated E, 15K) A whirlwind time-travel fic with breezy humor, bedsharing, and spqr’s unmatched smut with feelings… What more could you ask for in a fic? Oh, yeah: fantastic worldbuilding for Hogwarts in 1599, brilliantly clever Draco, and a dash of enemies to lovers. I can never get enough of this author!

🔹 A Year In The Life by @ladderofyears (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated M, 19K) I swear, the author conjured a little bit of magic to write this story. It’s told entirely with 50-word microfics, one journal entry for each day of 2006 (an impressive feat, by itself!), and yet it reads just as smoothly as any traditional fic. Draco’s voice is perfect here, full of wit and subtle emotion, as his and Harry’s developing romance takes a sharp turn with an unexpected pregnancy.  Draco’s anticipation, worry, and joy are mixed with deftly-chosen details of his daily life, all captured with Emma’s trademark tenderness and warmth. This fic is a perfect comfort read for family feels and gentle romance.

🔸 try to fix you by @maesterchill (Harry/Ron/Hermione, HP Snooze Fest, rated M, 2K) A beautifully and tenderly written hurt/comfort fic set in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts. Ron is the glue that holds the trio together here, caring for Harry and Hermione with gentle devotion. There’s no dialogue needed to tell this story, just Ron’s perceptive POV that captures the grief and love that compel him. I have a soft spot for this triad forming immediately after the war, as a way of holding onto each other and holding themselves together. Maester’s fic makes their transition from friends to lovers feel like the first step towards healing.

🔹 The Scent of Soft Rains by @dodgerkedavra (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated E, 20K) When Harry is left housebound and isolated by a traumatic injury, magical prosthetist Draco gets called into help. But Harry’s struggles go far beyond the physical ones. This recovery fic combines magical and non-magical therapeutic treatments in a way I can’t remember reading before. The hurt/comfort is just as it should be—both heart-wrenching and soothing—but there are enough surprising revelations to keep the story from feeling predictable. Draco is wonderfully unflinching and patient, and the ending left me crying happy tears. With lovely, restrained prose and vivid magical imagery, this one’s an absolute stunner.

🔸 Connecting Lines, Connecting Crimes by @sleepstxtic (Drarry, H/D Career Fair, rated M, 15K) With its intriguing careers, fascinating magical theory, and well-researched worldbuilding, this story captured my attention immediately, and the mystery at the heart of it kept me engrossed. This was one of the more thought-provoking fics I’ve had the pleasure of reading, exploring the intersection of magic, the environment, and colonialism. Harry’s first-person POV is lovely, and it feels like we’re learning to love India and the people he meets along with him. The getting-back-together romance is gentle but satisfying, propelled by pent-up yearning that’s palpable. There’s so much to enjoy here, all in only 15K words!

🔹 Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (Drarry, H/D Wireless Fest, rated E, 22K) The first word that comes to mind while reading this fic is charming. First there’s the novel setting: a Christmas shop in the tourist destination of Cheddar Gorge, in the middle of a July heatwave. Next, there’s the shop itself, so imaginatively described and full to the brim with clever Muggle and magical details. Then there are the delightful OCs, Draco’s seemingly unhinged enthusiasm for all things Christmas (including ridiculous jumpers), and Harry’s complete disregard for professional behavior. But underneath the playful banter and humor, there’s also a layer of poignancy to tug at the heartstrings, especially when we find out the backstories behind Harry’s and Draco’s unlikely careers. And to top it all off, like the glowing star on the tree, are Joy’s exuberant, colorful illustrations. This is a Christmas-y fic I’d reread any time of the year.

Thanks to all these brilliant creators for sharing their work with us!

Happy New Year!

#12 days of fandom #2023 favorites #drarry #dronarry #harry/ron/hermione #fic recs

[comecloserwouldyou]

The End of the “Human Exchange program” Pt.1

🔜Part 1.5

(‼️keep in mind this is only an au‼️)

(‼️‼️Everybody × reader (angst) ‼️‼️) Everybody knew this would happen. Everybody knew the end of this human exchange program is was near. Of course it was near. It was inevitable after all. But what the didn’t know was it would end this fast. The end of the “Human exchange program” was here and now it was time for the human exchange to go back. Here are some background (inner) thoughts and feelings.

Lucifer:

It feels like a dream. The poor guy can’t get a break. He feels like it’s his duty to….subtly…..hold everybody together. Top all of that off with the fact he’s overworking himself to keep his mind off of you. Bad situation. His sleep schedule has once more declined, to a point that it’s even worse than it was before you left. He constantly sees, hears and related everything to you. He has always been hyper vigilant of everything and everybody in the house. It made him feel like he could be in control and protect everybody, and you were no exception to the rules (well you almost always were but he digresses). “MC…no…come back. I’m so sorry for everything. Please come back. You’re the only one I can love and trust. My pride is nothing when you’re around. You are my walking pride, my love. Please come back…come home.”

Mammon:

He’s absolutely stopped in his tracks. He can’t even comprehend that you’re gone, and when he finally does it’s not pretty. Lots and lots of tears. The house is going to be barren for Kleenexes for a while. He goes out almost everyday and gambles away what little does he have, but he doesn’t care. It’s something to do outside the torture of the House of Lamentation. He also has a habit of getting himself drunk, and subsequently getting himself yelled at by lucifer. His only comeback was the he couldn’t handle the loss, and surprisingly lucifer put a blanket around his shoulder and gently told him to go and sober up. “Nonononononono! Stay! There’s no need for you to go home! Isn’t this your home too? Don’tcha wanna stay? We had so much fun! We can continue to have fun! Just…p-please… don’t a-abandon me like everyone e-else.”

Leviathan:

Levi’s first reaction is to lock himself up in his room and go into full denial. Eventually, he lets the cold exterior melt off and his true colours become fully transparent. Much like his brothers, he submerges himself in his activities: video games, comic cons updates and other otaku related things. He doesn’t leave his room for days on end, and when he does it’s only for food and water. He’s jealous of every human who even gets to see your beautiful face in the human realm, but his biggest regret is never going out and doing anything with you. Even his precious Ruri-chan can’t do anything to ease his heartache. “I-I don’t care. Y-you’re just a n-normie. It d-doesn’t m-matter. I have p-plenty of friends o-online. I-I don’t n-need y-you. I- I….need you. Please! Please! C-come h-home! I-I still don’t k-know so m-much about you. I-I should have been l-less selfish. I should have t-tried to g-get to know y-you b-better.”

Satan:

(Goes into bedroom and throws a major tantrum.) Basically, this guy lost his anger translator and when that happens…bad things happen. Once more lucifer finds him on the receiving end of pranks, but not normal pranks. His pranks become harsher, his anger showing through them. He has also raided the bookstore more times than beel raided the fridge last year. Which is definitely an impressive feat in and of itself. You’ll find that his precious book pages are covered in tear drop stains. You taught him to love, to be truly calm and so much more. Please, bring back the anger translator for everybody’s sakes. “Come back please? You’re the eye of the hurricane. The calm. Please…come back. Please? We can do anything you want. Anything! I’ll never deny you another walk. We can go whenever you want! Just please, come back.” Asmodeus:

Sad. Break. Up. Songs. So what if the boy didn’t break up with her, same general gist. Girl leaves boy, boy can’t see girl and ta-da it feels like a break-up has occurred. The boy doesn’t party. He doesn’t do his skin routine (which absolutely no one can tell), and acts like an insomniac (fully evident in his overly sassy behaviour). Basically, not like the Asmodeus everybody knows. He wishes you could come back so he would have his spa, manicure and pedicure buddy back. “Mc you made me feel beautiful, inside and out. Come back. I promise, I’ll always tell you how beautiful you are. You are the most gorgeous being alive, even more than myself. Please…come back…. I’ll treat you like a princess. I p-promise.”

Beelzebub:

Poor baby boy isn’t hungry. He doesn’t eat, except when forced. His work out routine has sky rocketed from an hour and a half to over three hours. If he’s not working out then he’s either crying, laying with Belphie to feel some semblance of peace, or at sports practice. Most of all, he misses your sweetness. You always could work out any situation, and even better you kept the peace and happiness of the house alive. “Please Mc, come home. Come back to your family. We…I need you. We can hang out just like the good old days. Get food, snuggle with Belphie, fall asleep watching movies and more. Whatever you want, just name it. Just…come home to us, to me.”

Belphegor:

He honestly wonders if he kills everybody that you know up there if you’ll come back to them. Just a thought. (Might want to text beel a thank you for saving your family’s lives.) He is very annoyed and confrontational about everything and everybody, except beel. He wants to sleep to escape, but then he dreams about you. Then he wants to stay awake, but he’s just so tired and things, places and certain things remind him of you. Basically, he’s losing his precious sleep because of you, but he isn’t annoyed at you. He’s just lonesome for you. “Mmmm…..Oh, it was just a dream. Mc isn’t really here. Please come back. You would scold me for being so harsh, heh. Please come back…..starlight.”

(‼️ there is a part 1.5 for dateables‼️)

(Yes, this shits gonna be a series 🤡)

Kay, bye! ( took me a week to do this nah- 🤨📸⁉️)

#Obey me #Obey me lucifer #Obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me mc #obey me angst #obey me also actually hurts my hand #Took me a week #lmfao #this so cringe #Why am I doing this #so many tags

[journeyintofiction]

hii, can u do a Shuri x reader where the reader is in college and is getting verbally and physically abused by her parents due to her bad academics performance but she won’t tell Shuri because she has a country to worry about until Shuri eventually finds out because the reader won’t answer calls or texts? <33

Hello everyone! I took a tiny hiatus because I had a very huge loss in my family right before New years so I was not in the mental headspace to write anything. However, I am back and unfortunately the college semester is in full swing. Pls send help im dying 

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of verbally and physically abusive parents

Word count:1k

As always, happy reading :) 

“y/n, you better not be crying in your room before I come in there and give you something to cry about!”

I quickly attempt to muffle my sobs by burying my head in my comforter on the bed, hoping and praying that my parents can’t hear me. God knows I don’t need another beating after what happened tonight. 

It always happens like this. Every single time. I do my best, get anything lower than an A and I know as soon as I come home I’m gonna have my ass beat. No matter how hard the class is or how hard I work they don’t care because if it isn’t an A it is considered a failure. I went to the college they wanted me to go to because I could stay home and make money but that meant I couldn’t escape their abuse. 

This semester I had a slip up and got a C in a class and in turn they beat the shit out of me as a form of “teaching me” a lesson. It's not just the physical abuse, every insult was a purposeful stab at me because I failed to meet their expectations or it was just because they had a shitty day and wanted to hurt my feelings. I am at a breaking point mentally, emotionally, and physically.

I hear my phone vibrate and I pick my head up from my comforter to look at my phone and see Shuri’s name pop up on the screen. A smile slightly at the thought of her but wince when I feel the tightness of my skin from my tears drying. I slowly move over to where my phone is so I can text back before she gets worried.

Shuri always knew my schedule and when I suddenly don't answer and she knows I'm at home, she gets worried sick. I shoot her a text and let her know I cant talk and just as I am about to hit send she calls me. Out of fear I quickly answer and start speaking in hushed tones so that my parents dont hear me.

“Shuri, i love you, but right now really isn’t a good time.”

She pauses and asks, “Are you at home?”

“What? Yes I’m at home, you know my routine plus you can track me right now.” I say in confusion.

“My love, I have been trying to call you for the last 2 hours.”

I go silent for a moment and try to figure out how to explain the entire situation without getting Shuri upset or involved with my parents. She takes my silence as a negative response and begins to respond before I can.

“y/n if you have something going on, please just tell me.”

I bite my lip and respond on the verge of tears, “Shuri I want to tell you, I really do but if I say anything… I-”

I get cut off by my mom coming up the stairs and I shove my phone under my pillow but don’t end the call so Shuri can hear everything.

“Who are you talking to up here, huh?”

I look at her impassively so that she believes me, “No one mom, I'm rereading something for my test tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you better be because if I see you come home with another B or less, you are gonna get your ass beat again. I'm not playing with you, your father and I have told you time and time again that we expect you to achieve and you fall short every time.”

I feel my eyes getting watery but otherwise show no emotion and respond as I always do, “of course, I’ll make sure its nothing less than an A.”

My mother looks at me hard and nods, “Keep studying and while you’re at it, dust your room and do laundry.”

With that she leaves to go back down stairs for the night and I pick up my phone from under my pillow. 

“Shuri, are you still there?”

Instead of a reply I get a facetime call and I accept it quickly, frowning at her when she appears on screen. 

“What's wrong? Why did you need to facetime me-”

Shuri looks at me angrily, “How long has this been happening?”

“How long has what been happening?” I say, playing dumb and hoping that she will drop the conversation.

“y/n.”

I sigh, “years, I… never said anything because I know you are busy and this is not your concern and responsibility.”

“All those bruises over the last few months, they were your parents weren’t they?” she whispered.

Looking down and picking at my comforter I mutter a soft “ya.”

She sighed and didn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly unsure of how to broach the subject without hurting me or making me uncomfortable. Then she finally asks, “What else have they…done?”

I hesitate and glance at her on the screen, “It’s just yelling and berating me most of the time but when I get a bad grade they, uh, beat me.”

“Is that why you reacted poorly when I yelled a few weeks back?”

I nod and she looks away from her screen guiltily, “No, Shuri don’t do that to yourself, you didn’t know back then.”

“I should have picked up on it though, I mean seriously the bruises and the flinching whenever my voice was raised should have told me everything I needed to know.”

I see her moving around frantically packing things and I frown because as far as I knew, she didn’t have a meeting and wasn’t expected to go anywhere this evening. When she glances over and sees my confused look she shrugs and raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Shuri… what are you doing?” I ask with my head cocked to the side.

“I’m coming to see you… and talk to your parents.”

“YOU'RE WHAT?”

A/N: Please forgive any grammatical errors, I am extremely tired and have had a looonnngggg week. 

#shuri x y/n #shuri x reader #shuri fanfiction #shuri udaku #shuri

[geek-antic]

I’m so happy to see Skywarp and Novastorm in earthspark, their abilities are so cool and so tragically underutilized in most tf stuff they just show up and end up being either killed or conveniently cast aside. because their abilities would solve most problems far too quickly for there to be a story. Which is utter fucking nonsense because you should build the stories around the characters not see them as tools that can either further or prevent the plot. (Oh this is turning into a rant now you’ve been warned)

Like here’s a freakin example in IDW that kept grinding my gears at all the missed opportunities. I read the MTMTE comics and I read The Windblade comics. And I kept thinking “Man, I wonder what would happen if Soundwave was here.” Admittedly I do that to a lot of things, it helps me read through stuff I’m not a 100 percent fixated on. But I digress, so lemme give you some examples of moments that had me desperately wishing that Soundwave wasn’t in the hands of John Barber in RID.

The idw windblade comics literally has bumblebee stuck in starscreams head. now imagine how fucking interesting it would be if Soundwave showed up and was like “when the fuck did bumblebee get back” because soundwave can literally read minds. and since it turns out bumblebee is actually just some form of transmission from that weird little black hole thing shockwave created during dark cybertron. Suddenly starscream is not so crazy. Suddenly there’s hope for bumblebee. Suddenly soundwave has a far more interesting role than he did in RID. I also desperately and I do mean DESPERATELY want soundwave and windblade to interact because they’re both supposed to be telepaths but so far each continuity they’ve been in has had only one of them have the ability, or neither of them have had it, which is just SO frustrating to me. I wanna see Soundwave try and take over a titan. and wanna see him duke it out with Windblade telepathically.

I also really wanted to see sanctuary station have a bigger role, it felt so isolated and inconsequential because we never even really saw any of the decepticons just hang out in it or how their life was like on the station. It just felt like a from point A to point B plot location which is such a missed opportunity because it would’ve been a big fucking thing after the war. To have a place just full of Decepticon war veterans.

I really just wanted to see Soundwave actually still have a link to cybertron instead of being carded off as the token decepticon in Optimus prime’s story with the GI joes on earth. I fucking wish I was kidding but that is literally what he turned into. There’s so much stuff related to the decepticons happening on cybertron during the Windblade comics and I can’t help but feel like I’ve been robbed of seeing Soundwave actually play a vital role in how decepticon are treated after the war with the autobots. I’m just lamenting at this point so, moving on.

Imagining Soundwave in MTMTE is less about loss of potential and more about satiating my curiosity frankly, because the crew on the lost light end up dealing with A: charisma eating robots, B: a giant robot named Sunder who can fuck with peoples minds and eat their thoughts. And C: a whole freakin planet powered by telepaths. And don’t even get me started on Tarns abilities.

I see you James Roberts and I see your previous fan favorite UK soundwave as clear as day in the pattern of antagonists. Ok so maybe it’s just because I’m fixated on Soundwave but istg reading MTMTE feels like an exploration of some thoughts that have been cooked up for a while by someone who have been wondering about Soundwaves abilities. A: soundwave has been notoriously established as uncharismatic simply because of the first transformers movie. B: soundwave actually has a cassette called Sundor, but that’s more of a fun fact of sounding close to Sunder because what really caught my attention was Sunders way of describing how he felt thoughts which reminded me of how Soundwave describes his telepathy. And C: a whole god damn planet fueled by telepaths creating your dream destination idk that’s just fun to imagine what that’d do to soundwave. Would he be able to call bullshit of would it be like a feedback loop of telepathy?

Okay so let’s get started on Tarn, who I can best describe as a combination of all of decepticon high command but mostly he resembles Soundwave. and for good reason because it seems to me that James Robert tried to make something resembling a UK Soundwave who unlike the G1 cartoon Soundwave was more of a charismatic sweet talker villain type. When I first saw Tarn in my early days of transformers I couldn’t help but think “that’s literally just soundwave wtf” I know better now, but I’m still a bit sour over not getting to see Soundwave get the MTMTE makeover (idk what sorta magic they used to create such god tier robot designs but I want some) but regardless Tarn is a damn good villain who draws in the audience and then makes them boo at him as he has his kick the dog moment or in this case rip the cat, that makes him completely irredeemable. And makes the audience cheer for megatron as he kills Tarn.

A few thoughts on this Tarn guy and the bullet that soundwave managed to dodge by having a healthy support system in idw and not being solely loyal to Megatron.

Soundwave in the war for cybertron game was put in charge of almost the exact same type of prison as Tarn was in IDW. They would capture autobots, kill them, and recycle their parts. Tarn would melt them alive. Soundwave would gun them down. One is considered an agonizing death the other is considered quick. I just find it interesting how they’ve essentially been put in the exact same role of being the guy who takes care of the dirty work, yet they have such a different approach to it. But those are two separate continuities so let’s go back to the IDW one, where they seem to have worked together alongside megatron during the war. Idk if tarn was a part of high command but he was definitely standing at the side usually reserved for second in command at the end of the transformers vs ROM comic. Talk about missed opportunities, I would have loved to see how Soundwave and tarn interacted during the war.

Ah well, I really love IDW for what they gave us with transformers even if there is a bunch of missed potential and opportunities. That just means other tf stories and continuities can pick up on it and do something with it.

Oh god this rant went places, I’m too tired to edit structure into it now though so peace out

#geek rantics #idw1 #Soundwave #Tarn #Megatron #Windblade #idk how to tie this back to earthspark sorry folks #character study #I guess? #starscream #Damus #I’d apologize for rambling but I remember how much I love reading other tf blogs rambling so I won’t #also it’s my blog and I get to make the unstructured rants late at night on a phone #rly wanna add pictures tho I love seeing panels from idw #transformers

[animebw]

The Anime Binge-Watcher’s Queer Anime Ship Tournament: Round 2 Results!

My god, I thought last round was intense. I can’t even describe how brutal the results were this time. So many nail-biting moments, so many shocking reversals, and we even had an outright tie in there! Not to mention the agony of my number one pick biting the dust in one of the most heartbreaking close shaves ever, but it’s fine, I’m fine. Here’s to another kickass round, and have fun checking out the highlights below the Keep Reading link as I set up round 3!

Most Voted Poll: There was a surprising uptick in voters in a lot of these matchups from the first round; Kawoshin vs Kumirei and SuleMio vs KuroMaya both racked up over 800 votes in their brutal contests. But far and away, with a staggering 1905 votes, the most popular poll was Hibimiku vs Victuuri. And folks, this one just about broke my heart. It’s one thing to lose in a blowout to an obvious favorite, but to run such a close race with such a tidal wave of support, vote after vote pouring in from all corners of the internet as two fandoms smash into each other full-force like the battle of Gondor, only to come just the tiniest bit short of snatching victory? Listen, this is y’all’s poll, and I’mma let you finish, but HIbiki and Miku had the single greatest romance of all time, you hear me? Of all time.

Least Voted Poll: But just as a lot of smaller polls suddenly shot up the voter counts, a lot of the more popular winners from last time took a heavy backseat this time. Madohomu and ToukoYuu’s high first round vote counts both slumped into the 200s range, and YukiTouya vs KobaTohru hit dead last with a measly 185 votes. The Dragon Maid girls went into the 400s range last time in their victory over NanoFate, but for whatever reason, very few of those fans returned to help them survive against the Cardcaptor Boys. I wonder why?

Biggest Blowout: Once again, UtenAnthy put out an incredibly dominant performance, trouncing RekiLanga 81% to 19%. But this time, it was actually Madohomu that took the biggest lead, destroying Adashima 85% to 15%. No surprises in either case, as they’re both huge legacy ships going up against far more recent and less popular offerings. Something tells me neither of them are done wreaking a trail of death and destruction just yet...

Closest Nail-Biter: My heart wants to put Hibimiku’s narrow loss against Victuuri here, as going 47.1% to 52.9% against the history makers themselves is an accomplishment to be proud of. But this time, we have the literal closest a race can possibly be: KaseYamada and AshEiji fully tying at 50% each! A genuinely impressive showing from both fandoms. Both ships will now advance to round 3 where they’ll face off in a three-way showdown with Madohomu. Pray for their souls, it’s going to be a bloodbath...

As for me, I once again ended up split 50/50 for wins and losses, with 4 of my picks advancing (including that one tie) and 4 falling short. But man, the loss of Hibimiku makes it seem so much more brutal. Oh well, more misery to come in round 3!

Full Results:

2-A: Adachi x Shimamura (15%) vs Madoka x Homura (85%), 294 votes

2-B: Kase x Yamada (50%) vs Ash x Eiji (50%), 316 votes

2-C: Suletta x Miorine (72.7%) vs Claudine x Maya (27.3%) 864 votes

2-D: Yukito x Touya (64.9%) vs Kobayashi x Tohru (35.1%), 185 votes

2-E: Shinji x Kaworu (69.2%) vs Kumiko x Reina (30.8%) 818 votes

2-F: Hibiki x Miku (47.1%) vs Victor x Yuuri (52.9%), 1905 votes

2-G: Touko x Yuu (74.1%) vs Cocona x Papika (25.9%) 223 votes

2-H: Reki x Langa (19%) vs Utena x Anthy (81%) 432 votes

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #queer anime #queer anime ship poll

[yume-x-hanabi]

I thought of simply copy/pasting my twitter thread but you know what, we’re on Tumblr, we’re allowed proper paragraphs, so let me just ramble like in the good old days :p

Assorted B²TSM Headcanons pt.1: Worldbuilding

Honestly the funniest thing about this fandom is that the entire canon consists in four skits, two music videos, and a song. That is to say, BARELY FUCKING ANYTHING. Guys, I’m used to a video game with extensive lore developed over several games, eight guidebooks, thirteen Drama CDs, five short story series, and some manga. I cannot begin to tell you how different this experience has been 😂 Anyway, as frustrating it can be to have barely anything concrete to go with, it also means… it’s free real estate, baby 😎

A. The Time Machine

So, I’ve been thinking about the mechanics of the whole time-travelling thing for a bit longer than is healthy, and I’ve developed some potential ways it could go that could be fun to play with.

But first, a crack theory I’ve become very fond of: the "time machine" gave them new young & healthy bodies, but the creation of those bodies was influenced by whoever was operating the machine at the time. That's why they all look vaguely like Brett or Eddy—I mean, Bang YG and his assistant. That would also explain the fact they can all speak modern English (+ the accents).

Now let’s look at a couple ways they could have been brought to the future:

1. Actual, full-fledged time-travel

They were plucked from some point of their lives and dragged to the future with no warning. That opens up a few possibilities:

1.a. Continuity errors. Plucking them from their past lives will alter the timeline, and probably change the world of classical music irrevocably. Basically Bang YG u done goof. You’re gonna need forty Ling Ling stones to fix that mess. Oh boy.

1.b. The timeline is not affected, which means they’re fated to go back to their own time at some point, probably with some very convenient memory loss (this was a common plot in HP time-travel fics when I used to be into it /tangent). This one comes with high angst potential: knowing their time here is limited, having to make the most of it, and the worst is that they won’t even be able to use future knowledge to make their past lives better when they go back. Oh the drama, oh the angst.

1.c. The timeline is not affected, because this basically creates a parallel universe, in which history up to the use of the time machine remains unaffected.

Whichever scenario you go with in this category, this means they were brought over when they were still relatively young, and likely haven’t yet composed some of the great hits they’re known for. Imagine Tchaik and Shosty talking about Beethoven’s 9th symphony, meanwhile he’s like “huh, I have no memory of this piece”. That can lead to some complex feelings, knowing such-and-such famous piece is yours but in a way it’s not (not yet). Or, worse, learning about facts from their personal lives that haven’t happened yet. Momo realizing he’s got about five years left to live when he goes back to his era (in scenario 1.b.)

2. Kind of a reincarnation AU

So this summer I watched Paripi Koumei, which is a very fun and light-hearted anime (highly recommended), and I bring it up here because I really like the concept and think it could apply here. The premise of the anime is that famous strategist Zhuge Liang (Kongming) from the Three Kingdoms is reborn in modern-day Tokyo after he dies. He basically spawns in modern Shibuya with a youthful appearance and all his memories. So, I thought this could be a way to go with how the “time machine” works here: it brings the guys’ consciousness from the point of their deaths and gives them a younger body (a copy of their own, or *see crack theory above*).

That means they know exactly what they did in their past lives. That also means that they remember their own deaths. Very trauma, much angst.

On a brighter note, that means they’re here to stay. They’re basically given a second chance at life, in a world that’s hopefully a bit easier to live in than their past one.

B. The Band’s Concept

I can’t imagine the public being told they’re the real deal. I mean, imagine if people learned that there was a time machine out there that could bring loved ones back to life. That would cause unending chaos. And that’s if they’re believed to begin with—the most likely reaction would be to dismiss it as a prank.

So, the “official” version they’re going with is that it’s simply the band’s concept, that they’re roleplaying the composers (like I think there’s a kpop group whose concept is that the members represent the zodiac signs). So, in essence, they’re pretending to be random guys who’re pretending to be their actual selves XD

Regarding roles, there is much debate about who the maknae is. Is it Shosty, because his birth date is the most recent? Or is it Mozart, who’s the youngest in terms of actual years lived in his previous life? I like to think that the company never confirms either ways and lets the fans argue about it to their hearts’ contents. It’s part of the mystery~

(In truth, the actual members don’t give a damn about “roles”, they’re just there to make music.)

(Maybe that’s part of their unconventional side that makes them popular among some people.)

Also, Pag wasn’t meant to be brought to the future, it’s a result of a time machine mishap. He basically barged his way into their debut because “How dare they form a band without me, greatest violin virtuoso Niccolò Paganini?! Mamma mia…” and now he’s hanging around. Not quite an official member, but often heavily involved (whether they want it or not). Mozart says he’s their mascot. No one is sure how to feel about that statement.

Lastly, since so far they’ve either been using their last names or nicknames to address each other, I’ve developed some headcanon that their last names are their stage names, but also simply the names they go by now in their day-to-day lives. Like they’ve shed their first names, it’s a thing of the past, an identity they can’t truly assume anymore. Maybe that’s why they’re so fond of nicknames, because it gives them a more personal touch (Mozart started the trend, and it caught on very fast after that). They do still use full names from time to time in certain circumstances, and that’s what’s on official documents, but… it’s complicated. I like to think they eventually start reclaiming their full identity between themselves as time passes and they grow more comfortable in their new circumstances and their bond grows closer. (Names as a sign of intimacy, in my fandoms? It’s more likely than you think!)

Anyway that’s it for the worldbuilding side. I have a few more posts planned about different aspects of this universe and their characters.

Feel free to share your thoughts on this, and your own headcanons if you have some!

#in which i subject my whole follow list to my new obsession #feel free to mute the tags if you're only here for Tales lol #anyway i have way too many feelings about this dumb fictional band #b2tsm #b²tsm #b²tsm headcanons #if we're not careful i'll have a ship manifesto ready by the end of the year #that's how deep i am atm #long post

[lys-9-10]

In Which Yachi Ships Kagehina _ Edited

So I changed the first kiss scene in my most popular work b/c it was actually really problematic. Yikes, dunno what I was thinking. Mea culpa. Excerpt below or read the full work here. ***

The vice-like grip of Kageyama’s arms loosens when he falls asleep, so Hinata is able to un-smush his face from the setter's chest. He doesn’t want to pull away too much… Just enough so that he can look up at Kageyama. 

His setter looks different in sleep. The deep vertical frown line that seemed to be permanently etched between his eyebrows is absent. It makes his face look oddly smooth and soft. Hinata likes it. 

He wriggles one arm out of Kageyama’s grasp. His setter stirs but doesn’t wake. Hinata raises his hand to Kageyama’s face. Slowly, delicately, he touches a single finger to that spot where the frown line used to be. Kageyama hums in his sleep and Hinata feels something flutter in his chest. 

He finds himself smiling. Just a small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. Pulling his hand away from Kageyama’s face, he touches his fingers to his own lips, feeling the smile there. Then his eyes go to Kageyama's lips.

They're relaxed, not twisted in a scowl. It makes Kageyama look so peaceful. So... sweet.

Hinata finds himself leaning closer to those lips... They feel magnetic. Like they’re drawing him in. They make him wanna... wanna... 

Hinata gasps. In a panicked flurry of limbs, he pushes himself off of Kageyama, tumbles feet over head, and lands hard on his butt.  

Kageyama grunts. Hinata freezes. His heart pounds furiously in his chest as the setter stirs... and sits up, rubbing his eyes. 

“What is it now, dumbass?” Kageyama sighs. 

Hinata shakes his head so furiously he thinks he might break his neck. “N-nothing! Nothing happened! I didn’t—I’m totally not—Nothing, it’s nothing, nothing’s going on!” 

Kageyama’s brow furrows in confusion. And then a flicker of concern enters his eyes. “... Are you okay?” 

Hinata flushes. “Yes! Yes of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Nothing... nothing weird happened...” Nothing weird happened. He totally didn’t just experience a surge of desire to kiss Kageyama. Why would he even want to do that? That would be... ridiculous... That could mess everything up. No. Hinata totally doesn’t want to kiss Kageyama. Totally, totally not... 

Kageyama is still frowning at him and Hinata is not mourning the loss of that smooth, relaxed brow he had during his sleep. He’s not fighting the urge to crawl towards Kageyama and take his face in his hands and kiss away the frown lines...

“Did you have a nightmare or something?” Kageyama asks. His voice is low and concerned. It makes Hinata’s heart hiccup in his chest. 

“Wh-what?” he stammers breathlessly. 

Kageyama scratches awkwardly behind his ear. “It’s okay if you did,” he says. “You don't have to be embarrassed or anything. I, um, sometimes have nightmares too.”  

Hinata’s heart somersaults. 

Damn. Dammit. Why is Kageyama picking now of all times to be all weird and mushy and sweet? As if it wasn’t bad enough to watch him sleep so sweetly and peacefully... This is just really, really messing with his head...

Kageyama coughs. His eyes shift to the side. “Um. If it would help, you can...” Kageyama opens his arms and sort of gestures at his own chest. “Come back here. If you want.” 

Hinata squawks. He feels the blood rushing to his face. And then he feels the terror closing in on his throat. Kageyama must know. He must be making fun of him. That’s why he’s inviting Hinata to cuddle. He’s mocking him. He knows Hinata wants to kiss him and now he’s mocking him... 

“Shut up, Bakageyama,” Hinata croaks. He hopes Kageyama can’t hear the quiver in his voice. “You’re so stupid!”

Kageyama blinks. And then, anger hardens across his face. “What the hell, dumbass,” Kageyama hisses. “I’m just trying to help you.” 

Hinata feels his own anger flare up. It’s easier to be angry than afraid and overwhelmed and distraught and a hundred other emotions that he isn’t prepared to deal with right now. 

“No you’re not!” Hinata shouts, his fists clenching. “You’re just being stupid!” He hates how uncreative his insults are right now, but it’s hard to be creative when you feel like your heart is climbing up your throat and plugging your airways. When you feel like the gym floor has been ripped out from underneath you and suddenly there’s the threat of everything, everything changing, everything collapsing... Hinata feels tears welling up in his eyes. He blinks them away before they have a chance to spill over. “Just leave me alone, Bakageyama.” 

Kageyama’s nostrils flare. “Fine! God, you’re so annoying!” 

“You’re annoying!” 

“Shut your stupid face, I’m going to sleep!” 

“Me too! So shut your stupid face!” 

Kageyama casts him a final glare, then lies back down on the floor and rolls over, turning his back to Hinata. 

And that’s when Hinata allows the tears to spill over.

***

Kageyama grits his teeth as he curls in on himself. 

That stupid dumbass.. He was just trying to be nice. Kageyama knows he isn’t very good at being nice, but he was trying. What did Hinata go and get all pissy at him for? Stupid idiot, stupid dumbass...

Kageyama tries not to be concerned about him. Tries not to wonder what kind of horrible nightmare had Hinata flying into a panic in the middle of the night like that. He tries to shut his eyes and go to sleep... 

And then he hears snuffling sounds. 

Kageyama’s eyes fly open. For a moment, he just lies there, frozen, waiting to see if he’ll hear it again. When he does, his heart cracks. 

For a brief second, Kageyama wrestles with himself. Hinata has made it very clear that he doesn’t want Kageyama to try to comfort him. He should really just ignore him. Just let the idiot cry himself to sleep... 

The brief second is over. 

Kageyama gets up and is before Hinata in an instant. Pulling the idiot against his chest, tucking his head over his, squeezing him tight, tight, tight... 

Hinata breaks apart and sobs, his fingers grasping at Kageyama’s shirt and hanging on for dear life. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammers in between hiccups. “I promise I can ignore it. I didn’t even know I w-wanted to before tonight so I can t-totally ignore it. Things can go back to n-normal. I promise. Just don’t stop s-setting to me. And p-please don’t stop eating lunch with me either or w-walking with me to s-school or p-practising with me extra... I p-promise, things can just be n-normal...” 

“Dumbass, what are you even talking about?” Kageyama murmurs into Hinata's hair. He has no idea what Hinata is going on about, but this is obviously some kind of mental breakdown after a nightmare. Kageyama will comfort him. He'll comfort him, he'll hold him until he stops crying...

“It was just one time!” Hinata wails, burying his face in Kageyama’s shirt. “I only wanted to kiss you one time!” 

Kageyama’s body goes stiff with shock. Hinata continues wailing and stammering hysterical words. But Kageyama can’t hear him anymore. He can only heart those last words, ringing over and over again in his mind, like a tape recording of an opposing player’s serve that he’s set on loop to study.

I only wanted to kiss you one time... 

I only wanted to kiss you one time...

Hinata wanted to kiss him?? When?? How had he missed this?? How could he possibly have missed this when he’d been pining after Hinata this whole damnable year?? 

Hinata is banging his head against Kageyama’s chest now and sobbing something incoherent. Kageyama grabs him by the shoulders and holds him at arm's length. “When?” he demands breathlessly.

Hinata blinks, his wet eyelashes fluttering and shedding tear droplets. “Wh-what?” 

“When did you want to kiss me?”

Do you still want to? Can I convince you to still want to? Do I have a hope after all...?   

Hinata tilts his head. “You mean, you didn’t know? But... why did you suggest we snuggle then?” 

“Dammit, Hinata,” Kageyama groans. It’s half exasperated, half desperate. “I have absolutely no freaking clue what you’re talking about. When did you want to kiss me?” 

Hinata’s gaze shifts to the side. He clears his throat. “Um. I was just joking.” 

Kageyama lets out a sound like someone being strangled to death. No. No he is not letting the turd-face get away with that. 

“Hinata!" he shouts, shaking the dumbass like a rag doll. “I have wanted to kiss you every second of every day for this whole freaking year so if you want to kiss me too you’d better TELL me and if you don’t you’d better also tell me or I’m just going to DO it, I’m just going to kiss your stupid face!!” 

Hinata is gawking at him. His eyes are practically hanging out of their sockets and his jaw appears to have come completely unhinged. “Wh... Whaaaat?” 

That’s not an answer. That’s not a freaking answer and Kageyama is losing his freaking marbles, he needs to get away from Hinata now or he really is just going to kiss him, and Hinata still hasn’t said he wants that so he can’t, he can’t...

Kageyama shoves Hinata away from him and jumps to his feet. He’s ready to run—forgetting for a moment that they’re locked in here and there’s nowhere to run to—but Hinata tackles him from behind. Kageyama’s legs buckle and he face-plants. Hinata lands on top of him, flat against his back, knocking all the air out of him. 

“D-dumbass!” Kageyama wheezes. 

“Why did you want to kiss me?” Hinata demands, his mouth at Kageyama’s ear. 

Kageyama screeches. He’s so done. He’s so, so done. 

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU IDIOT!!”

He’s in love with him. He’s so, so in love with him and he’s so, so done , he can’t even care, can’t even be afraid about declaring a secret that he’s spent the entire year guarding with his life...

“Oh.” Hinata’s declaration is soft. “Huh. Well that changes things.” Kageyama has no idea what that means. 

He has no idea what it means when Hinata just stays there, lying on top of Kageyama’s back, for several silent seconds. 

He has no idea what it means when Hinata finally gets up and offers him a hand. 

No idea what it means when Kageyama takes the hand and Hinata helps him to his feet, their eyes locked on each other and their breaths held. 

But he does know what it means when Hinata says: “I guess we’d better kiss each other then.”  Read the full fic on ao3

#kagehina #first kiss #haikyuu!!

[goylempire]

NSFW Alphabet - Hentzau

18+ only - Minors DNI.

Warnings: very brief mention of child loss (not the reader’s). cursing. not edited.

I don’t typically write anything nsfw, so this wasn’t the easiest for me! But here it is all the same haha

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He may be grumpy as hell 93% of the time, but he’s super attentive and thoughtful with aftercare. He will check in with his partner and make sure they’re okay. Need water? Stay there, he’ll get it. He’ll gently clean you up before holding you close to him. This is the only time he will fully let his guard down. Enjoy it.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

After getting over his *ew. gross. soft, human skin* thing, he really likes his partner’s hands. The way they run across his shoulders and back in the heat of the moment. The way they reach for him after he’s spent time teasing his partner. He can feel the ghost of your fingers dancing across his skin long afterward.

His favorite of his are probably his arms. This man is strong, and he likes to remind you of that when he picks you up and takes you where he wants you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

If you’re afab, he will cum anywhere but inside of you. He’s not risking you getting pregnant. He’s not going to risk your life during the birth of a child who, if past human/goyl babies are anything to go by, won’t live longer than a few days after birth. He doesn’t have a fairy on his side to keep you and the baby alive.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He keeps a rather revealing photograph of you with him. You know about it, but no one else does. If anything can make him get through a mission faster, it’s one look at that photograph.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

With other Goyl? He’s definitely experienced. He’s had more one-night stands than he will ever admit to. With humans? He had zero experience until you. He’s a super-fast learner, though. You may have some scars because he forgets in the moment that human skin is ridiculously fragile.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Any that gives him full control. I do think he’d like missionary, though. He likes to see you fall apart under him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He takes everything in his life seriously. Sexual intimacy is no different.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

We are still struggling with Goyl hair in general in this fandom. I’m going to just go with my gut feeling that they don’t have any hair in those areas.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

He’s not a romantic. He never will be, but he will try every once in a while, but that’s only because he let someone get in his head. He’s not one for ‘romantic gestures,’ so you won’t ever have rose petals leading to the bedroom or whatever else someone (probably Kami’en) tried to talk him into.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

It’s rare that he does. He usually doesn’t have time or a lot of privacy. This man keeps busy.

“I don’t have time to be horny! Fucking spies are trying to kill Kami’en, and he hasn’t hired better bodyguards yet!”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He likes his s/o to be more submissive in bed. If you refer to him as “Sir” or “Lieutenant,” it’ll get him going so fast.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He likes to keep his personal life private, so he prefers to do it at home. Where at home? Doesn’t matter. Bed. Sofa. Against the dining room table.

Though, the time his s/o got bored waiting for him to finish paperwork and slid under his office desk to “motivate him” has stuck with him for a long time. So, he’s not ruling office sex out for the future.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Calling him by his rank in that voice that only you use with him. Gliding your hands across his back or up his biceps. Whispers in his ear of what you want him to do to you later (just be mindful that Goyl hearing is super strong. He may not be the only one to hear you.)

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would refuse to be tied up. He has been held captive before, and it brings back bad memories. He needs to be able to have full control of himself at all times.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He fucking loves receiving. His fist gripped in your hair as he holds you in place to fuck your mouth. Perfection. If you’re in an area where he can’t do that (like the under the desk experience above) he will still love it, but he also likes using it as a challenge for himself. Great time to work on the patience and self-control.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

If he’s just gotten home from a long mission, it’s going to be rougher and more desperate. He won’t say that he missed you, but damn it he’s going to show you. If he’s angry or someone made a comment about his age or how he’s not what he used to be, he will also be more rough and fast with it.

The only times he’s ever soft or gentle are when he has a lot of down time (because if he’s going for soft and slow, he’s taking his time.) If he thinks that something has upset you (not even him just in general) then he will be more sensual and try to make you feel loved and worshipped. Then he’s going to get you to tell him who upset you so he can go and take care of that.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s in and out of the house so much for work that quickies are a necessity if you guys want to do it. He especially loves them in the morning before he heads off to deal with the nonsense of the day.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

I don’t see him being into experimenting a lot. If it’s something you really, really want to try, he may can be convinced. As long as it doesn’t involve humiliating him or restraining him in any way.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

I think Goyl have better stamina than humans. He’s getting older and can’t last as long as he did before he came above ground and wrecked his body, but he’s still got a lot more to offer and for a longer time than any human man can give you.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I think he’d be very much against toys. He wants to be the one to make you fall apart. Just him.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He teases more than people realize, but he’s very discreet and nonchalant about it. No one notices how his hand brushes a little lower on your backside than is usually acceptable in social settings when he walks past you. Or that certain word or phrase he says that sounds so normal and calm, but he knows damn well what it does to you. His hand on your thigh under the table is a little higher up than usual. He knows you’ll get him back for it.

“You make them call you ‘Sir?’”

Good thing Goyl don’t have a noticeable blush.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not particularly loud. You’ll feel his moans in his chest more than hear them. He’s more prone to grunts and deep throated growls.

 W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

When he knows he’s going to be ‘home’ for a bit with his human, he keeps his claws filed short. Not just for sexual reasons, but there have been too many accidental “ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cut your arm open. Are you okay? Let me get the bandages” moments. He lets them grow long when he’s on missions. He has weapons on the tips of his fingers. The only one who he wants to keep safe from them is you.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Let’s just say he’s not having to compensate for anything with his saber. I’ve made jokes before about –

“…Hentzau pulled a mirror with such a delicate handle it all but disappeared in his massive jasper hand.” – The Golden Yarn – chapter ‘An Old Acquaintance.”

I know that hand size and penis size don’t *really* have anything to do with each other, but the myth still exists haha. I’ve said before, Hentzau’s a big guy. And he’s big *everywhere*.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He doesn’t have a super high sex drive. He’s game for it whenever you want to, but it’s just not all that important to him. Just sitting together and reading or just existing in calming silence is intimate enough for him. Don’t get me wrong, sex is always enjoyable for him, but I don’t see him having a super high libido.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

If it’s a quickie, then he’s not going to be as tired, but if it’s one of those nights where you guys have all the time in the world to love each other? He’s passing out as soon as he makes sure you’re good. And it’s always the best sleep ever.

#Hentzau x reader #Hentzau x his human #not sfw #not sfw alphabet #emily writes bs #Not edited #Mirrorworld Series #reckless series #book husband #ahhhhhh

[theblackberrygirl]

in honor of mental health awareness month, i’m going to attach some resources on eating disorders and signs to watch for in your friends/family members, as those are the issues that i have the most experience with :)

everyone experiences eating disorders differently. everyone struggling with these disorders deserves love, support, and patience.

(tw from here on out for discussion of eating disorders/ed behaviors. anxiety, vomit, and suicide also mentioned)

i’m not super open about my experiences with eating disorders, however awareness and stuff is important. i’ve struggled and continue to struggle with anorexia (the ‘continue to’ is the hardest part to admit, and one that i didn’t admit until a few months ago). my bad habits spiraled into a full blown disorder when i started middle school. this is pretty common, as pre teens/teenagers, especially girls, are the most common group to develop disorders (this doesn’t mean that people outside of these groups don’t have these issues).

there’s many types of eating disorders, and they aren’t just about wanting to loose weight. they’re actually more about control. if you couldn’t control what was going on around me, you could at least control what i was putting into my body, for example.

these are extremely complex disorders. that’s why they are so, so, so hard to recover from. that’s also why it’s important to recognize them early.

common signs of eating disorders:

anorexia (aka anorexia nervosa)

often cold

paler than normal skin

lethargic/tired

shaky hands

fainting/lightheadedness

anxiety around eating, especially in front of people

bad breath

has often ‘already ate’ or lies about eating

using appetite-curbing products (i don’t want to name a bunch b/c i don’t want to give people ideas, but gum is a well known one)

social withdrawal

body checking (fingers around wrist, feeling for ribs/collarbones, etc)

constant/often discussion of body image/food/weight

significant/quick weight loss **not always. if you are struggling and don’t have this that doesn’t mean you’re not sick/don’t need help**

extreme fear or anxiety around certain foods (also known as fear foods)

label checking

denial of a problem

bulimia

bad breath

yellow teeth

SORE. THROAT.

going to the bathroom immediately after eating

small scrapes/bruising on knuckles (russell’s sign)

guilt around eating

runny nose (due to inflammation/acid that gets into the nose)

similar to anorexia in terms of body checks/withdrawals/anxiety

heavy eyebags

bed (binge eating disorder)

*this one is harder to detect due to the key behaviors often happening in private*

heavy restrictions around eating

guilt around eating

often paired with bulimia or other harmful measures such as laxatives and overexercising, but not always

may have a history of dieting (and mentions things like ‘getting back on track’)

EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified)

this one is basically a mix of all of the above

erratic/inconsistent behavior around food (eating ‘normally’ one day, eating nothing the next, over eating, etc.)

the same general symptoms as the above

ARFID (avoidant-restrictive food intake disorder, aka selective eating disorder)

ARFID is different than the other common EDs on this list

i don’t have much experience with arfid, as i’ve only been close to a few people with it

ARFID is often a co-disorder with OCD or other anxiety disorder that manifests itself in eating

it often forms in childhood around trauma

!!! ARFID HAS NO FEARS OR RELATIONSHIP WITH WEIGHT/BODY IMAGE !!! they’re both restrictive disorders but with different motivations

terror or panic around food

fear of something irrational happening, such as an earthquake

extremely selective with food or outright denial

doesn’t consume enough calories to grow

resources for more information:

NEDA (x)

Center for Discovery (x)

NEDC (x)

other health websites, such as WebMD, Mayo Clinic, etc. however, be careful with organization that don’t specialize in EDs as some of their information can be inaccurate

if your friend/loved one is struggling or might be struggling, i highly recommend the Parent Toolkit from NEDA, even if you’re not a parent! it’s long but well organized (x)

resources to help with diagnosis:

the above resources have tests to assess your symptoms or experiences

if possible, talk to a therapist or counselor (if you’re still a minor: do NOT go to your school counselor. at least in my area, anything REMOTELY resembling an eating disorder is classified as self-harm and they have to calm your parents)

if you need to go to your counselor, but you don’t want your parents/guardian to know, i highly recommend the “my friend” trick. describe what you’re going through but say that your “friend” is going through it instead. refuse to give a name, they can’t make you, and they’ll probably give you resources or advice.

if you’re in school: go to a trusted adult or an older/responsible friend! be cautious with teachers, as they likely fall under the rules listed above, but guidance from someone NOT struggling with similar stuff is very good

resources for support:

NEDA hotline is the best one i’ve found, however they’re currently understaffed so the hotline is not 24/7. call them at 800-931-2237

you can also chat them (their text one is down rn) at www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/chat

Hopeline (general crisis hotline) 1-800-442-4673

NAANAD 1-630-577-1330

Crisis Text Hotline (for my people with phone anxiety) Text CONNECT to 741741

if you feel suicidal, call 1-800-273-8255 or text HOME to 741741

tips on how to support someone with a disorder:

try to promote concepts such as body neutrality and self-acceptance

cut off any conversations promoting/sustaining disordered behaviors. eating disorders are very competitive and discussing how sick you are can be fueling

be patient. if someone is in recovery, remember that relapses happen. just support as best you can

encourage them to get treatment, if possible

if you’re eating together, distract them from the fact that they’re eating. talk to them about hobbies, pets, literally anything non-food related

tips on what NOT to do if someone is struggling/in recovery:

under no circumstances make a comment on their body. even if you think it’s positive. saying “you look healthier” can translate to “i don’t look sick enough to be taken seriously anymore.” saying “you look so thin!” can translate into “this is working.”

similarly, don’t comment on what someone is eating/portion size! if you’re really concerned, discuss it privately afterwards. “is that all you’re eating/you’re really eating all of that?” can make someone self conscious about their food. even more lighthearted ones like “someone’s hungry!” or “you still growing?” are harmful

eating disorders are extremely competitive. never compare people/behaviors. all bodies can have an eating disorder. a lot of people with EDs (especially anorexia) don’t even realize there is an issue for a long time. saying things like “you don’t look anorexic” or “you’re eating so you’re clearly not sick” is fueling this mindset

esp for bulimia- “you shouldn’t do that, it’s bad” WE KNOW THAT

“just eat” not that easy.

“but your weight is normal/restored” again, disorders can exist in all bodies

don’t comment on your body either. again, competition. ppl with EDs always want to be sicker. don’t fuel it. also, you deserve love and support too

“you’re too young for-“ people as young as 7 have been diagnosed with EDs

basically just try not to do anything that compares people or invalidates someone’s sickness. similar to self harm, EDs can also be formed as a way to match the pain on the inside to the outside

you’re going to make mistakes!!! it’s ok!!! just try your best and love and support them as best you can

i see you. you are valid. you and your body deserve love and nourishment and care. i’m so proud of you.

#shut up elle #important #long post #tw ed #tw eating disorders #tw vomit #pls boost! #mental heath support #ed awareness #you are not alone #mental health #mental health may #mental health matters

[annikathewitch]

I posted 5,504 times in 2022

52 posts created (1%)

5,452 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@luminousdelusion

@narwhalismyname

@saturnsocoolioyep

@thecatchat

@celna-samisel

I tagged 467 of my posts in 2022

#useful - 17 posts

#yes - 9 posts

#dsmp - 8 posts

#unreality - 8 posts

#dsmpblr - 7 posts

#art class - 6 posts

#linguistics - 6 posts

#/pos - 6 posts

#badboyhalo - 5 posts

#gender - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#and then i realized he wasn’t and figured that since i didn’t recognize anyone this was probably from some tv show i’d never heard of

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

23 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

#4

Okay I’m sorry but has it occurred to anyone that one of the main ways the egg gets to people is by manipulating feelings of loss and every single one of the people who crashed the red banquet has lost someone or something important to them since then?

30 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

#3

I love the kinda background ways that the themes of storytelling and history show up on Dsmp. Eret’s museum. Karl’s library. Ghostbur’s library (he had a library, right? I’m not misremembering things?) Ranboo’s memory books, to an extent. The lost city of Mizu.

I also think it’s interesting that basically every one of the most obvious instances of this that I can think of come from dsmp’s concerningly long list of amnesiacs.

43 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#2

Right, so there was something I noticed in Sam’s lore stream that I haven’t seen anyone talk about yet, specifically in relation to one of the journal entries.

Now, the only screenshots I’ve been able to get are really low quality, so I’m just gonna copy the text here.

“Journal Entry N100

The vines are running out of room to grow in the ravine. I’m digging tunnels to help them expand further. The first one will be under his house… I’m hearing the egg talk to me wherever I go now…”

The line about the first tunnel being under “his” house is what really stuck out to me, partially because of the I M P L I C A T I O N S.

We only really know of two people, as of current lore, anyway, whose house Sam Bucket could likely be referring to in this line: Bad and Sir Billiam, as they’re the only two who have really had the egg near/on their property.

This means that either a) Sam Bucket was around at the time of The Masquerade, meaning he’s probably immortal in some capacity, or at least really long lived, b) Sam Bucket was the one who put the egg under Bad and Skeppy’s house, kicking off the entirety of the eggpire arc, or c) some combination of the two.

Theory a is supported by the fact that very few people seem to know who Sam Bucket is, despite him mentioning having friends on the server. This could, however, be explained by the extremely high amount of amnesia on the server, especially since the Egg has referenced encountering Foolish before, which Foolish didn’t seem to remember.

Theory b is supported mainly by the amount of clear pictures of Bad and other references to him in the hideout, while there don’t seem to be any pictures of or references to any tftsmp characters whatsoever.

Either way, Sam Bucket has, in canon, been involved in the Egg’s history far longer than we’ve known that he, or even the Egg itself, existed. And it seems like finding out more about Sam Bucket could be the key to finding out more about the Egg.

47 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So, due to a number of reasons, I’ve been writing about characters who use neopronouns and/or more than one set of pronouns a lot more in the past year than I ever have before. And at some point, I noticed that I started thinking less about them as simply a necessity to accurately portray a character’s identity, or something that I did just because “why not?” or because it’s something that’s important to normalize, but as something I could use as a tool in the way I told stories.

Let me explain. Take a moment to just imagine the possibilities playing around with pronouns could give you. Here are some ideas (Admittedly, I only really write in English, so I don’t really know how well any of these ideas would work with languages with different pronoun systems, but I’m sure their are similar things you could do):

Imagine a character that uses multiple pronouns, and, say, the narrator trades off every scene or so (just to avoid confusion; other characters switch pronouns midsentance while referring to the character), but in some circumstances the narrator refers to someone who otherwise appears to be that character by only one of the pronouns that that character uses, which initially appears to be a part of the normal switching between pronouns thing, but is actually foreshadowing to like, a secret twin, or a shapeshifter, or any other of a wide variety of plot twists. (Ex: character who uses multiple pronouns getting weird dreams in which the narrator never refers to them by name and only uses he/him pronouns foreshadowing the fact that the dreams are actually their past self’s memories, since their past self only used he/him pronouns).

Neopronouns used to make language more clear. If every character goes by different pronouns, there’s no ambiguity, right?

On the flip side, characters using similar pronouns in some scenes to make them harder to tell apart in certain circumstances, or else to draw parallels between different characters in certain scenes. Messing with different pronouns gives you better control over ambiguity or lack thereof, even when referring to well-established characters.

Having a character with multiple pronouns makes writing dialogue like 10x easier. Y’know that issue where you have a scene with two characters who use the same pronouns talking and you have to either repeat their names a bunch or find other ways to refer to them? Well, if one of those characters switches pronouns, and you have a scene where they’re interacting with a character who uses he/him pronouns, you can have them use she/her pronouns or neopronouns, if they’re interacting with a character that used she/her pronouns you can use he/him or neopronouns and boom, problem solved!

If you’re writing fantasy or sci-fi, imagine world building a culture where which pronouns people are referred to as change based on something other than gender, such as rank, class, particular types of magical ability, job, relationship to the speaker, or any other societally relevant distinction. Even if this is never explained, readers will probably start to pick up on it, and then you can use a character’s pronouns to convey information about their background quickly and seamlessly.

Characters using neopronouns that reflect elements of their character. Pronouns are a part of gender expression, just like clothing or hair, and just like clothing or hair, people could pick certain pronouns for reasons entirely unrelated to gender. For instance, a character who has been dehumanized a lot could use it/its pronouns, not for gender reasons, but to reclaim them from those who abused it.

On a similar note, a character might use gender-neutral pronouns not because they’re nonbinary, but because their native language doesn’t have gendered pronouns, so they’re more comfortable with gender-neutral ones. Or maybe they start out using gendered pronouns and then switch to using gender-neutral ones to help show them reconnecting with that aspect of their heritage.

Characters deciding to change their pronouns as a sign of an important moment in their character arc. (Pronouns can be an expression of A LOT more than gender, as explained in the above two points, and I’m sure you can probably come up with even more ideas than just those listed here.)

One character could go by pronouns that none of the other characters do, so the audience still get hints that it’s them even when they’re not mentioned by name.

Neopronouns are shorter than names, but theoretically, if you did it right, they could carry just as much symbolism, foreshadowing, and/or other meaning.

…for example, you could use different pronouns in different situations to tell something about that situation, or as some form of symbolism, though for the latter, you may wanna stick to neos to avoid playing into traditional gender stereotypes or otherwise potentially seeming like you’re making a point about male vs. female or binary vs. nonbinary genders. Neos don’t have the gendered connotations of she/her or he him, so they’re usually judged on the vibe of the sound.

In historical settings. Historical neopronouns exist! Or, in modern, real-life-or-close-to-it settings, you could have a character use older neopronouns to indicate that the character may have been a) around for a long time (maybe there’s some fantasy elements and they’re immortal?) and involved in the queer community for a long time b) really interested in history in general or queer history in particular. They don’t necessarily have to have these meanings, but still.

This is just scratching the surface. I’m tired of writers seeing nonbinary pronouns, especially neopronouns, as a roadblock or hassle, something that detracts from their work, or else something that is necessary solely for the sake of representation, rather than the potential valuable addition to the writer’s toolbox that they are.

I’m tired of the lack of representation not just because of the lack of representation in it of itself (though that is also a big issue; normalizing gender neutral language and neopronouns is very important and literature could go a long way to help with that), but also because it’s so clear to me that in refusing to use that representation, in declaring it “too hard to write with” or “too confusing,” writers are cutting themselves off from a vast array of fascinating narrative opportunities. If you don’t know how to use them, great! It’s never too late to learn, and who knows, you (or your readers) might end up using the knowledge you learn in real life! I’m sure you weren’t born knowing how proper sentence structure or dialogue formatting works either.

Your story doesn’t have to be about gender or have a deeper message about its role in society for non-standard pronouns to be something you can use. Let your dragon be referred to as ae/aer. Let your superhero switch between multiple sets of pronouns. Let your escaped lab experiment reclaim “it/its.” Let your characters go by an array of pronouns as wide as the distribution of their names.

You don’t have to explain. You don’t have to have an in-universe explanation, not if you don’t want one. Your reader should be able to figure it out on their own, and like with most symbolism, explaining could detract from its power unless it’s a specific focus. At the end of the day, pronouns are just words, and as a writer, words are your tools to use as you see fit. Some might carry certain historical or real world baggage, but that’s true outside of just pronouns; just do some research, handle it as respectfully as you can, and don’t let it stop you from exploring this whole entire aspect of the language you use.

120 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[kitchengarden4u]

Apple Cider Vinegar

Apple cider vinegar has several potential health benefits. Some research suggests that it may help with blood sugar control, weight management, and improved cholesterol. It is also low in calories and contains minerals such as potassium, magnesium, phosphorus, and calcium as well as vitamins such as the B complex; B1, B2, and B6, biotin, folic acid, niacin, pantothenic acid, and vitamin C.

Here are some of the top benefits of apple cider vinegar: - Aids in weight loss - Reduces cholesterol - Lowers blood sugar levels - Improves symptoms of diabetes - High in healthful substances - Can help kill harmful bacteria - May lower blood pressure - Can ease acid reflux

KitchenGarden4U - Other features

Healthy eating in balance with apple cider vinegar can alter your life. Home cooking, knowing what's in your food and fresh preparation, balancing your individaul needs can lead to a more passionate successful healthy life. Consider enhancing your abiblity to save time, energy, and money by cooking at home using the original all-in-one kitchen appliance that makes accomplishing more possible. “Hands down, it’s the Thermomix TM6. It’s the best time-saver in the kitchen. Since it pretty much does the cooking for you and helps you plan ahead, I’m able to whip up something fresh and easy for me and my daughter, yet still get through my list of things to do. Life. Changer.” Thermomix® TM6™ as the “gadget that’s changed her life - Mel Alcantara From meal planning, to cooking, to clean up, the TM6® is the ultimate kitchen assistant that has your back! You can seamlessly create the perfect meal, every time with this all-in-one solidly built machine called Thermomix® TM6® . For more information on Thermomix TM6 check this page or you could consider starting your own ultimate side gig, healthy eating and making money with home based business based around food and eating healthy including an opportunity of getting your TM6 for free(by referring 4 others). Your choice! We will be reviewing products and be sure I’m to check our our Product Reviews coming in the near future. Please feel free to check out our SHOP What ever combo you choose, Enjoy! and come back to KitchenGarden4u often. Thanks for visiting. Read the full article

#acidreflux #applecidervinegar #bloodpressure #bloodsugar #cholesterol #diabetes #health #healthful #Healthy #killharmfulbacteria #weightloss

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning! I hope y’all are enjoying your favorite morning wakeup beverage, I know I am. My first cup of the magic elixir know the world over as coffee is sitting next to me and it’s delicious. ☕️

I’m not using my “normal” workflow this morning. Instead of using a combination of Tot and the Micro.Blog app on my iPhone I’m using the wonderful MarsEdit from my Mac. Believe it or not, it feels kind of weird to be doing it this way. But, MarsEdit is such a wonderful tool. Happy to have it. Here we go!

Iconfactory

News quickly spread on Twitter and Mastodon that a wide range of third party apps like Twitterrific, Tweetbot, Echofon, and many others had been disabled. Strangely, Twitterrific for macOS continues to work normally. We cannot say for certain why some clients are unaffected, but it seems possible that there is a new (seemingly unstated and unannounced) policy that is only being applied to apps with large numbers of users.

As of this writing Twitterrific is still blocked from connecting to Twitter. Good old Elon, Mr. Free Speech, is being spiteful and blocking third-pary apps from working. It seems it’s only the third-party apps with the biggest user base.

So far Twitter hasn’t explained why they did it. Spite, I’d imagine.

Oh, it’s worth noting that Twitterrific is the granddaddy of all Twitter clients and while working on it the word “tweet” was coined. They definitely made history. Ollie, the little bird at the right, is Twitterrific’s mascot and in many ways has become synonymous with Twitter.

I’ve been a Twitterrific user for years and years and I have enormous respect for everyone at The Iconfactory and wish them all the best. ❤️

Pitchfork

The Grammy-winning rock guitarist Jeff Beck has died, his family announced. “After suddenly contracting bacterial meningitis, he peacefully passed away yesterday,” the family shared in a statement. “His family ask for privacy while they process this tremendous loss.” Beck was 78 years old.

Another legend gone before his time. RIP Mr. Beck.

The Guardian

Joe Biden said the situation in Brazil was “outrageous” after supporters of former president Jair Bolsonaro invaded the country’s congress, presidential palace and supreme court on Sunday, with some senior US lawmakers calling for the far-right figure to be extradited from the US.

Of course Bolsonaro took a page from the Trump Playbook of Stupidity and encouraged his supports to try to overthrow the government. The world looks to the United States for direction. TFG is a real asshole and has put democracy around the world at risk. Both men will get their just deserts someday.

Douglas Hill

In an iOS app, it’s technically fairly easy to also use code written in C, C++, Objective-C, Objective-C++ or JavaScript. In this article, we’ll look at how to call JavaScript code from Swift using JavaScriptCore. As an example, I’ll go through the steps of adding a JavaScript dependency to my iOS reading app to remove tracking parameters from URLs.

Really nice piece by Mr. Hill. I would love to integrate Read Later into Stream someday and it would also be wonderful to embed Readability JavaScript into Stream to make that happen. It would also help standard RSS feeds because many only include a snippet of the full article text. Having Readability support would allow Stream to parse the text of the original web page so you’d get the full article in the article view. Just one of many things I’d love to so.

Raw Story

The wife of a 2020 Iowa Republican candidate for Congress has been arrested and accused of filing 23 fraudulent votes for her husband, reports Business Insider.

If you want to know what the GOP is guilty of on a daily basis just listen to the things they scream about the most.

Seems they like to cheat at elections, among other things.

Goto 10

So I knew I wanted something different. It turns out that a new OS had been getting a big marketing push: IBM OS/2 Warp. This was v3 of OS/2 and let’s get into its history a bit.

I heard this a lot when I was part of Visio. A gentleman approached me at Windows World in Atlanta one year and said “I guarantee if you port Visio to OS/2 you’ll sell 100,000 copies right away.” Apparently he worked for IBM.

We chose not to do it because the market was just too small for us to use precious resources for the port. We did have versions that ran on Classic MacOS, NT PPC, and NT Alpha, but never OS/2. The NT versions were fairly straight forward. The Mac version used a porting kit called Alar. I can’t find any references to it or I’d give y’all a link.

Bjango

In an effort to reduce the final app size of iStat Menus, we’ve been investigating ways to slim down our app icon. It’s currently about 1.4MB, which is normal for an app icon, but a decent percentage of our bundle.

Marc Edwards does a deep dive into app icon sizes and his attempt to scale back the size a bit.

Cycling News

Chris Froome has warned of the long-term effects of COVID-19, arguing that many riders are struggling for months post-infection and highlighting the potential risks to the heart.

Yes, long term COVID-19 is a real deal and it effects young, old, and even the fittest of fit professional athletes. Wear a mask and stay safe out there.

Bloomberg

Apple Inc. is working on adding touch screens to its Mac computers, a move that would defy long-held company orthodoxy and embrace an approach that co-founder Steve Jobs once called “ergonomically terrible.”

I can understand folks saying it’s ergoonomically terrible to use a touch screen on a desktop computer, but occasionally tapping the screen on a laptop isn’t bad at all. I’ve seen many a person do this with their touch screen Windows laptops over the years and they don’t seem to have any sort of fatigue associated with it.

Microsoft’s Surface Pro seems like the perfect Windows device to me. It’s a tablet that can be use with a full sized monitor, keyboard, and mouse, and it runs Windows. I could write code on one of these devices. I can’t do that with an iPad.

Fox Sports

Sometimes, there’s a guy like Stetson Bennett IV, except that there isn’t really, not exactly like him anyway, not when this young man of unassuming excellence had to be a footballing miracle-worker just to become Georgia’s quarterback, never mind everything he’s done since.

I love me an underdog. Now, lets see if Stetson Bennett can have an NFL career. I hope so.

Also, the real Championship game was Georgia vs. Ohio State in the Peach Bowl. That was one amazing football game.

Don Melton on Mastodon

Today is the twentieth anniversary of #Apple’s #Safari Web browser being publicly introduced. That stunning debut happened at the Macworld Expo in San Francisco on January 7, 2003. And, of course , I was there. Here’s what I wrote about that event ten years ago:

Happy Birthday Safari! 🥳 All us Mac loving people owe Don “Gramps” Melton a big thanks for putting together the team that went on to create Safari. Thanks, Don!

[briankeene]

Content Discontent

Horror fans are in full panic-bordering-on-riot mode this morning, in part due to We Got This Covered running an article yesterday with the ill-advised headline ‘HORROR FANS FEAR FOR FUTURE AS SHUDDER GETS AXED BY AMC’. This was inspired by a November 29th article on IndieWire about the massive layoffs and budget cuts coming to the AMC networks across the board. (Because that’s what pop culture news is now. Website A posts an article. Three weeks later Website B cherry picks something from that article. Then Website C wildly misrepresents something from Website B’s article. Then a bunch of dudes with beards on YouTube make increasingly brain-damaged speculations about it, which are then picked up by Website A as news, and the cycle begins again).

But I digress.

To clarify, Shudder* is not getting canceled. But they are expected to get hit by massive lay-offs and budget cuts, and that’s frustrating to me as a horror fan and infuriating to me as a horror professional. I’m not going to delve into why we need Shudder because SlashFilm does a good job on making the case for the channel’s vitality in this article. But I will say it’s time to circle the wagons and draw your swords and come to Shudder’s defense, and the best way to do that is to subscribe to the channel and stop pirating movies for fucking free.

But I digress again.

What I want to talk about is the original communique that started all of this — a memo that James Dolan, the CEO of AMC parent company MSG Entertainment, sent to all staff on Tuesday, November 29th. It reads:

AMC Networks Community:

As I am sure you are aware our industry has been under pressure from growing subscriber losses. This is primarily due to “cord cutting.” At the same time we have seen the rise of direct to consumer streaming apps including our own AMC+. It was our belief that cord cutting losses would be offset by gains in streaming. This has not been the case. We are primarily a content company and the mechanisms for the monetization of content are in disarray.

It is for that reason that myself and the Board of Directors of AMC Networks have concluded that we as a company need to conserve our resources at this time. We have directed the executive leadership of AMC Networks to undergo significant cutbacks in operations. These will include a large-scale layoff as well as cuts to every operating area of AMC Networks. We of course realize that this will cause significant concern and anxiety for our employees and those who rely on AMC Networks for their livelihood. We do not take this lightly. We will take every step possible to minimize the impact of these actions on our community. However, it is imperative that we begin immediately with this new course of action.

The Dolan Family and the Board of AMC Networks have great pride in the company and products that you have created. This is a confusing and uncertain time in our industry. We are confident that AMC Networks will come through this even stronger. Your executive leadership will follow up with details shortly. We wish only the best for everyone in the AMC Networks community.

Sincerely, James Dolan

To summarize — cable viewers switched over to streaming. The suits at MSG thought that these viewers would subscribe to the company’s streaming channels: Shudder, AMC+, Acorn TV, Sundance Now, ALLBLK, HIDIVE, etc., and that those subscription fees would offset the money the company lost in cable cancellations.

The part of that memo that really stuck out to me was “We are primarily a content company and the mechanisms for the monetization of content are in disarray.”

I loathe that word. “Content”. Think about what he’s referring to here for a minute. All of those great films on Shudder? He doesn’t see them as individual movies. He sees them as content. Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul — inarguably the most important television series to grace our culture since The Sopranos and The Wire? Simply content. Franchise behemoth The Walking Dead (which I stopped watching after season 2, which my dearly departed friend Dave ‘Meteornotes’ Thomas used to refer to as “Farmville with zombies”) is just content. And yes, we can argue the merits of the show and its spin-offs, but none of that matters. What matters is that the show has brought joy to lots of people. They tuned in week after week to watch a story, not content.

The reason MSG is struggling is because they don’t understand what they are manufacturing, producing and selling. You are not in the content business. You are in the art and storytelling and entertainment business. And when you sit in a boardroom and refer to something like Better Call Saul as content, you automatically devalue your product. This may be taking place on a subconscious level, but it’s happening nevertheless. How do I know this? You say so yourself in your memo. You’d hoped that consumers (me) would subscribe to your streaming channels. And I did subscribe to Shudder and I continue to renew that subscription every year, because Craig Engler and his team have curated a collection of horror movies that I simply cannot see anywhere else. If I want to watch The Sadness, for example, I have to watch it on Shudder. Craig and the rest of the Shudder team aren’t thinking in terms of content. They’re thinking in terms of storytelling and filmmaking and entertainment.

Not so the rest of MSG’s line-up. I didn’t subscribe to AMC+. You know why? Because Better Call Saul was available for streaming purchase elsewhere. Instead of making it exclusive to their app, like the Shudder exclusives, they viewed Better Call Saul as content. And then they made that content available on multiple platforms. Same goes for Breaking Bad. My 14-year old and all of his friends are crazy about Breaking Bad. But he watches it on Netflix, because the content is available there, and Dad already pays for a Netflix subscription.

If you want your streaming apps to be successful, James, and you want people to pay for them, then take a look in-house. take a look at what Shudder is doing. Instead of being in the content business, get into the storytelling and entertainment business. Look at your shows not as interchangeable content to spew out there into a slot, but as the individual works of art their creators view them as. And that we, the consumers view them as. And then market them as such. People can fault Disney all they want (and for good reason) but making the Marvel and Star Wars stuff exclusive to Disney+ was a smart move. If you want to watch them, you have to subscribe to the app. And sure, the bean counters and suits at Disney might refer to those works as content because it makes the shareholders happy, but in the production meetings and the writer’s rooms, they’re engaged in storytelling.

I’m hearing this word thrown around in publishing more and more, as well. First in comics, but now in book publishing. Content.

I’m not producing content. I’m telling stories. And if that makes me a dinosaur, if that makes me old fashioned, if that puts me on the endangered species list, then so be it. I‘ve survived three economic recessions in my career, and four seismic shifts to our business, and I’ll survive this next one, too. And if everybody else wants to go create content, that’s cool. It’s not for me, though. I’ll be over here writing old fashioned stories, and I’ll be content to do so.

Disclosures:

* Film adaptations of several of my works have either been pitched to Shudder in the past or are currently under consideration.

** The film adaptation of my novel GHOUL was a Chiller Network production.