#Bloom talks

[parlerenfleurs]

So if I understand correctly, not only are 8% of our genes inherited from viruses, and not only is like half of it microbial in nature, the human half of it is not even just our own because there is (possible) gene transmission in the womb from 1)the mom, 2)previous foetuses developped in the womb (so your siblings born or unborn), and 3)even the grandmother

The more I learn about biology the less I see any form of life as a distinct, separate organisms. Seems like we're all much more porous than was believed for a long time.

[starlightabsurdity]

✿❀ welcome to starlightabsurdity ❀✿

hello, my name is bloom. here you will find my writings, as well as reblogs of writings i enjoy.

this is more or less a diary for myself, but i'm willing to share it with others... so, just be nice.

more about me:

i'm 20 years old

i use they/them pronouns

i'm bisexual and tme

i like astronomy, philosophy, animals, video games, and anime

before you follow:

if you know my main or who i am outside of this blog, please respect the separation. it's more of just a comfort thing.

absolutely no bigotry is tolerated here. you will be blocked if you express bigotry on my posts and/or blog.

my tags:

#bloom's writings - my own works

#bloom talks - for non-writing posts

#bloom answers - for answering asks

reblogs are tagged as such, as well as according to the corresponding content in them.

have a good one ❀

[scriblesandbits]

YOU KNOW S3RK3T TH3Y R34LLY L1K3 YOU AROUND H3R3

YOU SHOULD V1S1T SOM3T1M3, YOUD G3T 4 K1CK OUT OF 1T

4NYW4Y

S33 YOU 4ROUND, 1 GU3SS

[fireandiceshipping]

SELFSHIP REBLOG GAME!!!!

reblog this with up to one f/o (unless it’s a polyship!) and i’ll give them a stim gif! Example with my girlfriend below!

proship dni!!

STATUS: open!

x

[speakofshinee]

231216 Metamorph Black Rose Fancam

[backpackevil]

I heard a word that they paint mirrors on their face

And soon forget that they reflect but don't create

[parlerenfleurs]

Potential is a fictitious notion. There is no such thing. Or maybe there is such a thing in terms of, you're new at something but you're showing promise and might become quite good at the thing, in time.

But what we do is all we've got. There is no what if, an alternate reality where we've done something different, something more, does not exist and never will. And even if "working hard" made us make more things, then so what? Is it worth it? Is it worth it to frantically run through life, between stress and exhaustion?

Be like the other living creatures. They're just doing things as they feel like doing it. Be like your three or five years old self. When we got an impulse to play, we'd do it, when we'd get tired of it we'd stop immediately, when we wanted to create or learn something, it was immediate action. No need for pressure. When you let yourself bloom, when you accept to be in the present, when you define what truly matters to you and let go of the rest, then it all becomes so much easier.

Does it really serve you to fulfil an imaginary potential? Or are you driven by an idea of what you should be created by your parents, by society, by your ego? These ideas are external. They're not truly you or what you truly want. Would it really make you happier? Or is happiness a long continuous choice to appreciate the here and the now?

Take the rest. You're an animal. You have a nervous system that you're constantly overtaxing. There is no potential. There are trees outside and sun and rain on your face and laughing with someone and enjoying the act of tracing lines on paper. These are real, and these will let your feel like you don't need to be or do anything more. Because you don't. You just have to be more you, and being more you isn't about potential at all, it's only about being present.

Take a bit breath and let yourself feel it.

Let yourself feel the love that exists within yourself. It's unconditional. It does not wait for a one day, for a goal, for a then.

My life is a constant cycle between "I need to rest before I burn out" and "I'm wasting my potential, I should work harder"

[parlerenfleurs]

I don't understand these posts that are like "omg being an adult" with its myriad tiny responsibilities like... very mundane and unimportant stuff. Yeah, sometimes you'll have to perform maintenance on some appliances or objects. And maybe, like me, you won't have been taught/never got to learn how to do that and maybe you will let some things get fucked and it sucks a little. Yes, you have to remember to pick up the mail and pay some bill or whatever. No ones does this perfectly it's fine.

None of this actually sucks. None of this beats being independant and not helpless and being able to arrange your own life as you see fit. Did people who express this sentiment have dreamy, perfect childhoods? Because when you don't, the trade-off really is a no-brainer. I couldn't wait to be grown up. Was it easy? No. Do I feel accomplished? No, some people are way better at being competent adults and it's incredibly hard to not feel bad about it when I'm in the presence of such people. But otherwise being an adult is easy. Easier than being an helpless, ignorant child.

Being an adult does suck sometimes, and it's when something not mundane or easy happens. True catastrophies. Someone dies, you get flooded, a war comes, a disaster hits your house. And the one in charge is you.

But that other stuff? Why is it even an issue? Yeah the dishes are never-ending and there's stuff to be mindful of. Get a system that works for you or get over it. It's just living in a material world. And yes, The Mental Illness TM doth make things harder, but I don't think these posts are referring to that.

[bluemoonscape]

Hannibal and Alana’s scenes are actually so funny because they try to talk about normal things and then inevitably slip into talking about Will which suspiciously leads to disingenuous sex

[belladonna-ismyfavoritecriminal]

Flowers Talk- A mini-scene of several members of the Poison Blooms

*In the lounge/office of the Poison Bloom's main base in Bludhaven. All four petals (the highest members of the gang below Belladonna) are hanging out. Belladonna is currently somewhere with Bast.*

Iris: So, what do we think of this Bast guy?

Sage: He gives mah the creeps. I dinnae what he is, but it's nae human.

Nasturtium: He's a good fighter. Ruthless. I like that.

Clover: I'd hate to have him on the opposing side. But I think we can trust him. The boss certainly seems to like him.

Nasturtium: Like him? If it's just friendship than I'm just a street thug.

Iris: I think its adorable. They're so obvious, but at the same time I think they're oblivious.

Sage: I dinnae, is he really the type o' ... person we want our Bella falling fer.

Clover: If she's happy, then I'm happy.

Iris: Who could be better suited than another villain? And have you seen the way he looks at her when she talks about flowers?

*She giggles.*

Nasturtium: If he breaks her heart, I call dibs on the first attack.

Sage: And ah call second.

Iris: I hope it won't come to that. I've been rooting for her to find someone. And now!

Sage: Ah suppose he's not the worst choice.

Clover: Bets on how long it will take them to admit it?

Iris: A month.

Nasturtium: 2 weeks.

Sage: At least a year, if ever. Bella's terrible at feelings, and I dinnae know if he knows what they are.

Clover: 3 months.

(Most of the other people in the gang also places bets ranging from next week to never.)

@cutelover76

[khaotunq]

You'll be in all of my plans, Kant. Khaotung Thanawat as Bison; First Kanaphan as Kant (The Heart Killers, 2024-2025)

[mari-thesapphic-lady]

Agatha hates her birthday. It's the day she was born. The day her life — so hated by her own mother — began. Where all her unhappiness had started.

Rio loves Agatha's birthday. After all, it was the day the love of her life came into the world. It was when she — without even realizing it — felt her heartbeat for the first time. It was the exact moment when the light and darkness of her entire existence came together in one body.

[earthlyangelbby]

In Bloom

NSFW Eddie x Plus size!reader(Tulip) Words: 4.9k CW: Lots of kissing, grinding, dirty talk, mutual masturbation

Also if you haven't read the other two chapters reader's nickname is Tulip. Though he uses many later on. Chapter 2

Paisley is probably the biggest fan of you and Eddie. When you told her about the kiss and how Steve had walked in right in the middle of it she screamed. Loudly. Which was terrifying, because it was after midnight and your RA had already done rounds. But you couldn't really blame her. Eddie had waited out the storm with you, the two of you wrapped up in something so tender and new, and then once the roads were passable, he'd driven you back to your dorm. He walked you to the door like always. It wasn't just the kiss still buzzing on your lips or the softness in his voice when he said goodnight it was the way he made you feel lighter just by standing next to you. Girly in a way that wasn't about lace or makeup, but about being seen. He looked at you like you were the prettiest girl around, and somehow, you believed him.

Paisley practically bounced on her bed, a tube of cherry lip balm rolling forgotten off the edge of her desk. "Okay, but how did you feel? Like right after it happened?" she asked, her eyes wide with expectation.

You hesitated, hugging your knees to your chest. The memory was still so fresh it felt like a secret blooming in your chest. "I don't know. I felt... dizzy. Warm. Like everything in the world had gone quiet except for him," you said, voice low. "And kind of scared too. But the good kind. The kind that means something big is happening."

Paisley squealed again, flopping onto her stomach. "God, you have to marry him. Wait. Get this. I have class with Steve. And Robin. Tuesday-Thursday psych lab. Isn't that wild?"

"Small world," you said, the corner of your mouth twitching up in a smile. "Really small."

"And now you're, like, dating his roommate. Which means I know people who know people. I'm basically famous."

You laughed and fiddled with the edge of your sleeve. "We're not, like, official or anything," you murmured. "I don't know. I don't want to freak him out."

Paisley scoffed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it dramatically. "Yeah, because six weeks of dorm door-frame flirting followed by kissing sessions makes it totally just a thing friends do."

She had a way of making your meanest and most insecure thoughts sound totally stupid.

The next few lessons with Eddie were normal. Well, not exactly normal. They were flirty. He was like a schoolboy, all infatuated with you, and you were with him too, in the way that you could be. He was definitely more open to flirting now, more relaxed in the way his knee brushed yours under the desk or his fingers lingered just a beat too long when helping adjust your grip. And his hands. God. Even when innocent, sent a shiver of want down your spine.

But it was more than physical. Eddie had this way of being sweet to you that felt like something sacred. The way he looked at you, remembered the smallest details, always made space for your feelings without needing a reason. He made you feel safe, seen, treasured like you mattered in ways you weren’t used to. And yet, under all that softness, the wanting lived. Fierce and full-bodied. You needed him sometimes, so badly it made your skin buzz.

Still, Eddie always seemed to know when things were getting too hot, too close to crossing that invisible line. He never said as much, but he'd pull back gently, steer things back to playful or innocent before the heat could spill over. Like he was protecting you. Not just your body, but something deeper. It made you ache in ways you didn’t know how to explain. Because even when the guilt crept in, whispering that wanting was too much or too fast, part of you still longed for more. And the worst part? You didn’t know how to ask for it.

For a few lessons you'd been working on playing Going to California - Led Zeppelin and, for the first time, you played it perfectly all the way through. You didn't even look up when you finished, heart racing until you felt his fingers touch your chin.

"Hey," Eddie murmured, tilting your face toward him. His thumb skimmed your jaw. "That was perfect."

And then he kissed you. Just like that. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was now.

"You're getting really good at that, Tulip," he said with a grin.

You blinked. "At what?"

He smirked. "I'll let you decide."

Another lesson, while you were lost in the rhythm of the chords, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips brushed your cheek, and his voice was soft, reverent.

"You look really beautiful when you play," he said.

Your fingers fumbled over the frets. "That's not fair," you said, trying to laugh off the heat rising to your cheeks.

"What's not?" he asked, tilting his head, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Saying stuff like that while I'm trying to concentrate."

He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, smug as anything. "Guess you'll just have to get used to it."

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

After lessons, you two no longer walked back to your dorm. On Mondays, it had become a little ritual you'd walk together to his van. The way he opened the door for you made your heart stutter every time.

He'd drive slowly up the winding road into the woods, windows down just enough for the spring air to mingle with the music playing low in the background. You'd talk about anything and everything, favorite bands, dumb college stuff, random stories while the space between you buzzed with all the things left unspoken.

Somewhere between a teasing comment and the way his eyes held yours, the world would narrow until your lips met. Full-blown making out, soft and urgent all at once. Maybe a little dry grinding that made your skin tingle.

One night, he leaned back in the driver's seat and patted his lap with a lazy grin. "C'mere," he said, voice thick and low. "Wanna see you up close."

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Are you sure?" you asked quietly. "I don't wanna crush—"

"Yes, I'm sure," he cut in, his voice firm and fond all at once. "C'mere, my pretty little lady."

Your heart flipped, and despite the nerves coiling in your stomach, you moved to straddle him. Your knees pressed into the worn cushions of the seat, hands on his shoulders for balance. His hands settled on your hips like they'd always belonged there.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured against your mouth before kissing you again, slower this time. More certain.

The heat built fast. His jeans were rough against your inner thighs, and the pressure of his hardness beneath you sent a jolt through your whole body. Through the thin fabric of your underwear and the stretch of your dress, it was all so much too much, almost. Each little grind sent sparks racing up your spine, and you couldn't help the soft, shaky breath that escaped your lips.

You'd never felt anything like it before. It was intense and overwhelming and dizzying in the best way, and you weren't sure if you wanted to pull away or get impossibly closer.

When he finally pulled away, breathless but grinning, he leaned over and whispered some excuse about why he needed to see you again soon. And that it was getting late. Eddie seemed to be serious about taking things slow no matter how heated it would get between you two.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Fridays were different. After lessons, you'd walk straight to his van and then back to his house. Sometimes the place was buzzing with Robin, Nancy, Steve, and Gareth. Everyone was just hanging out, laughing, and joking. It was fun in a different way, casual and light, like a little escape from everything else.

Last Friday, Steve invited you to his family's cabin for spring break. It's a cozy, slightly wild place by the lake they've visited for years. Since Eddie's leaving early in the morning, he suggested you stay over tonight instead of heading back to your dorm. That's how you ended up alone with him at the house, the cabin trip ahead and a quiet, new kind of excitement hanging between you. Everyone else left that afternoon, but Eddie had work and your lesson.

 ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Somewhere between the third movie and the haze of popcorn and candy, you ended up curled together on the couch, Eddie's head in your lap, your fingers lazily threading through his hair. He hummed contentedly, eyes fluttering shut every now and then like a cat soaking up the sun. His hand rested lightly on your thigh, his thumb drawing slow, idle circles that made your skin feel electric.

The movie was some cheesy slasher flick classic camp horror where the next couple to die had to have sex. The scene sent a sudden thrill through you, and you stopped playing in his hair without realizing it. Eddie's eyes flicked up, catching the change. It was the way the girl moaned, the way the guy looked at her with that desperate hunger that stirred something unexpected inside you.

Eddie grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief as he lifted his head from your lap. "Whoa, someone's suddenly very into the movie."

You narrowed your eyes. "Oh, please. Don't start."

He raised a brow, clearly enjoying himself. "What? You're not feeling a little… frisky?"

You huffed and crossed your arms. "Fine. Yeah. Maybe I am a little. Happy now?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well damn, didn't think you'd fold that fast."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your mouth gave you away. "Okay, okay. Shut up."

Eddie nudged your knee, grin getting wider. "Alright, spill it. What was it about that scene that got your full attention?"

You blinked. "What, now you want me to psychoanalyze my feelings about horror movie sex scenes?"

He smirked. "Hey, I'm just curious. Was it the moan? The look in the guy's eyes? The whole 'we're about to die, so let's get it on' thing?"

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Maybe it was all of that. Or maybe I just liked the idea that when things get scary, you grab onto the person you want."

Eddie sat up suddenly, throwing a dramatic glance over his shoulder like someone might really be creeping down the hall. "Well, in that case.” Eddie screamed in a hushed tone, “Tulip! There's a killer on the loose, get over here!" He threw his arms open, grinning like a maniac.

You snorted, your face flushing as you hesitated. "Eddie…"

"What?" he said, wiggling his fingers. "You just said you liked that kind of thing. I'm doing this for you."

You gave him a look but crawled into his lap anyway, settling awkwardly against him with your hands clutching his shirt. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet," he said, letting his arms close around your waist, "here you are. Choosing me when things get a little scary."

You rolled your eyes, trying to bite back a smile. "I hate how charming you think you are."

"Don't lie," he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You love it."

Your heartbeat a little faster, but you didn't pull away. "Maybe just a little."

His breath was warm against your neck, and you could feel the faintest smile still playing on his lips. One of his hands skimmed lightly up your back, fingers trailing a little too slow to be innocent.

"Y'know," he murmured, voice low, "this would be the part where they'd cut to something steamy."

You snorted softly, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in your belly. "You mean right before the killer jumps out and ruins everything?"

He chuckled. "Exactly. Classic third act move. Just when things get good..."

"...boom gore and screaming," you finished, turning your head slightly toward him. "So really, we’re doing this all wrong."

"Or," he said, voice darker now, closer, "we’re doing it just right… and the third act hasn’t hit yet."

You pulled back slightly to look at him, intending to say something smart, something to brush it off but the way he was looking at you made your words dry up in your throat.

His hand slid to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, just once.

He leaned in, kissing you slowly like he wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere. Like he was savoring it. You melted into it, fingers curling into his shirt. He deepened the kiss gradually, pulling you closer to his lap, and you could feel the warmth spreading from your chest all the way down.

Your hands moved on their own first over his chest, then down to his sides, fingers dragging lightly over the hem of his shirt. You felt his breath hitch, his grip on your waist tightening just a little as he kissed you harder. Your hands slipped beneath the edge of his shirt, palms resting against warm skin, and he made a soft sound against your mouth, like he wasn't expecting that but loved it.

He answered you with his own touch, one hand gripping your thigh through the fabric of your dress, slow and steady, the other anchoring at the small of your back. The action alone sent little sparks through you, heat pooling low in your belly.

The kiss turned deeper, needier, but still laced with something gentle. His nose brushed yours, his lips never far even when you both paused to breathe. You could feel how hard he was beneath you, the firm pressure of his jeans nudging against your inner thighs as you rocked slightly without thinking.

You whimpered softly, embarrassed at how good the friction felt through your underwear. Eddie broke the kiss to breathe against your neck, chuckling low. "Careful, sweetheart. You're really testing my self-control, Tulip," he murmured. "Makes me wonder if you're the real danger here."

But he didn't stop you. If anything, he kissed you again and deeper, with that same blend of sweet and hot, like he was just as caught up in you as you were in him.

When he finally pulled away, he was smiling softly, a little breathless. "You're kinda irresistible, you know that?"

You hid your face in his neck, cheeks burning. "You're not supposed to say stuff like that."

"Says who?"

You didn't answer. You just kissed him again. Your hands sliding up his chest, fingers threading into his hair. Eddie groans softly, and his hands get bolder, one gliding just under the hem of your dress, his thumb only rubbing circles on your thigh while pulling you even tighter against him. The friction makes you gasp.

His mouth leaves yours only to trail kisses down your jaw, your neck, just to the edge of your collarbone. You can't stop the way your hips shift, chasing more of that delicious pressure. Your breath comes in short bursts, needy little whines slipping out before you can stop them.

You rock your hips again, just to feel him. The friction of his jeans against your underwear is overwhelming in the best way blunt pressure, nothing too precise, but God, it's enough to make your head swim. You grip his shoulders for balance, and his hands tighten on your waist.

Eddie's breath starts to tremble. You can feel it in the way his chest rises, in the little stuttering exhale against your collarbone. His head tips back slightly to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark.

You moan, quiet, but raw and real.

"Yeah?" he says against your lips, cocky and breathless. "That feel good?"

You nod, cheeks flushed. You know what he feels under your thigh. The hard line of him pressing up through his jeans. You've been avoiding it. Not anymore.

His hand slides up, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. He doesn't go under it not yet but he rests his palm on your bare thigh. "You're killin' me in this dress, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Been thinkin' about it since the second you walked in."

"You said it was cute," you whisper, breathless.

"It is cute. But also? Makes me wanna be real fucking rude."

Your whole body prickles. You press your forehead to his, trying to laugh it off. But you're squirming now. The heat's been building for what feels like hours. You didn't wear tights, didn't even think about how exposed you'd be, but now you feel how easy it would be to hike the dress up a little more, shift your hips just right, feel him…

So you do. You grind against him. Once. Twice. Your breath hitches. He groans and tightens his hold on your hips.

"Oh my god," you whisper. You can't stop. "Eddie—"

"Fuck, baby. I know." His voice drops to a husky whisper, thick with need and barely contained desire.

The way he says it makes your face burn, but not in a bad way. In a more, please way.

You cling tighter to him, rocking just barely. You're soaked. You can feel it. Your panties are useless now, and every time you move, the ache sharpens.

It's too much and not enough at the same time. You're wet. Aching. Not ready to go all the way but not ready to stop either.

You lean in, breath trembling as you whisper, "I want something."

Eddie goes very still. Looking up at you with those dark brown eyes.

"Yeah?" His voice is gentle but low. A little hoarse. He brushes your hair back behind your ear. "Tell me what you want, sweet girl."

Your throat tightens. You want to. You don't know how.

"I don't want to go all the way," you murmur, already bracing for him to get annoyed or disappointed. "But I can't— I just feel so—"

You stop. Your face is burning. Your thighs are shaking.

But Eddie doesn't pull back. Doesn't even blink.

Instead, his thumb brushes softly over your soft hip. "Wanna do something together, then? You and me?"

Your breath catches. You feel like your heart skips a full beat.

"…What do you mean?"

He watches you. His voice dips into something almost reverent. "I mean… you touch yourself, I touch myself. Across from each other. Nothing you're not ready for. Just… let ourselves feel good."

You're stunned by how much that idea makes your stomach flutter. It's terrifying and hot and intimate in a way you didn't expect.

You nod before you can stop yourself. "mhm."

His eyes search yours. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I.. like that idea."

And something about the way he exhales like he was barely holding on. It made you feel powerful. Like maybe you're not the only one who's desperate here.

"I want to see you," you whisper.

His breath catches. "Jesus Christ," he murmurs. "Yeah?" he says again, barely above a whisper. "You wanna watch me, sweetheart?"

You nod, your breath catching. You feel fragile and fire-hot all at once. "I want to see you. I want to."

"Okay." His voice is wrecked. Gentle. Focused. "Okay. Fuck."

The air feels tight with the weight of what you're about to do. You smooth your skirt down, then up. Higher. It's terrifying and electric, the exposure. Your panties are soaked. You're trembling a little.

"You don't have to rush," Eddie says softly. "Just start slow. Go as far as you want, yeah?"

You nod again. "Will you… do it too?"

He undoes the button of his jeans, and your mouth goes dry. He hasn't pulled himself out yet. Just cups himself through his boxers, and the way his eyes drag down your legs as you shift gives you goosebumps.

"You're so fucking hot," he says. "You know that?"

You don't know how to answer. Your fingers tremble as they move down your belly. You slip your hand under your panties, and when your fingers brush over your clit, you shiver hard.

"Good girl," he breathes. "Just like that."

You make a soft sound in the back of your throat. It feels better than it ever has before because he's watching you. Because you're watching him.

He pulls himself free, and your eyes widen in surprise. One thing to imagine, another entirely to see. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, which is a soft shade of pink. He sways it slightly, teasing, as his hands remain wrapped around it. It is devastatingly hot.

"Jesus," you whisper. You can't stop staring.

He grins, flushed and breathless already. "That a compliment?"

You nod dumbly. "It's… you're hot."

His breath hitches like the words struck him right in the chest. He starts stroking himself, slow, deliberate, and never breaks eye contact.

"Show me how you touch yourself, baby," he says, voice hoarse. "I wanna see how bad you need it."

Your fingers move again, this time with purpose. It's hard to breathe. Your thighs tense. You arch just a little as you circle slowly and firmly.

"That's it," he says, eyes locked on your hand. "Fuck, you're killing me. So fucking sexy, Tulip. Do you know what that does to me? Watching you lose yourself like that?"

You whimper.

His free hand fists in the cushion, like he's holding himself back. "Say something," he urges, rough and needy. "Tell me how it feels."

"It feels good," you gasp. "Better with you watching."

He groans and jerks harder, eyes flicking between your parted lips and the place where your hand is buried under your dress. "Yeah? You like me watching you get off, sweetheart?"

"Yes. God, yes. Eddie" you breathe out.

"God," he breathes. "Oh my angel, You make the prettiest sounds. You don't even know."

You blink at him through the haze. "I… I don't sound weird?"

He lets out a breathless, wrecked laugh. "Weird? Tulip, you sound so hot, it's killing me. Like– fuck. I could cum just listening to you."

Your face burns, but something inside you flutters at the praise. You move your fingers again, a little bolder, circling just the way he said. He sees your hips twitch, sees you chase it, and his jaw drops.

"That's it, my sweet girl. You feel good?"

You nod hard. "So good. I didn't think it could feel like this."

He's pumping himself now, slow but firm, and his voice roughens. "That's 'cause you're letting me see you. You're letting yourself feel it. Fuck, you're gorgeous."

His cheeks are flushed, curls messy, chest rising fast. You want to tell him how beautiful he is, but it comes out in a gasp: "You look… so good. Like that."

Eddie growls an honest, undone sound and tightens his grip. "Fuck. Tulip, you have no idea what you do to me."

You shift a little, thighs trembling as your pleasure starts to build fast again. You pant through it, a little dizzy, overwhelmed in the best way.

"You're so sexy when you touch yourself," he says. "You're making me lose my damn mind."

"I want you to cum," you whisper all breathy and ruined. "I wanna watch."

His head tips back with a low, wrecked laugh. "Say that again."

"I want to see you cum," you say, a little braver now. "Please, Eddie."

He strokes faster. "Fuck. You're a dream." You whimper, and he breathes, "Look at me. Keep looking."

You're panting now. Pleasure coils tight in your stomach. You can't believe you're doing this open and bare and seen. But you've never felt more wanted.

"You close?" he asks, voice breaking.

"Almost."

"I wanna hear you. Let it out. Let me see what I do to you."

Your body shudders. You moan, soft and open, rocking against your own hand.

"That's it, pretty girl," he pants. "Cum for me. Show me."

Your thighs quake as it hits you hard and fast. You cry out his name, your back arching, your hand slowing. You ride it out, mouth open, gasping for air.

When your eyes flutter open, he's still watching you, flushed and wild. It takes only another second of your dazed gaze on him before he groans and finishes too, his hips jerking, hand tight on himself, lips parted in stunned bliss. Hot, thick streams of cum shoot out, splattering messily across his stomach, and dribbles as he catches his breath.

You both sit there, spent and panting, watching the storm flicker through the window behind you.

No one speaks for a long moment.

Then Eddie laughs softly. "Jesus Christ, Tulip."

You breathe out a dazed laugh too, face flushed, body glowing. "Yeah."

"I don't think I've ever done anything that hot in my whole life," he says finally, voice low and hoarse. "You're… Jesus, Tulip."

You smile shyly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And for the record?" He leans his head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded. "You don't even know how fucking sexy you are. It's criminal. You should be arrested."

You laugh, dazed and loose-limbed. "By you?"

"Oh, absolutely," he says. "Cuffed and kissed and made to repeat those pretty noises for hours."

You bury your face in your hands and laugh harder. He just grins and watches you like he never wants to look at anything else.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You're curled up in his bed afterward, limbs tangled, skin cooling against the storm-warmed air. His fingers trace lazy circles into the meat of your hip. Every now and then, he leans in to kiss your shoulder, like he can't quite help himself.

You feel warm. Content. But beneath the quiet, something hums inside you, nervous and ever so persistent.

You shift a little, enough to catch his eye. "Eddie?"

He kisses your forehead without hesitation. "Yeah, my sweetheart?"

You chew your lip, the question tangling in your chest. "I just… I don't know. I've never had this before. I've never had you. And I feel so good with you and now we've done all this and I just…"

He lifts his head to look at you more clearly.

"Are you my boyfriend?"

He freezes.

Then he pulls back slightly not away, but to see your face better. His brows knit like the question hurts a little.

"Wait. Are you serious?" His voice is quiet, but it carries weight.

You falter. "I didn't want to assume. You're just… you're so good-looking and confident, and I'm—"

His hand slides up your jaw, gentle but firm.

"My sweet angel," he says, voice low. "I wouldn't be kissing you like that… saying those things… if I wasn't yours." His eyes are dark and steady on yours. "If I didn't want to be yours."

The silence stretches, heavy with meaning.

"You are," you whisper. "Mine?"

He nods slowly. "Yeah. I have been. Since you looked up at me in that practice room like I was someone worth trusting. I've been gone for you since then."

You smile, small and shy. "Okay. Good. 'Cause I don't want this to be something I only get to do once."

He kisses you, hand cradling your face like you're breakable but he knows you're not.

"No chance, pretty girl," he murmurs. "You've got me."

And when you bury your face in his chest, letting out the breath you didn't know you'd been holding, his arms tighten around you like he'll never let you go. You peek up at him again, your voice soft but teasing. “Eddie… when did you learn to talk like that?”

He quirks an eyebrow, nose nudging your temple. “Like what?”

“Like how you did earlier,” you murmur, cheeks going warm at just the memory. “All that sweet, filthy stuff. The way you said my name, the way you–”

He chuckles low, pulling you a little closer. “Oh, that.”

You nod, trying not to smile too hard. “Yeah. That.” Eddie’s grin turns smug, but there’s affection in it. “Guess I just say what I feel.” You pause, then grin slyly.

“And when you called me your angel… I didn’t think angels did that.”

He chuckles low, pulling you a little closer. “Well, angels sing,” he says, voice playful. “And you were making pretty sounds.”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you bury your face in his shoulder, embarrassed. “You sounded like a romance novel crossed with a porno.”

“That a complaint?” he teases, brushing his thumb over your cheek again.

You shake your head, grinning now. “No. Just… surprised, I guess.”

He tilts your chin to look at him, playful but honest. “Surprised I think you're the sexiest thing alive? Surprised I wanna worship every inch of you every time you let me touch you?”

You try to laugh, but it comes out breathy. “God. There it is again.”

Eddie leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Better get used to it, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I’m not gonna shut up about you anytime soon.”

Eddie pulls you closer, his arms settling around you like a shield. His lips brush a gentle kiss on your temple, soft and warm. “We better get some sleep,” he murmurs. “Long drive in the morning.”

You nod, resting your head against his chest. “Goodnight, Eddie. Sweet dreams”

He chuckles quietly. “Sleep tight, Tulip. I'm not sure it can get much sweeter than this”

Thanks for reading! comment or dm for taglist :) What do you hope happens at Steve's cabin for spring break? Taglist: @paleidiot @ali-r3n @ilovecowboysyouknowthat @spookybabey @exploding-bonbon @am0iur @taniamunson @emxxblog @api0calisse @twihard08 @shadowhunty @abirdinthehouse @jeangeniex @3rd-conchord @micheledawn1975

[flamedork]

I'm to escort Miss Featherington to the floor.

Watch a Wallflower Bloom | S1 (3/15)

[hannibard]

I think Will Graham's problem is that he's constantly surrounded by only 4 groups of people: therapists, serial killers, cops and dogs. No wonder he ended up like That.

[golden-primrose]

You Know, I Think I Can Understand Why Michi Didn't Care About Mai

P.S: This post is meant to explain bad parenting, not excuse it. And this analysis will be focused on the show, not the comics.

Inspired by @zuko-always-lies and a Twitter thread I made earlier in the month(https://tinyurl.com/5epfmkvp)

The relationship between Mai, Michi(her mother), and Ukano(Mai's father) is not one that is given vast amounts of exploration. In fact, it's only explored in two episodes. But it still provides fascinating insight into the FN upperclass, and how imperialism can warp human relationships, even for the victors.

This is the first piece of dialogue we get when we first meet Mai and Michi:

It may not seem like much, but there's a lot to unpack here:

The conversation starts with Mai voicing her intense displeasure with the move to Omashu. Michi responds by bringing up Ukano's new appointment and their families' rise in status, and she states that Mai should be happy and enjoy the perks of their new position. Mai then responds by saying she has nothing to do and nothing ever happens, which Michi responds to by scowling.

Now, Mai isn't someone who's shy about expressing discontent (we see that throughout the show). But Michi's response (or lack thereof) to her discontent is very telling about their relationship. Firstly, Mai felt comfortable enough with her mother to openly express her dislike of their current situation, which indicates that Michi is probably the more active and approachable parent (Mai was angry about the way Ukano handled the pentapox situation, but all she did was offer him fireflakes).

Secondly, she didn't expect anything more than for her complaints to be dismissed and ignored. When she voices how bleak Omashu is, she doesn't expect a response, nor does she react to Michi's disdainful frown.

On Michi's end, while she's definitely not passionate about her daughters' continued misery, and would like to see her happy, she also doesn't really care. She never once asks about possible solutions to her daughter's boredom or isolation, nor does she ask Mai about what exactly is missing from her current life in Omashu that's causing her misery. She has no response to Mai's second comment, and is content to just side-eye her and move on.

I think we can all agree that this isn't stellar parenting, but if we go back and look at things from Michi's perspective, it makes sense:

I think there's enough in the text to conclude that Michi had fertility issues (Having 2 children 13 years apart doesn't seem like something someone in Michi's position would have done by choice. )

(Plus, if you believe Mai is Izumi's mother, this may be why Izumi is an only child).

So imagine this: you've spent a significant amount of time trying unsuccessfully to produce a male heir because men are the only ones that get high-ranking positions in your nation(remember guys, Azula was the only female in the war meeting and she was the Crown Princess who was specifically invited by the Firelord). While you're going through that, you and your husband have been working to advance his political career in order to protect and elevate your family. Then, finally, after 13 long years, you have a son, and soon after that, your husband is elevated to the position of governor of an entire colony. You've hit the jackpot, and all your efforts and ambitions have finally paid off. Under those circumstances, how perceptive would you be to the needs of the least necessary member of your family?

That scowl is foul, but I understand

In an imperial system, someone's intrinsic value is based on how much of an asset they are to the system. Mai is neither her family's future nor is she it's present. Her greatest task is to marry well, and her biggest prospect was burned and sent on an impossible scavenger hunt. Every time we see Michi care deeply for something, there's a logical reason(she cares about the fate of the city because her husband could potentially lose his governorship if it's mishandled; she cares about her son because he's the future of the family), but Michi doesn't have a logical reason to care about Mai, so she doesn't. And that makes Mai feel like her feelings don't matter, which causes her to repress herself.

Azula, the world's least qualified psychotherapist

I do think Mai cares about her family, and she wants their approval. But she much prefers that the company of the Fire Siblings and Ty Lee to theirs. That's why she was ready to go the moment she had the first opportunity. I'm not a big fan of the way the comics reset the familial relationships, because it didn't feel earned, and it felt like Yang missed the point of the original dynamic.

PS: I don't know why so many Zutara shippers insist on denying Mai's trauma. It doesn't actually make sense from a shipping standpoint because Mai's trauma doesn't somehow make her more suitable for Zuko (you could even argue that it makes her less suitable if you want to take it that far). Honestly, sometimes it feels like character spite drives certain segments of this fandom more than anything else.