#writing jam

[wormsinastarcoat]

CURRENT WIP AND EXCERPT TIME WOOOOOOOO

Surprise! For the past month or so, I've been participating in @beauvandalen 's Novella Spring Garden Jam! My wip a little over 8k and still untitled, but i do have a working synopsis:

🐺🐴⚔️✨️ A werewolf, a horse boy, and a bounty hunter walk into a bar...

Except actually it's the woods, and the woods are maybe haunted as fuck??

Their job: to find what's been making travellers and supply wagons go missing… presuming it doen't find them first. 🌲🌳👻🌳

I'm SO excited about this project, so please send me asks about it!!

Here's the first few paragraphs 😈😈

[fanboyzuko]

lowkey driving myself insane thinking too much about the lack of hemispheres in the original show and how the entire world is on the northern hemisphere season cycle except sometimes characters refer to the correct season of the southern hemisphere but then its not visually I just need to stop caring and CHANGE THE SEASON IN KYOSHI WARRIOR EPISODE

[jamscandraw]

The problem with having an OCxOC or OCxCanon ship is that if you want to consume new content of them. You gotta make it yourself

[lizardkingeliot]

the season 2 premiere is the gift to jammers that just keeps on giving

[max-nico]

A moment of acknowledgement for the mutual domestication trope. Just two characters who are absolutely feral and batshit crazy until they're reunited with the other person, and then all of a sudden they're both sweet and gentle like a dog lounging in the sun after a long hard day of doing nothing

[jammed-out]

Hypnovember Day 9 - Creature

(CW: first person with vagina, tentacle fucking, ear penetration, brain fucking, hypnotic secretion, aphrodisiac, all the way through)

The cave seemed safe enough. Something inside was smelling incredibly sweet. As an explorer it was your job to document and explore uncharted places and locations. You raised your flashlight and crept inside the cave, slowly. The ground was slick, not quite wet but maybe slimy. Perhaps an unknown creature lived inside. You moved slower, your feet creeping carefully as you watched each step you took.

The air was damp, humid, and muggy. But still the sweet smell permeated throughout the room. You could see the slime on the walls as well and carefully reached out, touching it with your fingers. It was warm to the touch and sent a pleasant feeling through your fingers warming them instantly. Your fingers played in the liquid for a second, the gelatinous consistency pleasing to touch and spread on your skin. You smiled and pulled your hand away noting that it had an addicting sensation to it. You quickly wiped your hand on your pants, removing the slime from it.

You moved in farther, now far enough away that the only light was coming from your flashlight. Far enough away from the entrance to the cave to prevent anyone hearing you for help. But that was the life of an adventurer.

You could hear a sound, a wet slapping sound in the air. You stopped moving and immediately the sound stopped. Slowly you took a step forward and heard a similar sound fill the air again. It was humid here, so much so that you actually broke a sweat. You pushed on, slowly moving further in. As you did, you pulled off your jacket, tucking the flashlight into your waistband. You tied the jacket around your waist, baring your bare arms to the open air, sweat dripped down them.

You went to grab the flashlight once more only to accidentally send it tumbling to the floor. It bumped into something, blocking the light. You cursed yourself and got down on your knees, feeling about for it. There was no way you'd find your way out of here without it.

The slime here was thicker, thick enough to cover your hands fully. As you dug around you found your motions slowing, growing more sluggish. The warmth slid up your arms, spreading over them, wrapping tightly around them. It felt good to feel that way as the sensations spread further. You could feel it spreading up your legs too, almost crawling over them.

You could hear a wet sound as something pulled at your arms, slowly lifting them off of the ground. You tried to struggle but your arms felt so weak and heavy all of a sudden. The warmth draining the will to fight out of you. You glanced over and in the dark could make out a soft shimmering glow coming from what looked like a tentacle wrapped around each arm. They tangled tightly, sliding through your hands as your fingers gripped at them, wrapping tightly around your wrists, threading up over your elbows and biceps, before digging into your shirt. You could feel the warmth spreading as they moved further, teasing under your armpits.

You tried to squirm, to thrash against the restraints but found it harder to move. Other tentacles were moving now, Sliding under your pant legs, wrapping around your body. You could feel your shoes being plucked off of your feet by the unseen creature. The tentacles rose higher, tearing at your clothes as they stretched them to the point of fabric breaking. You could feel them climb higher, wrapping around your legs as they went numb hanging limply in the tentacle's grip. There was no escape for you now.

You could feel another tentacle moving towards your head. The warmth grew closer by the second. It wrapped around your neck, not tightly, just coiling for support before sliding up your neck creeping along your face. Your breath grew heavy now as you closed your mouth tightly. Your entire body was burning up aching for the tentacles to do what you knew they were planning for. You felt so empty and if the tentacles would just enter you, just fill that emptiness, it would be so much better. You knew the slimy secretions were causing these sensations, but you didn't care.

You felt a tentacle press against your clit, coating in the slimy substance. Immediately you felt it throb in need, swelling. Your body trembled in desire and you could sense the creature knew it. It slid back down, two tentacles pressing against your pussy. They slipped in, each almost pulling, stretching you wider as they slipped inward. You cried out in pleasure, cumming instantly. Your body wracked with pleasure.

The tentacle by your mouth wasted no time, slipping inside. It dove deep, quickly thrusting down into your mouth. Your tongue went numb as the secretions slid over it. You could feel the eagerness of the tentacle, digging deeper into your throat, sliding down stretching you out wider than you ever had before. Filling you deeper than ever before.

Your shirt burst apart bearing you fully naked to the cave air. Tentacles swarmed your body, wrapping around you, covering you quickly in the slime. You became numb to everything except pleasure, filling every inch of your body inside and out.

You could feel the tentacle inside of you sliding further, wrapping around every inch of your insides, pushing further and further. You couldn't help but imagine if anything would ever feel this good again. Suddenly you felt a pressure at your ears. Tentacles pushing against them, sliding in slowly. It hurt and you could feel the tentacle almost respond to the resistance, to your pain. A large gush inside of your pussy of the slime immediately sent your mind into a daze as you shook, another orgasm pulled from you by the creature. You trembled lost in the bliss as the tentacles pushed into your ears with a loud pop.

You went limp in the creature's grasp as the tentacles began to wrap around your brain. You could feel them gushing the slime into your head, it leaking out of your nose and ears. They slid over your mind, every thought being replaced by pure bliss. The tentacles knew how to make you feel good and you wanted that didn't you. You wanted the tentacles inside of you. They wanted to help you feel good. You wanted to feel good.

You came as the tentacle inside of you finally found exit out of your ass, fucking you straight through. Every inch of you penetrated fully. You were nothing but a set of holes for the tentacles to make you feel good. And that's what you wanted. Because that's what it wanted. To feel so good. You could feel it's pleasure as it fucked your mind with its tentacles. You could feel every inch of your body as you were fucked, as you fucked yourself. Feeling the pleasure as you gave yourself pleasure. Feeling every inch of yourself in a way you never felt before. You came surrendering to the bliss of the tentacles inside of you.

It was hours before you woke up, crawling your way out of the cave, covered in slime, stretched to your limit, trembling from pleasure. You gasped as your body expelled another bunch of slime from inside, your stomach still distended from the filling inside. You stumbled over to your campsite. Perhaps you wouldn't share this place with the other explorers. You expected you'd be coming back here quite a bit. What you weren't sure about was whether or not you wanted to, or the tentacles had told you to. Then again, did you really care. You stroked your swollen pussy and looked back at the entrance to the cave, eager to walk right back in.

[neigepomme]

Hi! Congrats on 500+ followers! If you're still doing drabbles, I'd love something with Caleb and Unconditional by Jaehyun 재현 has been giving me MAJOR Caleb vibes. For the prompt, maybe something where Caleb is absolutely whipped or obsessed? Over literally anything MC does?? Or maybe something where he just kisses everywhere on diff body parts bc "that's my sugar, I don't need no honey on the side" makes me SICK. Also, thank you for feeding the Loser Caleb agenda!! I owe u my life

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ unconditional / caleb x reader

synopsis; caleb is hopelessly, utterly whipped for you to say the least. your very existence is something that should be admired, and he isn't shy when it comes to letting you know that.

🍎 pomme's notes — LIVE LAUGH LOVE JAEHYUN!! i miss you come back from the war jamal.. if anyone's interested in participating in my drabble event, the info is right here!

⋆ 800 words / fluff / fem reader / 2nd person

caleb always thought he was the luckiest man on earth. 

being able to be by your side, loving you — hell, you loving him back? he doesn't think it could ever get better, seeing as you're the closest thing to perfection in his mind.

so when you suggested to go on a formal date with him to a high end restaurant in skyhaven, he knew you'd look gorgeous, but holy shit.

dressed in a silk maxi dress that highlighted your body and left your face looking radiant — a dainty necklace with an apple charm he'd gifted you resting on your collarbone, you were the very definition of heaven sent.

your soft honey smell wafted through the room, and caleb could feel himself be drawn in like a bee to a flower — and lord, when you twirled to show him the entire look? lethal. absolutely devastatingly ethereal, knocked his breath right out of his lungs.

“so, how do i look?”

caleb felt like one of those old cartoon characters, his jaw almost dropping to the floor upon seeing how beautiful you looked. silently thanking whichever deity took their time crafting you, he takes hold of your hand and trails kisses up your arm, pulling a soft laugh out of you.

“like an angel. did i ever tell you how much i adore you?”

pulling him in by his collar, you leave a subtle lipstick print when you press your lips to his cheek. 

“mmh, you do so daily, loverboy.”

were you dead set on sending caleb to his grave early? it sure looked like it to him. he could feel his cheeks growing redder, and when you raised your hand to his cheek, attempting to wipe the mark you left on it, he took a step back.

“nuh-uh. that kiss is mine now — need everyone to know i belong with you, pretty girl. last i checked, it was illegal to look that good and be single, so this is just a preventative measure.”

you rolled your eyes at him playfully, smacking his chest before laughing again. did caleb mention he was the luckiest man ever? because he was. your laugh was the most delicate melody to his ears, and he'd do anything to hear it over and over again. 

“that was a lame pickup line, caleb. but if we're going by your logic, you'd be behind bars for being so handsome, too. i guess we'd be felons together, huh?”

yeah. dead set on sending him to the grave prematurely.

his cheeks were flushed, he'd be your lame boyfriend all of the damn time if it meant you kept him by your side, and god, you thought he was handsome? caleb was seeing the pearly gates of heaven already. who on this earth could ever compare to you — his one and only.

wrapping both hands around his bicep, you look up at him with those sweet eyes of yours, and he has to hold himself back from kissing you senseless. you could ask him to give you the moon, and he'd bring you the universe as a whole just to make you happy. for you, he'd break every law, give you every gift, and it wouldn't still be enough. you deserved everything, and caleb was determined to make sure you knew that his love was limitless — unconditional.

“shall we get going, boyfriend?”

he felt like an obedient dog every single time you spoke to him. sometimes, he thought that your existence was the undeniable proof of a higher being. otherwise, how could you have been this perfect? crafted by the hands of gods, your personality and physique so immaculate, it had caleb wanting to praise whoever was up in the sky.

the way you talked, the way you smiled, the way you breathed. he could find new reasons to worship your being for centuries to come and never have to repeat a reason twice.

just last week, he saw you pouting when you let him know that a girl was hitting on him, and he still couldn't wrap his head around how you could be upset. caleb only saw you, and nobody could take his gaze away from your figure. you were his, and the idea of possibly finding another? revolting. no one could take your place, no model, no ceo, absolutely nothing. the only way he'd take his eyes off you was in death, and he was not dying anytime soon — he had already made plans to stay by your side until the end of time.

“we shall, pretty lady. i would never dare dream about letting you down.”

scratch the praise — caleb had to figure out which god loved you so much and take its place. there is no way he's letting his #1 loverboy spot be taken.

🍎 pomme's final notes — CALEB LOVESICK LOSER AGENDA NEVER FAILS!! GRRAAAAAAAAAH

[therealmrrobinson]

THE DAY THE EARTH BLEW UP: A LOONEY TUNES MOVIE Movie Review

Let’s be honest, when it comes to movies, the Looney Tunes brand has not had a very good run this decade. In 2021 there was Space Jam: A New Legacy, which turned out to be nothing but a shameless commercial for all things Warner Bros., and then there was the infamous tale of the shelved Coyote vs. Acme movie that may never see the light of day. So it’s with all of these tragedies that it’s a miracle that this movie, The Day The Earth Blew Up, even got released. (Granted through Ketchup Entertainment and not WB. themselves.) Not only that, but it’s also incredible that the end result is undeniably the best Looney Tunes ever made.

THE GOOD

What separates this movie from something like the Space Jam sequel, is that it is made by people who clearly love Looney Tunes. Despite the fact that we only have three characters, this movie stays true to who they are. Daffy Duck is more reflective of how his was when he was first introduced and before he started being paired up with Bugs Bunny. He’s a complete lunatic, he’s overly confident, and has a tendency to cause more trouble than what they have to deal with in the moment! Meanwhile, Porky Pig is the more sensible of the two, complete with his famous stutter. Eric Bauza does a fantastic job voicing both characters and much like Mel Blanc long before, it’s incredible how many of the Looney Tunes characters he’s able to voice to perfection. Petunia Pig is also a fun character. She manages to be the most sensible of the group, while also being crazy and…dare I say looney in her own way!

The animation is spectacular. It’s great to not only see classic 2D animation, but also 2D animation that was made for a big screen experience. The last two animated movies that I can think of that look like they were hand drawn are The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim or Teen Titans Go! To the Movies. In both instances, you watch those movies and question the reason to release them in theaters. The animation in The Day The Earth Blew Up is not only smooth and well detailed, but it also amplifies the insanity and comedy. One of my favorite gags is with Farmer Jim, the adopted father of both Daffy and Porky. While our two main characters are fully animated, Farmer Jim is mostly a static drawing played for full comic effect.

The movie is not just hilarious in how it captures the spirit of Looney Tunes, but also how it works as a parody of the alien invasion movies of the 1950s. From mind control, alien goo, 50s style flying saucers, and the title of the film itself, this movie is a perfect homage to those old school science fiction movies. However it’s mixed with that very chaotic tone that you expect from Looney Tunes and features enough twists that make the movie feel fresh and funny! The big masterplan of the alien invader is ridiculous but makes sense within the nature of the film!

OVERALL

This is about as good as a Looney Tunes movie can get and the flaws it has, aren't worth mentioning! I never got the appeal of Space Jam, and this is coming from a kid of the 90s. That movie should’ve been my childhood, but it just doesn’t work for me. As for Looney Tunes: Back in Action, I have a soft spot for that movie, but even then I can’t deny that The Day The Earth Blew Up blows that one out of the water. It’s got spectacular animation, it’s fateful to the source material, the characters are fun, and it’s jam-packed with jokes that made me laugh hard! Not to mention it has a lot of heart when it comes to Daffy and Porky’s friendship. It’s a reminder of what made Looney Tunes work in the first place and why they will endure until the end of time despite David Zaslav’s hatred for them!

RATING

GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GO SEE IT NOW!!!

[lapinlunaire-games]

Almost time for Anti-Romance Jam 2025!

18 May - 22 July, join an exploration of all the messy spaces and sensations that exist against and around romance! This jam exists in a deep and profoundly charged intimate rivalry with Smoochie Jam.

What is anti-romance? That, dear jammer, is up to you: 

The opposite of romance, the absence of it, or something else? Maybe more than one at the same time?

Does anti-romance require romance? Can they coexist? 

What's love got to do with it?

Is anti-romance a resistance, subversion, or reclamation?

That's right, over two months to work on a project! This jam is open to all kinds of games, art, and other media, including but not limited to: interactive & kinetic/dynamic fiction or poetry; visual novels; TTRPGs; essays; zines; scripts; fiction; visual art; etc.

Full rules + signup on the jam page here:

@interact-if

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse trope prompt: too many beds

tf 141 x reader

SFW - no warnings except for profanity

Full prompt list here by @out-of-jams

Please like, tag, reblog to show the list creator some love if you use the prompts.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

It felt weird lying in your own bed again.

After spending months holed up in safe houses, huddled together in the field to keep warm or crammed together during transport, you'd become accustomed to having at least one of your team with you while you slept.

You huff, roll over and will yourself to go to sleep. Minutes creep by. Sleep still eludes you.

Maybe it's the quiet that's getting to you, or the absence of their warmth. Or it could be that you miss that sense of security, having a solid, living body lying next to you. Whatever it is, your brain refuses to shut off without it.

You hate to admit it, but you can't get to sleep without the guys.

Crazy as it seems, you miss Gaz burying his cold nose in the nape of your neck, listening to him make those funny little nuck-nuck noises in his sleep.

You miss Ghost's twitching, and how he holds on tight to your hand after he's had one of his nightmares. He won't let go, either, not even after he falls back to sleep.

You miss the way Price sprawls out. At least one of his heavy limbs will end up flung over you at some point, the weight solid and reassuring. You might even miss his snoring, at least until you can't stand it anymore and have to poke him in the ribs to get him to turn over. He always flops back over within minutes and starts snoring again.

Hell, you even miss Soap's sweaty koala bear hugs and sleep talking in Gaelic. The man literally never shuts his bloody gob, not even while sleeping. As annoying as it is, it's also kind of endearing.

Frustrated, you give up and throw back the covers, getting out of your bunk. Wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, you quietly slip out into the hall and head for the rec room. Maybe a warm cuppa of Ghost's earl grey that he keeps stashed in the back of the cupboard will help.

You come up short as soon as you step through the door. Ghost is sitting alone on the sectional sofa, leaned back in the corner watching sports highlights on the telly.

"What're ya doin' up?" he grumbles.

"Can't sleep."

He grunts then motions for you to join him. You slump down next to him and lean into his side, tucking your legs beside you. After a few minutes of soaking in his warmth, you feel your eyes start to droop. It must be having a similar effect on him, because you feel his body go slack, then a minute later, he twitches. You glance up to see that his head's fallen back against the cushions, eyes closed.

You're almost asleep when Gaz wanders into the room. He smirks as he climbs over the back of the couch, wedging himself in behind you. "'M cold," he complains, snuggling in. "Place is like a bloody freezer." He burrows under the blanket with you and buries his cold nose in the back of your hair. "Smell better since ya showered," he teases, making you both snicker.

"Oi," Ghost rumbles out, not bothering to open his eyes. " You two, shuddup."

Gaz breathes out a laugh then goes quiet.

The captain comes ambling into the room on sock feet, wearing a ratty looking robe. He sniffs in amusement at the three of you piled up together. "Well, don't you lot look cozy," he quips, sprawling out in the opposite corner. He throws his legs up beside Gaz. "Make room, Sergeant."

Gaz shuffles around then cuddles back under the blanket. Price crosses his arms over his chest and turns his attention to the telly. His first snore rolls out five minutes later.

"Fuckin' hell," Ghost groans.

Finally, Soap comes shuffling through the door, bleary-eyed, his mohawk sticking out every which way. He jams his fists on his hips, a peevish look on his face. "Ye hens havin' a slumber party an' dinnae invite me?"

Ghost huffs, irritated, and lifts his head to glare at him. The captain snorts, smacks his lips, then picks up snoring where he left off. Gaz pokes his head up to hiss a "Shh!" at Soap.

"Jaysus, sorry. Dinnae mean t'disturb yer beauty sleep, m'laird."

"You're disturbed, ya wanker," Gaz mumbles before nuzzling back into your hair.

"Christ, jus' shuddup an' siddown, Johnny," Ghost growls lowly.

Soap rounds the end of the sectional and plops down next to Ghost, grinning. "Fancy a snuggle, LT?"

"No."

Soap sniffs, pouting until Ghost sighs and jerks his head in a quick nod. "C'mon, then."

Scooting closer, Soap rests his cheek on Ghost's shoulder. "Yer comfy, LT. I could get used t'this."

Ghost rolls his eyes. "Shut yer gob an' go t'sleep, Sergeant."

"Aye, sir," Soap murmurs and settles in.

Price grunts, scratches at his beard, then turns on his side. The snoring stops. Ghost hums and sinks deeper into the cushions. You can hear Gaz now making soft little nuck-nuck sounds behind you. The sound lulls you to sleep.

Some time later, you feel Ghost jerk awake. His hand fumbles under the blanket until he finds yours. You squeeze his fingers, Soap on his other side, murmuring something softly in Gaelic. Ghost eases back into the cushions, his tense body relaxing.

You breathe out a sigh, let your eyes drift shut and immediately fall back to sleep.

[prokopetz]

With reference to this post, is anyone aware of any prior examples of an interdisciplinary art jam for writers and illustrators whereby each participating illustrator produces a notional cover illustration in the style of a Silver Age comic book or classic men's magazine – just a completely indecipherable scenario, possibly but not obligatorily involving at least one (1) gorilla, with goofy dialogue and a title in a silly typeface to match, then each "cover" is assigned at random to a different participating writer, and they have to write a story which makes sense of the cover they've been given?

[spheresr4cubes]

Rereading again for peak brother interactions: Brother's Blood, by @alicewritingstories

[anthotneystark]

Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face

(Also on AO3 now!)

It doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

It’s a long time coming because it’s been coming his whole life. It’s been coming since the first time someone looked at him and said “it’s a good thing you’re pretty”. It’s been coming since the first time he heard someone say “beauty over brains”. It’s been coming since he was old enough to know that his dad was already planning on having to make connections to get him into a school of his choosing. He’s always known his book smarts were lacking, but it always hurt when he was reminded of it.

But it’s been more recent than that too.

It’s been coming since he felt that slick tail wrap around his neck. It’s been coming since Robin helped to change the bandages on his back. It’s been coming since the first date after everything ended with him going to bed alone because “I’m just not in the mood anymore” followed him pulling off his shirt.

It’s been coming since forever.

His looks have been his biggest asset his entire life, the only thing he could really use to get attention. And now there’s scratches in the paint.

After everything, when they’re finally safe, everything changes.

He doesn’t change, or he doesn’t think he does, because his habits are the same and his thoughts are the same and his nightmares are the same. But life slows down. And with it slowing down, he changes anyway.

Where once he was all lean, taut muscle, he softens. It’s still there, his daily runs and exercise are proof of that, but it’s a little more insulated.

(Robin tells him it’s because he’s been living with the stress of monsters for years, that feeling safe has pushed his body out of survival mode.)

It’s been coming though. With each comment from his mother about how he’s clearly eating too much junk food. With his father’s comments about how long his hair has gotten. With how girls’ eyes just skim right over him and move on.

It’s not all bad, of course. The kids, surprisingly, don’t comment beyond their usual teasing over things within his control – “stripes again? Don’t you have any other patterns?” or “why do you have to wear those shorts while you’re cleaning the pool?” which is usually followed by Eddie smacking whoever said it. Max makes exactly one comment, quietly, when it’s just the two of them still awake during a movie night.

“You’re a better pillow these days.”

Maybe it’s a joke, maybe she’s just being nicer with her teasing, but whatever her reasoning he likes it. When he thinks about it like that, being different doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

It doesn’t usually last long though.

So it’s not a sudden thing, until it is.

He’s not even totally sure what causes it. Some comment, sure, but the words themselves are in one ear and out the other. His parents are leaving for another trip, his mother comments about eating healthier while they’re gone, his father makes some dig that’ll lodge under his skin with all the other barbs he’s thrown at him for all these years.

All he really remembers is that a comment is made. The rush of heat and sour bile in his throat. The door shuts and all he can hear are overlapping echoes of all the comments that have ever been thrown at him. All he can feel is the tightness of the tee shirt he’s wearing the weight that no longer rests on his shoulders, but which is spread over his entire body. He finds himself looking into a mirror and suddenly cannot look at that any longer.

His hands shake and he doesn’t trust himself, but he knows where he can go.

It should scare him that he doesn’t remember the drive. It should scare him that he’s here but doesn’t fully know how he got here. But he doesn’t have room for more panic in his head. They’re past the point of knocking, of waiting to be let in, so pushing through the doorway of the trailer is a familiar motion. Eddie looking up and smiling where he’s strumming his guitar is a familiar sight.

The way his smile faulters and turns into a frown is less familiar.

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” He feels like he can’t breath, can’t possibly explain everything in his head, but he can’t just expect Eddie to read his mind. He’s not Robin after all.

“I need it gone. Off. I can’t…I can’t,” he manages, one shaking hand sliding into his hair and tugging, the pain grounding for just a moment. Eddie might not be able to read his mind, but he understands him these days more than most people. It’s an unlikely friendship founded in terror and fortified by countless hours in hospital rooms and new homes.

“Oh sweetheart. Are you sure?” He knows it’s extreme, but he can’t help what he needs, even if Eddie is concerned. He nods, swallowing hard. Eddie doesn’t try to talk him out of it, just pulls him to the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the tub.

“Lets start small, okay? And we can go as far as you need from there.” He wants to argue, but at the same time he knows it’s reasonable. And it’s Eddie. He trusts Eddie. He can’t make any words come out, but he manages a little nod. Eddie, doing what he does best, just starts talking. He’s not really paying attention to the words, but he doesn’t have to. He can feel the chill of the metal scissors, the soft rumble of Eddie’s voice, the too gentle fingers pushing and pulling him into whatever position is best. Eddie pauses now and again, a question in his eyes, but continues on when he sees whatever he’s looking for still lingering.

It's not until Steve feels his shoulders slumping, his hands loosening where they’re clenched at his knees, the chill of the breeze from the open window hitting skin that no longer feels boiling hot, that Eddie sets down the scissors. He feels lighter, doesn’t even care about the itchy feeling of stray hairs clinging to his clothes and skin.

When he finally looks in the mirror, his hair is shorter than it’s been in years. It’s not gone, not buzzed off, but it’s not the same as it was.

Neither is he though.

Eddie’s giving him a knowing look, one that says he’s got something to say but is holding off.

The cut itself is a little rough, but in a good way. It’s clearly not a professional sort of thing; he likes it more because of it.

“Thank you,” he whispers, exhaustion and relief hitting him in equal measures.

“You know, when I buzzed my hair, there were a lot of rumors,” Eddie says softly. “Stuff about my dad punishing me, about looking too girly before, that sort of thing. But really, it was just���so much going on all at once. My dad had just gotten arrested, mom took off, Uncle Wayne was stressed over having another mouth to feed. I felt like I couldn’t breath and just-” he makes a buzzing noise and mimes shaving through the mop of dark hair, which he’s got tied back today now that Steve can actually see it.

“Just had to get it off?” he asks.

“Yep. Needed it gone. Growing it back was a pain, but it was good too. Felt like a fresh start even if it was a little like trying to get back to where I used to be,” Eddie explains. It makes sense, at least to Steve. “So, you know, I get it. But I also know you’d have another breakdown if we shaved it all off completely,” he jokes. It’s enough to drag a laugh out of him.

It’s very Eddie, baring his soul while he’s helping to bandage a lost sheep, and Steve wishes he had the words to say how grateful he is. Instead, he just takes the towel Eddie throws at him and the soft, well worn clothes Eddie sets on the counter. He showers, pulls on a shirt for a band he doesn’t recognize, and breathes out a sigh of relief when the vice around his body finally, finally, comes loose.

Eddie doesn’t wait long once he sits down on the couch, immediately flopping back to use his thighs as a pillow while he goes back to strumming along to the music in his head. It’s a quiet moment, a safe moment. He doesn’t even notice as his head drops back to rest on the cushions, his breathing slowing as he finally feels light enough to rest.

Later, he’ll wake up with their positions reversed, with Eddie playing with his hair in a way that’ll make his brain turn into mush. Later, he’ll gather the courage to finally stop toeing that line of friendship and more that he and Eddie have been dancing on for so long now. Later, Eddie will hear everything that’s been in his head and will hold him down while he kisses every last insecurity and promises that it’s only made him more obsessed with him.

Maybe that won’t fix the insecurities, but that doesn’t mean Eddie isn’t going to make it very clear just how happy he is loving Steve exactly as he is at every point in time.

Because it doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

[lizardkingeliot]

i think they might like each other just a little bit you guys

[profalseidols]

[young--just-us]

I cannot be convinced thst the kids did not have to share beds while the mansion was being rebuilt

Scene I'm referencing under the cut bc the visual gag struck me

Season 3 episode 3 "Mainstream"

Also one of my fav episodes so far, I'll always love the conflict of the kids navigating their lives after being revealed