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#god i hate him so fucking much
feralkwe · 4 months
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whenever you're ready: what the FUCK did Terry Goodkind do to you 😭😭
*cracks knuckles*
hoo boy. are you ready? because the things i am about to say are objective fact and not up for dispute. some of them are mean, but rest assured i mean every word.
terry goodkind created a sweeping and gorgeous world full of magic, ruled by incredible, complex, powerful women. some of the women remain to this day some of my favorite characters in all of fiction. the confessors could compel the truth with a power based in utter love. the mord-sith, could turn pain into power, making them fierce warriors (first antagonists, later allies). sisters of the light, powerful sorceresses who train young wizards and protect sacred prophecies, and their evil counterparts, sisters of the dark. it's just layered with so many amazing women. good. evil. everything in between.
and then he shits all over them.
he brutalizes them with all sorts of sexual abuse. the second book features an evil wizard who uses nipple magic to defile and control women who he deems impure. it's implied, if not outright stated, that the mord-sith are all sexually abused. in book three, kahlan amnell, the mother confessor, is forced to marry and sleep with a man who is not richard, and then richard spends forever punishing her for it, even though it was against her will. he kills one of the only two lesbians in the series, which was my first "bury your gays" experience. richard has a sister who is "pristinely ungifted" (immune to all magic, which i ate up with a fucking spoon as a concept) and she, too, was manipulated and brutalized to further richard's narrative. nicci becomes the most powerful sorceress in the entire world, but spends most of the story being abused, sexually and physically, and the rest in unrequited love with richard in the most egregiously shitty love triangle ever. the last two books are just brutalization porn, detailing every horrific way kahlan is beaten and tortured. every single powerful woman is brought violently down, often through rape. always through violence.
and as if this wasn't bad enough, the entire series is a libertarian allegory. it's not subtle. it's filled with self-aggrandizing conservative-lite morals entrenched in purity bullshit. goodkind was a huge fan of ayn rand, and his penchant for writing richard giving three page monologues that could have all been summed up as "hey idiots, i am right and you are wrong" demonstrate that with astonishing deftness. magic becomes some metaphor for everything that is wrong with the world and society in the clumsiest way possible, until the world must literally be split in two in order to create a libertarian non-magical utopia.
if that wasn't enough, he was so insufferable about everything. he created a rich and detailed fantasy world then constant bemoaned being called a fantasy author. he felt it was beneath him and his talents. he remained pretentious about speculative fiction while profiting from it.
oh, he also famously threw a massive tantrum about one of his later book covers, insulting the cover artist openly and publicly. if you know anything about publishing, you know that authors getting any input over their cover is a huge privilege. so he was a massive asshole, too.
never in my life have i had such a complex relationship with a book series. it has so many spectacular things going for it, but goodkind couldn't step off his own dick. he took himself way too seriously, overused lazy tropes (richard was the most powerful wizard ever but only ever used his powers at the most convenient moment when only a deus ex could save his hole-ridden plot), and can't write a sympathetic protagonist to save his life. idk how you write such amazing women while obviously having disdain for them. some kind of asshole magic, i guess.
anyway, this just scratches the surface. any single thing here would be annoying on its own, and combined it is just exhausting. idk how i suffered through the whole series apart from my commitment to these characters i loved despite his every effort to make the rest of the story unbearable. my one life's regret is that he died never knowing what a hack i think he was. he probably wouldn't have cared because obviously i am inferior to him in every way, but i lament he will never know.
anyway, fuck him.
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mxtxfanatic · 1 year
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Nie MingJue spoke coldly, “If she responded with only silence and not opposition when the Wen Sect was causing mayhem, it’s the same as indifference. She shouldn’t have been so disillusioned as to hope that she could be treated with respect when the Wen Sect was doing evil and be unwilling to suffer the consequences and pay the price when the Wen Sect was wiped out.”
—Chapt. 73: Recklessness, exr
ALMOST LIKE HOW ALL OF YOU SAT BACK WHILE THE WEN WERE COMMITTING CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY BUT WERE STILL DEMANDING RESPECT, HUH?????? HOW FUCKING IRONIC!!!
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bijuice · 2 years
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why are ya’ll acting like daemon was out of character in ep10??
this lil bitch was once again showing his true colors
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lewisainz · 9 months
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laughing my fucking ass off rn
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wetsoggybeans69 · 6 months
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If Vicious were yandere (or in any relationship for that matter), he wouldn't be an "if I can't have you, no one can." type of yandere (which I find a little weird) I feel he'd be more inclined to be My beloved, my love, my everything, and lastly my only reason to fucking live. He'd use his lover as an unhealthy coping mechanism, and he kind of knows this. He knows how fucked up and selfish he is
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suntails · 14 days
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toot toot!
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lazycranberrydoodles · 6 months
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english translation book 5 baby we are in the ‘people assuming kid form hua cheng is xie lian’s son’ era 🔥🔥🔥 / follow for more hualian silliness
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aroaceleovaldez · 6 months
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Nico and Percy's dynamic through the series is eternally funny to me, because it's just. like.
Percy's having a constant mental struggle between his fatal flaw of loyalty with a promise he made to Bianca to protect Nico, versus his Big 3 kid desire to maim other Big 3 kids / Poseidon descendant urge to totally maim Nico specifically. He hates Nico so so much. He thinks Nico's annoying and weird at best, and creepy/sketchy when he's older. The only positive thoughts Percy has towards Nico are "He's Bianca's brother and Bianca was my friend and I owe her/He's Hazel's brother and Hazel is my friend and would kill me if I was mean to him," "He's a powerful asset and useful ally (if questionable)," and "He's kinda pathetic and I feel maybe a little bad about it." Percy has multiple occasions throughout the series where he strongly considers - and on one occasionally actually goes through with - throttling Nico.
Meanwhile, Nico is following around Percy like a lost puppy. He explicitly can never bring himself to even dislike anything about Percy no matter how hard he tries. He has a whole bit in BoO where he's mentally going "UGH he's so stupid BUT IT'S ENDEARING HOW DARE HE." He's totally smitten. He's making deals with his dad for Percy. He's making convoluted plans to help Percy stand a chance against Kronos. During the entirety of BoTL it's like he's playing tsundere - "I'm helping NOT PERCY SPECIFICALLY with this quest! Me helping Percy would be SILLY because I DEFINITELY HATE HIM." Then he proceeds to show up to Percy's birthday party to basically ask him on a weird date and spend the entire next book scrambling around trying to help him or protect him or impress him. And Percy could not give less of a shit.
Just. That dynamic is so funny to me. Percy is the founder of the Nico Protection Club in that he's the one they're all protecting Nico from and meanwhile Nico is throwing himself at Percy to the point where the literal god of gay love calls him out on it.
#pjo#percy jackson#nico di angelo#Percy shows up at CJ and squints at Nico like ''hm. why do i feel like i hate you? like i just wanna punch you in the face?''#and Nico just immediately goes ''huh no idea anyways i have to go-'' and jumps into Tartarus#but not before he gives Hazel essentially a detailed explanation of ''this is Percy i cant say much but please dont let him die <3''#and Nico's whole Tartarus trip was basically a whole ''im doing this so no one else has to''#only for Percy and Annabeth to fall in like one book later and Nico proceeds to spend the next book internally screaming about it#and then Cupid calls him out on it and the next book#Nico's just like ''at this point im hoping i keel over within the next week just so i can force this dumb crush to chill the fuck out''#Nico staring pointedly at Will: ''For my own sake i need to form another crush RIGHT NOW so i can finally get over Percy.''#''this has been so bad for my health''#Nico's crush on Percy is just too funny to me. horrible pick my guy. terrible job. love that for you. he could not be less interested.#Percy LITERALLY TRIES TO KILL NICO and ditch him in the underworld and Nico is somehow STILL like ''but i love him''#Percy basically chokes him. beats up his dad. tells him ''go get smited by your dad for me.'' and ditches him.#and Nico's opinions/crush on him DO NOT CHANGE#though also Nico's reaction to Percy beating up his dad + skeletons is SO funny. his jaw is on the floor. he's flustered about it.#he just witnessed Percy be incredibly hot and proceeded to go ''yea i'll do anything for this man. collect reinforcements of 3 gods? sure''#nico you absolute DISASTER with HORRIBLE TASTE. you can do better. raise your standards.#which tbh is funnier when you factor in sun and the star. Nico just wont stop crushing on guys who dislike him and everything he stands for
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chrisbangs · 8 months
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BANG CHAN — Special MC KCON LA DAY 3 (230821)
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spooksier · 4 months
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having a moment. but when i was little and first getting into writing stories and drawing characters i always used to make every single character white, strange when you consider that im literally black but much less strange when you realize that at that point in the early 2000s i had never before seen a black person play a hero in something i loved or see a black person on tv with an actual role period (me and my sister used to see how long we could watch tv without ever seeing a black person, INCLUDING ads and it would go on for hours) so to little me, all the heroes were white. things slowly got better and i obviously got over that idea but still most roles i saw a black person play on tv was the sassy best friend of the white protagonist who existed only to be a sidekick or anything like that. but this is the first year ive actually felt like things were actually looking up.
between spiderverse, doctor who, and percy jackson i have never seen so many widely loved protagonist roles in mainstream media held by black people ever before in my life, ESPECIALLY by dark-skin people!! and they're well written! and they're the hero! and they have full lives outside of just being "the black character"! idk man it's just nice to finally get this, i love u miles morales, i love u the 15th doctor, i love u annabeth chase <333
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ghouljams · 6 months
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I am going to keep slutting Ghost out, he deserves it. Respectfully. But also the man cannot dress himself, he has no drip. He's got 20 black t-shirts, he's got jeans and fatigues and that's it. He thinks skull and skeleton motifs are cool. Soap and Gaz get him a skeleton sweatshirt/sweatpants fit as a gag gift and laugh themselves hoarse when he wears them around the base.
I'm not saying he doesn't look so fucking good in a black tee and fatigues, but the man does not have style. Not on purpose. He wears his usual black tee and maybe some black cargo pants, wanders around town in his big army boots and gets stopped by goth kids and tech/streetwear folks. He doesn't know what the fuck they're complimenting him for. He doesn't know why they're talking to him. He tells Gaz about it and Gaz almost chokes on his drink, has to call Soap over to hear this. Ghost doesn't know fashion trends, he doesn't care, he's going to keep doing what he's doing.
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raiderlucy · 4 months
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JOE KEERY as GATOR TILLMAN Fargo • 5.06 The Tender Trap
+ bonus;
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Hannibal saying "I was worried you were dead" in Fromage and then saying "I don't care about the lives you save; I care about your life" in the NEXT FUCKING EPISODE. I'm going to explode they make me sick
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daily-crowley · 3 months
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Crowley Of The Day: gorgeous 😍
(I used up all my hashtags that I couldn’t do my usual GO tags that I always do lol I don’t care)
#personal update#I got into Trolls#but I mean really really really into it#new fixation the brainrot is unstoppable#it’s all I think about I’m to the point that I need all Trolls content to survive#all Trolls content HAND IT OVER! merch fanart fics ALL OF IT#I’m so in love with Branch Floyd and John Dory#Rock Zombie Branch is sooooooo#and so I’d Rock Zombie Poppy#I AM THE NUMBER ONE JOHN FORY DEFENDER LEAVE HIM ALONE HE DID NOTHING WRONG AND DOESNT DEAERVE THE HATE HE GETS#I need what Broppy have oh my fucking god it’s so cute the love they have for each other it’s consuming me#and I need more of Branch and Clay those two rule following safety loving nerds would have such a great relationship#DID YOU SEE CLAY FAWNING OVER BRANCH WHEN THEY REUNITED SQUISHING HIS CHEEKS#THATS HIS BABY BROTHER AND HES AS CUTE NOW AS HE WAS WHEN HE WAS A BABY#AND THE ENDING WHEN HE TOLD HIM HE WAS SORRY FOR MISSING HIM GROW UP BUT COULDNT WAIT FOR THWM TO HANG OUT NOW#everyone focuses on Branch and Floyd but I NEED BRANCH AND CLAY#Speaking of Floyd I love him so much. he’s all I think about. that is if I’m not thinking of Branch#John Dory is everything to me? like I’m obsessed with him in a different way. like I said I’ll defend him every single time#BRUUUUUUUCE!!! 💞💞💞💞💞#Trolls 3 is still in cinemas and I’ve literally been going to rewatch it once a week#no joke I’m going again this Wednesday#AND I HAVE THE FILM AT HOME! I have all 3 of them and I watch them every day#I’m telling you the brainrot is unstoppable I am going insane#People apparently don’t like when I talk about any other interest of mine especially Trolls#it’s like I’m almost not allowed to talk about anything other than Good Omens#so since people don’t like me doing permanent posts YOU’RE GETTING IT IN THE TAGS#okay I’m done…. for now.#Crowley#Crowley Of The Day#Good Omens
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[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]
saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi riptide#gillion tidestrider#GONNA START FORMATTING MY COMICS BETTER. W THE PROPER 'PREV' 'NEXT' LINKS#REALLY DIDNT EXPECT TO CONTINUE THIS SERIES BUT AAAUUUHH MY BRRAAAIN MY BRAIN IS SO IDEASSS. I HAVE 3 OTHER PAGES SKETCHED OUT#NO PROMISES ILL FINISH EM ANY TIME SOON OR EVER. MY WHIMS ARE THEIR OWN BEAST AND I ONLY DRAW ON MY WHIMS#THAT BEING SAID IF U COMMISSIONED ME ILL GEEETT TO YOUUU IM SORRYYYY. ART IS AN EMOTIONAL RELEASE FOR ME N BABY I HAVE EMOTIONS.#ESPECIALLY ABOUT GILLION TIDESTRIDER CHAMPION OF THE UNDERSEA HERO OF THE DEEP.for the desc here i put smth that i typed up in the tags of#another thing i made. i gotta make a proper Baby Gillion tag or smth. eventually.. eventually...I LOVE DRAWIN THIS LIL BABY GUY..#i also LOVE depicting the teachers as just being so fuckin mean. ofc theres variation in that. just like in all things.like the teacher her#idk if itll be mentioned but the octo lady is named Ms Octburn.an octopus pun based off the name of an actual councilor i had#when i was in elementary school i got bullied alot but teachers never did anything. i hated adults and didnt trust them.#but this councilor o mine was so genuinely sweet. i remember spending alot of time w her. she doesnt work there anymore.#but that one school adult that actually earns ur trust and is there for you when they can be.its SO important for a child i think#i hope she knows how much she helped me.youll see in the next page that ms octburn isnt perfect either.but she tries. they all try.somehow.#ALL these comics are gonna be inspired by somesorta experience o mine in the school system. school is so fucked up u ever thing abt that#AND GILLIOOOOONNN IN THE MOST FUCKED UP LITTLE SCHOOL OF ALL. MAINTAINED BY A CULT. CENTERED AROUND HIM. OUR CHOSEN ONE#I IMAGINE ALOT BANKS ON HIS SUCCESS. THIS IS THE WORLD. THE WHOLE WORLD. THE PROPHECY IS GOING TO COME TRUE N UR TELLIN ME#THAT ITS THIS LITTLE IDIOT THATS GONNA BE SAVING US? WHAT IF HE FAILS. IF HE CANT GET THIS RIGHT THEN HE WILL FAIL AND WE WILL DIE#WE NEED TO TRAIN HIM. WE NEED HIM TO LEARN. AND TO SUCCEED. OR ELSE WE'RE DEAD. WE'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE STRESSFUL#in other news i hope ppl actually giggle when they read these. they ARE intended to be comical. dark humor or whatever. like its also sad#this is intended to be a sad comic series. but a funny one too. does that make sense? god i hope so.saw some1 say they had flashbacks-#-reading this. like YES!! THE INTENDED EFFECT!! YOU GET ME!! i love seeing ppl get upset on this lil baby boys behalf. i LOVE seeing ppl-#-wail n weep n cry in the comments. i LOOOVE seeing ppl RELATE to baby gillion. and i love letting u all know that this wont be a happycomi#gillion gets his happiness arc in the actual show. this series is one of unfortunate events. teehehehe. do u guys remember that show#i keep listening to the lil songs from A Series of Unfortunate Events for inspiration. GOOD STUFF!!#anyway uuhh uhh thats all i got in my brain. for now. feed me ur comments give me ur input i NNEEEEEDD THHEEEMMMM
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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months
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I’m so glad you liked the jokes!
(I though they were hilarious because my sense of humor is nothing if not bad dad jokes, puns, and sarcasm. But I can’t even take credit for them because I found them online haha)
For the blurb idk if you intended for me to ask for something specific or not but I kinda just want to see what you’ll come up with if that’s okay? I feel like any idea you had would be better than mine anyway lol. Up to you really on whether or not you already have ideas or need some help. ♥️
the jokes were so so good i loved them truly. my sense of humor is the exact same way. and oh bless your soul for letting my mind run wild. i present to you all an idea that literally sent me feral, in which you've got some new perfumes and eddie is a blind idiot.
warnings: fem!reader, reader is very vaguely described as having hair that is at least shoulder length as well as buying items such as bras perfumes and chapsticks, hints at sexual themes but no actual smut, neck kissing and just good old fashioned kissing happens, eddie is kind of a perv? a little bit? also, not edited (what's new?) minors dni.
wc: 4.1k+ (i got a little carried away)
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“Smell this.” 
The demand is paired with a sudden wrist in Eddie’s face that nearly has him falling off the bed. 
“Excuse me?” 
You and Eddie had been best friends for a while now. Since that first week of freshman year. Eddie, in all his awkward glory, had leaned up from his seat behind you in Mrs. Damon’s first hour English class, stabbed you right in the shoulder blade with a dully sharpened pencil just to inform you that he liked your shirt. You, in all your teacher’s pet façade, had only shushed him harshly and glared before turning back around. But some time between the ice breakers and the saving grace of the first bell of what would be a long high school career, you’d decided you would address him before you’d scurried out of that classroom and thank him. But not before you’d informed him that you didn’t even know the band displayed, had just thrifted the shirt for looking cool, and had unknowingly sent Eddie on a mission to educate you in the glory of his favorite band. 
And nearly six years later, he was still on that mission. You were stubborn and had sworn loyalty to Fleetwood Mac before Eddie and Metallica had ever even stood a chance. 
He doesn’t mind. He’d listen to the Rumors album on repeat for the rest of his days if it meant he always ended up in this position at the end of the day — in his room, on his bed, lounging with you to pass the time. 
Your wrist is still held up dangerously close to Eddie’s face in the present day, a look of determination and contemplation overtaking you, “Smell. My. Wrist.” 
Six years is a long time to grow comfortable with someone. And, in Eddie’s case, fall in love with your best friend. 
“I’m not smelling your wrist, weirdo,” he mumbles as he swats your hand away, squinting at the way you were perched on your knees as they sunk into his mattress. He had been halfway to a much needed nap before you had lost interest in whatever magazine you’d been reading, “Why do you even need me to? What didja do to it?” 
His words are still half slurring from fatigue. If he cuts off your pestering strategically enough, he might still achieve that nap his heavy bones so desperately yearned for. 
You readjust yourself, flopping down to sit beside Eddie with your legs stretched out as he lifts himself up. Shoulder to shoulder, calf along calf, the two of you prop your backs against his warm bedroom wall, “I went to Starcourt yesterday with Nancy and bought some new perfumes-“
“Perfumes?” he wrinkles his nose, “Plural?” 
He would have sworn he’d have noticed a new perfume, but these days, he’d been trying to put some restraint on his pathetic crush. Tried to tame the yearning inside of him, which meant less indulging in things like sniffing the air like a freakish dog whenever you entered a room just to drink in the smell of you that had brought him so much comfort over the years. Less letting his eyes linger on the straps of the bras you’d started wearing more of since you’d begun to hang out more with the likes of Nancy Wheeler, who had been single-handedly teaching you how to be a girl in a way Eddie had never witnessed from you. 
You’d wasted most of your critical youth surrounded by boys, by Eddie. Go figure that Wheeler was jumping at the opportunity to mold a blank canvas.
“Yes, I bought perfumes, plural, as in multiple- oh, don’t give me that look, Munson,” you scowl when he makes a face, wrinkles forming adorably between your brows. (Brows he was pretty sure Nancy had plucked for you last weekend, but again — Eddie wasn’t supposed to notice those things anymore. Tampering the crush, or whatever idiotic goal he had set for himself.), “They were on a BOGO sale. Bite me. Anyways, I got these new perfumes, and one of the ladies was telling me and Nance how you should layer your scents. Which, God, doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”
Eddie hums, eyebrows raised skeptically at where this rambling was going.
“So I bought these scents that she said might pair well together. But then, she was talking about body chemistry and-“ you cut yourself off, clearly realizing how boring this topic might be to someone like Eddie who hadn’t even picked out his own drugstore cologne (you had), “Listen, just… just stop questioning it and smell my wrist.” 
Once again, you hold your arm out in front of Eddie’s now softening face. He’s holding his breath, which he hopes you don’t notice, as he weighs his options.
Smell your wrist, probably subjecting himself to a terrible sort of pain when he realizes he'd much rather be placing feathery kisses there before moving onto your knuckles as he holds your hand. Or deny you, possibly hurt your feelings or offend you as he brushes this off as another girly thing he wanted nothing to do with. 
The fleeting image of your face if he were to reject you in this moment is enough to make his choice for him.
He never could say no to you.
“What am I even supposed to be smelling it for?” he grumbles as he reaches out and grabs your forearm, opting that safer territory than your hand as he guided your skin closer to him, “Like, I’m not a scents expert, sweet-“
Oh. 
Eddie’s brain short circuits as the tip of his nose brushes your soft skin. The pet name dies on his tongue, the inhale through his nose cutting off just as suddenly. 
Oh, God. Oh, fuck. 
He already knows he's a sucker for you, a dog with a bone when it comes to your presence and attention. He already relished in your old perfume's scent and the way it would cling to a room, lingering on his sheets when you’d sleep over after a movie night gone too late. When you’d borrow his Hellfire shirt and return it without washing it, leaving the collar tainted with sweetness and enough undertones of vanilla to make a chasm within him yearn terribly. 
But this new perfume, perfumes technically, were something different. They weren’t the same as the body spray you’d been using every day since freshman year. They were deeper, more complicated, more womanly than he had prepared himself for.
“Does it… does it smell good?” you meekly ask him, suddenly going shy at his frozen state, “Like, is it working with my… my own smell? Sometimes perfumes smell good on their own but don’t work with your body’s chemistry, that’s what the lady had been explaining to me and Nan-“
“It’s working.” 
It’s all he can manage to choke out as he lets go of your arm so that it falls away and takes the sweet smells with it. 
God, it was working.
Eddie felt more embarrassed than he had that first month of puberty, when he was just discovering girls and noticing the stretch of t-shirts over chests. He felt even more affected than the first time he’d let his eyes wander over the back of Cheryl T’s thighs the last day of eighth grade, and discovered the wonders of an ass’ curve. 
All his blood would not be rushing south. No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t allow it, not when he was fully grown and should have some self-control, and certainly not when he was wearing his thinnest pair of boxers with grey fucking sweatpants. 
Your eyes are wide with innocence, or at least what he hopes is innocence, “Really? It smells good?”
He has to clear his throat before he can properly reply, “‘s good, yeah. It, uh, yeah. Smells good.” 
Think of naked grandmas. Think of kicked puppies. Think of literally anything except her soft ski-
“Awesome!” you’re suddenly sitting crisscross beside him, facing him fully, “Okay, that’s- awesome. Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” were you just as flustered as he was? Was he reading this wrong? “The lady actually told us - okay, I know it’s stupid and boring so bear with me - but she told us to put them on all our pulse points. So that way, it… uh… it makes the perfume last longer.” 
He can’t get the smell out of his nose. Something so sweet, something so enticing, something so… you. The perfumes were fancy, but somehow, they were you. Smells of summer and spring and tooth-aching sweetness that was driving Eddie mad.
He’ll never be able to let you sleep in his bed again. He doesn’t want to consider what shameful, hormone-fueled decisions he would make if he had to experience his pillow smelling like that even when you were long gone. 
Get it together, Munson. 
“Makes sense,” he lies, still struggling to get his tongue to function properly. All he’s thinking about is trailing it over that sweet spot on your wrist now, lips sucking on every inch of skin you currently had exposed- Naked grandmas. Kicked puppies, “Is that all you needed? Can I take a nap now?” 
Hell, he’s torn between wanting you to stay and ushering you out of his trailer so he can have a few moments alone. Weighing the risks of escaping to the bathroom for a few minutes too long just to get his problem under control. 
He’s twenty, not fifteen. A girl’s perfume should not be affecting him this way. 
Your face falls ever so slightly, “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Like I said, I know it’s boring-“
“It’s not boring,” he interrupts, realizing that he’s mere seconds away from genuinely hurting your feelings. Or perhaps he’s already there, having been a complete idiot. He still remembers your face the day he’d contained his reaction to your new bra — how he’d gone into autopilot and snapped the strap like some little boy on the playground just to play off how flustered it made him. You hadn’t admitted it to him, but his reaction had hurt you. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, “The whole science behind it — it sounds pretty cool, honestly.” 
Nothing that made you so excited, so giddy, could ever be boring to him. He loved seeing you buzz with your emotions and expectancy. He just didn’t love the way his heart and mind seemed to run with every single, little, goddamn bone you tossed him. 
You were his best friend. He shouldn’t think of you like that. He couldn’t. 
“It is,” you light back up in the slightest, saucer eyes boring into his again. Not quite as animated as before, but not quite as deflated as you had been heading, “Actually- Can I ask another favor?”
Anything. 
“Sure, sweetheart,” his heart had finally slowed its pace, the reigns back in his control as the perfume lingered in the air but didn’t overwhelm him, “What’s up?” 
“So… the wrists aren’t the only pulse points you’re supposed to wear perfume on.” 
Oh, God. Where were you going with this?
“No?” he tries to tease, tries to smile at you. It’s fruitless — his heart has begun to pound again, “I sure hope it wouldn’t be. I mean, blood kind of rushes everywhere, isn’t that the point-“ 
“The neck,” you blurt out, making the rest of Eddie’s sentence disappear into the air, “The, uh, the neck is the other place. Well, not just the neck, it’s…” you trail off, twiddling with your thumbs for a second before you lift a hand to gather away any stray hairs from curtaining the side of your neck. You even go so far as to secure the hand behind your ear, “Behind the ears. You’re supposed to spray it behind your ears, too.”
“Okay…” he enunciates slowly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he starts to catch up with where you’re going with this, and desperately hoping that he’s wrong. 
“Can you… Would you…” you pause and take a deep breath, eyes shutting for a second. When you open the back up, a new wave of determination is set around your pupils, “Eddie, can you smell my neck?” 
What sort of sick, twisted, wet dream am I living in right now? 
Eddie is suddenly convinced you never interrupted his attempt at a nap. He’s asleep right now, soundly curled into himself, and you’re still lounging casually with your magazine on the other side of his bed. That must be it, because there’s no way you’re actually offering him to press himself so closely into your vicinity as he’s only ever dreamed of. 
“What?” he weakly questions. 
If this is a dream, dear God, don’t let me wake up. 
“Can you smell my neck?” you repeat yourself with a little more confidence before pulling your best puppy dog eyes, “I just- I want to make sure it smells good. Everywhere.”  
Damn Nancy Wheeler for whatever journey of self-discovery she’d sent you on. Damn her, and damn the perfume lady, and damn Eddie for reaping such benefits. 
He should say no. He should really, really say no. 
He’s wearing goddamn grey sweatpants, he should say no. 
“S-Sure.” 
Famous last words. 
Your hair has already been moved, making it easier for Eddie when he leans forward at his waist. You lean in as well, jutting out your chin and angling your neck for his taking. 
It’s such a bad idea. 
The tip of his nose is bumping your skin again as his eyes flutter shut. He’s trying so hard to contain himself, to not make a fool of himself. But when he feels that softness again, when he’s being unraveled by warm notes of vanilla and patchouli, deep breaths of apple blossom of blackberry – he just breaks. 
He doesn’t realize that his lips have joined his nose in brushing up against your sweet spot until he hears you let out a shaky gasp, one that almost resembles a whine. 
His reaction should be to pull back. He should remove himself, apologize for going too far, stop before he’s fallen off the cliff himself. He doesn’t. 
Instead, he takes a moment of stillness as his head reels, overcome in the smell of your new perfume again and ears straining relentlessly to seek out another one of those pretty sounds. 
He wants to hear it again. He needs to know if it was a moan or a gasp, or nothing more than a ticklish breath. 
His lips pucker with intention this time. His nose trails up behind your ear, taking in the full bodied scent of the perfume on the skin as he places another chaste kiss against your pulse.
It’s racing. Your heartbeat is goddamn racing. 
The moment his lips connect, another gasp sounds. A sharp intake of breath that whistles so sweetly to his ears before you’re exhaling with a proper, albeit quiet, whimper. 
No amount of naked grandmas or kicked puppies can save him now. He’s a goner – he’s been a goner – and he leaps off that cliff full force now as he leans back and out of your space. 
Your eyes are shut. Eyelashes fluttering prettily, just barely brushing the skin beneath your eyes. 
He almost whispers out a gentle sweetheart as he stays close enough for you to feel his breath on that very same cheek, but when your eyes finally do open to meet his, he can’t get a single word out before his body moves to its own accord. 
His lips press to yours before he can overthink it.
He waits for the inevitable – for you to freeze up against him, for you to shove him off, for you to curse him out. He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve asked for permission, he should have had more self-control. 
But you don’t. Instead, you take him by surprise and you kiss him back.
Instantly, without an inch of hesitation, your lips work in tangent with his. Parting and welcoming him as if they had been waiting for this moment longer than he could comprehend. Pressing back with just as much, if not more fervency as his do. You match his desperation every step of the way until you’ve both exhausted all the breath inside your lungs. He has no choice but to pull back, to part from you and gulp in oxygen before he makes any more bad decisions. 
Lord know he’s full of them when he’s suddenly gazing into your glossy eyes. 
“I’m sorry-” he immediately rushes out to apologize, but a sharp shake of your head halts him. 
“Don’t be,” you whisper, “I… Do it again.”
“What?” 
“Kiss me again. Please.”
Eddie isn’t in the business of making you beg; he never really can say no to you. 
He kisses you again. And again. And again. A collage of pecks and soft slipping, tasting your chapstick and somehow moving the two of you so that he’s back to his original position with his back against the wall, and you now straddling his lap. You hover, completely unaware of how much you’re affecting him. When you let his tongue slip into your mouth without any bartering, he ends up letting out a moan that slips right down your throat. His hands are still so hesitant, but when you reach down and encourage his palms to engulf wherever they please, he’s on a mission of exploration. Soft caresses to your thighs, from the ditch of your bent knees to the skin hardly hidden beneath the hem of your lounge shorts. They wind their way up the pathways of your hips, squeezing at the soft give of the flesh there before he continues upwards. Up, up, up – until they find home in the curve of your waist, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you impossibly close. 
That damn perfume doesn’t just linger, not anymore. With you pressed against him, with the way he’s wound so tightly around you, it drowns him. Vanilla, coffee, blackberry, apple blossoms. A multitude of scents he’s sure his plain nose can’t even pick up on, and that he doesn’t really care to name. All he cares about is the smell of you. Something new and something fancy, but so very you. 
“I-” you break from the kiss, “Can’t-” you smack another one on him, beginning to take initiative, “Believe-” the next one misses his mouth, hardly landing against the upturned corner, “It took-” your final kiss lands on his dimple before you pull back fully and cup his hands within your palms, still hovering and straddling his waist, “A stupid fucking perfume ruse to get you to kiss me.”
He’s lovedrunk, all slow blinks and dumb-founded smile as he looks up at you, hardly processing the words, “What do you mean?” 
“I mean,” you squeeze his cheeks a little tighter in your touch, “I can’t believe I had to pull that whole stupid act of fluttering my lashes and oh, Eddie, can you smell my perfume for me? To make sure it smells good? To finally get you to just do something.” 
His head clears a little as the ghost of your kiss still buzzes on his lips, “Wait- what?” 
Your palms slide away, scratching at what scruff has gathered across his jaw line before your hands fully fall away, “You made me act like a damn fool, Eddie Munson.”
“It was all just an act?” 
“I can’t believe you were so oblivious.”
“You only made me do that so I’d kiss you?” 
“That,” you shrug, curling your hands into fists and gingerly placing them on his chest as his arms untangle from you slightly, only his knuckles resting on your waist now, “And the bra thing. And the whole thing when I bought all those chapsticks and couldn’t pick a favorite flavor.”
“They all tasted good,” he says, confused as he peers up at your faux annoyance, “I even tried them on for you-”
“I didn’t want you to try them on,” you whine, letting a few breathy laughs slip as you sit back, resting your weight entirely on his thighs and narrowly missing his boner you surely hadn’t noticed yet, “I wanted you to taste them off of me. I wanted you to make me put each one on, and kiss me stupid before you’d demand that I move onto the next one. I wanted to be the one to get your lips all sticky, not the fucking chapstick tubes themselves.”
“You-” Eddie’s mouth drops wide open, nearly wider than his eyes, “Hold on, you only brought that up so I’d fucking kiss you?” 
You nod as if it had been obvious, grinning wildly now, “God, you’re dense, Munson. I kept telling Nancy you’d figure it out eventually-”
“What does Nancy have to do with this?” 
“Nancy has been trying to help me concoct ways to get you to grow the balls and kiss me for months now. Although, to be fair, the bra thing had been Steve’s idea.” 
“Harrington?” Eddie gasps out in disbelief as you only throw your head back in laughter. It’s a beautiful sound, one that makes Eddie’s heart race even more painfully than the perfume had, “You went to Harrington for advice about me?”
When you lift your head back up to look at him, you’re all soft smiles and delighted eyes as you quietly admit, “I was getting kind of desperate here.” 
His chest heaves, finger unfurling from around your waist. 
“I was starting to think maybe you just didn’t like me bac-”
Without warning, Eddie’s hands are gripping your hips and he’s flipping positions, pinning you beneath him. He can’t wrap his head around it. You’d been wanting him to kiss you all this time. And he’d been a blind idiot. Snapping your bra straps, stealing away chapsticks and applying them himself when this entire time, he could have been living out his wildest fantasies. 
He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything more as he begins to attack you with kisses. One for every missed opportunity. No expanse of skin goes untouched as they graze over your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your neck – anywhere Eddie can access feels the pressure of his eagerness. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he curses himself over your giggles, coming up for air just to stare at you, “I could have- Oh my God. Sweetheart, I’m such a fucking idiot.” 
“You are,” you agree breathlessly with aching cheeks, “God, you are.” 
He balances himself on his forearms as he stays lifted above you, his hair forming a curtain to cut the two of you off from the rest of the world. 
You’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than that first day he’d met you in class, when you’d shushed him and all he did in return was make absolute heart eyes at you. 
His best friend. The person he’d be yearning and pining for for six long years. Who had been trying to get him to kiss her for over six months now. 
“I like you,” you confess, not breaking eye contact as a hand comes up to his cheek. He’s quick to turn his head, to let your palm press against him as he presses a kiss to your inner wrist, the perfume engulfing him again, “In case that wasn’t obvious.” 
He swallows hard, letting his lips remove themselves slowly from your skin and his nose to linger as it presses into the smooth skin, “I like you, too. Have for a few years now.”
“A few?”
“Okay, yeah- the whole time,” his words pull a wider grin from you, “Don’t look so smug. I’m not letting you live down this whole perfume bullshit scheme.” 
“And I’m not letting you live down going feral over some overpriced scented oils,” you retort, your cute snort cut short as your breath catches when he kisses your wrist again, “In all seriousness, though… Do you really think it smells good?” 
He takes the opportunity to finally lower his hips. Just enough so that his crotch is brushing against your inner thigh, “Yeah, I think you could say I think they smell very good.” 
Your hand travels back, caressing at his ear and sending a shiver down his spine before both of them latch behind his neck, prepared to pull him down into a kiss, “You got hard over some new perfumes, Munson? God, you’re easy.” 
“I am,” he doesn’t fight it as he lets you, not gravity, tug him downwards, “I am so easy when it comes to you, baby.” 
“Good thing I’m wearing one of those new bras, then,” you muse, placing far too quick of a kiss for his liking onto his lips before you tug him a bit lower, burying his face back in the side of your neck as you whisper in his ear, “Prove it.” 
Eddie should probably send a thank you card to Nancy Wheeler and the mall’s perfume lady. Not Harrington, though. Never Steve Harrington.
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