#But I can contain multitudes. So how about that.

[fairyysoup]

matters of taste

part one (repost)

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

summary: Not all trainees are great on the job. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson in a bakery, however? Absolutely unmatched.

content warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI) smut, threesome - f/m/m, semi-public sex, workplace sex, car sex, handjobs, oral (f+m receiving), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, spitroast, fluids play, dumbification, praise, degradation, implied masochism, mention of housewife kink, steve harrington has a big dick, enemies to lovers-ish but they're all crazy about each other let's be real\

a/n: this is my second time trying to repost this!! let's not talk about how ugly it looks ok i think the header is implying that reader is a sentient pie and honestly... yeah

It’s… you know what. It’s whatever. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine, everything’s fine.

You pause midway through frosting some cinnamon rolls to watch one of the newbies wheeling a cart of mislabelled muffins past your decorating table. You strategically keep your voice void of inflection as you say, “Price stickers, Harrington.”

“FUCK!”

You watch Steve dramatically jostle the cart back around to wheel it toward the rack that contains the multitudes of different flavor and price stickers used in the bakery, swearing like a sailor the whole time. He collides with another cart, and slams it directly into your other trainee, Eddie Munson. 

“Shitshitshitshit shit-” Eddie curses and stumbles into a rolling rack of donuts. He grabs the rack before it can topple over, and succeeds in catching four trays of donuts when they fall out of their slots and into his arms. 

You roll your eyes at the spectacle the two of them create, which is quickly becoming the norm, and go back to stroking globs of cream cheese frosting across the cinnamon rolls in front of you. 

It’s not like they’re the world’s worst trainees or anything. It’s not like they’re completely incompetent, or that they purposefully goes out of their way to make your job unnecessarily difficult or anything. It’s not like, together, they create the most chaotic and hazardous environment possible.

No, sir. Nothing to see here. No problems to be had. 

“‘You didn’t put the price stickers on, Steve-’” you hear Steve mocking you in a purposefully insulting falsetto, and give him a side-eye that you know he can’t see. “Mehmehmeh- ‘You didn’t put the bagels in properly. You didn’t frost the bundt cakes just right.’”

“‘You didn’t circumcise the bread bags,’” Eddie adds as he shoves the trays of smushed donuts back onto the rack and grabs a rag to wipe icing from his apron.

“Fucking what?” You turn to look at them fully, holding your frosting covered hands out in front of you.

“I don’t know!” Steve whirls around to sneer at you. His bubblegum pink uniform shirt is just about the same color as his face, rosy and flushed with the heat from the ovens and probably his climbing heart rate. “Why’s everything gotta be packaged differently? It’s just bread!”

“I don’t make the rules! Don’t argue with me and just do it!” That’s another thing. Steve’s just so argumentative, about everything. How you package things, how you wash the dishes, how you clean the floors at the end of the day. Meanwhile, Eddie won’t argue with you per-se, but the day he does something correctly will be the day pigs fly. It’s the most annoying fucking thing you’ve had to deal with at this job, and you’re stuck training them. 

It’s not a particularly hard job. You’re just clerks at Mimi’s Bakery, nothing is out of the realm of doability- it’s more of a stamina sport. You’re all closers, so that means a lot of packaging and a lot of cleaning, interspersed with helping some late afternoon and evening customers, within an eight hour shift. It isn’t very busy anymore, either; summer’s over, and you still have about a month until the holiday rushes start. It shouldn’t be too terribly difficult for them, but they’ve both been here for two weeks and still act like they were born yesterday.

Steve spends an extraordinarily long time putting the price tags on the packages of muffins- and putting them on crooked, anyway, so that the entire pile looks janky and rushed despite his slow pace. Eddie’s too busy wiping chocolate icing from his arms to notice Steve’s haphazard labeling. 

Your eyes trail the wet rag that Eddie drags across his skin, leaving behind only the ink from his tattoos for you to scrutinize. During the lull, the bakery’s PA system comically offsets the tension in the room with a generic old jazz standard. Your boss, Mimi Callaghan, has an enthusiasm for novelties from her youth- hence the confectionary shop-style pink pinstriped uniform dress you wear, and your clashing forest green apron just oozing with sex appeal. Steve looks like a knockoff Ken doll in his similar blouse and khakis, but he confessed to you on his first day that he used to work at the Scoops Ahoy in the old Hawkins Mall, so you assume he isn’t too phased by it. You’re not about to tell him that he makes it work. Eddie, on the other hand, looks like someone picked him up at the Local Smokes down the street and thrust him into the uniform against his will, like he’s not really supposed to be here. You hate that you find the weird juxtaposition of his tattoos to the pink and green uniform kind of hot.

“Don’t forget to face the shelves when you put them out,” you tell Steve as he pushes the cart past you again. 

Steve’s ears glow bright red. “I’ll put out something-”

“Suck my fucking nuts, Harrington, you wanna do the job right or not?”

Eddie cackles loudly as Steve turns around, but instead of glaring at you he just looks mildly amused, like Eddie’s hysterical laughter rubbed off on him. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh?”

“What?” You splutter, gloved hands flexing in the air and squishing frosting between your fingers. “Why- why’re you so fucking difficult? Put the goddamn muffins out, we don’t have all day-”

“I think she likes you, Harrington.” 

You squint at Eddie, still rubbing himself down leisurely with the rag, twisting his rings around his fingers idly even though he didn’t even get any icing on them. He leans against the counter with a smirk on his pretty pink lips like he thinks he’s done something. Like there can’t be another reason for why you’re so easily frustrated by Steve- by either of them, really. Like their lack of decorum or work ethic are completely out of the question, you guess, to his way of thinking. 

“Like him?” you scoff, trying to appear nonchalant as you go back to smacking cream cheese frosting across the pans of pastries in front of you. “Puh- lease. He’s infuriating, he doesn't listen to directions. Also, Steve, your customer service voice? It- you know what, it’s obnoxious. We work in a bakery, you don’t have to put the moves on every girl that comes in.”

“Oh, okay. Hear me out- maybe you don’t like my customer service voice because you’re jealous.” Steve hums, rocking back on his heels and looking even more smug than he did a few seconds ago. “I can put the moves on you, too, if you’re feeling left out.”

You don’t dignify that offer with a response. You kind of just want to punch him in the face. “Go put the muffins out and let me listen to the goddamn PA in peace.”

He has the decency to look shocked. “You like this goofy old shit?”

“I love this goofy old shit, which is more than I can say about you.”

“It’s okay, sweet pea,” Eddie hums casually, in as condescending of a voice as he can muster. “You don’t have to pretend like you aren’t into Harrington. I know I am.” 

“And you, Munson-” You whirl on him, pointing one frosting covered finger angrily in his direction, at which his eyes go all wide and innocent. “Don’t even get me started. Your fucking hair gets everywhere. I swear I had to excavate an entire gerbil from the garlic bread you made yesterday. Take a fucking weedwacker to that thing, for the love of god. And… and your tattoos are fucking dumb.”

You don’t want to admit that you like the sight of the tattoos, actually. When Mimi had told you that the newbies you’d be training were gonna be “that darling Steve Harrington, and his friend, the Munson boy” you’d been a little bit pleased. There isn’t much to admire in a bakery except cakes, and if having the two of them around the bakery means things just got a little more scenic, then you were happy to have them. 

Unfortunately, a pretty face often means an infernal personality. Finding one without the other would probably take an act of god at this point. Times two, you got stuck with the fucking chaos twins.

“Dumb?” Eddie wolf whistles. “That smarts, sweetheart. It really does. You haven’t even seen all of my tattoos yet. I’d love to give you a tour of them, though-”

Your face burns at the thought of Eddie Munson letting you get a first class look at his tattoos. He probably has ones in places even god doesn’t know about, and you glare down at the cinnamon rolls in front of you to hide how flustered you are about it. “Fuck you, Munson.”

“I wish you would.”

“For christ’s sake- Steve. Muffins, now.”

Steve does what he’s told, for a change. It doesn’t give you as much of an ego boost as it usually does- really, you just feel sort of dull as you snap your rubber gloves off and throw them in the trash can to the side. You don’t know why you let them bother you as much as they do, but for some reason the just jerk your chain like nothing else.

The bell over the front door jingles, alerting you to the arrival of a customer. You take a quick peek at the ovens behind you to check the time; it’s nearly 8, and the bakery closes at 10. You fight to not roll your eyes as you grab a pair of gloves in case whoever it is wants something out of the display case. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Your voice is sing-songy enough that you want to smack yourself. A middle aged woman has made a bee-line for the counter, straight past where Steve is bent over a display table, struggling to shift all the old muffin boxes to the top and slide the newer ones underneath them. 

You stare at his ass for… probably way longer than necessary, honestly. 

The woman points at a singular cake box left on the counter from today’s special orders, and immediately reaches up to take it without any other introduction. 

Oh. One of these customers. The ones who come in and grab stuff off the counter without asking for assistance, who will walk back into the kitchen to look at the overstock racks and help themselves to things that haven’t been put out on the floor yet.

A tight smile curls at your lips as you snag the tag on the box and look at the name before she can yank it off the counter from you. “For Linda?”

The woman nods curtly. As you turn the box to face her, your eyes shift back to Steve as he moves around the side of the display table. He stretches his arm out to reach for a stack on a higher shelf, and your eyes linger on the way the short sleeve of his uniform shirt rides up to expose his bicep.

“This is not the cake I ordered.”

“What?” You snap your eyes back to Linda’s pinched face, glaring down at the cake on the counter. It’s a basic sheet cake, with white frosting and a screaming red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ on it. Not necessarily a masterpiece, but a neat and pretty cake nonetheless.

“I ordered a cake with a winning streak theme. This has nothing on it,” Linda says icily as you snatch up the order slip you had taken off of the box and inspect it.

“A marble quarter sheet with white buttercream and a red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ in black icing?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… what’s on the cake, ma’am.”

“But there’s no other decoration. Where’s the winning streak theme?”

You blink, and briefly make eye contact with Steve over the woman’s shoulder. He’s all but abandoned his task of stacking muffin boxes, instead watching your face carefully as your conversation plays out. He raises one eyebrow at you, and you’re not sure if that’s him trying to be condescending or supportive. 

“I- I apologize, ma’am-” you start, looking for a way to dig your way out of the situation, “The order does say that you requested the theme, but you didn’t specify any decorations. Our decorators won’t take liberties with the order on their own if you don’t request-”

“I don’t have time for this,” Linda interjects, and you clamp your mouth shut with a dull ache beginning to throb in your temples. “I’m supposed to be at a winning streak themed party in twenty minutes and I have an embarrassment of a cake to show for it. I should be reimbursed.”

“The cake wasn’t paid for in advance,” you tell her mildly, trying not to crinkle the page with her order on it as you hold it up. 

“Uh… accommodated, then. I shouldn’t have to pay for something I didn’t want in the first place!”

“I’m afraid I can’t just give you a cake for free, ma’am. I’m not authorized.”

“Can I speak to your manager, then?” 

You open your mouth to say that, technically, you are what amounts to the shift manager. It’s just you and Eddie and Steve in the store, and even though neither of your job descriptions really include the word ‘manager’ in them, seniority rules over all. You’ve been here long enough to be able to train them, so by right you’re the one in charge. 

But then a warm hand touches the curve of your lower back, and Steve appears out of thin air to gently scoot you aside without so much as a hello.

“What seems to be the trouble, ma’am?” Steve smiles, and you could almost mistake him for being sincere if his fingertips didn’t dig into your back just slightly before pulling away. 

Linda visibly softens her demeanor, smoothing her stringy blonde hair away from her face. “Are you the manager?”

You scrutinize his profile, trying for all the world to read his fucking mind, because you have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s barely even taken a cake order, let alone dealt with a disgruntled customer with a botched one.

“That, I am!” Steve declares, and oh. Cheeky motherfucker. He’s doing the voice. He bats his eyelashes- big, long, sweeping blinks that you think can make him take flight if he tries much harder. “What can I do for you?”

“This girl,” Linda tells him shortly, not even looking at you when she motions in your direction, “is refusing to compromise about this cake. It’s not what I ordered, and if I have to show up for this party without a winning streak themed cake, I’m going to be embarrassed. The customer is always right!”

“In matters of taste,” Eddie says from over your shoulder.

Linda fixes Eddie with a cold stare. “I’m sorry?”

“That, uh… that saying.” Eddie steps up to your other side, obviously choking back a laugh as he clears his throat. “The full saying is, ‘The customer is always right in matters of taste.’ Meaning you’re right about your order, we can’t argue with your personal preferences.” 

“Exactly.” Steve shrugs easily, the picture of self-assurance as he takes the order sheet from your hand and looks it over. You’re not even sure if he entirely understands how to dissect the order sheet itself, but he looks convincing enough while doing it. “If you don’t like the cake, you don’t have to buy it. But my gi- ‘ this’ girl is right.”

You snap your eyes toward Steve, the back of your neck burning. His what?

Steve continues like he’s made no mistake whatsoever. “We can’t give you the cake for free- the only person who can do that is the owner.”

Linda scowls. “‘Take it or leave it,’ you mean?”

Steve affords her a kind smile. “I’d be happy to pull any of our cakes out of the display instead, if you see any you prefer.”

“No,” Linda insists, obviously unhappy about it, “I’ve been coming here for twenty years and this has never happened, the owner knows me-”

“We can call Mimi, if you’d like,” he adds. 

“No, like I said, I have a party in twenty minutes,” Linda says sourly, and begins digging through her purse. “No, I’ll pay for this one, I guess.”

Behind the counter, you watch Steve ball up Linda’s cake order sheet in his palm, squeeze it unnecessarily hard, and toss it into the waste bin. Then, faster than fucking lightning, you watch Eddie type the price of the cake into the cash register. He hits the sales tax button twice.

“Come back soon!” Eddie says cheerfully as he hands her the receipt. 

You stand motionless behind them both, dumbfounded, until Linda leaves. And then Steve’s immediately cursing, shaking his head as he turns and starts walking toward the back room, hands untying the bow at his waist to undo his apron. “They’ll say anything for free shit. Anything. What the fuck is a ‘winning streak’ theme, anyways? I swear- no, you know what, I don’t actually fucking care. I used to give out freebies all the time at Scoops. But this isn’t corporate, and Mimi knows my family-” 

You follow him closely, disappearing into the back with him as he continues blathering. “Why did you do that?” 

“Hm?” Steve pauses as he’s pulling his apron over his head, and stares at you for a few seconds, like he doesn’t even know what you’re referring to. And then, you see his brown eyes widen. “Oh! I guess… I mean, I could see it going bad, and I figured if she wasn’t listening to you, then she’d probably listen to me. If I, y’know. Put the moves on her.”

You snort loudly. “Always so fuckin’ cute- I could have handled it myself.”

“No, I know you could have. I know.” Steve nods, his hair sort of fluttering around his face as he looks away from you. “But… y’know, you don’t have to. You shouldn’t have to, while I’m here. I’ve been tortured by KGB and fought monsters, I can deal with an angry customer-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh. Uh…” He pauses, eyes drifting off to the side, to meet Eddie’s, who trailed behind you into the back room and is lingering over your shoulder. “Dun- Dungeons and… and Dragons? Yeah… yeah! Have you- have you played it?”

“You?” Your giggle splutters loudly in your chest before bubbling up out of your throat unexpectedly. “Steve Harrington plays Dungeons and Dragons? You like that goofy sword and sorcery shit?”

“Fucking metal sword and sorcery shit, thank you very much,” Eddie snaps, and you scoff at him. 

Steve chuckles at your little jab at his words from earlier, looking anywhere but at your face. “Yeah, sort of. I mean… Munson taught me a bit about it.”

“Everything he knows.” Eddie’s grin is wide and holds an air of mystery to it, like he knows something you don’t.

“Hm. Put that on a t-shirt for me and maybe I’ll buy it.” You blush, staring at Steve’s profile as he pulls a water bottle out of the employee break cabinet and takes a long drink from it. Then, you turn to Eddie, who leans against the door jamb. “Where’d you learn that thing about ‘the customer is always right,’ anyways?”

“Hm? Oh… I used to help my uncle Wayne in his garage,” Eddie explains nonchalantly. “Learned a lot from watching him deal with customers.”

“Right,” you hum, nodding slowly, and then turn to Steve. “And you. You could get in so much fucking trouble if Mimi finds out about that whole thing. Where did you pick that up?”

“My best friend- Robin Buckley? You know her?” Steve says as he puts the bottle back in the cabinet and snaps it shut. You shake your head, and he goes on. “Yeah. She’s crazy smart. We worked together at Scoops, and Family Video. Always had a way to respond to everything, even though she’s awkward as hell. And before you ask- yes, she would have tried to put the moves on Linda, too.”

“Would she?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve grins at you fondly, making your heart stall in your chest a bit. “Every single move in the book. If you ask me, she’s better with the ladies than I am.”

You laugh, then nod your head slowly, looking him up and down. “Okay. You’re actually fucking hilarious, Harrington. Too bad I hate your guts.”

“Really? I’m moving up in the world.” Steve grunts. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, my darling dearest.”

“Is that why you almost called me ‘your girl?’”

His smirk creates cute little dimples in his cheeks. “No, I almost did that because you’re the only one who can tell me to suck on their nuts, and I’ll actually consider doing it.”

Before you can even take a moment to process that little wise-crack, Eddie’s distracting you. His hand passes through your line of vision, then comes up and presses against the front of your green apron, just against your breast. You genuinely think he’s trying to feel you up, and you snap your eyes down to find his ringed fingers scraping a giant drop of cream cheese frosting off of your chest. 

You feel your cheeks heat up. That must have come from when you were frosting the cinnamon rolls- more like smacking them around with frosting, really- and the fact that it was there the entire time Linda was here is more than humiliating. You must have looked like such an idiot, trying to conduct yourself like a manager-

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, using that same fucking condescending tone that makes your hair stand on end, before meeting your eye and sucking the glob of frosting off of his two fingers.

You get a sudden head rush, and it takes way more self restraint than it should to not audibly whimper. Oh, he really shouldn’t have done that. 

You stare at him for a long moment, your eyes flickering between his, and his fingers in between his ungodly pink lips. You… you feel like you’re fucking drowning, floundering around with your head underwater and you don’t know what to do. You snap your eyes to Steve, looking for some sort of sympathy or support, but he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, he just winks. 

No. They absolutely should not have done that.

“Fucking… fuck this. Fuck both of you- I have work to do,” you hiss, trying to skirt past buckets of frosting to get around where Eddie’s blocking the doorway, but he refuses to step aside, instead creating a one-man barricade while he snickers and continues sucking on his fingers just to rile you up even more. “Fucking move, Eddie.”

“Oh, it’s Eddie now?” He grins, obviously enjoying how much you’re struggling, with your chest pushed up against his and your arm nearly circling his waist to lever yourself against the other side of the door. 

“Fuck you,” you spit, for a lack of anything else to say. 

“For the second time, I wish you would.” Eddie raises his hand and captures your chin, tilting your head up so that you look at him, instead of over his shoulder or to the side at Steve. Your heart jumps into your throat, feeling his damp fingers on your cheek and remembering how he had been sucking on them a second ago. “Might clean out that filthy mouth of yours.”

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” You snatch Eddie by his pinstriped collar, simultaneously pulling him down to your height and also pushing him back against the wire rack of boxes along the far wall. Eddie curses, stumbling and grabbing onto your hips as if that will steady himself. His nose nudges yours from this angle, and how close you crowd up against him. “You drive me up the fucking wall, Munson. You think you can just sweet talk me like I’m some uptight customer?”

“Woah,” Steve says from behind you, but he doesn’t sound the slightest bit surprised. More amused, and intrigued. “I think you struck a nerve.” 

“Did I?” Eddie whispers, with a hint of a smirk still on his face. His dark eyes are looking directly into yours.

He doesn’t even have time to breathe before you kiss him. Desperately. Long and hard and sort of angry, open-mouthed so that you can taste the frosting still on his tongue. He makes the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard- somewhere between a sigh and a moan, as his hands come up to cup your face and pull you closer into him. His knee slotting between your legs, not pushing up but just remaining solidly there for you to lean against it. It takes an inordinate amount of strength for you not to grind yourself down onto his thigh.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Steve says calmly from just beside you. 

Eddie pulls back for air, forehead resting against yours, thumbs stroking your cheekbones in a mockery of a tender embrace. “Go on. Show Harrington how much you hate him, too.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you grumble, but your hands have better plans. One stays on Eddie’s shoulder, but the other snatches Steve by the collar and pulls him forward so that you can attack his face with the same amount of fervor. Eddie has no compunction to be gentlemanly- while Steve’s hand rests lightly on your lower back, Eddie’s creeps up underneath your skirt to give your ass a tight squeeze, pulling you forward to grind against his thigh and making you gasp against Steve’s mouth so that his tongue can lick deeper into yours.

Nothing quite prepares you for how Eddie’s voice affects you when he says, “Uh oh, Harrington. I think I was right- she likes you. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You make a short noise in your throat, your hand sliding down Steve’s chest to his waist, fingers beginning to make quick work of his fly. “Let’s- let’s just double check, huh? Make extra sure.”

“God- yeah. Yeah, okay. Just- be on the safe side.” Steve’s tongue is burning up when it touches your neck, his head nuzzling down so that he can graze your throat with his teeth. 

Eddie catches your hand before you manage to wiggle it beneath his waistband, and looks you directly in the eye just before he spits onto your palm. You whimper noisily at the feeling of it, warm and wet, dripping between your fingers while Steve licks at your neck and heat simmers under the tender skin between your thighs.

Air punches from Steve’s mouth when you work his trousers down his hips and pull his erection out of his boxers- he’s not quite pulsing and swollen yet, but your fingertips still just barely manage to meet from how thick he is. 

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” you curse as you give him a languid stroke, feeling him shudder when you brush your thumb over his tip and then drag your hand down his length again. Eddie’s saliva helps to make the motion fluid and smooth, adding a slick sound to punctuate Steve’s loud gasp. 

“What?” Steve hisses, trying his best to appear passive, but his voice betrays him and cracks. He gazes at you a bit apprehensively, his doe eyes looking a little foggy with need as they flicker over your face and focus on your lips. 

“Nothing on earth needs to be this big.” 

Eddie’s free hand coming up to weave through Steve’s hair and jerking his head back. His teeth catch Steve’s earlobe just before he murmurs, “Told ya, big boy.” Eddie looks directly at you over Steve’s shoulder. “Harrington’s packing a fucking monster, isn’t he?”

You hum as you let your fingers drift along the length of him. Steve’s gaze suddenly turns darker, and his chuckle falls flat out of his mouth like an exclamation of awe more than anything. “Think you can take it?”

You don’t answer that. Your grip tightens just a bit and he groans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling. “Are you one of those guys that’ll come as soon as I gag?” 

“Fuck, maybe?” Steve’s hands cup the sides of your neck and trail up to cradle your head as you lower yourself in front of him. 

Eddie scoffs. “He can’t handle it worth a shit. Don’t go easy on him.”

“Then he’d better hold on to something.” You scrape your nails down his exposed thigh, reveling in the way his entire body shakes at the feeling. 

And, without any further warning, you wrap your lips around his cock. 

Steve curses, hands balling into fists just before he slams them down against the shelf he’s leaning on. Through your lashes, you watch him gasp for breath and you wonder if he’s honestly going to last long enough to fuck you properly. Not that it really matters, though, because Eddie seems like he’ll be more than happy to pick up where Steve leaves off. 

Eddie’s hand rests on the crown of your head, guiding you on Steve’s cock. His tip leaks with precum that tastes salty on your tongue when you lick at his slit, and as you take him further into your mouth, you realize just how right you were. He hits the back of your throat, making tears spring up in your eyes and a quiet moan bubble up out of your chest on its own when you choke. 

Steve just about loses his mind over it. He groans loudly, scrambling for a place to put his hands and ending up with a fistful of Eddie’s uniform shirt while he tries to compose himself. 

“Holy fuck, you look so good with your mouth full,” Steve grunts, his free hand coming up your chin as he slides his cock out of your mouth and back in again.

“I think I like her more when she can’t talk back to us,” Eddie chuckles darkly, pressing on the back of your head and making you choke again. 

Steve hisses, his fingers tightening on your cheek. “Look at me, let me see those eyes- there you go. Pretty baby.”

You whimper, letting your jaw go slack so that Steve can fuck your mouth all he wants while you try to steady yourself. You should hate it. You should hate this- you hate them both. You think. 

Wait. Do you? 

You’ve never been this needy before, but hell if your cunt isn’t just throbbing in your uncomfortably wet panties, and your nails are digging into Steve’s skin where you grip his thighs for support. If he notices any pain from it, he doesn’t say anything- just keeps giving you these erotic little gasps every time his cock nudges the back of your throat and your eyes flicker shut for a moment before he taps your cheek and makes you open them again. 

“We should do this more often,” Steve says thickly, and without thinking, you hum in agreement. You add a little resistance against Eddie’s hand on your head to regain a bit of control, letting your tongue roll against Steve’s length however you want. 

“You think she’ll give it this good if she’s getting fucked?” Eddie muses suddenly, his finger’s toying with your hair rather than guiding you anymore. 

“Fuck- only one way to find out.” Steve shakily releases the fistful he has of Eddie’s shirt, letting him slip away from his side. Eddie’s hand leaves your head, instead falling to the tie on his apron to start undoing it. 

You whine softly, shuffling up on your knees and nearly slipping when you feel Eddie’s hands flipping the skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the cool air. His large hand smooths over the hem of your underwear, then lowers to stroke the cleft of your pussy through the fabric. 

“Oh, poor thing.”  

“What is it?” Steve asks. 

“She’s soaked through these pretty panties,” Eddie coos softly as his fingers stroke back and forth over the fabric, nudging your clit with achingly gentle, indirect touches. You moan, arching your back for more. “Baby got so wet from sucking Steve’s cock, huh? Sweet little pussy needs some attention?”

“Shit. God, that’s so hot. Fuck-” Steve grabs your hair, guiding you off of his cock with a wet noise that makes Eddie’s fingers press on your clit just a little bit harder. You splutter, drool trailing from your lips and dripping down your chin as you try to catch your breath. Something you can’t quite do, because Eddie won’t stop touching you. 

Steve tilts your head up, leveraging you backwards a bit as he kneels in front of you. “You want Eddie to fuck you? Is that what you need?”

You nod, wrapping your hand around Steve’s wet cock and giving him a few slow pumps. “Yeah, I-” you hiccup when you feel Eddie’s fingers hook your panties to the side, and dip through your dripping folds, unobstructed. “Oh fuck, I want it so bad.”

“Don’t hate us so goddamn much now?” Eddie croons as he presses two fingers deep into your pussy. 

You groan and hang your head, forehead pressing up against Steve’s navel and your nails sinking into the meat of his thigh. You can feel his cock twitch in your hand, and it occurs to you that he likes that pain- or maybe he just likes holding you against him while Eddie fingerfucks you.

Steve’s fingers card through your hair tenderly. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Munson. I think she’s having trouble talking.”

“For a change.” Eddie curls his fingers, and you nearly lose your balance, thankful that you have Steve to hold you up. “So fuckin’ wet… I think I want to taste it first.”

Eddie’s fingers leave you, and you openly sob against Steve’s stomach as his grip tightens in your hair. “E-eddie…”

His two hands curl around the waistband of your panties, and rip through the fabric as though it’s only paper. “Hold her up, Steve, it sounds like she’s gonna need it.”

Steve puts his hands on your shoulders and holds you up, rocking back so that he can get a good look at your face. Eddie spreads your legs apart, and you can feel him crowding his body in between them. There’s a slight pause, and then his tongue touches you, licking a stripe of fucking fire through your cunt from behind. 

Oh shit. Holy fucking shit. It’s too good, too warm and slick when you’ve been aching for it for way too long, your clit pulsing desperately and burning hot when his tongue strokes over it. You strain up against Steve’s hands, but he keeps pushing you forward, keeping you there against Eddie’s mouth. You moan obscenely loud, your hands tearing at Steve’s shirt like it’ll somehow convince him to let you go. 

“You’re so damn pretty like this, angel,” Steve whispers, tilting your chin up when your head falls so he can keep looking at your face. He’s flushed, his lips parted and his eyes drooping and so dark that you nearly balk under his gaze.

Eddie groans in the back of his throat and finally pulls back, and you’re not sure whether to chase his mouth or to sob for relief, so you sort of do both at the same time. He plants a hand on your ass to keep you from falling backwards into him. 

“Fuck, she tastes so sweet. Here-” You feel him move, and then Steve holds up a hand to catch something that Eddie tosses to him. 

You lift your eyes and discover that Steve is holding your torn underwear. The light blue fabric looks so out of place and innocent, little pink flowers decorating the waistband. It makes it worse that he’s looking directly at you, keeping you frozen in place. He holds them up to his nose and breathes deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut just briefly before he looks at you again and drags the soaked crotch of them across his tongue. 

“Steve…” you breathe, overwhelmed by the sight of him and the sound of his groan of pleasure. You search for something to say to him, but nothing comes before you feel something hot and thick pushing into your soaking entrance. You gasp, and then claw at Steve’s thigh in lieu of something to hold onto. “Fuck, Eddie-” 

“Shouldn’t you be choking on Steve’s cock right about now?” Eddie hisses through his teeth, sounding strained and letting out a low groan to punctuate it. 

You whine, feeling unbelievably stretched and full as Eddie splits you open, but you still scramble backwards and sink your mouth onto Steve’s cock so quickly that a gasp leaps out of his chest. 

Steve punches out a little laugh, his hand twisting your hair and pushing you down until your eyes water. “So agreeable once you get your pussy filled.”

“God, she’s so tight,” Eddie grunts as he hollows out and starts thrusting, reaching deeper inside you each time. You don’t think it’s so much that you’re tight as he’s just big- you haven’t seen his cock, but you can feel it, like you haven’t fucking felt anything else before, and it’s good. You can feel every inch, every ridge, and it makes your eyes fully roll back into your skull. “Fuck, you gotta feel this-”

“Can’t. ‘M not gonna last, shit…” Steve sounds wrecked, his words coming out sharp and desperate. The hand on your head is shaking, and you’re honestly impressed he’s lasted as long as he has. “‘M gonna come down this pretty throat.”

“You hear that, sweet pea? You gonna swallow all of Steve’s cum?” Eddie’s hand weaves through your hair around Steve’s fingers, aiding in shoving your head down onto his cock. 

As if you weren’t going to, and as if he wasn’t already fucking your mouth faster than you could reasonably keep up. But you whimper and bury your nose in the patch of coarse hair at the base of Steve’s cock, inhaling his scent and tasting his musky flavor on your tongue, and you swallow around him. And then you keep swallowing, because Steve comes hard.  

He sounds absolutely gorgeous when he does it, too. If Eddie wasn’t fucking you so hard that you couldn’t stop whining, you think it would be nearly like a symphony to hear Steve reduced to quiet whimpers. By the time the hands on your head relax enough to let you off of him, though, he’s completely out of breath. 

“Good girl,” Steve pants, his hand lifting up to caress your cheek and to wipe a little dribble of his cum from the corner of your mouth, so soft that it could be construed as sweet if there wasn’t any context to it. “Fuck… you were so good.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie coos into your ear, still driving his hips into yours with such force that it’s jolting you toward Steve. “Good baby, pretty baby- takes cock like a perfect little slut.”

You groan, hanging your head and arching your back toward Eddie. You seize up, your orgasm simmering low in you like the receding tide before a fucking tsunami, and you’re almost scared of how big it feels. 

“She liked that,” Eddie chuckles darkly, bending further over you so that his breath tickles your ear. “You like it when I call you a slut, huh? Our perfect. Little. Slut.”

You open your mouth to say his name, tell him to shut up, or keep going, or anything, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. Your hand juts forward and clamps down like a vise onto Steve’s thigh, finding that he’s pulled his pants up. Your nails scratch at stiff khaki twill, trying to beg him to take pity on you, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. 

“Pick her up,” Steve says above you. “I want to see her face when she comes.”

Oh, so he’s trying to kill you, actually. That tracks.

Eddie’s arm snakes around your waist and hauls you up, and he rocks back onto his heels to pull your back against his chest. He hugs you close to him, shushing you when his cock hits you from a different angle and you cry out sharply from the feeling. 

“Pretty thing can’t take it,” Steve murmurs as he crowds in close, his hands coming up to caress you through your dress. The fabric is too goddamn rough and itchy, and your skin is too sensitive for him to be toying with you now. 

“Oh, she can take it.” Eddie sounds so sure, his voice rough and stony as he rocks his pelvis up against you while, at the same time, pulling you down into his lap. “She can take all of it. Can’t you, baby?”

You hope the question is rhetorical. You’re trembling, too lost in the feeling of the mind-numbing bliss Eddie’s giving you to come up with a response at this point. Your hand plunges back over your shoulder into a mess of curly hair, and you feel him turn his head to brush his lips against your ear. 

Steve’s hand brushes up your thigh, creeping under your skirt that’s draped across both you and Eddie’s knees. You barely have time to pick your head up and intellectualize what he’s doing before his thumb touches your clit. 

“Oh fuck-” Eddie chokes out urgently, just at the same time as you sink your nails into his forearm and all of your floor muscles lock down around him. 

And then the tsunami hits. 

You nearly scream, your cunt tightening up to wring everything out of the sensation that it can. Eddie’s cock is so hard and it hits inside you so perfectly every time that you swear you’re going to die from it. You’re collapsing forward, despite Eddie’s grip on your waist and Steve’s solid chest creating a barrier for you to fall into- your limbs feel liquid, all your muscles finally relaxing all at once. 

You feel Eddie falter, his hand slipping on your waist so that you do fall into Steve’s chest. While Eddie’s cock throbs inside you and his moans fill your ears, Steve’s hands cup your face and tilt your head up toward his. And then his lips are on yours, and his tongue is licking deep into your mouth at the same time as you feel Eddie come deep inside your cunt. 

You don’t want Eddie to pull out. Not really. You’re not going to tell him to stay there inside you while you’re both crouched awkwardly on the hard floor, but you do wish he’d take at least a few seconds before he does, because the aching emptiness he leaves in his place is enough to make tears spring up in your eyes. 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, you did so well,” Eddie whispers as you sob openly from the sensation, his arm coming back around your waist to pull you against him. And then you both sort of topple backwards, his shoulders hitting the stacks of backstock frosting buckets as Steve shuffles back to lean against the wire rack across from you. He pulls your legs into his lap and starts stroking his hand across your bare calf. 

You try to catch your breath while Eddie reaches for something on the floor off to the side. You blink your eyes open to find him fiddling with his discarded green apron, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pocket in it before wadding it up into a little ball. 

He promptly tucks it between your legs and starts cleaning you up with it. 

“R’you using your apron… as a cum rag?” You slur tiredly at him, squeaking a little as the rough fabric scrapes across your overly sensitive clit. 

“Don’t want to leave a mess,” he mutters easily, making Steve chuckle across from you. “Why s’it that I can fuck you half out of your mind and you’ll still bitch me out about how I clean shit?”

“‘Cause it’s fun t’see you all mad. You’re pretty when you’re pissy.” You feel his chest shake with laughter as he finishes wiping you down and tosses the apron aside, then wraps his arms snugly around your middle. 

“Good thing you’re pretty all the time, then.” Eddie huffs, rocking you back and forth a little as he fits his head on your shoulder. You tap your fingers across his forearm, looking down at them and humming contentedly. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, smiling at you almost fondly. 

You sigh, dragging your fingertip along Eddie’s skin. “I like his tattoos.”

“I knew it,” Eddie whispers, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, making you giggle and shut your eyes. “I still haven’t shown you the rest of ‘em.”

“There’s always next time.”

Steve blinks. “You want to do this again?”

“Of course I want to fucking do this again, Steve,” you snap, rolling your eyes playflully. “Been wanting to jump both of you since you started, wasn’t it fucking obvious?”

“Was to me.” Eddie’s finger traces along your collar, toying with the first button on the front of your uniform dress. “Also, I haven’t seen your tits, so. I’m not done with you yet.”

“I dunno, the dress kind of does it for me,” Steve admits, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… cute. Like a 50s housewife or something.”

“Let’s get you a string of pearls and see how long ‘Big Dick’ Harrington lasts then,” Eddie snickers, and you laugh tiredly as you watch Steve flush. 

You fall into easy silence, but just as soon as you relax into Eddie’s arms, the bell over the front door of the bakery jingles. And then the hand bell on the front counter dings loudly. 

And dings again. And dings again. And dings agai-

“You gonna get it, this time?” Steve asks Eddie, sounding a little bit grumpy already. 

“No, I’m gonna hold her a while longer,” Eddie says coolly, not leaving any room for discussion. He presses a tiny kiss to your neck, just underneath your ear, and you squeak in surprise at the lightness of it. “Go get ‘em, Mr. Manager Man.”

“Fuckin’-” Steve rolls his eyes as he gently sets your legs aside before gracelessly clambering up off the ground. He smooths out his uniform, tucking in the tail of his shirt before striding through the door into the kitchen. “What’s up, party people?”

“Do you have any chocolate cakes with white buttercream already made? I need it for tonight.”

Eddie scoffs in your ear, his hand drifting across your thigh to rest just shy of your pussy, making your breath hitch and your hips cant up toward his touch. “They always wait for the last fuckin’ minute, don’t they?”

[orangerosebush]

Ive always had this headcanon that artemis was very cold to juliet growing up to distance himself from anything child-like as much as possible since being friends with another child who doesn't share his intense Parentification traits and as they get older (like mid 20s) artemis is finally self aware enough to be like "hmm i probably treated her like shit for a long time and didn't even think about it cause I was so focused on crafting this impenetrable image of a Fully Functioning Adult since I was a literal toddler".

IIRC, the most intimate look we get into Artemis and Juliet's dynamic is in the first book -- and like, everything about them in B1 is bizarre.

I share the headcanon you mention -- and that past is made worse by the fact that Juliet (~16 y/o) was the main person in charge of Angeline's care when things progressed so severely that the woman was bedbound.

There's a tension between Artemis allowing Juliet to take liberties that he'd typically only permit his mother (and Juliet wanting to take those liberties!), and Juliet being freaked out by how intense (arguably creepy) Artemis used to be.

Here's this scene from the start of the book (where Juliet is able to use the diminutive "Arty" during a time when the Fowl-Butler dynamic is such that Butler still calls 12-year-old Artemis "Sir"):

“These alterations must be made to the cellar. See to it, Juliet. To the letter.”  “Yes, Arty.”  Artemis frowned, but only slightly. For reasons that he couldn’t quite fathom, he didn’t mind terribly when Juliet called him by the pet name his mother had for him.  Butler scratched his chin thoughtfully. Artemis noticed the gesture.  “Question?”  “Well, Artemis. The sprite in Ho Chi Minh City . . .”  Artemis nodded. “I know. Why didn’t we simply abduct her?”  “Yes, sir.”

Then:

“Juliet pointed to a viewcam mounted on the wall.  “Oh, he’d find out. Artemis finds out about everything.” She leaned in close to [Holly]. “Sometimes I think he can see inside my head, too.”

Though! It must be said that canonically Artemis gifts Juliet multiple expensive (sports?) cars when they grow*** up. Their dynamic contains multitudes

*** I misremembered. Artemis leaves her the cars in his will. Well. LOL. ("To Juliet Butler, who has protected my brothers so faithfully, I leave my sound system which is based on gel-speaker technology and which should make even her collection of modern music sound reasonably non-offensive. I also leave to Juliet the three sports cars and a lifetime subscription of the Wrestling Channel.")

[noisytenant]

I feel like just telling people “consume less childrens media/YA fiction/etc” is missing the point.

A narrow, sheltered perspective on the world and its politics is what causes stupid discourse, and the simplified world of entertainment media attracts people with this mindset.

Having any kind of media as the dominant lens through which you socialize and interact with the world will leave you sidelined from reality, whether your energy is devoted to complex literature or a tv show for toddlers.

Children’s media and their fans make for easy targets because the disproportionate scale of discourse to depth is more visible, but focusing on the kind of media as the main problem seems to me similarly detached from reality. The problem is the attitude. And telling someone who clings to any kind of media as a tenuous connection to others that they’ve wasted their time isn’t really going to change their mind.

So, like, do you actually have any intention of challenging this kind of attitude, or are you just trying to feel superior to someone else?

[valgeristik]

so i played vampyr recently. I like the wet cat who gives you painkillers

[bumblingbabooshka]

Workforce Tuvok is my cringefail babygirl

[otterandterrier]

this kitty showed up a while ago at my parents', which isn't unusual because strays get in all the time to steal my cat's food and fight him. but unlike all the others, this one was clearly domesticated. he stays in the backyard all the time, never goes out to wander, wants to get inside so badly. he was afraid, but he's so lovely and likes people's company so much once he gets to know you. I tried looking for a possible owner and nothing. I've always wanted to adopt a cat because I couldn't bring mine with me (he would not make a good apartment cat), but I live in a studio, I don't have a balcony, I live alone, my income isn't stable, I don't like mess, I don't like leaving pets alone... and yet. this feels like the perfect cat for an apartment. today a vet checked him out and confirmed he's a neutered male of around 2-3 years old.

so. he's coming home with me this week, and we'll see how it goes! 🥺 wish me luck!

(my sister already christened him "Ron Weasley", which is the name I've always wanted to give to an orange cat, and I'll forever love Ron... but I'm still thinking about it)

[completely-real-and-normal-human]

twisted pathetic men yaoi got me feeling out of sorts

[empyreasheart]

its really funny to me that sora is pretty chill about naminé inserting herself into his memories . hes like :) whatever makes you happy naminé!

[drewsaturday]

obviously different people say different things and you can support something existing while still complaining about things not being to your taste as long as you don't comment it on actual creationssss

but sometimes it does get mentally chaotic seeing posts saying you should be allowed to write whatever you want and bad art is okay etc etc and then i scroll down a little more to see people having incredibly high expectations for things that people make for fun and for free in fandom spaces and it's like...

i think there is a gap between seeing our tumblr peers tm as people and creatives having fun, but ourselves as consumers expecting perfect content. you are demanding perfection from those same people you claim to want to support.

???

[uncanny-tranny]

Hi. this might be long so feel free to delete but i would like some advice/help. so i am trans i have known i am trans for years and years. since i was a toddler. i came out first when i was a preteen and i sort of fluctuated between identifying as 'just' binary male and various nombinary genders for a while until settling on binary male a couple years ago. but lately ive been wondering whether im trans het or a nonbinary butch lesbian. i am only attracted to women and im only comfortable with masculine terms he/him pronouns all that stuff. but idk. it's complicated and i am also both intersex and autistic so i feel kinda weird about it anyway. i tried identifying myself a s a butch lesbian a few days ago but i changed my mind after about 20 minutes because im worried about people interpreting me as a woman when really my gender is very masculine with some other stuff like an alien. idont know how else to explain it sorry

I definitely get where you're coming from, and I don't think I'll have the "right" answer for you - not because of anything you are, but because you are the expert in your experiences. I'm sure you know that, but I always want to remind people of that, sometimes we get caught up in making sure that we are "right."

There are plenty of other butches, genderqueer people, trans guys - whatever, really - who are in the same boat. It can be hard to navigate and make sure who you are is understood. I think a lot of times, people will interpret you based on their own ideas, and that does suck, but it often doesn't indicate a lot about what you are doing. I definitely think if it makes you comfortable, you should claim it, though I get how complex that can be.

And like... I know so many butches and whatnot who totally get where you're coming from, and I think finding those people can make it so much easier to see yourself claiming it, if that makes sense. If you haven't, please do surround yourself with a bunch of people who have those similar experiences.

You contain multitudes. You are multifaceted, and that may include being "contradicting." Whatever you feel best in is right for you. I don't know what is best for you, but I do know you deserve to be heard and not judged. I hope you extend that curtosy to yourself.

[soldier-poet-king]

Without assurance, without insurance you believe

Without condition or the promise of heaven

You see the Holy Ghost in broad daylight

And I see the reflection in your eyes

[navree]

Your headcanons for the personalities types (MBTI) of the characters of the dance and the conquest?

OK so fair warning I don't really know a lot about MBTI types, like next to nothing at this point, I don't even know mine (I had to take the test for a college prep seminar in high school for some???? reason???? and then immediately forgot it because it wasn't important at all) so I'm basing this off of articles that tell me what these things are like (also for the Dance I'm going with show version if they've been introduced in the show, since those characters are more developed)

DANCE

Rhaenyra Targaryen - ESTP, The Persuader, out-going and dramatic, can be insensitive at times, capable of relatively quick decision making (at least in her youth), can be impulsive, energetic and ready to go, desirous for adventure.

Alicent Hightower - ISFJ, The Protector, sensitive, protective of others, caring and compassionate and kind-hearted, represses emotions, warm and nurturing, neglectful of personal needs, not a fan of change.

Daemon Tagaryen - ENFP, The Champion, charismatic and charming, energetic, capacity for great leadership, a dislike of routine, strong people skills, disorganized, struggles to follow rules, needs external validation, spontaneous, desirous for others' approval.

Otto Hightower - ENTJ, The Commander, strong verbal and leadership skills, well-organized, stubborn, highly logical, capable of being insensitive, can get aggressive, good at making decisions in crisis, outspoken and assertive and self assured, a good planner and rational, goal oriented, not very good with inner emotions.

Viserys Targaryen - INFP, The Mediator, idealistic, can see the bigger picture, overlooks details and loses sight of the little things, can take things personally, sensitive, can be overly idealistic, wants to make the world better according to their vision.

Criston Cole - ISTJ, The Inspector, loyal, orderly and organized, can be judgmental, principled and a stickler for rules, values traditions and laws, tendency for self-blame and recrimination.

Aegon Targaryen - Whichever one stands for "huge fucking mess" jk jk. Probs INFJ, The Advocate, highly sensitive, values close relationships with others, stubborn, can be overly sensitive, creative and free spirited, can set expectations too high, places more emphasis on emotions than logic, wants to help ("oh how-" he literally lies for aemond free of charge and was ready to pull out a sword to defend alicent against a dragon shut up), can be difficult to get to know.

Helaena Targaryen - ISFP, The Artist, peaceful, caring and considerate, trouble with the abstract, pays great attention to detail, incredibly reserved, dislikes conflict and confrontation, aware of the environment and those in it, introverted, strong need for personal space, unique values system, enjoys hands on activities based on their interests.

Aemond Targaryen - INTP, The Thinker, (specifically INTP-Turbulent), thoughtful, quiet and reserved, capable of outside the box thinking, difficult to get to know, self doubting, can look at things objectively, likes a small and close knit group, trouble expressing their emotions, deeply loyal and affectionate with loved ones.

Daeron Targaryen - ESFJ, The Caregiver, enjoys helping others, kind and caring, sensitive to the needs and feelings of others, feelings get hurt easily, outgoing, sensitive to change, kind and loyal, approval seeking and needy, dependable and loyal, sensitive to criticism and wants to be liked, intrinsically kind and literally a caregiver.

Rhaenys TQWNW - INTJ, The Architect, self confident, hard worker, willing to put in the effort, overly judgmental, perfectionist, can appear callous and arrogant, good at listening in general and taking criticism, good at reading between lines.

Corlys Velaryon - ESTJ, The Director, take charge personality, goal oriented, inflexible and bossy, self confident, hard working, argumentative, strong leadership skills, organized and structured, unyielding, seemingly insensitive.

Alys Rivers - ISTP, The Crafter, goal oriented, even tempered, reserved, difficult to get to know, aversion to commitment, open to trying new things, self confident and self possessed, difficult to get to know, emotionally detached, level headed and logical and practical.

CONQUEST

(with explanations cuz they don't have a show to flesh them out as much)

Aegon the Conqueror - I would classify Aegon as a pretty firm INTP, The Thinker, given that he was an apparently private person about whose personality we know exceptionally little, that he appears to have been reserved and self possessed and kept things close to the vest and made very few friends, but capable of a fierce and deep loyalty towards people like Orys, an unending love for his sister-wife Rhaenys and his subsequent doting on of their son Aenys. Aegon is also capable of the INTP's propensity for outside the box thinking, as well as a focus on the bigger picture of conquering Westeros (especially if he had grander designs based on his dreams of the eventual war with The Others).

Visenya the Conqueror - I would classify Visenya as either ENTP, The Debater or an ENTJ, The Commander. Visenya clearly valued knowledge and valued learning what she could about the world, as evidenced by her interest in the mystic arts and her travels with Aegon pre-Conquest, and like her little brother she can be incredibly goal oriented, while also being a remarkable leader on the field in her own right and very assertive and outspoken, given how willing she was to talk smack not just to Aegon but to Aenys as well. She also clearly can be argumentative and balks at control, seemingly aggressive and intolerant, and even borderline insensitive (maybe Aenys didn't wanna burn the Sept of Remembrance on the Hill of Rhaenys because it was a symbol of remembrance for his mother Visenya, come on girlie). Visenya might not have been good at emotions but she was a good problem solver, as well as creative in her solutions, and appears to have been one of the more self assured out of her siblings.

Rhaenys the Conqueror - I would classify my most beloved Rhaenys number one queen of Westeros and love and beauty and of my heart as a mix of ENJF, The Giver (specifically the assertive type) and INFP, The Mediator. Rhaenys is described as much more of an emotionally open person than either of her siblings, affectionate with her loved ones and a kindhearted person in general, and she clearly had a wide social circle and a more outgoing personality than stern Visenya and reserved Aegon. She valued her close relationships with friends and family and with Meraxes, was probably as equally involved in the big picture of conquering Westeros as Aegon was and was probably the most persuasive out of all them. She also likely had a certain sense of altruism and idealism, focusing her power on diplomacy to better the realm and being the first administrator in the Targaryen dynasty, and possibly Westerosi history, to enact any sort of law to offer any protections to women, though that idealism likely came at a cost, considering she did think that they could make Dorne submit despite the very clear warning she got from the Yellow Toad, and the consequences for her as a result. And also, in case you forgot, Rhaenys is also perfect, so jot that down. It doesn't have anything to do with MBTI types but it's important to me that everyone knows that anyway.

Orys Baratheon - I would classify Orys as an ENTJ, The Commander, given his strong leadership skills and his incredible prowess in battle, and the problem solving we know he exhibits given that he was able to hold command over armies in hostile territory without things going Too wrong for him (hand-ectomy not included). But we also know that he was an intolerant person when wrong and could easily feel embittered if he felt slighted, like with the aforementioned hand-ectomy and how that left him hardened throughout the rest of his life and desirous for revenge.

[vimbry]

I'll never be over phoenix's motivation being "I can fix him"ing his way through life

[signiorbenedickofpadua]

Writer This or That

I was tagged by @pellaaearien, thank you <3<3<3

rules: answer in a separate post

Type it up or write it down // Write during the day or write late at night // Plan it out or write it as it comes // Scheduled updates or sporadic updates // Wips in a folder or wips all over // Angst or fluff // Get to the point or long and detailed // Notes in a notebook or notes on your phone // Edit now or edit later // Beta reader or edit yourself  // Post chapters or post entire work // Music or silence // Snacks or no snacks // Tropes or new ideas // Beginning first or ending first // Show your irl friends or show your online friends // write every day or write when you’re inspired // fiction or non fiction // write for yourself or write for others 

I tag @sirnotappearinginthisblog and @scifrey, if you feel up to it <3

[scribefindegil]

When you encounter a person who does not do something that you consider normative, you need to understand that they could be either stating a barrier or expressing a boundary. A barrier is "I would like to partake of the normative activity, but I can't due to other factors." A boundary is "I have made a decision not to participate in the normative activity."

Many people do not believe that boundaries actually exist! This is why it's so common to give a clear "No" on an issue and get inundated with people saying "But have you tried-" They can't conceptualize that anyone might actually want to avoid X thing, so they assume that you totally want to do X and you would love X so much if only they could figure out a way around whatever pesky obstacle is getting in your way. But humanity contains multitudes, and for any given experience you consider vital for happiness I promise there are people who are Just Not Interested.

If someone is stating a boundary, do NOT talk about how sad their life must be, and do NOT try to push them! Just accept that their life experience is very different from your own, and isn't that a beautiful thing?

Barriers are different. Barriers suck. With boundaries, the only problem is other people being dicks. With barriers, the problem is the barrier itself . . . and probably, additionally, people being dicks. There's really not a way to win in the people being dicks department when you don't do something that other people have decided is Necessary For Humaning.

If someone is talking about a barrier they face, still don't talk about how sad their life must be, although it's fine to commiserate with a friend if they're complaining. It's hard! Some barriers are pretty insurmountable; the person might not ever get to do X even though they want to. And a lot of people don't believe that this kind of barrier exists either; we're very much taught that you can do anything if you try hard enough, when that is simply not true. If someone tells you that they can't do something, listen to them and respect that.

The only reason for not doing X that people really acknowledge as real are the surmountable barriers. And these are real, but even in these cases you should always assume that the person knows themself best and not give advice unless they've specifically asked for it. But if they have asked, it's chill to try to brainstorm solutions with them.

As someone who has both things going on, it really sucks that people tend to assume that everything is a) a barrier issue and b) that they personally have the solution to it. Don't do this.

The only way you can tell if something is a boundary or a barrier is to listen to people and believe them.

Example:

If you offer someone a drink and they say, "No thanks . . . I haven't really found anything that I like yet," (barrier, potentially surmountable) it is probably cool to ask them if they're open to trying something new, and if they say yes ask about their tastes to try to find a drink they would enjoy! They might like it or they might not.

If you offer someone a drink and they say, "I can't, it interacts with my meds," (barrier, insurmountable) you can say, "Aw, that sucks!" and offer them something nonalcoholic.

If you offer someone a drink and they say, "I don't drink," (BOUNDARY) you should give them a mocktail and shut the fuck up.

[bunnyreaper]

captain mactavish's reputation precedes him, and yet standing before you as he does now, you can't help but wonder if something got lost in translation. 

soap is a riot once you get him going! he used to be even wilder, if you can believe it.  always was up for a laugh as a sergeant!

the man before you looks a little grizzled with age--stubble growing out to a beard, face smeared with black warpaint, and yet beneath thick brows, his blue eyes still sparkle despite his glower. handsome though, still incredibly handsome--which in your mind, is a problematic trait for a captain to have, especially one commanding you. 

he chats away to one of his sergeants, seemingly unaware of your presence on the periphery. assignment to this task force is only temporary, you reassure yourself. facing the captain's offensive good looks and intimidating demeanour will last a couple of weeks at most.

taking a breath, you step forward, just outside of the circle of captain mactavish and his sergeants. all eyes fall to you, but his are the ones you can't tear your gaze from. he seems to scrutinise you for a moment, cerulean eyes flickering up and down your form.

"you on ma team?" his voice isn't what you expected, and his accent is delicious--you know you're capable of remaining professional despite it all.

"yes sir." you chirp back instantly, obediently--hoping to not get on the wrong side of your newfound crush. 

he nods once at each of his soldiers, dismissing them before turning and heading in the direction of the nearby truck. it takes a moment for you to process before your legs catch up to your thoughts and you start following the captain. 

"keep up then lass, let's go." he calls over his shoulder, before stopping at the passenger side door. 

it's strange how he opens it for you, watching with intense eyes as you pull your gun into your lap and sink into the seat. captain mactavish takes the driver's seat, and quickly gets the car going down the dirt track.

your thoughts start to flood back to you now you're settled in the truck and have a few moments to think before you really need to get your head in the game. 

was the captain not expecting your assignment? it was rather rushed, even taking you by surprise. you'd only just had the chance to ask around about the captain before you were on the next flight over. perhaps you should introduce yourself properly. 

"i'm--" 

your words are cut off before you can even get out your name. "i ken who ye are." he says, voice a little deadpan and jaw a little tight--it makes your heart fall in a way it certainly shouldn't. 

the whole situation just left you perplexed. it seemed captain john mactavish definitely contained multitudes, and the gruff man you saw before you was what you would get while you were out on the field. 

"then why did you ask if I was the one on your team?" you ask, determined to not fall silent lest the atmosphere suffocate you. 

the captain throws his hand over the back of your seat, eyes meeting yours only briefly before he checks the view out of the back of the truck and starts reversing at speed. 

"jus' wanted to hear ye say 'yes sir.'" 

he glances back to you as he jerks the car around. a smirk tugs at his lips, and then he throws you a wink as you finally get to see that playful side you were promised. "sounds so pretty coming from yer mouth, doll."