#Choosing Engaging Book Topics

[365momme]

Creating a Home Library: Inspire a Love for Reading in Your Children

As parents, one of the most valuable gifts we can give our children is a love for reading. Building a home library is not only an excellent investment in your child’s education but also a gateway to a world of imagination and knowledge. In this blog, we will guide you through the process of creating a captivating home library that will inspire your little ones to become lifelong readers. Photo…

[lady-boketto]

Gyomei Himejima General Headcanons (Sfw/Nsfw)

a/n: I hope i did this right but anyway, I have a lot of ideas but i don't really know how to right them out and his is my first time actually drumming up the courage to post anything lmao but after writing this I had a lot of fun and actually feel more confident in writing headcanons but let me know what you think! :)

SFW (Safe for Work)

Gyomei is a man who is very in tune with his feelings, so he's very attentive to your emotions and when you're not feeling quite like yourself so he likes to help you out when you're not feeling well or when you ask him to hold you, he always welcomes you into his strong arms with a warm smile on his face

when someone comes to confide in him, Gyomei is more of the type of person to listen to your problems or stories that you want to tell him than he is at trying to come up with topics or solutions to talk about but he will comfort you with ressasuring words if he feels like you need it and always has a warm smile on his face when you approach him

Sometimes when Gyomei has time to himself to relax and unwind in his own space it is often interrupted by someone (his comrades or you, his beloved) not that he minds at all at their presence he actually welcomes them as he found with time that the people around him naturally gravitate towards him and tend to be comfortable enough to share stories with him which he's more than happy to listen and be engaged in anything they might say, Gyomei suspects it might be due to the mixture of his large stature and calm demeanor that people naturally feel that they are protected and puts those around him at ease

Due to people casually coming and talking to him, Gyomei is a bit of a gossip and likes to know things but doesn't really do anything with the information, he doesn't like to start drama or be around it, he would rather be spending time at home with you, he'd take a seat in the lounge area and when he has made himself comfortable he'd raise his hand out to gesture for you to come and sit with him so he can tell you all the stories he has collected since you last spoke with a wide grin on his face

He may be blind but that doesn't mean that he is completely useless, in reality Gyomei has learned how to compensate for his short comings in a way that makes the people around him forget that he is even blind

tries to hide how amused he is when you forget that he is blind (ex. when you try to show him something interesting or when you comment on how dark the room is)

he loves it when the both of you have the time to relax and enjoy each other's company, especially the warm afternoons where he can sit in the grass without a care as you are relaxing peacefully in his lap, reading out loud to him the book that you picked up from the markets while he was out on his last mission.

also there are days where he likes to sit outside ( by himself or with you) and play his shakuhachi ( it's like a flute but sounds so majestic lol) , he doesn't know a lot of songs but likes to play notes and find which ones sound good together and plays little random tunes ( sometimes he makes up lyrics to go with the melody but most times its just meaningless tunes)

Gyomei has two weaknesses and that's: you and cats. It's a struggle for him to balance the two but with persuasion ( he secretly likes to be complimented and hugs, especially when you hug his arm) he will choose you with little to slightly moderate regret to the stray he saw on his way home from his meeting with the leader and the rest of the hashira.

Gyomei especially has a fascination with the maine coon cat breed not only because they are one of the biggest breeds of cat but because they are rather social creatures like Gyomei himself, they don't mind spending time around other people. He also finds it very funny when he get to spend time with a maine coon cat and he feels them softly making biscuits on his haori when he's trying to pet the other cats or talking to you

NSFW (Not Safe for Work)

Gyomei likes to praise you in bed so that he can feel the heat rise from your skin under his large hands

not really the one to risk getting caught doing anything other than kisses on the cheek or a loving embrace in front of others

there's a whole another side behind close doors and in your shared space, he becomes more desperate for your touch and especially loves it when you roam you hands down his chest and shoulders, he blushes and softly sighs when you pay more attention to his thighs ( lightly moans if you lightly drag you nails down his mid thigh)

Gyomei's ears are very sensitive and likes to hear your voice (has a thing for your voice) so he enjoys every little noise you make for him, it ties a knot in his stomach when you lowly whisper in his ear how much you desire him and he more than happy to comply to your wants

Another area that is sensitive for Gyomei is his neck and collarbone, he can't help but squirm and firmly hold you by your waist as you are on top of him and attacking his neck with kisses and bites

The one thing he doesn't mind other people seeing is the love bites you (or hickies) leave on his neck because most people that he talks to are actually too anxious to tease him about them when they catch the sight of them peeking out of his uniform, but little do they know he knows what they are nervous about because although he can't see the chain of marks you've left, he smirks to himself as he body shivers with the slight sting of pain when he traces his fingers over his neck as he remembers your touch

Gyomei likes to rely on his other senses to please you in the bed room and due to not having the proper time to go out and meet people it has left him a little touch starved so he loves to use his mouth on your body

He wants nothing more than to kiss your body on the parts you are most sensitive to and tell you how much you brighten his world by being in it and telling you how lucky he is to call you his lover while his hands are working to bring you closer your desire of coming undone in front of him

He is a bit embarrassed to admit to you but loves to use his mouth on your chest and moans like crazy when he has one of your nipples in his mouth, also likes to feel up your hips and thighs as he works his mouth on your chest

Gyomei's favorite places to kiss you are your lips and inner thighs because he secretly love how needy and how vocal you get for him (it makes his chest swell with a sense of pride and wants nothing more than to hear you praise him more so he can do his best for you)

He doesn't like to use his full strength on you in fear of hurting you in some way, unless you specifically ask him so to do or that you managed to work him up so much that he can't control himself and has to set a boundary to show you who is in charge of the current situation by sneaking up behind you with a firm press of his hips to your behind or when his hands find their way to your neck to put a light pressure, warning you to behave for him or else he'll have to use drastic measures on you if you dare to test him further)

if you'd let him if would love to cum inside you, he likes it when you beg for him to cum inside you (the heat of the moment makes the both of you blush like crazy) especially Gyomei because he doesn't stop thrusting his hips until you're both coming down from the high of the moment (he loves to feel you spasm and eventually relax against his body)

Gyomei always makes sure to take care of you after you are both done, he's amazing at massages (he's very good with his hands) and will clean you up or run the bath for you with your favorite soaps and scented oils or he will gladly get you a glass of icy cold water with the small ice cubes that are so easy to crunch with your teeth (whatever you want or need, Gyomei is ready and willing to serve your every need)

[messylustt]

Can you write about an arguement with ethan because he got jealous and then reader and Ethan give eachother the silent treatment for days but then ethan folds first and BEGS for her attention :) thank you so much

i love desperate men

desperate jealousy — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : an jealous argument leads to a rather desperate ethan.

contents : just a heated kiss and some jealousy. wc 2.0k.

you nod, smiling at this guy you met in econ. you got paired up for an assignment, him taking the seat beside you.

throughout the discussion of topics he had slowly began to move closer, copying your smile. “are you sure we should do that topic?” you ask, relaxed in your seat.

he shrugs. “i mean it’s easy enough to get good marks.”

“true.” you say. “but that usually means that everyone else is gonna do it.” you randomly gesture at the students. “professors usually look for work that’s different.”

you had been so used to working with ethan—having been allowed to choose your own partners in the past. but this lesson your partners were chosen for you, leaving you with a guy—though cute, still wanting to find the easier way out.

as you carried on discussing, ethan watched from his seat next to some girl—his partner. “ethan.” she tries to get his attention. “i think we should do this topic.” she points at one of the possible selections.

but ethan just hums, keeping his gaze on you and the guy. he wasn’t too thrilled about the partners being different. he liked working with you, you both had similar minds. thoughts and decisions flowed easy.

“ethan.” the girl tried again, finally earning him to look away from you and to her. “why are you so distracted? i thought you were the smart one in this class.”

ethan keeps his almost solemn expression, but forces himself to face the assignment and try to engage with his partner.

at the end of the lesson, you got up from your seat. “so does that topic work?”

the guy—james—nods. “yeah, that should work. whose house should we do it at?”

“oh, i was just thinking we work in the library when we’re both free.”

james looks slightly disappointed. “but i’m usually quite busy doing other…stuff in the day. going to one of our houses in the evenings would work better for me.”

you slowly nod. “alright. um, my house is free…tomorrow evening. does that work?”

james nods, shooting you a smile. “i’ll see you then.” he says, heading down the hall. you both having walked to the exit throughout the talking.

you go to turn down the opposite way when you jump, ethan standing directly behind you. “ethan.” you breath out a sigh of relief. “hey.”

but ethan’s gaze is narrowed, glaring after your assignment partner. “are you…alright?” you slowly ask, raising a brow.

ethan shifts his gaze to you. “shame we didn’t get to work together.”

you nod. “yeah, it felt weird discussing topics with someone else.” you chuckle, adjusting the books in your grasp. “it took awhile to convince him to not do something generic.”

“hmm, same with my partner.” ethan agrees, a small smile edging his lips.

“what topic did you choose?” you ask, to which he answers, following with “we’ve decided to work in the library. not too happy bout that…with her of all people.”

“why not?” you tilt your head. “i offered the library to james but he insisted we work at one of our houses.”

ethan pauses, brows furrowing. “one of your houses?”

“yeah.” then you further mutter. “shit, i should probably clean up.”

“your house? you guys are working at your house?” ethan can’t help but let his annoyed tone slip.

you meet his gaze, a slight furrow to your brows at his tone. “yeah…”

he clenched his jaw. “you should…change that.”

“change that?” you repeat.

ethan nods. “you shouldn’t let someone like him into your house.”

“why not?” you’re genuinely confused.

“oh come on…” ethan clicks his jaw. “he’s a dick. i bet he only wants to get into your pants.”

you slightly raise your brows at his blatancy. “i’m sure you’re reading into it too much. he’ll just come, we’ll work, then he’ll go.”

“you’re not dumb, y/n.” he says pointedly. he had grown more annoyed at your persistence. “you have to have clearly seen that he was flirting with you.”

you shake your head. “we were just talking about the assignment—“

“his body language gave him away.” ethan interrupts.

you narrow your gaze. “were you watching us?”

ethan pauses for a moment. “i just…wanted to make sure he wasn’t doing that thing that you always hate.”

ah, yes, ‘the thing’ being taking full control over the assignment and making decisions without proper discussion. “well, that’s sweet…” you drift off. “but he was fine. If anything he was leaning more to the side of doing nothing.” you chuckle.

“see.” ethan is still persistent, and you’re not sure why. “he clearly won’t help you. you should change partners.”

“ethan.” you say slowly. “what’s gotten into you?”

he runs his tongue along his teeth, as he looks away a moment. “i just don’t want him taking advantage.”

you sigh. “ethan. i’m fine. he’s fine. i appreciate the concern though.” you smile. you hadn’t realised how much of a friend ethan had become over the lessons.

“do you?” he suddenly says. you’re slightly taken a back by his tone.

“ethan—“

“do you like him? is that it?” he can’t seem to control the words from slipping. his mind whirring with different possibilities.

you step back, not liking his expression. “i really don’t know why you’re acting like this.”

ethan steps closer again, his heart pulsing with anger. “do you like him?” he repeats. he’s talking down to you, and that aspect has a slight scowl forming on your face.

“so what if i like him?” you’re beginning to walk away. of course you don’t like james. but you didn’t appreciate ethan’s misplaced strong feelings about the situation and the way he displayed them.

ethan swiftly grabs your arm harshly. “seriously?”

you’ve had enough with whatever this is. so, you rip your arm away, and quickly head down the dispersing hallway.

;;

ethan fucked up. he shouldn’t have gotten angry over something he didn’t have a right to get angry over. and now you weren’t speaking to him. not that you talked much outside of classes. but when you were in them, you’d always sit beside each other.

and now you sat with james, not sparing ethan a glance. ethan gritted his teeth. it had been two days since you last spoke. you had had your ‘session’ with james at your house, and ethan was dying to know what had happened.

what had you two talked about? did you…do anything?

ethan had at first reciprocated your ignorance, not moving to speak to you either. but he had begun to grow desperate. he missed your voice. he tried to keep back, mad at you for entertaining this loser of a guy. but his control was slipping.

he glanced over at you as your head stayed down, writing notes, most likely, from the lecture. ethan tilted his head, watching as you tapped your pencil in thought, your leg moving up and down.

then he saw james walk in late, moving to take the seat beside you. but ethan quickly moved from his seat, grabbing his books as silently as possible as he took the empty seat.

you turn your head to stare at him, brows furrowing. you still didn’t know what had made ethan so angry before.

you shift your gaze back to the front of the lecture hall. ethan set his books down, the lesson continuing. james had to take ethan’s previous seat, and ethan couldn’t help but let a small smirk edge his lips.

he then glances back at you. you kept your head turned, your hair moving to hide the side of your face. ethan reaches his hand out, tucking your hair behind your ear so he could see you.

you turn to look at him, confused now. ethan’s gaze wandered your face, his eyes hooded with interest. you quickly turn your head away, staying silent.

ethan’s hand was still hovering by your ear. he then leaned closer to you, whispering, making your entire body stiffen. “can we talk after class?”

you lean away, acting as though your mind is occupied with the lecture. ethan grits his teeth. “y/n.”

you say nothing. and ethan’s resolve continues to crumble. “talk to me.” he tries to bring your face around to look at him, by a grip on your chin. but you yet again tilt your head away. you had always been stubborn. you were waiting for an apology and maybe this is what the ‘talk’ was about. but you’d rather hear it now, not him bringing you somewhere quiet.

ethan—like always—stayed persistent. “please.” you finally caught on to the desperation in his tone.

meeting his gaze, you could see his heavier breathing, his eyes focused entirely on you. you gulp, as you swat his hand away from your ear.

but he grabbed your moving hand instead. “i’ve had enough of the silent treatment.” he whispers.

you move to get your hand out of his grasp, but he just moves it under the table, holding it by his thigh. you try to move away again, but ethan just tightens his hold, looking back to the professor.

“ethan.” you hiss. “what are you doing?”

ethan’s lips curve up, his grip tightening around your hand, knowing he came out successful. “you spoke.”

you grit your teeth. ethan’s hand began to travel up your arm, keeping you at his side as he stared, only half reading the words written on the board. you shivered, his fingertips dragging across your skin.

“i’ll let go…if you say yes.” ethan says, keeping his taunting strokes along your skin.

“seriously?” you whisper.

“mhm.” ethan hums. you notice the professor walking closer to look at everyone’s progress so you quickly say “yes…alright, yes.”

ethan grins, letting go of you just as the professor nears.

;;

when the lecture ended, you began to pick up your books. ethan did the same, watching you closely. once he saw that you had your bag slung over your shoulder, he swiftly grabbed your wrist, pulling you to a more desolate part of the hallway.

you turn to him. “look ethan, i’m just conf—“

but you cut yourself off as you realise how close ethan stood. he had begun to step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your hair again. you lean away. “and you’re not helping my confusion.”

ethan’s brows furrow at your action. “i didn’t like you not talking to me.” he admitted.

you eye him. “it’s not like we talked much.”

“you started talking to james a lot more.”

you sigh. “look, if you’re gonna be all weird again, then please—“ you go to step away, but ethan quickly grabs your arm, stopping you.

“don’t go— just…” he breathes. “i���m…sorry.”

“you’re sorry?” you reiterate.

“i shouldn’t have…gotten mad.”

you slightly turn back to him. “no. you shouldn’t have. why did you?”

ethan gulps, his grip ever so slightly tightening around your arm, thinking you were gonna try and leave again.

“ethan?” you try but you can tell he’s in his head, thinking a mile a minute.

“i have to go.” you sigh, beginning to walk away again, but this time ethan yanks you back, his hand moving to your waist as he smashes his lips against yours.

you gasp, eyes widening. “eth—“

but you’re both stumbling back, ethan stepping forward as you stepped back, his mouth eagerly moving against yours.

a breathy sound left his lips, as he found your tongue. your eyes had rolled closed, your back hitting against the wall. ethan couldn’t help but let his hands wander your body, slipping under your shirt to graze against your bare hips.

your back unintentionally arches into him, making ethan press harder against you, one of his hands slipping to cup part of your jaw and ear, tilting your head how he wanted.

when you break for air, your chest is heaving, butterflies having swarmed your stomach, you speak. “ethan…i didn’t…i—“

“shut up.” he breathlessly whispered, eagerly capturing your lips again. her lips do taste like everything sweet—ethan thinks to himself, as he grinned against your mouth.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Tips On How To Be A High-Value Woman

Table of Contents:

Prioritize Your Self-Respect Above All Else

Set & Uphold Clear Boundaries in Every Area of Life

Make A Deliberate Effort To Discover Your Values, Passions, & Boundaries

Build A Strong Personal Brand & Cult of Personality

Center All Aspects of Your Health & Well-Being

Read, Study, & Build A Strong Skillset

Consistently Invest in Your Appearance

Remain Dedicated To Lifelong Learning

Personalize Your Interactions & Learn Proper Etiquette

Master The Art of Engaging Conversation

Become Extremely Discreet Yet Utterly Shameless

Embrace Growth Without Succumbing To Your Perfectionist Expectations

HOW TO BE A HIGH-VALUE WOMAN:

Prioritize Your Self-Respect Above All Else: Get goals and standards that align with your needs in every area of life (career, finances, physical/mental/sexual health, emotional well-being, friends, family, intimate relationships, self-development). Express and act in alignment with your standards and dreams. Don't allow the displeasure of others to dictate your actions or daily activities.

Set & Uphold Clear Boundaries in Every Area of Life: State them calmly and clearly. "No" is a complete sentence. Reciprocate this effort to others. Practice the art of discernment, differentiation, and interdependence. Get to know yourself, and learn how to observe your needs independently of others' expectations and desires.

Make A Deliberate Effort To Discover Your Values, Passions, & Boundaries: Figure out what matters most to you in life. What activities, topics, aesthetics, art, clothing, hobbies, sounds, movements, books, television shows, movies, songs, and types of conversations most light you up inside? Here are some resources to guide your self-discovery journey HERE, HERE, and HERE.

Build A Strong Personal Brand & Cult of Personality: I have more tips on building your personal brand, creating your persona (or ‘Dream Girl archetype’), and an ultimate Femme Fatale playbook linked HERE, HERE, and HERE.

Center All Aspects of Your Health & Well-Being: Physical, Mental, Emotional, Sexual, and Spiritual. Celebrate your needs – they make you human. Eat a healthful, plant-based diet, exercise and walk daily, meditate, read at least 10 pages a day, journal, make to-do lists, declutter your space, self-pleasure, recite your affirmations, lean into shadow and mirror work, create morning and nighttime routines. Feeling in alignment is essential to allowing your magnetic aura to shine through. Find all my tips to cultivate self-regard in every area of life HERE.

Read, Study, & Build A Strong Skillset: Designing the life of your dreams is an inevitable aspect of living in your queen energy. Stay informed, read books and articles on your industry, interests, current events, cultural happenings, history, and any other topic that brings you joy or you would find intriguing if someone brought up the subject at a dinner party. Mastering an evergreen skillset is essential for succeeding in your career or building a business. Living in your queen energy means living in abundance. While queen energy is a mindset, it is impossible to fully live in this dream reality without having passions and your finances in order. Start with my entire Femme Fatale booklist HERE and guide to building your dream career HERE.

Consistently Invest in Your Appearance: Choose between investing time, money, or extra effort into upkeeping a polished style, beauty, grooming, and physique-maintaining routine. Wear clean, wrinkle-free, well-fitting clothes – styled and accessorized in a way that appears thoughtful & put together with impeccable grooming (clean hair, nails, skin, etc.). Stay consistent with your beauty/makeup/skincare routines, smelling nice daily, and maintain a scheduled routine (weekly, monthly, every 6 weeks, etc.) for specific treatments that make your life easier and make all the difference. These practices don't need to cost a lot of money. You choose to spend more money, time, or effort on these practices, depending on your personal preferences and based on your lifestyle and circumstances.

Remain Dedicated To Lifelong Learning: Make it a priority to read a few articles and 10 pages of a book daily. Ensuring keep up with your learning & education on different topics and the world is fulfilling and enables you to enter into a wider pool of conversations. This practice also strengthens your mind, sharpens focus, and helps your brain relax.

Personalize Your Interactions & Learn Proper Etiquette: Address people by name, and offer a firm handshake. Maintain eye contact. Say "please" and "thank you." RSVP promptly. Communicate clearly and compassionately. Make the person feel special and like the only individual in the room while introducing yourself. It’s the secret to leaving a lasting impression, 

Master The Art of Engaging Conversation: Prioritizing self-presentation, learning how to listen, holding your own, and encouraging others to feel relaxed are the secrets to becoming magnetic in any social situation. Be mindful of how much you listen (more) and speak (less). Carefully consider your tonality and word choice. Remember and recounter the small details of another person’s anecdote that felt important to them. Acknowledge their emotions and validate them. Read more of my tips HERE. 

Become Extremely Discreet Yet Utterly Shameless: Do as you please, but keep your business (or pleasure) to yourself. Privacy is peace, power, bliss, and radiates quiet confidence – the greatest telltale sign that someone is living in her queen energy. Learn to hold your own. You will be guaranteed to earn respect within seconds of gracing anyone's presence.

Embrace Growth Without Succumbing To Your Perfectionist Expectations: Remember that every skill, successful relationship, and goal takes time and experience. No one has it all figured out. It’s okay if you’re not where you expected to be or desire to be at this stage of your life. Stop comparing yourself – we all have our own paths. Choose to do one small thing every day to make your life better – either a step towards reaching a goal or indulging in a deep desire. Ensure there's a healthy (not necessarily equal) balance between the two. Leave your future self better than you found your past self. Express compassion towards yourself and acknowledge that you’re doing your best. Everything starts to make considerably more sense in hindsight. 

[bloomingdayswithyou]

can I make a request for obey me? How the 7 brothers would flirt with a female mc? thanks!!!

How would the brothers flirt with MC

Author’s note: I usually would do only 3, but I couldn’t choose so I just did all of them <3

You can check pt. 2 with other characters here

1. Lucifer:

Lucifer's flirting style with mc includes a balance of refinement and intellectual charm. He values intelligence and elegance and appreciates those qualities on a person.

When flirting with her, Lucifer would often invite her to formal events, treating her like a lady. He would extend his arm for a graceful dance or engage her in sophisticated conversations during lavish parties.

Lucifer's compliments would focus on her intellect, wit, and ability to handle complex matters.

He would appreciate her for that, acknowledging her opinions and valuing her insights.

His admiration for her would manifest through thoughtful gestures, such as presenting her with rare books or inviting her to join him in discussions about literature, history or other topics.

In private moments, however, Lucifer might reveal his vulnerable side, opening up about the pressures of his role as the Avatar of Pride and expressing how mc’s presence brings him solace.

He might engage her in philosophical debates, relishing the intellectual simulation their conversations provide.

2. Mammon:

His flirtatious behavior towards mc is filled with playful banter and a hint of protectiveness.

He adores mc and is often torn between wanting to impress her and teasing her relentlessly.

He would refer to her as “Princess” or “Darlin’”, playfully using terms like these to establish a sense of familiarity and affection.

Mammon’s attempts at impressing her would involve flashy gifts or extravagant gestures. He might sweep her off her feet with surprises, like organizing a private fireworks display or reserving an entire amusement park for a day of exclusive fun.

Despite his nature, his possessiveness would become evident when other people show interest in mc. He would make it his mission to get all of her attention, constantly reminding her of his affection and playfully challenging anyone who dares to come close.

While his flirting includes teasing and cheeky compliments about mc’s appearance, he also has moments of vulnerability where he reveals his fears and insecurities.

Being the Avatar of Greed, he might struggle with self-stem and worry that he isn’t enough for mc.

In these moments, mc’s reassurance and genuine care would mean the world to him, and he would shower her with affection, showcasing his genuine feelings.

3. Leviathan:

Levi’s approach to flirting with mc revolves around their shared interests and virtual escapades.

He appreciates her understanding and acceptance of his passion for games and anime, finding solace in her presence.

When flirting, Levi would invite her to gaming sessions, exploring various virtual worlds together and experiencing thrilling adventures side by side.

He would discuss strategy and tactics with her, valuing her insights and appreciating her ability to think strategically.

Levi might recommend new games or anime that he thinks she would enjoy, taking pleasure in introducing her to his favorite titles.

In the virtual realm, he would be more confident and expressive, allowing their connection to flourish.

As their bond deepens, Levi might shyly confess his affection, expressing how grateful he is to have found someone who appreciates his hobbies and understands him.

He would reveal the extent of his vulnerability, sharing stories of his struggles with social interactions and the comfort he finds in their companionship.

In these moments, Levi’s affectionate side shines through, and he becomes more open and expressive about his feelings.

4. Satan:

His flirting style centers around intellectual and literary pursuits.

As an avid reader, Satan is drawn to her intellect and curiosity. He finds joy in their shared love for books and knowledge, viewing her as a kindred spirit.

When flirting, Satan would recommend books, poems, or thought-provoking articles that he thinks mc would appreciate, sparking engaging discussions between them.

They might spend time in the library together, exchanging ideas and delving into deep conversations about their favorite authors or literary theories.

Satan would value her insights and opinions, seeking her perspectives on various subjects. His compliments would focus on her intelligence, insightfulness, and the stimulating discussions they have.

His affectionate side would surface when they are alone, away from the prying eyes of his demon brothers.

In these private moments, he would reveal his vulnerabilities, sharing personal stories and embracing her as a trusted confidant.

He might express his gratitude for her presence in his life, describing how she brings balance to his sometimes chaotic emotions.

Satan’s flirting would Inter wine with profound conversations, creating a deep emotional connection between them.

5. Asmodeus:

Asmo would employ his instinct for glamour and beauty to captivate mc.

He finds joy in adorning others with his fashion expertise and takes pride in enhancing their appearance. When flirting, Asmo would offer fashion advice, helping her choose stylish outfits that accentuate her features and personality.

He might even design unique ensembles for her, showcasing his creativity and attention to detail.

Asmo would plan spa days or makeovers, pampering mc with luxurious treatments that make her feel like a queen.

He would compliment her on her beauty, highlighting her elegance and grace. As the Avatar of Lust, his flirtatious remarks would often revolve around her physical appearance, but he would also emphasize the beauty he sees within her, appreciating her inner radiance.

Beyond the superficial, Asmo is also caring and affectionate. He would create a safe space for mc, encouraging her to open up about her dreams, desires and insecurities.

He would showe her with compliments, recognizing her strengths and making her feel cherished and desired.

Asmo would revel in romantic gestures, believing that love should be celebrated and expressed in a bold way.

6. Beelzebub:

His flirting style revolves around shared meals and engaging in physical activities together.

He find comfort in their companionship and appreciates mc’s understanding of his insatiable appetite.

When flirting, Beel would invite her to try delicious foods, cooking for her or taking her to the best entries in the demon realm.

They might embark on culinary adventures, discovering unique flavors and bonding over shared gastronomic experiences. Beel might challenge her to eating contests, playfully competing with her while sharing hearty laughs.

Through these activities, he would express his desire to experience the hoys of life with her by his side.

In addition to this, Beel would encourage her to participate in physical activities like sports, workouts, our outdoor adventures.

He would cherish their time together and celebrate their shared interests. Beel’s flirtatious gestures would often be accompanied by his infectious laughter and warmth, creating and atmosphere of happiness and friendship.

7. Belphegor

Belphie’s flirtatious behavior towards mc is infused with humor, laziness, and a touch of mischief.

He often appears uninterested but secretly keeps an eye on her, observing her every move.

When flirting, Belphie would playfully tease her, pretending to be uninterested while dropping hints of his affection to catch her attention.

He might engage in witty banter, using his dry wit and sarcasm to make her laugh. Belphie would suggest fun and relaxed activities that cater to their shared laziness, such as napping together, binge-watching shows, or enjoying lazy afternoons under a shared blanket.

In these moments, he would create a comfortable and lighthearted atmosphere, allowing mc to feel at ease in his presence.

Belphie’s flirtation would often involve subtle gestures that express his care and protectiveness.

He might fall asleep next to mc, subconsciously seeking her warmth and companionship. His mischief would give away to moments of vulnerability, where he reveals his true emotions and the depth of his feelings.

Belphie would cherish mc’s ability to accept him for who he is and would shower her with affectionate gestures that reflect his genuine care and admiration.

.

.

.

[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: Cyno and Alhaitham Liking the Same Person

Mutual Respect: Despite their rivalry, Cyno and Alhaitham have a strong mutual respect for each other’s abilities and intellect. This admiration becomes complicated when they both develop feelings for the same person, their S/O. Instead of outright hostility, they find themselves navigating this unexpected emotional territory with cautious rivalry.

Differing Approaches to Courtship: Cyno is direct and straightforward, often expressing his feelings with bold actions and words. He might invite their S/O on adventures, showcasing his protective nature and dedication. Alhaitham, however, takes a more subtle approach, engaging their S/O in deep discussions and offering thoughtful gestures, like sharing books or insights on topics they’re passionate about.

Slightly Awkward Tension: The tension between Cyno and Alhaitham becomes palpable whenever they are in the same room with their S/O. Cyno might try to impress them with his skills in combat or strategy, while Alhaitham counters with clever observations and intellectual challenges. Their S/O often finds it amusing and somewhat chaotic to witness the two competing for their attention.

Friendly Rivalry: Instead of animosity, their rivalry is marked by playful banter. Cyno might jokingly challenge Alhaitham to a duel, saying something like, “Let’s see who can protect our S/O better,” while Alhaitham would calmly retort, “Protection isn’t just about strength, Cyno. It’s about strategy.” Their S/O appreciates the humor in their interactions, finding it endearing rather than confrontational.

Moments of Jealousy: Cyno’s more expressive nature leads to moments of jealousy, especially when he sees Alhaitham effortlessly charming their S/O with his intellect. Cyno may try to counter this by sharing more about his own knowledge and experiences, often with a hint of competitive spirit. Alhaitham, on the other hand, remains composed, but there’s a flicker of irritation when Cyno gets too much attention.

Supportive Rivalry: Both Cyno and Alhaitham ultimately want what’s best for their S/O. If one of them is struggling to connect, the other might step in to help. For instance, if Cyno realizes he’s coming on too strong, he might back off and let Alhaitham have a moment, thinking it could be beneficial for their S/O to hear some wisdom. Alhaitham, in turn, might make room for Cyno’s exuberance, knowing it brings joy to their S/O.

Shared Interests: Their S/O often finds that both Cyno and Alhaitham have unique qualities that complement each other. While Cyno brings excitement and passion, Alhaitham offers stability and insight. This makes their S/O feel cherished, as they can appreciate different aspects of both personalities.

Communication: Eventually, both Cyno and Alhaitham realize that being honest about their feelings is essential. They might sit down and agree to be open with their S/O, acknowledging their feelings and the potential awkwardness it brings. This conversation strengthens their bond, leading to a deeper understanding of each other’s perspectives.

The S/O’s Choice: Ultimately, their S/O appreciates both of them for different reasons and finds themselves torn between the two. They admire Cyno’s fierce loyalty and bravery, as well as Alhaitham’s intelligence and calm demeanor. The situation pushes them to think carefully about what they want in a partner.

Conclusion: In the end, whether their S/O chooses one of them or finds a way to build a relationship that includes both, Cyno and Alhaitham’s mutual respect and camaraderie remain intact. The rivalry transforms into a partnership where they learn from each other and grow, ensuring that their S/O feels loved and appreciated by both.

[antianakin]

Am I the only one who just lost any and all love for newer Star Wars material due to Jedi hate ? Like- the only merch or show or even FANDOM topic I get involved in is clone wars stuff and MAYBE TBB. Like- why would I want the watch shows who attempt to rewritte canon and portray the very heroes of Star Wars as the bad guys ?

Why would I want to watch shows that assassinate characters left and right (looking at you, Ahsoka and Sabine) ? Why would I want to buy merch of characters who I not only NOT care about, but who also are used as meta mouthpieces for stupid Jedi hate ?

I think there's TONS of good newer Star Wars material, to be honest.

I loved the Kenobi show and it is arguably one of the most pro Jedi pieces of media to have existed since the Prequels films. Aside from one itty bitty somewhat awkward word choice in one line of one episode, there is absolutely NOTHING in that show that can be used to indict the Jedi or blame them for anything and it is arguably one of the only shows to really spend time MOURNING the Jedi and recognizing the horror of what was done to them. Rebels comes closest after this, but its structure makes it a little less visceral than the Kenobi show was to me.

I really adore Visions and I recognize that this is sort-of Star Wars adjacent more than anything else, but SO LITTLE truly understands what makes Star Wars compelling as a story and really hits on those primary themes the way that Visions does. There's SO MUCH Jedi content in Visions and I remember people complaining about how much Jedi content was in Visions and other people responding that if you were given free reign to just play in the Star Wars sandbox with near zero restrictions on what you could make with it, you would probably ALSO immediately go for the psychic space wizards with laser swords. Who WOULDN'T? Visions also just genuinely has some of the most engaging and heart-wrenching stories to come out of Star Wars in a LONG while and it does it in these beautifully animated 15 minute packages. It's such a gem and I am so glad to be alive at the same time as Visions.

Rogue One is older now, but both Rogue One and Andor, despite having zero actual Jedi in them, really hinge on the themes from the Prequel trilogy about the tragedy in the Star Wars universe, stepping up when no one else will, choosing to be selfless and compassionate for the greater good, etc. Faith and hope are MASSIVE themes within these two works and even though there aren't any space wizards, good or evil, in either story, they feel like some of the most pro Jedi things Star Wars has come out with in a while based on thematic messages ALONE.

The Mandalorian's first two seasons actually have this absolutely BEAUTIFUL story about the selfless sacrifice of one man as he gives up everything in order to help this child find his way back to the culture he'd been ripped from. Everything AFTER that regarding Grogu and Din's storyline is a piece of shit (it's not explicitly anti-Jedi or anything, but it undoes a lot of the things that made their story so compelling and beautiful), but the first two seasons are genuinely GOOD and very pro Jedi in a lot of ways despite the lack of many actual Jedi characters.

The Book of Boba Fett is a terrible show for a LOT of reasons, but shockingly none of them have anything to do with its treatment of the Jedi. If it ever ends up with a season two, I desperately hope they leave Mace Windu's name the fuck out of it, but at this point it is a pretty Jedi neutral show if you're willing to deal with the rest of its bullshit.

Rebels is also somewhat older now, and it has a few lines here and there that are a tad more Jedi critical, but it is by and large VERY Jedi positive and does also follow a lot of the themes of selflessness and sacrifice that go along with being a Jedi. It also has themes of mercy and patience and facing your fears in Sabine's storyline that got entirely thrown away in her later storyline. Just thought that was worth pointing out. For reasons.

TBB is also fairly Jedi neutral, but its treatment of the clones is basically the clone version of being anti Jedi, so I'm not sure it's actually any better. It just traded hating on the Jedi to hating on the clones, and I find that just as distasteful.

I can't really speak to things like comics and novels much since I don't tend to consume them really. I've read a few of the adult novels in the High Republic Phase I and the first one was genuinely very good, but there were some relatively heavy-handed Jedi critical themes within the third book of Phase I (The Fallen Star) that put me off of it a little. I haven't continued into Phase II or III at all, so I have no idea if those themes got continued in later books. I've heard generally good things about the Padawan book, I think.

The Cal Kestis video games, Fallen Order and Survivor, also have their small Jedi critical moments, but much like Rebels, it has these massive overarching themes and messages about compassion and selflessness and sacrifice and facing your fears and mercy. They are immensely Jedi positive in a lot of ways and I really enjoyed both of them.

So out of everything I have seen (and know about) the only stuff that's truly heinously and insultingly anti-Jedi is the Ahsoka show, the Acolyte, and Tales of the Jedi. Three shows and like 30% of one book. Out of a list of like ten different shows and one film and some books and video games. It's not even really HALF of the content we've been getting recently.

A lot of people talk about the Disney era like it's ruined Star Wars, or like nothing it releases has ever been good. But it just straight up isn't true. It's a little insulting to all of the genuinely wonderful work that is being done by all of these other creators to just brush aside everything that's been coming out recently as awful and bad because some of the MOST recent things have been pretty explicitly hateful towards the Jedi. It's not fun that we had the Ahsoka show immediately followed by the Bad Batch followed by the Acolyte. I hate that, too, it feels like we're on this neverending shitshow of stories explicitly aimed at hating a group of characters for no obvious good reason. But I don't think that the last 6 months or so of bullshit should overshadow some of the really beautiful stories we HAVE gotten within the last several years.

If you feel like things are getting difficult, maybe do a "good Star Wars" marathon of sorts. Watch the Prequels, followed by the Kenobi show, then Andor, then Rebels, then Rogue One, then the Original trilogy. This one long beautiful story of people stepping up to fight against selfishness and greed and darkness no matter what.

Or go rewatch Visions or read some of your favorite fanfics and remember all the things about Star Wars that are just universally cool and compelling across the world. Hell, you can try writing something of your own! Anything! A lot of my AU concepts stemmed from spite and really helped me feel a little bit better about Star Wars when it sometimes felt like I was just surrounded by the parts of it I liked the least. Go buy yourself a cool t-shirt or some fun jewelry. Find some pretty stickers and put it on a water bottle or an enamel pin to put on a canvas tote bag or a corkboard.

Curating your fandom experience goes beyond just the internet. There's a reason I am boycotting the Acolyte and it isn't because I think Disney or its creators are going to care at all. I'm doing it for ME, because I had such a shitty time watching the Ahsoka show and it made me so miserable each week that I seriously think I will be better off just leaving it the hell alone and just absorbing whatever ends up crossing my dash from a distance. I only participate in Star Wars fandom servers that I feel safe in and only really get into discussions with personal friends who I know well. If participating in Star Wars fandom is making you sad, maybe take a step back or find a way to create your own corner of fandom that feels better. Ignore the damn Ahsoka show, pretend it never existed. Ignore the Acolyte. Ignore Tales of the Jedi. Ignore Filoni-related bullshit. Focus on the parts you DO like, or give yourself the space to remember why you liked it in the first place.

[themedialmercurial]

Asteroid Novalis (8052) and your preferred literature choices

Asteroid Novalis represents our favourite type of books to read (hence "novel") and potentially our preferred writing style if we choose to engage in such a task. The House placement is indicative of the reason(s) why you actively engage in reading.

In other news, it's good to be back (kinda)! School's been really busy so I have to of course put my focus mostly on that😅

NOVALIS IN ARIES You have a preference for fast-paced, energetic and action-packed books as you tend to get bored easily if otherwise. You'll also like books through which you can find elements you relate to.

NOVALIS IN TAURUS You have a preference for predictable books, ones through which offer practicality. Also, you'll like books with an artistic flare and descriptions (makeup, furniture, architecture, etc)

NOVALIS IN GEMINI

You have a preference for books that challenge what you think you may already know. With your flexible mental nature, you'll thrive reading educational books.

NOVALIS IN CANCER

You have a preference for books that remind you of a cozy home environment and your family. You seek literature that is nurturing and tugs at your heartstrings.

NOVALIS IN LEO

You have a preference for dramatic books, ones by which there is a great plot twist. You overall love books that are fun (I know this isn't a book but Disenchantment comes to mind bc there's literally no rules, just fun lol)

NOVALIS IN VIRGO

You have a preference for books that serve of use for your personal likes. You like books that are deeply detailed and analyze whichever topic is being studied. Devils advocate comes to mind.

NOVALIS IN LIBRA You have a preference for harmonious books, ones through which the characters are all treated equally. You would also like bits of romance.

NOVALIS IN SCORPIO You have a preference for dark books (true crime and mystery come to mind), ones that aren't afraid to hold back. You enjoy the intensity and passionate nature of such literature.

NOVALIS IN SAGITTARIUS

You have a preference for books that make you feel hopeful, ones through which you can metaphorically take a trip to a new destination. You enjoy fantasy-like books.

NOVALIS IN CAPRICORN You have a preference for books that offer structure in your life. Self help books come to mind, ones in which inform you on how to become more disciplined in your life.

NOVALIS IN AQUARIUS

You have a preference for books that challenge the status quo and are rebellious in nature. Dystopian-style books such as The Hunger Games and The Maze Runner come to mind as not only do they challenge societal norms, they offer to help people in the process.

NOVALIS IN PISCES You have a preference for books that act as an escape from reality, such as magical and fantasy genres. You too could enjoy literature pertaining to spirituality and your beliefs.

~Why you may enjoy reading~

NOVALIS 1H

As a means of self-improvement, personality growth and glow-up opportunity

NOVALIS 2H

As a means of growing your finances, learning financial literacy and how to manage your belongings

NOVALIS 3H

As a means of improving communicative ability and to be more efficient in self-expression

NOVALIS 4H

As a means of gaining awareness of ones heredity (particularly the mother), traditions and roots.

NOVALIS 5H

As a means of unlocking your creativity, a side hobby (just for fun)

NOVALIS 6H

As a means of necessity (for work/employment), to improve health overall (nutrition, physicality)

NOVALIS 7H

As a means of recreating romantic opportunities (or manifesting such)

NOVALIS 8H

As a means of exploring topics considered as taboo, to transform as a person, or just smut lol

NOVALIS 9H

As a means of growth, learning about other cultures (places and languages), philosophy, religion, upper education, indulging in social media

NOVALIS 10H

As a means of developing ones reputation, improving career, involving authority

NOVALIS 11H

As a means of achieving ones dreams, manifestation tactic (imagining your dream life through the litterature)

NOVALIS 12H

As a means of exploring ones fears, secrecy and privacy.

I have Novalis in Gemini 9H and I find that it resonates. I tend to read smaller articles online and, since I'm very curious by nature, I love literature that goes against what I thought I already knew

What's your Novalis placement? Does it resonate? Let me know in the comments🤍🤍

[ming-sik]

Please please PLEASE I need to know your thoughts on the characters that got shafted by both the narrative and fanfics. Sylvester. Magdalena. Florencia. Charlotte. Kinda sorta Hannelore (poor girl gets reduced to cutesy cheerleader for Myne to fawn over or smth in fics).

fool that you are, you have unsealed pandora's box and happened upon a topic i have a lot of thoughts about. i haven't read much aob fanfic so this is going to be mostly complaints i have with canon.

the main complication in my thoughts towards charlotte and hannelore is that there's a difference between rozemyne the character and the narrative of ascendance of a bookworm. rozemyne as a character has a LOT of internalized misogyny which compounds with an attraction to women and a disconnection to being a girl herself into the unique maelstrom of her more or less viewing other female characters through how good they are at being a cute girl/how much they like her. this means that while she's very complimentary towards charlotte and hannelore, she's also completely uninterested in them outside of their 1) being cute, 2) liking her, and 3) liking books. when her and wilfried's engagement is first announced she's shocked that charlotte is upset because rozemyne said she would support her because it just didn't occur to her that charlotte might want to aim for the archducal seat. rozemyne puts in a ton of legwork to rescue wilfried and put him back on the path to success, but she doesn't even consider trying to find a solution that allows charlotte the archducal seat without wilfried being ruined. i get that she doesn't want him in the temple initially, but after he improves you really think she would at least try to see if having him serve as the high bishop was an option especially at the dozen or so points in the story where everyone is despairing over the lack of manpower. charlotte is florencia's daughter so she wouldn't jeopardize florencia's position, she's better suited to the role, has no stain on her record, the leisegangs don't actively hate her, and, most importantly, she's the only one who actively shows interest in being the aub! and rozemyne not only doesn't try to help her achieve her dream, she doesn't even take enough of an interest in charlotte to notice it, let alone anything else about her except that she's a cute little sister. in fact, she actively diminishes charlotte's accomplishments and likes feeling superior to her.

the thing is that i have not yet started criticizing the story. rozemyne is allowed to be a deeply flawed character who is sometimes actively cruel to likable characters, but my problem lies with the fact that this cruelty doesn't go anywhere. i genuinely don't think aob realizes that rozemyne is mistreating charlotte or that as it currently stands the ehrenfest archducal family spent like the entire royal academy arc following step by step instructions for Georgine 2. having charlotte just grudgingly accept this because she admires rozemyne and doesn't think she has another option until the engagement gets canceled is, i guess, accurate to ascendance of a bookworm's setting where systemic misogyny means that only evil female characters get pissed off if they're screwed over, but that's... bad, both narratively and if you want your stories to treat women like people. i want charlotte to snap! in my rewrite i would give her and sylvester a running conflict where charlotte's mirroring georgine shows that sylvester still doesn't understand why georgine is the way she is and forces him to either reexamine his sexism or deal with the fact that this time he can't wholly blame the monster he created on veronica. i want them to fight! and i want her and rozemyne to fight, i want charlotte to challenge rozemyne's view of her and force rozemyne to choose between reexamining the way she treats cute girls or losing her adoring little sister. the fact that neither of these conflicts happen mean that charlotte as a character really just doesn't get to do anything. they do not let her cook a single time. she's sitting on the bench with the mountain of really interesting character conflicts and story conflicts she could have had as the first sympathetic major female character who is actually trying to become the aub(which i would have additional machinations for in my extensive "what if aob was communist" AU but that's not relevant right now), and instead everyone's like "let's check in on how wilfried's doing, does anyone wanna see wilfried continue to be bad at a job he doesn't even want".

hannelore gets basically the same treatment from rozemyne, and similarly my problem is basically that hannelore has no problem with this. her being a cute petite shy girl despite being from the ditter duchy is at best an interesting starting point for a character, but aob has decided to explore systemic misogyny in feudalism by reducing the majority of its female characters to props who really only exist in relation to their male family members(or rozemyne), which, again, i find boring! i just think it's very convenient how despite rozemyne saying over and over how aggressive dunkelfelger women are, the only active dunkelfelgerian female character for the majority of the story is really meek and quiet. genuinely i would almost entirely write out lestilaut and give the majority of his stuff to hannelore since he's mainly acting on what he thinks hannelore wants anyway. in my mind hannelore's first major character action is to challenge rozemyne to ditter for the ownership of schwartz and weiss, rozemyne takes her lightly because she's a cute girl, and then nearly gets crushed until she pulls out the lord of evil strats before collapsing, after which point hannelore freaks out and it's revealed that she's not an antagonist, she just thought the shumils were cute and wanted to be their owner, at which point rozemyne invites her to join the library committee. in general dunkelfelger having less of a sharp gender divide than ehrenfest because both men and women are expected to be muscleheads is like the most gimme way to actually show cultural differences between duchies and actually iterate on yurgenschmidt's society allegedly prioritizing skill and mana over gender(and this keeps almost being implemented only for aob to never really go anywhere with it). rozemyne keeps trying to fit hannelore into the box of a cute feminine girl by her standards which provides friction between them because hannelore IS a cute feminine girl by dunkelfelger standards. she doesn't have to actively fight with rozemyne over this the way i want charlotte to, but i really wish she had more of a presence in the story and also EVERYONE in dunkelfelger thinking that rozemyne loves ditter and the only reason she has to refuse is because of her physical weakness would be so much funnier if the primary source of misunderstanding is that she keeps not realizing she's agreeing to play ditter until it's too late because she's blinded by hannelore's cuteness. everyone else is like "rozemyne you have to stop accepting her challenges rozemyne you're going to lose trade rights to rinsham" and rozemyne is like "i didn't realize a 'summer tea party' was a dunkelfelger womens' euphemism for ditter :(". this is the only rewrite that i think wouldn't require a total overhaul of aob's structure and that fits with the series' overall comedic tone.

florencia has the unfortunate problem that she exists entirely in relation to sylvester and elvira, which means that when the two of them have their interesting edges sanded away her stocks crash through the floor. florencia serves as the bridge between sylvester and the world outside of the eye of veronica's storm, she is simultaneously the only person he fully trusts and someone who felt the full force of veronica's abuse, so you really think that'd go somewhere and that his arc would involve him realizing there's aspects of her that up until now he hasn't been forced to deal with and her arc would exist. instead mostly she's just written as either elvira's bestie or sylvester's handler, to the point that when aob goes all in on child marriage during brunhilde's proposal florencia isn't even in the room. the end of the stick she gets is so short it can only be seen by a microscope. i don't even really understand how you could hate her aside from i guess wanting wilfried's neglect to be her fault? which it isn't! it's, for the most part, sylvester's.

and oh boy sylvester. his squandered potential is unmatched and i will never not be mad about it. what they did to my man is a crime and if it isn't it should be.

like okay firstly i re-read the brother sylvester segment recently and i was NOT imagining it, there's no way in hell sylvester was always meant to only be against pedophilia because he's a wife guy. during his introduction when myne asks if he's going to the orphanage to look for flowers he is specifically upset that someone her age is thinking about that, and counters it by saying that he's skilled enough to find girls in the noble's quarters. the second part is relevant because it means that it's not the wife guy thing, which leaves only the first thing. firstly, his reaction being disgust implies that this is a moral issue for him, and his citing her age specifically makes it clear that's his sticking point, which rules out it being that it's sex outside of wedlock or that he finds temple girls unclean(in fact it also implies that he only wants girls with equal or greater social status to him who can therefore say no). the reason this is interesting to me is that this is very weird in noble society. ferdinand actually spells this out at one point when benno is similarly disgusted by rozemyne being implied to be his lover, where he says that it's a normal age gap in noble society and that it must not be among commoners, which benno doesn't contest, implying that this is true, and it appears to be! from the pairings we see, it seems that overall, commoner marriages are almost all unrelated adults, which makes sense, because most people do that unless systemic forces incentivize them to do something else, and implies that aob is commenting on the fact that pedophilia/incest in historical political marriages were not naturalistic, but instead something that was mandated by the specific way the system of hereditary feudalism works where marriage is a tool to connect political pieces and therefore you can't afford to be picky about how well those pieces match and in fact the power gaps that come with that are often actively useful to prevent bonds from being broken. that's what i meant when i said awhile ago that i was willing to see where aob was taking things! which made it all the more interesting when sylvester showed up and seemed to be showing that this was going to be a conflict that was explored in more detail.

to go all the way back to foundations, my reading of the prior gen archducal family is that sylvester as a character is the way he is primarily due to the fact that the aggressive favoritism veronica raised him with shielded him from a lot of the abuse their system mandates at the cost of harshening the abuse on everyone outside of him, which puts him in a really paradoxical position. on the one hand, he's fervently idealistic and puts almost no importance on his archducal status, so he's basically never intentionally cruel, but he's also ignorant to a lot of issues and is incredibly bad at reading people specifically because nobody whose life he can ruin is able to chew him out for doing that. he understands noble euphemisms, but the level of emotional concealment that everyone under him has to preserve combined with the fact that veronica actively disincentivized him from learning how to read people means that he doesn't realize when he's hurting people, and almost nobody can tell him. sylvester's quiet "sorry for not noticing" when rozemyne tells him that his attempt to cement her position by spreading printing as fast as possible was actually making things worse is probably the most direct the story gets about this.

so sylvester is a good guy! although he's irresponsible and ignorant, when it's actually revealed that he's hurting people he always tries to rectify it, and is clearly willing to sacrifice for the good of other people... but he's also the archduke, which means that regardless of his intentions, he's in control of a lot of peoples' lives, and no mistake he makes is victimless. the way their society works means that his obliviousness has a body count, including his sister.

his relationship with georgine had so much potential. georgine had her life ripped away from her after being severely abused in service of a future she's been cut off due to the existence of a completely innocent and goodhearted kid and is then forced to watch him grow up in bliss, wrecking the lives of everyone around him in the process. this is veronica's fault, obviously, but it wouldn't have felt that way. we unfortunately don't really get to see her perspective on the training she tried to give him(was she really trying to prepare him? was she trying to drag him down to her level? was it both?), but the thing is that they are both entirely justified in hating each other. sylvester was the recipient of an enormous amount of privilege that he wasn't even aware of and that came at the expense of everyone around him. simultaneously, they're not inherently bad people. there's every chance that if they were born in a different world or even as commoners, they would've been completely normal siblings. and yet they weren't, so they aren't. the first time we hear about georgine from his perspective sylvester actually says that he understands that georgine got screwed over when she was married into ahrensbach, but either that also got retconned or he didn't really understand the weight of it because for the rest of the series he just treats her like a flat antagonist. (which i think is because it was added in the LN, so maybe it just wasn't canon in the webnovel?)

i already mentioned him a lot in charlotte's section but yeah mostly i just want to give the man an actual character arc instead of having him just slowly flatten into "goofy wife guy". have his disconnect with noble society go somewhere! instead of having him realize that despite his intentions to raise his kids in the safety bubble he was raised in, the cycle of abuse is inescapable so long as the nobility persists, and instead of deciding "aw dang i guess the cycle of abuse is just inescapable then" have him question if we should have nobles! i genuinely don't get why people say aob isn't preachy. it is, it's just very conservative so its preaching is "the divine right of kings is fine but we should add capitalism" which is the default for medieval fantasy. which is bad. like is it so crazy to have his reaction to learning that there's no inherent difference between nobles and commoners through rozemyne's mere existence followed by the revelation that even orphans can become literate and skilled enough to match nobles be deciding that this distinction is perhaps completely arbitrary? when rozemyne is explaining how widespread lower class literacy revolutionized the world to ferdinand and she's like "oh but here everyone relies on nobles for mana and nobles can just use it to preach about how awesome they are" i thought that was going to be subverted because as a commoner with mana who understands that the devouring means that mana is not inherent to nobles she should know that's as false as the intelligence argument. but then it just wasn't. i will stop that for now though as i'm currently lying to you about not sneaking in an additional rant about how i would make aob communist.

back on topic, as soon as rozemyne joins noble society, aob panics and starts introducing a bunch of reasons why child marriage is actually totally ethical(i guess freida explaining why being a mistress is actually her best case scenario was supposed to be like "oh phew what a relief" and not "well that's horrifying") but because sylvester(and benno who actually gets the exact same thing done to him) has already expressed disgust at this despite having prior experience with it, suddenly it's that sylvester is just a wacky silly weirdo who only wants to be married to florencia because he just loves her that much. although he is obviously in complete agony when he says that if she and wilfried can't put up with each other she'll have to marry him, why is apparently not worth going into. in fact, it'll never be worth going into again! rozemyne will continue being kinda grossed out by huge age gaps and a lot of other characters seem kinda reluctant to marry kids, but this also never goes anywhere and now that sylvester is just a Wife Guy she agrees with everyone saying that he should just take a second wife. fermyne is its own thing(SEPARATE RANT), sylvester only seems to really care about their potential relationship insomuch as it affects their reputations and by p5vol12 he's been reduced to cutesy teasing them about rumors of their love. really though the nail in the coffin on this front was brunhilde's proposal. firstly, sylvester doesn't even really do anything during it! brunhilde initiates it and rozemyne is the primary opponent(with her objections all knocked down easily and treated as ridiculous), sylvester just kind of sits there outside of being upset at the implication that he'd abuse brunhilde, and then he agrees to it and that's that. tbc i do find this morally abhorrent not least because brunhilde turns to the camera and more or less goes "you might have some objections, but let me explain why marrying a teenager is actually a great idea", but then to add insult to injury it's also narratively really weak.

and while i do think that his final scene with georgine where he's begging her to explain why she hates him when he never did anything to her and she's got "the best life a woman can have" is really impactful and i think better than him already knowing why she hates him, it's actually really weird when outside of that he hasn't had any kind of character arc and his realizations that he's been perpetuating a lot of the harm that veronica and noble society have normalized for him are shut down(mainly by ferdinand which ideally would've GONE SOMEWHERE). and then it's dropped again to go back to the boring action climax, pursued by deus ex machina. it really needed to be a turning point in sylvester's arc where he's forced to accept that georgine does not want to reconcile with him and his never needing to understand her motivations is a big part of why. if he's supposed to be a tragic character he can fail to improve, and keep convincing himself that georgine is just a simplistic force of evil who hates him for no reason, but if he is going to improve he needs to figure out why she hates him by putting effort in himself and being willing to accept that he's not a kid being bullied by his big sister anymore, he's an adult who's responsible for his own actions, a lot of which made the situation worse.

to tie things back into charlotte, the lost potential between charlotte and sylvester is staggering because HE'S DOING IT AGAIN!!!! he's doing EXACTLY what veronica did with opposite intentions, in his attempt to keep wilfried from being abused the way he was by making his future secure he ends up neglecting and exposing charlotte to veronica's abuse and then continuing to neglect her. through his inability to understand what his childhood abuse was actually caused by, he ends up abusing and neglecting all of his children, but especially charlotte. this isn't even really explored through wilfried outside of people being frustrated that sylvester is busting his ass trying to keep the incompetent wilfried as the future aub because it's the best way he can see to keep him from suffering despite it actually harming him more which IS interesting but not the way it's implemented, and rozemyne's specific situation means that she generally interacts with him like he's a boss she's on relatively friendly terms with and doesn't view him as or need him to be a parent(which also shields her from basically all of this). but despite charlotte having unquestionably the most fraught relationship with him, aob again just has her put up with this. sylvester is one of the most well fleshed-out and sympathetic abusive characters i've ever seen so it's really frustrating that charlotte, his most affected victim, just gets shoved to the side because if we had to deal with the fact that despite his good intentions sylvester spent the vast majority of the story leaving her out in the rain to focus on his golden children then he'd have to be a textually morally complex character.

although to try and speculate on why things ended up this way, a lot of this is explained by the fact that afaik aob's webnovel was solely from rozemyne's perspective without a lot of the short stories so basically everyone except rozemyne and ferdinand had all their character development patched in for the LN which is probably why nobody except them has any semblance of an arc so because rozemyne as a protagonist is so disinterested in other people, you kinda can't give characters really detailed arcs onscreen because she either zones out or stubbornly tries to keep fitting people into her boxes. it'd be different if the original story had other POVs and therefore characters could do things that she doesn't care about or that it would be weird for her to be present for(like sylvester and charlotte definitely need to clash on their own; it'd mess with the tone a lot if rozemyne had to be sitting awkwardly on the sidelines so the audience could witness it). it is possible to give characters detailed arcs that the unreliable narrator doesn't pick up on and stories with deep worlds tend to have a lot of characters doing things when the narrator isn't looking, but it's REALLY hard to have entire character arcs that the narrator doesn't pick up on work because you run the risk of either not making it so the reader can actually see that's what's happening or you make it so obvious that the unreliable narrator has to be cartoonishly wrong to avoid just being a narrator accurately describing things. i'm told there's a hannelore spinoff which might be more interesting but this series has torched so much of my goodwill towards it that after the main story wraps up i'm putting my foot down and listening to this excellent advice:

[allthegothihopgirls]

i think most of the robins bit people in fights at some point. they never really talked about it but i think it’s almost a requirement because as much as they’re all very traumatized children they’re also very feral children, in spandex suits, fighting mentally ill people, so it had to have happened a few times.

also i think damian’s one of those kids who goes up the stairs on all fours when no one is looking. let him be a weird gremlin of a kid when no one’s around

i'm not sure that 'feral' is the exact term i'd use when describing the robins, except maybe young jason. i think they're a lot more unhinged than they are feral. as much as dick was a 'circus freak', and tim rarely had attentive parental figures, and damian was raised by the league, their upbringings were still all somewhat controlled + structured.

i think that with the biting, although it goes unmentioned, bruce would notice it (and maybe touch on it not being the ideal attack to make), but apart from that i just don't think it's something they really recognise as a 'thing'.

(i have a lot of thoughts about the headcanon of jason actually biting people as a defence mechanism, whether it be in combat or at the manor, but that's somewhat off-topic.)

i see a lot of people saying that they don't think damian would bite or engage in all that 'unsophisticated' behaviour because of his upbringing, but i just don't agree. at the end of the day he's still a kid, and slowly letting go of the negative practices enforced on him by the league. of course he's going to still have childish impulses, i think he just learns to give into them more the longer he stays at the manor.

i think if he were to get into hand-on-hand combat with any of his older brothers (even if it be over something stupid), he would sooooo resort to biting them if they had him in some kind of hold. he might even do it as robin. i've seen people who say he wouldn't diminish his training by resorting to that, but once again i don't agree. he's resourceful, biting is just another skill in his arsenal, and he's 100% aware that it adds to his little shit reputation™.

and he definitely just. acts like a kid sometimes, and is SO odd about it. whether it be by going up and down the stairs weirdly, meowing to alfred the cat, making race car tracks out of household items that span several rooms, getting overly excited about a certain tv show or book series, choosing outfits that clearly don't match but make him happy, etc etc (i have a post about how damian might act like a regular kid, in more detail)

[kelvintimeline]

It's insane to me that people are arguing that EEAAO is just like... not at all intellectually engaging. And I really think it's kind of just really bizarre to argue that just because something is positive, it must be... stupid? Or at least lacking in intellectual stimulation.

Like... EEAAO is a deeply philosophical film, even if people aren't waxing poetic about it in the dialogue. Like, we have the basics of the LITERAL philosophies its invoking like yin and yang (and more from philosophies and religions I'm not informed enough on to talk about any length, I'll admit that here), nihilism, and, yes, the existence of a multiverse and what it means to have multiple "selves" which is a metaphysical topic... you're just used to it being diluted by comic book franchises whcih want to have an excuse to reuse the same characters five times and avoid narrative consequence.

And even beyond the like direct philosophical narrative... this film is dealing with extremely deep and... traumatic topics?

Intergenerational trauma and indeed the cyclical nature of suffering isn't a shallow topic just because it's end thesis is that healing is possible and connections can be reformed. It's a film obviously aware of race but also gender, class, and sexuality and doesn't just use those as like "Look, we're diverse, give us points!" fodder. It's dealing with adult issues (including fucking TAXES) with room to be silly.

If you're blinded by hot dog fingers and assuming that means this film is intellectually void, I think... you might be the vapid one. Like, I'm not going to argue this film is genius tier stuff but it is ABSOLUTELY intellectually engaging, narratively and philosphically rich, and has compelling, human stories that exist beyond the surface level. If you are getting lost in the silly veneer, that's absolutely an indictment of YOUR character, not the film itself.

This has the same energy as people calling Nope an empty film. Might not be my place to call it out but it kinda just feels like a knee jerk racist reaction and in inability to parse narratives that aren't exploring "relatable" (ie white) stories. Because like... EEAAO is begging you to engage with its narrative on multiple levels the entire way through, if you aren't doing that... on some level you are just CHOOSING to not do that

[mindyco]

Last update for the day, or night, or yesterday...-?? (• ิ _ • ิ)? Artwork credit: @myt_s3

Scenario: What do they do when they get jealous?

You're engrossed in a conversation with another demon, your laughter echoing through the room. Lucifer watches from a distance, his usually composed expression marred by a hint of irritation. He strides over confidently, his presence commanding attention. "It seems you've captivated quite an audience," he remarks, his voice low and authoritative. "But let's not forget who you belong to. Excuse us, but I think it's time for a private conversation."

Lucifer's jealousy is often subtle, as he maintains a composed exterior.

He might become more possessive, keeping a watchful eye on you and subtly asserting his presence.

He may engage in small acts of dominance to remind others of your connection.

His tone might become slightly colder or his actions more calculated when interacting with those he perceives as a threat.

He might make a point to showcase his authority or accomplishments in front of others to establish his superiority.

You're surrounded by admirers, each one trying to impress you with their stories and gestures. Mammon scowls, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. He approaches with a mix of irritation and possessiveness, cutting off the other demons mid-sentence. "Oi! Hands off! Can't you see they're already taken?" he declares, wrapping his arm around your waist protectively. "I'm the only one allowed to monopolize their time, got it?"

Mammon's jealousy is loud and evident, as he struggles to contain his emotions.

He becomes overprotective and tries to monopolize your attention.

He may get easily flustered or irritated when others show interest in you.

Mammon might go to great lengths to prove himself, whether through grand gestures or extravagant gifts.

He might demand more affection and reassurance from you, seeking validation that you choose him over others.

You're engaged in an animated discussion about your favorite anime series with a fellow otaku. Leviathan glances over, a tinge of jealousy evident in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to approach. "Um, excuse me," he stammers, his cheeks tinted with a light blush. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. There's actually this new anime I've been dying to recommend. Maybe we could watch it together sometime?"

Leviathan's jealousy often manifests as insecurity, causing him to doubt his worth.

He becomes more withdrawn and distant, isolating himself from others.

He may spend more time immersed in his hobbies or games as a way to escape his feelings.

Leviathan might act passive-aggressive, making snarky comments or giving you the cold shoulder.

He might need reassurance and affirmation that you value him and his interests.

You're deep in conversation with a knowledgeable demon, discussing intricate magical theories and ancient texts. Satan observes from a distance, his expression a mix of curiosity and possessiveness. He interrupts smoothly, his voice laced with authority. "Ah, I see you're discussing some interesting topics," he interjects, stepping forward. "But I have a few rare books in my personal collection that I think you'd find fascinating. Let's continue this discussion in my study, shall we?"

Satan's jealousy is a mix of possessiveness and intellectual superiority.

He becomes more protective and may act as a shield against potential threats.

He might engage in intellectual debates or showcase his knowledge to impress you and assert his intellectual superiority.

Satan might subtly mark his territory, whether through possessive gestures or subtly claiming your attention.

He may express his jealousy through sarcastic comments or teasing, masking his true feelings.

You're the center of attention at a glamorous party, surrounded by demons vying for your affection. Asmodeus observes with a knowing smile, but a hint of jealousy flickers in his eyes. He gracefully glides toward you, radiating charm and confidence. He leans in, his voice filled with playful possessiveness. "Oh, my darling, I see everyone is simply captivated by your beauty and charm," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "But remember, you're the true gem here. Let's dance and make them all green with envy, shall we?"

Asmodeus's jealousy is flamboyant and attention-seeking.

He becomes more affectionate, showering you with compliments and physical displays of affection.

Asmodeus may put extra effort into his appearance, wanting to ensure he stands out and catches your eye.

He might engage in playful jealousy, flirting with others in your presence to incite a reaction from you.

He may demand more of your attention and may become more competitive when it comes to your affections.

You're sitting at a crowded dining table, sharing a meal with other demons. Beelzebub watches intently as someone offers you a bite from their plate, a frown forming on his face. He stands up abruptly, his protective instincts taking over. He steps forward, his voice gentle yet firm. "I think it's best if I take care of feeding you," he says, his hand landing gently on your shoulder. "After all, I know your tastes better than anyone else here."

Beelzebub's jealousy is tied to his protectiveness and fear of losing those he cares about.

He becomes more watchful, keeping an eye on potential rivals and ensuring your safety.

Beelzebub's appetite may change, either losing his appetite or eating more as a way to cope with his emotions.

He might become quieter and more introspective, needing time alone to process his jealousy.

Beelzebub may express his jealousy through subtle acts of physical affection, seeking reassurance and closeness with you.

You're engaged in a conversation, your laughter catching the attention of those around you. Belphegor lounges lazily nearby, feigning indifference. He stifles a yawn before sauntering over to your side, a smirk playing on his lips. He leans in, his voice dripping with playful jealousy. "You know, I can make you laugh like that too," he teases, his eyes glinting mischievously. "If you'd give me a chance, I might even surprise you. Come on, let's sneak away from this boring crowd."

Belphegor's jealousy is intertwined with his fear of abandonment and missing out.

He becomes more clingy and possessive, not wanting to be separated from you.

Belphegor might act out or engage in mischievous pranks to get your attention.

He may express his jealousy through teasing or sarcastic remarks, trying to gauge your reaction.

Belphegor may need reassurance and comfort, afraid of being left behind or replaced.

～𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

[intermundia]

in general, i think engaging with star wars from a place of realpolitik and political analysis is a fun thought exercise, especially with the canon and legends lore fleshing out the world a bit beyond lucas's archetypal story. there's a whole swath of authors who have written books and comics for adults that all take the premises of the movies seriously, the work of james luceno jumps to mind, so you can choose to dig into that lore and take it seriously as well.

the politics of the saga are related to but greatly simplified from our reality, and there is much that can be said about the way that the galaxy is designed, from george's viet cong inspired rebellion to his prequels era citizens united and bush era executive overreach. i think it's a mistake to take the jedi's role in government too seriously, as they are kind of a hand-wavy organized militia answerable to the legislative branch (and later executive during the war).

they're both a symbol of how the system works at its best and its worst. under the flourishing galactic republic, they're ideal ambassadors of peacetime diplomacy, whose arrival at a conflict resolves it using negotiation and limited force, before those conflicts sprouted into inter-system military engagement. but under sidious, they're arguably willingly misused to enforce peace on a wider scale, due to sidious's design of breaking the galaxy with a civil war.

i see many, many takes that say that the jedi should not be involved in politics at all, but i really think that's missing the point. you can take how they are being used as like a health test of the body politic, they're an epiphenomenon dependent on the republic as a whole. by the era of the prequels, they were a tool of an age that no longer existed, a more civilized one, where conflict could be resolved locally.

should they not have participated? as george has said many times, they were in a bind. would you act to save civilian lives from an invading army of droids who didn't care for or actively sought collateral damage? could you live with yourself if you had the power to help but did not? it was doomed from the beginning, they were in a trap and about to die, but is it better to fight or run away?

anyway, i got slightly off topic. engaging with star wars politically can be a fun and meaningful exercise, which even academics are not immune from the lure. here are a few articles that i enjoyed reading, if anyone is interested:

Charles, M. B. (2015). Remembering and restoring the republic: Star wars and Rome. Classical World, 108(2), 281–298. https://doi.org/10.1353/clw.2015.0014 (link) Conor Casey & David Kenny (2021): How Liberty Dies in a Galaxy Far, Far Away: Star Wars, Democratic Decay, and Weak Executives, Law & Literature, DOI: 10.1080/1535685X.2021.1991610 (link) Rackaway, C. (2020). Star Wars: The Fascism Awakens: Representation and its Failure from the Weimar Republic to the Galactic Senate. Studies in the Social Sciences, 1(1), 7-22 (link)

have at them and enjoy :)

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, smut, oral (f & m receiving), fingering (v), dirty talk, praise kink

chapter three: my curse (14k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. songs for this chapter include #6-#14 and are all mentioned by name.

There is love

Burning to find you

Will you wait for me?

My Curse— Killswitch Engage

All day Friday, powdery-sweet Chrissy is on your mind as you labor through the shift from perdition. It's like the cosmos had overheard her question about crazy patient stories and generously decided to provide new conversation topics. You've been screamed at, berated, exasperated, and drawn so thin you spend the car ride decompressing in rare silence without your typical Spotify playlist. When you'd finally arrived home, the draw of sweatpants and nostalgia had proven too much to resist. You'd promptly cocooned on the loveseat in thick socks and a knitted blanket, retreating into Breath of the Wild for the umpteenth time. The buzz of your phone on the armrest runs up your elbow, but you're too absorbed to answer until the buzzing starts again, too insistent to ignore.

You glance to see it's Steve calling; you swipe and put him on speaker without pausing your game. "Hey," you answer, voice fond but somewhat distracted.

"Hey, babe." Steve sounds like he's in a wind tunnel. He must be driving. "What are you doin'?"

"Nothing," you answer absently, eyes still trained on the soft pastels of Kakariko Village until he says, 

"Well, I'll be home in forty, so start getting ready."

You frown in confusion, glancing at the contact picture on your phone screen: you and Steve at an NBA game, his anniversary present to you last year. "Ready for what?"

The smile in Steve's voice is audible. "Chrissy called. We're going to Insa tonight." 

You instantly straighten from your comfortable slouch, Switch abandoned beside you as you fumble up the phone. "Really?!"

"Yup." You can hear the happiness in his laugh as you squeal, tearing the blanket from your body and bolting for the bedroom. "She got us a private room for an hour."

You make another little joyful sound, hand already tugging at the shower knob, words spilling like a rush. "Yay! Okay, I'm getting ready, bye!"

"Love you," you hear Steve say.

"Love you!" You drop the phone onto the counter, hips wiggling as you wait for the water to warm. This is even more appealing than spending a night in with your favorite comfort game. You love music and singing, but traditional karaoke bars make you nervous— all those strangers staring at you on stage under the glare of the lights makes you instantly freeze. But Insa is a Korean karaoke bar, and since Chrissy has booked you a private room, it means it'll just be you and Steve, your two friends, and all the soju or sake you can drink. Here you were, thinking about Chrissy all day, and now it feels like you'd unintentionally manifested her invitation. Maybe the cosmos is trying to make amends.

  You decide that must be so as you choose your clothes: slouchy cardigan over tank top, tight black skirt almost obscenely short, sheer black tights to make up for it, white socks peeking just above Chelsea boots. You're still working on makeup when you hear a creak of the door and the jangle of keys to signal Steve's arrival. 

"I'm almost ready," you call, swiping mascara onto your top lashes. 

You hear him call back in acknowledgment, finishing the rest of your makeup with haste before fluffing out your hair and joining him near the door. 

He's still wearing his winter coat, unzipped to reveal dark jeans and an untucked button-up, his go-to for casual Fridays at the bank. His brown waves are a little windswept as he turns to you, and it matches the roguish sparkle in his eye as he takes you in. "Hey," Steve says, voice low and tinged with heat as you approach him.

"Hi," you answer happily, letting him pull you in for a kiss before you reach for your puffer jacket.

Steve's hand snakes back to your ass, drawing you against him as you tug one arm of your jacket on; you chuckle against his lips, protesting lightly, "Steve, we're gonna be late!" 

"Just wanna steal a minute to kiss my girl," Steve murmurs, and you can’t resist melting as he kisses you again, surrounding you in that familiar citrus cologne. You sneak your other arm underneath his coat to hug him, jacket half hanging off like you're trying to wear his and yours at once. The brush of Steve's tongue against the seam of your lips complements the heat— heat where the jackets drape around your body, heat where his palm grabs your ass, heat in the pit of your belly as his tongue meets yours.

Even without the radiator or your knitted blanket, Steve makes sure you're thoroughly and wonderfully warm before you venture out together into the cold night.

-

Luckily, on-time subway transfers and two powerwalked blocks later have you arriving at Insa with minutes to spare despite your short dalliance. You wander around clumps of people outside until Steve spots your friends near the wooden arch above the building's entrance. Seeing Chrissy's blonde ponytail fills you with effusive eagerness, and when her blue eyes meet yours, your broad smile is echoed on her lips. 

"Hi!" you greet her, arms opening for her tight embrace. "Thanks for inviting us!" 

"Of course!" Chrissy squeezes you affectionately tighter before she releases you to hug Steve. 

Leather creaks as Eddie moves closer, and you can feel his jacket seep cold even through your puffer jacket when you hug him, though his neck is warm as you graze it with your cheek. "Don't you have a better jacket than this?" you ask, running your fingers against the leather at his elbow.

You drop your hand, looking up into dark and twinkling eyes as Eddie replies, "Worried about me, sweetheart?" He smirks, a little crooked thing, and those full pink lips— their sudden phantom press against your own— make color prickle your cheeks. "Don't need one. My blood runs extra-hot." 

You hope your doubtful expression speaks for you and your sudden flush looks like it's from the cold. Judging by the glint in Eddie’s eyes, he’s not buying it.

"Come on, I'm freezing my balls off out here," Steve says, slinging an arm around your shoulders and hastening the four of you inside. 

"Certainly don't want that," you joke, pleased when Steve slants a grin at you as you're ushered to your room.

Inside is one long modular u-shaped couch against the back wall, a small coffee table, and two televisions: one against the front wall and one behind the couch so you can face your companions. Insa is one of the more technologically advanced karaoke restaurants: there’s an iPad for ordering drinks and a dedicated kiosk near the television to select songs. Coupled with its superior aesthetics— rich purple and turquoise mood lighting that avoids the tackiness of other bars— Insa boasts some of the largest crowds in the city, which makes it all the more exciting that Chrissy has surprised you and Steve with this outing tonight.

You shed your coats and watch Chrissy flounce over to the kiosk eagerly before the rest of you have even sat down. She's wearing a babydoll dress— one of those nearly shapeless ones that seem effortlessly chic on the right kind of person. With your curves, you think you'd probably look like you're wearing a potato sack if you attempted it, but you admire how it hangs beautifully on Chrissy. She looks like a cute little sugar-plum fairy as she scrolls through the offerings. 

"I guess Chris is going first," Eddie jokes, sprawling out in one corner of the couch with his dark legs spread, arm thrown against the back like he owns the place. He's in a long-sleeved muscle shirt in charcoal gray, accented by his signature flashes of silver— rings, wallet chain, and earrings that gleam in the neon light. Does he ever wear anything in color? Your eyes sweep him over as you sit, close but not quite sandwiched between him and Steve. Probably not, you think wryly, darting a quick glance at his profile as he grins cheekily at Chrissy when she glares at him.

"Not all of us get to be on stage every week, Mr. Rockstar," she reminds him sassily, plucking a microphone from the lower shelf on the kiosk and planting her feet in the middle of the open floor, hands on her hips. You can clearly see the cheerleading influence in her stance and expression, which is set in a confident mask of gleaming teeth and arched brows. A raucous female laugh begins her song choice, and Chrissy snaps the mic to her mouth to sing the first words: "Yeah, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want—"

Chrissy owns Wannabe by The Spice Girls as she struts around, flicking her fingers and swinging her wavy ponytail as she exudes attitude. "I won't be hasty; I'll give you a try," she sings, cocking a shoulder as she smolders, "If you really bug me, then I'll say goodbye—" Her voice is a little pitchy, but what she lacks in technique she certainly makes up for in confidence. Chrissy pivots around to face backward for the final chorus, swaying her hips until she hits the last line where she shoots you all a foxy look over her shoulder, cocking the mic to sing, "If you wanna be my lover."

As soon as the music fades, you're clapping wildly, cheering as she spins to face the couch with a broad, sparkling smile. "You did so good! You're, like, a natural," you say, looking up at her as she prances over, skirt billowing. 

"Thanks, y/n! I guess I still got it, huh?" she adds, looking to the men for confirmation.

"I'd say so," Steve answers. "I remember, when I was a senior on the basketball team, Chrissy was one of the best flyers on the squad. It was crazy how much air she'd get!"

You watch Chrissy's eyes sparkle as he acknowledges her skill. Eddie reaches out, pinching the edge of her dress and tugging playfully as he adds, "And she was head of the squad her senior year. Lead them to regionals with her own routine and everything."

You smile up at her again, though it shifts with surprise as she pulls you to your feet with startling strength for such a slight person. "You should go next," she says, squeezing your fingers, expression earnest. "Come on, you can do it! It doesn't matter how you sound; it's all about having fun!"

From someone else, the statement may have felt like a veiled insult. But Chrissy doesn't seem to have a mean bone in her body, so you realize she's just trying to be encouraging. "Okay," you say, a little shy with the exuberance of her glee. You swap places and take the mic, lips pursing as you peruse the options at the kiosk. 

Behind you, you hear Steve say, "She's actually a really good singer." You feel a flattered smile bloom at the praise as you choose one of your favorites to sing during karaoke: If I Ain't Got You by Alicia Keys. 

As you drift toward the middle of the space and the piano introduction begins, you see Chrissy squeeze Steve's arm, thin brows crinkled up sentimentally. "Aw, that's so sweet of you, Steve!"

For a moment, Steve looks perplexed at the comment, and you think maybe Chrissy believes he's just saying that to be nice. But you're not worried about it; you're not thinking about much of anything other than what you're about to sing. Still, you’re always most nervous for the first song of the night, so as you face your audience of three, their expectant stares threaten to make that familiar anxiety begin to frost in your chest. Thankfully, you know what to do in this situation: you simply close your eyes, letting the music wash over you before you begin to sing.

"Some people live for the fortune. Some people live just for the fame."

Your voice is pitched naturally lower than Chrissy's and has a bit of rasp, but it's smooth and practiced from years of singing in chorale in school. Yet it isn't a performance, not really, because it's not about that. You stand still, aside from a subtle instinctual sway, unconcerned about moving around for your audience. You're only interested in borrowing Alicia's words, letting them bloom out of you as if they're your own in a way your words sometimes can't when you try to speak. Once you hit the chorus, a smile kisses the corners of your lips as you feel the emotion in the song, channeling the sentiment: "Some people want it all, but I don't want nothing at all if it ain't you, baby; if I ain't got you, baby—"

Alicia is an incredible vocalist; you don't try to imitate her. You simplify the vocal runs later in the song, letting yourself improvise what feels good instead. And throughout it all, you keep your eyes closed, singing with a peaceful smile until that tinkling piano returns at the end to signal the song's conclusion.

There's a brief silence where you hang suspended in the moment, eyes still closed. And then it's broken by a swirl of spoken smoke.

"Shit." The exclamation isn't loud, but it cuts through the room nonetheless as you open your eyes and smile shyly. Your face flushes as Steve whistles with his fingers; beside him, Chrissy's eyes are wide, dainty fingers clasped as she pops up. 

Chrissy wraps her arm around yours and squeezes you close. "Wow! Steve, you really weren't kidding!" You're hit with a puff of expensive perfume as she clings to you, and her billowing skirt brushes against your tights while she sways you back and forth. "Let's do couples next," she suggests, pulling back to meet your eyes. "Is it okay if Eddie and I go first?"

"Sure," you reply easily, sitting between Steve and Eddie again as she heads to the kiosk. Immediately, Steve leans in, lightly knocking your shoulder with his.

"That's my girl," Steve says, hazel eyes shining with affection, broad palm landing on your knee and squeezing lightly. Appreciative, you kiss him on the cheek, stubble like fine sandpaper against your lips. His smile widens as he pats your knee, saying more briskly, "I'm gonna need to get at least one drink in me before I join you on the next song, babe." 

You watch him scroll through the menu on the iPad for a moment until a light brush against the small of your back has you turning to meet wide brown eyes.

Eddie is no longer slouched in the corner of the couch; instead, he's curved forward, left elbow braced on his knee as if poised to get up, though he seems to have no intention to do so as he leans toward you. "You are really good," he says sincerely. "I was pleasantly surprised."

Your nose wrinkles faintly, somewhat amused and at the edge of offense. "Pleasantly surprised?" A hint of a challenge tinges your voice as you add, "What, did you think I would be bad?"

Eddie's face falls as he stumbles. "I—" His eyes dart away, reminding you of the day you'd met— when, at the ice cream shop, you'd seen that pink on his typical black and white. The idea that it may happen again excites you, and you aren't quite sure why.

But Eddie doesn't turn pink; instead, he huffs a chuckle, slanting a glance back at you as his eyes glitter. "Well, I wouldn't say that."

It's obvious that he's teasing you, so you feign annoyance. "Well, you'd better look out because I might take your place and become frontwoman of Corroded Coffin if you keep talking smack." 

You try valiantly to maintain your pretend annoyance, but it's really quite hard when Eddie grins so manically, brown eyes eager as they flick you over. "I'd like to see that, sweetheart," he replies, and it's not sarcastic at all— in fact, he sounds eager, as if the idea excites him. And you realize, as his fingers twitch against your cardigan, that Eddie hasn't yet taken his hand off the small of your back. 

That pink that you'd been hoping for on Eddie's face colors your cheeks instead as he stares at you intently, and his manic smile tightens to a smirk when he notices. A flutter of wings trembles low when his gaze dips to your lips, and your tongue darts out to wet them just as Chrissy calls across the room, 

"Okay, Eddie, get up here! I picked the song."

The drag of his fingers against your back leaves you with a shiver when Eddie rises, stuffing his hands in his back pockets as he lopes over to Chrissy. As he surveys her choice, the door opens to reveal a server with a green bottle and four shot glasses. 

As she sets the tray on the coffee table, Steve immediately reaches for it, calling to the others; Eddie turns, swaying wild curls haloed by neon light. "C'mon, Chris," he says, nodding over. "I'm gonna need a fuckin' drink for this one."

The sardonic tinge to Eddie's voice intrigues you, and you wonder what song Chrissy has chosen as Steve passes you a glass of soju. You all drink together, and the alcohol is ice cold as it slides down your throat, settling into a comfortable burn in your belly. It lingers sweet on your teeth as Chrissy grabs Eddie's hand to pull him into their performance.

Eddie shifts his weight as he cracks his neck to the side, saying dryly, "Just warning you, I haven't warmed up my falsetto, so—"

Chrissy scoffs fondly. "Oh, come on, Eddie. You always sound good." 

"All right," he concedes, a little self-deprecating grin spreading as the music begins— jaunty bass and a jazzy piano that you'd recognize anywhere. Chrissy has chosen You're The One That I Want from Grease.

Despite his reticence, Eddie gamely gives the song his all. Though at first, his falsetto makes you want to giggle, you hold back, not wanting him to think you're laughing at him when he'd already seemed unsure about it. You soon find yourself smiling widely as they play off each other for the second bridge: "I'd better shape up cause you need a man—" Eddie begins, dark eyes locked on Chrissy as she takes over, drawing her hand down his chest. "I need a man who can keep me satisfied." 

Steve nudges another shot of soju into your hand. "Cheers, babe," he murmurs, warm breath ghosting your face before you both take your second shots. It slides down cold and burns in your belly again, but when it's followed by the quick, eager press of Steve's lips against yours, the burn is accompanied by a slight tingle. 

You break away to applaud as the song ends, watching as Eddie leans close to kiss Chrissy. Her hand finds his cheek when he begins to draw back, and when she presses forward for another kiss, you hear Steve whistle again, though this time it's a teasing, flirty two-tone that makes Chrissy break from the kiss to giggle. Eddie hugs Chrissy from behind, walking with her as they come over to the couch, and you see it again— the gentleness in those brown eyes, the softness in the way his pink lips tilt in a small smile when she sing-songs, "Your turn!" 

Steve’s hand finds yours, guiding you to the kiosk. "What do you wanna sing?"

You don't really care what song you and Steve sing right now— you're just content to be here with him and Eddie and Chrissy, surrounded by affection and music. "Whatever you want, babe." 

His smile widens at your reply, and he lazily drags his finger across the screen. "How about this one?" 

Fondness fills you as you see his suggestion is from Dirty Dancing. It's a sentimental movie for you both— you'd watched it the first time you'd spent the night at Steve's old apartment instead of going out. And while eating Chinese food on Steve's couch and cuddling in your lounge clothes seems so commonplace, that was what you'd valued about it: that it was casual, that it felt normal. That it seemed like the beginning of an intimate closeness that didn't require dressing up or fancy restaurants or showy gestures.

"Yeah," you agree softly. "I love that song."

You nearly forget you have an audience as you sing The Time of My Life with Steve, giggling at his characteristically loud, brassy voice. Steve never holds back at karaoke, though he is— by far— the worst singer of you four. But you couldn't care less as he sings to you, "I've been waiting for so long, now I finally found someone to stand by me." And you know Steve doesn't care how he sounds either, eyes locked on you while you sing to him, "With my body and soul, I want you more than you'll ever know." When the instrumental breakdown occurs, Steve grabs your hand, spinning you, strong arms lowering you into a dip that makes you squeal and laugh with delight before he brings you back up.

When it’s time for the final chorus, you give it your all, hopping as you throw your arm wide and sing with abandon. When the song fades out, Stever snatches you up as you laugh, lifting you briefly from your feet to kiss you before setting you quickly back down. 

"You guys are just so cute!" Chrissy beams at you, sweet and powdery soft as she leans against Eddie's side. You hold out a hand to them, eyes sparkling.

"Get up here, you two," you say, excitement dancing like sparks across your skin. "We have forty minutes left, and I don't wanna waste a second."

You sing several songs as a group, all crowded around the kiosk to decide on your selections. You each have wildly different tastes in music, so there's quite a bit of friendly bickering as you negotiate what to sing together. Still, with the shots flowing and the joy of shared experience, you delight in even that aspect of the process. After a number of group selections, Steve and Eddie shoo you girls off to the couch so that they can, as they say, 'serenade you.'

"Oh, God," you mutter good-naturedly, leaning comfortably against Chrissy as the guys huddle close to conspire. "What are we in for now?"

Apparently something entirely unexpected as the guys stand side-by-side, stone-faced while a guitar plucks along. Their faces remain serious even as Eddie croons, "Yeah…" in the most exaggeratedly whiny boy-band voice you've ever heard. You can't stifle an incredulous snort as you and Chrissy exchange glances, eyes wide as your lips twitch. Your eyes snap to your boyfriend as Steve sings loudly, "You are my fire, the one desire…."

You manage to hold your composure until Eddie whines, tossing his long curls dramatically, "But we—"  

You're cackling before he can even hit the next line, and for a split second, his composure wavers, a chuckle breaking through as he continues, "...are two worlds apart… can't reach to your heart—" 

The sight of Steve— the straight-laced banker in a collared button-up, all citrus and sea salt— and Eddie— the hardcore musician in combat boots and chains, all smoke and ink— singing I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys as a pretend-earnest duet is too much for you and Chrissy to take. As soon as the chorus starts, you both flush bright red with laughter, clinging to each other in utter hysterics. Once the song ends, all you can do is curl over into Chrissy's lap, burying your face in gauzy fabric as she collapses onto your back. Your reactions urge each other on until you're hysterical for long enough that Steve exclaims, "Jesus Christ, was it really that funny?"

You hear Eddie snipe, "You both are real fuckin' rude, you know." Your head pops up to see him swaggering around, gesturing widely and theatrically as he grouses, "Here we are, trying to sing about our undying love for you, and you have the gall—" he pauses dramatically, "the audacity— to laugh at us." He turns to Steve, arms crossed, head shaking like a scolding parent. "These girls don't deserve us, Harrington."

"You're right, Munson. Maybe we should find us a new pair of girls who appreciate real culture."

You and Chrissy straighten, exchanging looks of deep indignance as your boyfriends smirk at you. "We'll show you culture," she sniffs, shoulder brushing Eddie's as she pushes by him with you in tow. He and Steve chuckle to themselves, falling back onto the couch as you and Chrissy lean close to assess your options. You find yourself relishing this dynamic— allied with Chrissy against the two guys, conspiring to choose the best song to annoy them. You're giddy with feminine closeness as Chrissy whispers in your ear, though as you notice one particular song, you grab Chrissy's fingers to halt her scrolling.

"That one!" you say, voice hushed but urgent. You turn to her, eyes bright. "That's the one."

She purses her lips, brow crinkling. "Really?"

"Yes," you say firmly. Whereas usually, you would defer to her preference, your desire to provoke the guys has lit you inside, made you bold.

Chrissy must see your determination because she concedes quickly with a little shrug. "Okay."

You grin widely, victory and sweet revenge buzzing in your blood as you grab your microphone; Steve and Eddie’s conversation wanes as they see you standing before them. When you feel Chrissy's dress brush against your thigh, you tip your chin, smirking as you murmur with false sincerity, "We've chosen this song specifically for the country music fans in the audience."

In your peripheral, you see Steve's face crease in confusion, but your eyes are locked on black and white. You buzz with pleasure as Eddie cocks a brow at you, spreading his dark legs to settle into the couch corner, hint of a smirk growing on his lips. Those brown eyes are wide and dark as they hold yours, glittering with approval at the challenge in your stare. 

Your voice is pitched as close to sultry as you ever get as you finish your introduction: "We hope you thoroughly enjoy this."

You never perform when you sing, not really, but now, suddenly, you are. "Right now, he's probably slow-dancing with a bleach-blonde tramp, and she's probably gettin' frisky," you rasp, channeling the drama of Carrie Underwood's delivery. Chrissy sings the next line, high voice also loaded with attitude, and you alternate the verses and sing the choruses together. You play up the growl in your voice as you smolder, any self-consciousness forgotten, "Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."

As you sing for Steve and Eddie, you suddenly understand the appeal of performance and why Chrissy's face became so luminous after she'd sung Wannabe . Their attention wraps around you, coiling into your blood, coaxing you to rock your hips and shoulders as you sing to them. It's intoxicating, the heat of their stares as you and Chrissy sway together, bodies brushing as they watch you; there's power in it, power that you've just barely tasted. 

And you know, as your gaze flits back and forth between both men, that you want more.

When the song ends, their approval is instant, pretend contentiousness forgotten now. After lavishing you in whistles and applause with Eddie, Steve notes, "We've got enough time for a couple more songs."

"All right," Eddie says decisively, slapping his thighs as he stands. "I'm going."

A flutter of moth's wings begins low at the idea of hearing his smoky voice again— not him singing a song from Grease or the Backstreet Boys, but something that echoes his performance the first time you'd heard him on stage. When, before you'd even known him, his voice had reached inside you, tugging at something that has only just begun to take root in newfound light.

You nestle snug between Chrissy and Steve as you wait for Eddie's song, knee nearly bouncing with anticipation. Impulsively, you take a cheeky swig from the soju bottle, shrugging as Steve shoots you an amused look. The soju isn't as pleasantly cold anymore, but the burn still spreads from your belly, coaxing out a little hazy smile as Eddie returns to the center of the room. You wonder what song he's chosen, thighs pressing together as you imagine harsh guitars or driving drums, as you remember the black and white of his torso on stage at the bar, ink now sadly hidden behind charcoal long sleeves.

You should have known by the mischievous twinkle in those dark eyes what was coming. But when a smooth R&B beat begins, you blink, clouded mind instantly befuddled. Eddie's voice is still that smoky husk, though it's intentionally exaggerated as he drags out the word, "Baby…" You remain perplexed until he sings the next line: "I'm hot, just like an oven. I need some lovin'..." 

Eddie's rendition of Sexual Healing seems to hover somewhere between his real performance at the bar and his joke performance of I Want It That Way. But when he starts slowly thrusting his hips, running one hand sensually across his chest and up his neck, it becomes abundantly clear that he's fucking around. 

Chrissy wrinkles her nose at his exaggerated movements— body rolling, hips twitching with little jerks as his lips curl with amusement. "Ugh, Eddie," she whines, "this is so cringy!" 

And you know what she means— it is cringy, and everyone knows it. But you can't help but utterly delight in the two sides of Eddie Munson that seem to alternate in little glimpses: confident, self-possessed, sharp, and wolfish, but also awkward, goofy, unafraid to be exactly how he wants to be even in the face of others' judgment. And you know Chrissy isn't judging him, not really, but you think even if she was, he wouldn't care at all.

As you watch Eddie gyrate, eyes wide and grin manic, you feel something start to build inside you— a desire to join in his revelry, in this uninhibited display of enjoyment that disregards the opinions of others.

And with your eyes on Eddie's black and white, you act on that desire. 

You pop up from the couch just in time for the music to swell; he holds the mic out toward you when he sees you coming so you can both sing, "Whenever blue teardrops are fallin'…."

Together you turn to face Chrissy and Steve, smiles wide as you sway, arms wrapping comfortably around each other's waists. You extend your hand toward the others, coaxing them with wagging brows and little shimmies of your shoulders to try to get them to join you. "The love you give to me will free me," you and Eddie sing, sides pressed together, hips bumping as you move out of rhythm. Steve eyes you skeptically as you urge him with your extended hand, but he can't keep the curve off his lips for long as you stage-whisper, "Get up, get up, get up, get up," like it's a message directed to him. Steve sighs heavily, smile springing free as he joins on your other side, wrapping his arm around your back atop Eddies. You barely stave off your giggle as you all start to sway back and forth. 

You do laugh when Steve and Eddie squish you between them to try to both reach the mic. Steve attempts to convince Chrissy to join you, who's still watching you all reluctantly, though you can tell by the look in those blue eyes that she's close to cracking. 

"Come on, Chris," Steve wheedles, and finally, she relents, smile spreading on her bow lips as she skirts around the coffee table, huddling close to sing, " Come take control, just grab ahold of my body and mind—" 

Uninhibited joy floods you entirely as the four of you sing together, all pressed close, faces shining with bright smiles and laughs as Chrissy finally gives in, committing to the cheesiness of this song. When it ends, Steve and Eddie wrap their arms around you both, squishing you together as you and she shriek and giggle. Still pressed tight, you all shuffle dizzily toward the kiosk to choose your final song.

You lean closer, dragging them all with you as you see Mamma Mia on the list. "Steve loves ABBA!" 

"You would love ABBA, dude," Eddie teases, and Steve reaches around you to shove him playfully. 

"Shut up," he grouses, though you predict trouble as his lips go tight against a smirk. "I could tell them about your guilty pleasure music, Munson—" 

Intrigue blooms as Eddie looks instantly horrified. "ABBA it is," he relents quickly, jabbing the selection to start the music and, you suspect, to avoid any follow-up questions.

Mamma Mia turns out to be the perfect song to end with as even Eddie, who'd implied his disdain by teasing Steve, seems to enjoy it. "Yes, I've been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted," you all belt together, and when you glance at Eddie to see him smiling widely with dimpled cheeks and little scrunched lines at the edges of his warm brown eyes, it strikes you, for the first time, just how downright pretty he is. When those brown eyes catch yours, you don't look away from him, drawn in as the song concludes:

"Mamma mia, now I really know— my my, I could never let you go!"

And with that, your time at Insa comes to a close— but the night is far from over.

-

Inviting Eddie and Chrissy back to the apartment is inevitable, and you smile as Eddie opens the back passenger door of his van for you. "Comfy?" He grins, pulling the seatbelt down to press into your hand. "Buckle up," he says, voice warm and teasing as you giggle. 

"You may think he's kidding," Chrissy says, sweet voice floating back to you from the front seat as Eddie closes your door. "But Eddie is probably the worst driver I've ever met, so… I'd make sure you heed his advice."

When Eddie practically throws himself into the driver's seat, hand jerking the gearshift into reverse as he peeks back over his shoulder, the wicked mischievousness in those brown eyes has you scrambling for Steve's hand to hold tight. "I'm not the worst driver," Eddie says lightly, eyes glinting as he adds, "but I am the craziest."

Despite Eddie's ominous teasing, you make it back to your apartment happy and in one piece. In fact, you're practically effusive from the alcohol and leftover merriment despite how you stumble trying to toe off your boots on the welcome mat. Your loveseat is still littered with the remains of your planned night in— fuzzy socks and knitted blanket strewn across the cushions, Switch balanced on the arm. You gather your items as your boyfriend and guests shed their coats and shoes. Once the socks have been tossed in your hamper and the Switch returned to its ottoman, you reenter the living room with your folded blanket to see Steve and Eddie seated together on the big couch. 

Chrissy pulls the knit from your hands, draping it over the loveseat with impatience.

"What?" you say, perplexed as she pulls you along with purpose, but all becomes clear as she releases your hand to run her fingers lightly down your cardigan instead, smiling coquettishly.

"Let's give the boys a little show again," Chrissy suggests, hand trailing up your sheer black tights, fingertips skimming your thigh as you glance at the couch. And you see that heated look again in brown and hazel— the one they'd worn as you and Chrissy performed Before He Cheats . Heat that coils into you, that echoes the comfortable fuzz in your head from the soju; heat that reminds you of the power you'd discovered, the taste you'd wanted more of. 

You palm Chrissy's waist, crinkling the shapeless fabric against her lithe body as you slant an alluring glance at Steve and Eddie. "Yes," you murmur, "let's." Your smile stretches as you watch them shift against the couch— legs widening, palms rubbing on knees, heads falling back to observe the show.

Caught in the hypnotic power of their masculine gazes, you and Chrissy undress each other, peeking glances at your men as you reveal skin little by little. She slides your cardigan from your shoulders, air cold against your bare arms as you lift her dress to tease a glimpse of her panties before letting it fall again, giggling with her as the men huff their impatience. 

Gradually, Chrissy sheds each article of clothing from your body: your tank top to reveal your midnight blue bra, your tight black skirt— which nearly gets stuck on your ass, which would have been embarrassing if you hadn't noticed how both Eddie and Steve's eyes were wide and rapt as it finally bounced free— and your white socks. Finally, she peels your sheer black tights down your legs, revealing a matching set of cheeky midnight blue panties cut high on your hips. You run your hands along her clothed waist again as Chrissy smiles at you with pink bow lips, eyes meeting. You know what her expression means because you're feeling it too: the heady desire practically palpable in the air as it rolls off your boyfriends. The sensual feminine control you have over them in this moment, made more potent together.

Chrissy is wearing much less clothing than you, so you gently lift her dress over her head last, revealing a set of aggressively strappy black lingerie. She runs her hand over your bare waist to settle on the small of your back, and your hand settles on her hip, fingers resting against the thin strap of her thong. Together, you turn to face the couch, bodies on display for devouring gazes.

And devour they do— they no longer lean back against the couch, feigning nonchalance. No, Steve and Eddie are so clearly wound tight by your mutual display, eyes dark and gleaming as you both draw closer. 

You and Chrissy have a choice now: begin the night by approaching your own boyfriends, comfortable and safe; or, perhaps, decide to approach the other man on the couch, whose touch is still unfamiliar and thus tempting. As you glance between them— first at the roguish swoop of Steve's bangs over hungry hazel, the look on his face one you've seen many times before, and then to the wildness of Eddie's long disheveled curls, brown eyes darkened like ink, the look on his face one that makes you flutter with nerves— you realize that your emerging boldness isn't yet enough to steer you away from the comfort of Steve's arms.

You gently pull from Chrissy, eyes fixed on the buttons of Steve's shirt. As soon as you get close enough, his hands attach to your hips, warm and broad and not at all timid as he pulls you onto his lap. You settle, humming as he kneads the flesh of your ass. As his lips find the sensitive spot underneath your jaw, your eyes slip closed to work the buttons of his shirt open by feel. The couch dips to your right as Chrissy mirrors you on Eddie's lap, and you sneak a tiny peek at what they're doing. You see Eddie's thumb drag her bottom lip down as her hands dip to the hem of his muscle shirt. "Mmm," you hum again, breathy and quiet, as Steve sucks lightly on your neck, fingers moving faster to pop his buttons so you can feel the press of his skin against yours. 

As soon as you get the last button free, you pull away from Steve's mouth, dragging the fabric down his shoulders, revealing a dense cloud of hair on his chest. It's soft like fur under your fingers as you stroke him— your favorite thing to do when Steve's shirt is first removed— and you get just a glimpse of hazel nearly swallowed by black pupils before Steve's mouth claims yours.

Your fingers continue to drag through the hair on his chest as Steve cradles you close with solid arms, tongue dipping wet and insistent into your mouth. It's a novel experience to be making out on the couch next to another half-naked couple like this. You find with the doubled sounds blending together— the soft smack of lips, the subtleness of deepened breaths, the masculine rumble of low groans, the high, breathy moans to compliment them— that when the throb starts within you, it intensifies quickly, burning in your belly, building insistent need that demands to be sated.

Steve pulls you closer by your ass, the motion dragging your panties against his jeans, catching your clit just right to throw kindling on the burn. When his hands palm your breasts over your bra, your fingers find the buckle of his belt, tugging at it until it jangles loose and you can pull down his zipper. Steve leaves your mouth to press blistering kisses along your jaw; you lift your hips, and he dips lower on your neck to reach his pants, shimmying them down his legs until he can kick them off into a haphazard pile.

You sigh as Steve mouths at your neck, tangling your fingers in the thick waves of his brown hair when he starts to suck a mark, the sting adding to your kindling. And as you tilt your head back to give him more access, you hear it— quiet murmuring, a delicate voice pitched thick and sultry beside you.

"Am I your bad girl, Eddie?"

Your eyes pop open as surprise rushes, and you can't help but dart a quick glance at the couple beside you: sweet Chrissy with her powdery-soft eyes and saccharine smiles, face flushed as Eddie's plush lips drag against her throat when he murmurs back, "You know you are, baby."

Chrissy hums in pleasure, and you suck in a quick breath as you see Eddie's pink tongue dart out to lick at her skin, the sight conjuring the phantom brush against your own throat— wet and warm opposite Steve's sucking lips. You stifle a whimper as you burn hotter between your legs, hips shifting against Steve's lap as he sucks your neck more aggressively. And then Chrissy talks again, still quiet, but yet more shocking:

"I'm just a dirty little slut for you—"

Steve's lips suddenly pop from your neck, and you sway as his nose abruptly drags against your throat when he turns to look. "Damn, Chrissy," he rasps, sounding almost as surprised as you feel. "You've really got a mouth on you, huh?"

Chrissy's blue eyes widen, her gaze darting from you to Steve as she shrinks slightly in Eddie's arms, suddenly bashful. "No, no," Steve assures her, "it's a good thing. It's hot." He pulls one arm away from your back to clasp her forearm, rubbing his thumb soothingly against her skin. When your boyfriend smiles at her, you watch Chrissy's expression soften, a tiny relieved smile curling in return. "No need to be shy," he murmurs, soft and kind, and as you look at his profile— alkaline nose, stubble dusting his jaw, thick dark brows tugged up in an earnest expression of reassurance— you feel a sudden rush of fond affection for Steve Harrington. 

You glance at Chrissy again, smiling encouragingly when she meets your eyes before looking back at Steve. And you notice that Steve hasn't drawn his hand from Chrissy's arm, and Chrissy's gaze is running over Steve's face, and if they're looking at each other, then, well, that leaves you free to search for that pair of beautiful brown eyes.

And you find them— your heart thumps as you look at Eddie to see him already staring back at you, intent on your face. You feel that flutter of wings kick up as your gaze roves over him, heart beating faster at the sight of that dark body armor exposed again, so stark on the pale quartz of his arms and chest. 

Instantly, you need the press of Eddie's inked skin against yours.

You don't know if Eddie can see the desire in your eyes or if maybe he's just thinking the same thing as you— either way, it brings both relief and unbelievable tension when he murmurs, voice huskier than usual, "Do we wanna mix things up a bit?"

The implication is clear, and as Steve's palm drags lightly up your back, lips pressing against your temple, you look to Chrissy. 

Her face is flushed, blue eyes hazy with want as she watches Steve nuzzle against your skin; when her gaze catches yours, agreement flows between you. 

You each slip from your boyfriends' laps, exchanging soft smiles as you brush by one another to switch places. There's so much of Eddie's pale skin on display, so many dark trails of ink that weave across his chest and down his arms. Your gaze drags along them until it travels lower over his abdomen, over his soft stomach, over the trail of dark hair that leads down below checkered boxers, loose fabric obscuring what's beneath. You're willing— more than willing— but looking down into Eddie's dark eyes causes those wings to stir up, to flutter wildly with a potent mixture of anticipation, nervousness, and desire. 

Slowly, Eddie leans forward, gaze locked on your wide eyes, assessing your reaction as he draws closer. He touches you carefully; his fingertips drag lightly over your thigh, feather-light, traveling up, up, up until they brush against the lace of your panties at your hip. And when just the tip of his index finger sneaks beneath it, the touch coaxes you closer, drawing you to his ink and smoke.

When you settle on his lap, the drag of Eddie's warm arms as they close around your back makes you shiver despite their heat, lips parting as you near those brown eyes, that soft nose, that strong jaw, those full pink lips. Eddie tilts his chin up for you, an invitation, and his warm breath puffs against your lips before they finally meet again. 

Kissing Eddie is just like kissing Steve, but also nothing like it at all. His arms are firm like Steve's, and his lips are full like Steve's, and he holds you close like Steve does. But Eddie's curls brush against your neck, teasing your skin; Eddie's scent is muskier, less crisp than Steve's; and Eddie doesn't dive into your mouth like Steve does after three long years of dating. He's more polite— not quite hesitant, but careful as his lips press to yours, not deep or thorough enough to sate the want that's throbbing between your legs. And you appreciate his consideration, but you need more.

You tilt your head, fingers finding his jaw as you press closer, urging him silently to take more of you. Your arousal flutters when you pull that breathy groan again from his throat at your eagerness, and Eddie's arms tighten, pressing your breasts to his chest as he leans into you with his kiss. Your blood sings as he kisses you deeper for a while until he pulls from your mouth to duck to your neck. Eddie licks a path up your throat, slick and hot, and you tip your head to give him room, arms draping over his shoulders, fingers finally tucking into those wild curls you've been admiring from afar. 

Eddie groans quietly against your skin as his hands run over your back, calloused and rough, dragging over your shoulders and spine with a tantalizing rasp. You notice that his fingers begin to linger near the band of your bra, and you anticipate his question before it rumbles against your throat. "Can I take this off?"

Though you'd been prepared for it, as it's voiced, the question makes those wings flutter again, mixing nerves with arousal. A quick breath, the press of your fingers into curls to ground you, and then you answer. "Yes," you whisper, breathing deep as you feel him work at the clasp.

A high moan next to you has your eyes darting to the left for the first time since you'd crawled into Eddie's lap. Steve is sucking at the thin column of Chrissy's throat. You wonder briefly if it's invasive to watch them, but the thought melts as you notice Chrissy's bra is already off, and your boyfriend's broad hand is gripping her breast, fingers rolling her nipple.

Chrissy's breasts are just as delicate as the rest of her: small and perky, with little pink nipples nearly engulfed by Steve's broad fingers. So different from your breasts, different enough to make a sudden flash of insecurity prickle as they fall free from your bra, bottom-heavy.

You turn away from Chrissy, nerves sharpening when you see Eddie's gaze roving over your breasts. The instinctual desire to hide is strong, but Eddie speaks before you can. "Look at you," he hums, practically a purr as he looks up at you, eyes glittering with approval. His voice startles you, and you feel your cheeks flush as he presses you gently closer with his palm against your spine. When Eddie kisses the base of your throat, plush lips soft and warm, your nerves settle; when he nips downward, the flutters take over as you stretch your spine, angling your chest up for him.

As Eddie's lips draw closer to your nipple, you shift your hips unconsciously, body seeking to ease the ache between your legs. When he hums, hands wrapping around your hips, you realize that Eddie is very vocal— you can hear each time he responds to something you've done, and you find you enjoy having that knowledge, that confirmation. When he lifts your hips slightly so he can adjust beneath you, the groan he muffles against your skin when his hardening length presses against your pussy echoes the relief you feel inside but don't voice. He's hot through those loose boxers, firm as he drags against your heat when you shift your hips experimentally again, quietly exploring how he feels. But when his lips close around your nipple, sucking at the same time you use him to drag friction against your clit, you can't prevent the tiny whimper that escapes your lips.

Eddie switches to the other breast, presses his face closer, sucks harder, and you're pleased that he seems to have enjoyed your sound. Calloused hands meet at the small of your back, silently urging you forward; encouraged, you rock against him again. With each shift of your hips on his lap and each hot lave of his tongue against your nipples, you stoke each other's fires, clear in how you throb harder and he hardens further beneath you.

You hear Chrissy murmur again, coquettish and smooth: ""You know, Steve, I can be your little slut, too."  

You don't look, eyes closed while Eddie lavishes your breasts, but you hear your boyfriend chuckle breathlessly, husky and eager. "Yeah?" Chrissy hums, and their lips smack, soft groans and moans falling from them, washing over you. The heat in their voices— the evidence of their pleasure— adds to your own pleasure, and you move your hips more boldly against Eddie's lap as you hear it. You're enjoying how he's sucking your nipples, each brush of his tongue zinging to your pussy, but your desire suddenly shifts. You use the fingers buried in his hair to tug him lightly from you, pussy pulsing as he startles a slight groan, brown eyes snapping to yours as his pupils dilate. 

It only confirms what you'd just realized: Eddie's reactions feed you, and you're hungry for more.

You tilt his head back, ducking to kiss and suck at the edge of his jaw, mouthing at the pale quartz of his throat. You wonder what Eddie would do if you worked a bruise into his skin— would he suck in a delicious gasp of air? Would he moan, chest rumbling against your breasts? Would his hips twitch beneath you, pressing himself up into your heat? 

To experiment, you kiss him sweetly beneath his ear, stimulating the skin before taking it between your teeth, nipping gently. You feel his breath catch in his chest; his hands take firm hold of your hips for the first time, dragging you against his hard cock. 

And oh, is it so utterly satisfying when Eddie's hips press up into you, wanting you closer as you suck and nip at his throat. When he starts a slow, steady grind, pushing you down against his cock as he drags friction along your clit, both of your breaths deepen, quicken, murmuring small sounds of pleasure into each other's skin and hair. Arousal begins to tighten low in your belly, kindling finally catching fire, pussy now slick and heated.

"I need your mouth on my cunt, Steve."

You flush hotter as you hear Chrissy's words and feel Eddie's fingers tighten against your hips. The idea sits loaded between you as Steve murmurs something to Chrissy, presumably about her proposition, but you can't be bothered to listen as you feel Eddie swallow under your lips, chest pressing to your breasts with his deep breath.

Eddie's fingers find your jaw then, gently guiding you up to look into his eyes: brown burnished to warm amber, lit from within by feverish desire. Desire for you. It makes you pulse again, knees squeezing lightly against the outside of his hips.

After looking at you for a moment, Eddie draws closer, soft nose brushing your ear. "You wanna?" he husks, lips feather-light against the skin of your throat. Tantalizing smoke flows, inflating your lungs as he asks, "You want me to go down on you?"

You bite your lip as a thrill pulses through you, and you nod, frizzy curls brushing your cheek. He kisses you again underneath your ear, firmer now, seeming eager at your answer. His eagerness settles into you, and your excitement rises as Eddie kisses a path back to your lips. You cup his jaw as he reaches your mouth, opening your lips for him, tasting his tongue for the first time. 

Eddie's tongue is sweet like soju and spicy like cinnamon gum, but it mostly tastes like nothing you've tasted before— his flavor, you suppose. His tongue is firm and wet as it dips into your mouth, and you press yourself to his chest as you taste him, wanting every inch of his skin against your own, as much as you can touch. 

Beside you, Chrissy squeals as the couch suddenly shifts, and you part from Eddie's mouth in surprise at the sudden movement. You see Steve carrying her to the loveseat; lithe, pale arms wrap around his broad shoulders, ankles meeting at the waistline of his tight black boxer briefs. 

You don't want to, but you start to think about how easy it was for Steve to lift Chrissy, how he never picks you up like that—

Eddie's thumb brushes against your clothed slit, and the thought promptly sieves from your conscious mind.

You find brown eyes by instinct, a little plaintive crease forming in your brow as you look at him. Eddie's lips curl in a smile when, as he brushes you again, you gasp, and your eyes dart down to watch his hand— ruddy knuckles, gleaming silver rings that look aggressive against the dainty lace of your blue panties. You squirm slightly as he palms your thighs, fingers kneading flesh, and you see it at the same time you feel it— the overwhelming wetness of your pussy, the saturation of your panties. The wet spot on the front of his boxers, which you wish was from him but know is from you.

A hot rush of embarrassment pours down your spine as you realize you've soaked through your underwear onto his, but Eddie seems not to share your sentiment. His smile grows, eyes half-lidded and heated as he draws closer to your face. "So wet for me," Eddie praises you, breath ghosting against your lips, inky eyes glittering with approval. When his thumb brushes you again, you shift into his touch, hips pressing it more firmly against your slick heat, seeking more pressure.

A glint of teeth as his smile turns to a smirk. "Mmm," Eddie hums, voice low, husked against your lips. "Good girl."

Your breath catches, pussy clenching as he calls you that— feeling bursts low in your belly, fluttering, blooming up to your chest as you whimper for him. "Oh," Eddie murmurs, voice still quiet but curious now, as if he's discovered something. "You like that, don't you?"

Your face flushes hot, lips twisting as you shrink from a response, but Eddie takes pity on you. "Lie down on the couch for me," he says, releasing you from having to answer. 

You rearrange until you're stretched out flat on the big couch, looking beyond your breasts to the valley of your soft stomach, the curve of your thighs, watching as Eddie's fingers seek blue lace. He pauses before he removes them, on his knees and hovering above you, wild curls like a dark stormcloud around his head, patient as he waits for your permission. 

Your chest heaves with a shaky breath, and then you nod.

The air is cold against your newly-revealed skin as Eddie drags your panties from you, and you bite your lip as you feel them graze your calves. You look up at the white ceiling as his hands softly press your thighs apart, heart thumping as his curls brush your skin, pussy throbbing with the anticipation of his mouth on you—

As Eddie licks a thick stripe up your pussy, your quiet moan expresses your blissful relief.

His tongue is slick fire against your heat, wet and firm on your swollen flesh. Again, it strikes you, just like when you'd first sat on his lap, how he feels different from Steve. The thought fills you with a naughty thrill, the knowledge that you're letting another man lick your pussy while your boyfriend is sprawled out on the loveseat nearby, having given his full permission. You're allowed to enjoy this, to relish the way Eddie's broad tongue parts your folds, the way he drags that slick fire from your entrance to your clit before teasing it with little light brushes of his tongue-tip, little flicks that make your hips shift as he stokes the burn in your belly. 

That burn only increases as Eddie starts to explore you— thumbs pulling your folds apart, tongue dipping into your entrance, lips sucking lightly on your clit, tongue swirling in different patterns as if he's trying to learn you, to seek out your strongest reactions. And when he finds something that makes your thighs twitch, or your breath hitch, or your lips part with a moan or whimper, he does it again and again, a little firmer or lighter, a little faster or slower, curious like he'd been when he'd discovered you liked the way he spoke to you.

It begins to build— the tension inside you, encouraged by Eddie's eager seeking. But it's not the only thing that builds— you're suddenly reminded of what your boyfriend is doing sprawled out on the loveseat nearby when their sounds hit you like someone has turned up the dial and stripped away any filters.

You hear Chrissy first: loud feminine moaning, interrupted as she mewls, "Fuck, yeah— oh, that feels so good, Steve." 

Steve groans, the sound muffled as if against flesh. "Your pussy tastes so fuckin' amazing." 

Another moan, higher. "Oh yeah, shit, Steve— finger-fuck me hard, baby—" 

More groaning, loud and deep. "Oh, fuck—"

Though Eddie's tongue is lavishing you with pleasure, once you hear them, you can't stop the spiral of your thoughts. You're suddenly conscious that you've been mostly silent this whole time. Should I be making more noise? You remember how Chrissy had called herself a bad girl for Eddie, how he'd seemed to like it. Should I be saying things like that? You can feel it: the freeze that begins to creep, to spread along your ribs. And as Eddie keeps licking you, Steve's voice echoes in your head: 'Your pussy tastes so fucking amazing,' he'd told Chrissy. Steve has never said you taste bad or anything— he's never really said anything about your taste before. What if I don't taste as good as her? What if Eddie doesn't like the way I taste but is too nice to say anything? What if—?

When the wet heat of Eddie's tongue leaves you, it almost seems like confirmation of your spiraling thoughts— the freeze travels up your throat, brow twitching with distress until you feel the couch shift underneath his weight. And then he's there: fingers brushing back the hair at your temple, brown eyes staring calmly into your own, warm skin covering you as your thighs part to accommodate his hips. 

Eddie's voice is a soft murmur. "You're all tangled up in your head, aren't you?"

Your eyes dart between each of his as you look up at him shyly, swallowing thick against the freeze. But his warm gaze is melting it; the heat of his chest is sinking into your ribcage. You nod for him.

"Focus on me," he says, ducking his head to press his lips to yours. 

And as you breathe slowly through your nose, lips parting to allow him access, Steve and Chrissy recede. You let them fade as Eddie coaxes you back to him, tongue slick against yours, fingers stroking your cheeks and jaw and neck until you make a breathy sound against his lips and your hips shift up into his, seeking, wanting. "There she is," Eddie murmurs, approval clear in that rasp of smoke he breathes into your mouth. He pulls back, curls brushing your collarbone as he strokes your hair again. "I wanna make you feel good," he says. "Will you let me make you feel good?"

"Yes," you whisper.

Eddie hovers nearby, waiting patiently as you look into his eyes, that warm brown burnished to amber. And then you stretch your neck to kiss him. 

As soon as your mouth meets his, he leans in, lips pillow-soft and plush, sticking slightly as you pull away. You're rewarded with a crook of a smile and a smoky purr. "That's it, sweet girl."

It's like 'sweetheart,' like 'good girl,' except it's so much fucking better. Your pussy pulses, hips pressing up into him as feeling blooms in your body, sweet like a rush of rain. You kiss Eddie again, more passionately this time, hands cupping his jaw to keep him close. He groans against your mouth, hips pressing his cock to your pussy, only the thin fabric of his boxers separating your hot skin. Mouths open, wet, sloppier than before, tasting of alcohol and cinnamon and musk— the flavor of your pussy on his tongue. 

And when Eddie, now satisfied that he will sustain your attention, travels down your body— dropping kisses over the peaks of your breasts, the slope of your soft stomach, the wide curve of your hip— you aren't thinking about anything except his mouth on you: where it is now, and where it's going to be as it travels lower, lower, lower.

As his broad tongue parts you again, your hips twitch up into him, less inhibited now. Eddie groans against your heat, vibrating deliciously, and you feel that fire burn hot in your belly as he noses your clit, tongue dipping into your entrance. He moves back up, lips sucking on your clit, and your sigh turns to a moan as you feel his finger press inside, stretching you slowly. You reach down for him, soft fingers weaving with callused where his hand rests against your hip. 

And it's so strange. His tongue is working your clit, and his finger is stretching you open. But it's when Eddie squeezes your hand, fingers holding tightly to yours, that something shifts inside: creeping, extending into peat, quivering down into soil at the bottom of you.

Distantly, you register that Chrissy's moaning and mewling have begun to intensify, to crest in a wave of feminine satisfaction. But you don't think about that. You're thinking about the sound Eddie makes as you tangle the fingers of your other hand in his hair, the way he moans against your swollen flesh, voice pitched higher than before. Discovering that reaction makes you wonder how else you might make him react. You imagine that pale quartz skin flushed as you take him into your mouth; you imagine that strong jaw tensing as you lower onto him, engulfing him in your wet warmth. You imagine those plush lips spilling groans as you rock on his length; you imagine his brow contorting in pleasure as he empties inside you.

And with these imaginings, you're nearly shocked to feel that tightening in your lower belly, the tingling burn that signals your approaching orgasm. You're shocked because this never happens— not from being eaten out. Not from being fingered. And your breath quickens, fingers grasping desperately onto Eddie's as your muscles tense in anticipation, head tilting back as you begin to moan louder, for once unconcerned about the noise you're making—

The creak of the coffee table is abrupt and utterly startling, and your eyes pop open as adrenaline spikes in your chest, gaze darting toward the sound.

It's Steve, sitting on the table, hard cock trapped behind tight boxers, hazel eyes darting intently between your face and your spread legs.

And it's Chrissy, standing beside him, letting Steve guide her onto his lap as her blue eyes rove over your naked body.

Instantly, your muscles tense for a different reason, your arousal withering under the weight of their stares, feeling like you're a bug under a microscope.

You realize, with startling clarity, that the brush of Eddie's tongue and the press of his finger is no longer stimulating you, that your orgasm has been chased away by your audience. Eddie hasn't noticed yet that things have changed for you, and you desperately want to keep it that way. And it's not the first time you've faked an orgasm for Steve. It's not that it doesn't feel good, that Steve isn't good at it— clearly, he must be since he made Chrissy cum. It's because you can never fully relax enough to let yourself go. 

So you do what you always do: you make your chest heave with deepened breaths, tense your legs against Eddie's ears, but not too hard; and then, when you deem you've gone long enough, you throw back your head, drag your moans out as you twitch your hips up into Eddie's face, writhing against the couch.

"That's it, baby," Steve murmurs, and you know you've been convincing.

You open your eyes when the couch dips beside your shoulder, registering Steve's face just before he kisses you. You open your lips automatically, though you balk slightly at the unfamiliar musky taste on his tongue, realizing it's Chrissy in his mouth. You withdraw your fingers from Eddie then, releasing his hair and hand, and your thighs are cold without the tickle of his curls against them as he withdraws from you. You keep kissing Steve as you feel Eddie pull up your panties, lifting your hips for him. And as the kindness of the gesture strikes you, you pull from Steve's lips then, glancing up at the man still kneeling between your legs.

Eddie's arm is wrapped around Chrissy's waist as she clings to his side, pink bow lips happily pressing kisses to his cheek. You watch him wipe his mouth on the back of his wrist, but when your eyes dart up to his, the ink of his stare— its intensity— makes you suddenly want to squirm.

Unnerved, you avoid Eddie's gaze, pecking Steve one last time on the mouth as you brush back a rogue lock of hair that's fallen over his eye. You aren't sure what Eddie's stare means— if he's expecting you to thank him, or if he wants to tell you something, or if, God forbid, he'd found the experience of eating you out less than pleasant. 

As vague nervousness pings in your chest, you know you need to do something to distract yourself from this train of thought, and the question of what to do is thankfully answered by Chrissy:

"All right, Mr. Harrington." She smiles foxily. "Now it's your turn."

Eddie's arm slides from Chrissy's waist as she and Steve move close; when she settles on her knees before him, you sit up, eyes locked with purpose on the front of Eddie's loose boxers, now tented. While part of you wants a distraction from your nervousness, another part conjures the flush of Eddie's face as you again imagine going down on him, and you feel your pussy pulse despite the lingering nerves. 

You choose to let that decide for you.

"I'm happy to return the favor, you know. Since you got me off." You sound more confident than you feel.

Your gaze darts to his, diverting quickly as that strange intensity remains in his eyes. But when you kneel beside Chrissy, looking up at him, Eddie rises from the couch to stand next to Steve, pale hands hanging loosely at his sides. 

It seems whatever he's thinking isn't pressing enough to distract from the promise of your mouth on him.

You draw your fingers lightly up his legs, sparse hair tickling as you reach up, up, up to the waistband of his boxers, dipping your fingertips underneath as you lift on your knees to press a kiss beside his navel. When you look at Eddie again, that intensity in his face has shifted, heated, turned desirous once more as he watches you slowly pull down his boxers.

He pops free from the fabric, stiff and thick, not as long as Steve but flushed a deep, mouthwatering pink at the tip, standing proud from a snatch of dark curls. You suck in a quick breath as you see him, as he steps from his boxers and his length bobs near your cheek with the movement. Beside you, Chrissy is already working Steve, tongue swirling around his head, delicate fingers lightly gripping the base of his cock— but you don't want to watch her, mesmerizing though her technique may be. 

You want to watch the man standing before you.

Your tongue darts out to taste him, dragging slowly along the underside of his head, and you watch Eddie's adam's apple jump with a thick swallow, eyes locked on yours as you take him into your mouth. His precum is briny on your tongue, and you bob lightly on his tip until he's breathing more heavily. You explore him the way he'd explored you, trying to learn what he likes— licking a fat stripe up the underside, flicking your tongue against his frenulum, taking him further into your mouth, jaw clicking as you stretch to accommodate him. And that flush you'd imagined on his cheeks— you're watching it spread now, relishing the sound of his moans as you suck and lick him, lavishing all your attention on his cock.

Eddie's flush and his sounds spur you on, making you bold. And maybe it's the way Chrissy is so expertly bobbing and swirling on Steve's cock beside you. Or maybe it's your hunger for more of Eddie's reactions. Whatever it is, you're possessed to do something you've never thought to do before: as your lips pop from the head of Eddie's cock, you work his length with your hand, ducking your head and gently sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

His reaction is immediate and utterly breathtaking. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, hand fisting against his thigh, ruddy knuckles turning pale white above his chunky silver rings. Your pussy throbs, and you hum; he thrusts into your fist, smoky groans slipping from his lips as you lick and suck on his balls until you feel his warm palm clasp the back of your head, fingers tightening in your hair. You release him then, taking his length into your mouth again, sucking him as you work the underside of his cock with your tongue. 

You may not be as good as Chrissy at giving head, but damned if you haven't had plenty of practice these last three years.

The tell-tale sound of Steve's release— a ragged breath, groans stifled in his throat— is unmistakable beside you, and you keep bobbing on Eddie's cock as you glance to see Steve painting Chrissy's perky breasts with his cum. She squishes them together with her hands, sucking his tip as he gasps and moans, and you're distracted until you feel Eddie's fingers tighten in your hair again. You look up at him then, watching his eyes dart briefly to the side before returning to you, remaining there as you take him a little deeper into your mouth. Eddie's fingers in your hair loosen, but not to let go; instead, he drags his palm further down to cup the back of your skull, voice a husky murmur as he tells you, "I'm close."

You hum a moan around his length, and Eddie takes a sharp breath, jaw tightening, brow tensing, dark eyes intent as he watches you suck his cock. You can feel him starting to twitch in your mouth, and you prepare to pull off and swap to your hand to bring him to completion.

And then Eddie strokes your hair as he husks, "You want my cum, sweetheart?"

The answer, before he'd asked, was no, not particularly. Sure, you'd wanted him to orgasm because that was your aim in giving him a blowjob. But did you want his cum? You wouldn't say so. Yet the way Eddie's face looks— framed by those beautifully wild curls, brown eyes hazy and inky-black with his want for you, brow pinched, cheeks flushed— and the way his voice sounds, that smoky timbre that won't stop reaching, tugging, pulling deep inside you….

Suddenly, you do. You want Eddie's cum.

"Mmhmm," you confirm, humming around his cock, taking him deeper yet, eyes locked on his face as those full lips fall open with a deep moan, and Eddie gives you what you want.

He's briny and musky but not unpleasant as he floods your mouth, cock twitching on your tongue. You pull off until just his tip is inside, swallowing him down as best you can. But there's a lot of cum, and you're not used to swallowing, so it's not surprising that a little leaks from your lips as you try to keep up. 

Your eyes open as you feel a brush against your face, and you only realize then that you'd closed them. You blink, realizing that Eddie's hand is on your cheek and his thumb is wiping a bit of cum from the corner of your lips. And that gentleness you see sometimes— it's there now, pouring out in amber brown as he looks at you, eyes deep and framed by long, dark lashes.

A flutter of wings accompanies the brush of Eddie's thumb against your skin, and you find yourself running your palm softly up his calf, wanting to somehow communicate the blooming you feel inside at the tenderness of his touch.

"Damn, Munson," Steve says, and your spine straightens at the loudness. "How'd you get her to do that?" He chuckles, hazel eyes teasing as your gaze darts to meet them. "Gotta give me pointers," Steve jokes, and you pull your head back, suddenly realizing that your lips are still wrapped around Eddie's cock.

Eddie huffs a chuckle, glancing at his friend as his hand drops from the back of your head. "Well, maybe if you tasted better," he ribs lightly, cocking a brow. "I eat my weight in Twizzlers." 

Steve scoffs, shoving his shoulder. "Fuck off."

You'd felt on the edge of embarrassment, but it recedes as their attention leaves you, focused on each other instead. You look at Chrissy to your side, gaze meeting powdery-soft blue and a kind smile. 

A sudden surge of fondness for Chrissy fills you as you kneel side-by-side while the men argue familiarly. Strangely, there isn't any strangeness between you after having blown each other's boyfriends, but you welcome that lack as she rolls her eyes at their antics, fluttering her eyelashes to imply exasperation. 

You giggle, jerking your chin toward the bedroom. "Come on," you say, smiling at her. "Let's get cleaned up and dressed. Forget the bickering dummies."

-

When you emerge from the bedroom, you find the guys have resolved their petty argument and are sitting at the dining room table, presumably waiting for you both. You've redressed in your black skirt, tank top, and cardigan out of solidarity with Chrissy since she didn't have anything but her dress to wear, though you'd pretended it was just for convenience, so she didn't feel bad. You somewhat regret that when Chrissy wants to talk to Steve about her class again— it turns out that wasn't merely a ploy to get you and Eddie to spend together that first time you'd met— and Eddie says he has something for you in his van.

The air is cold against your bare legs as you stand near the back doors, hugging yourself tight, cardigan not nearly enough to ward off the chill. It’s forgotten, though, when Eddie emerges with a swath of black fabric, smiling manically, brown eyes wide as he brandishes his find.

It's a t-shirt with white graphics: an open coffin and swathe of bats that flow across the jagged name ‘Corroded Coffin.’ "If you're gonna take my place," he says, dark eyes dancing, "you gotta rep the merch."

You laugh as you take it from him, holding it up to your torso. It's at least three sizes too big for you, but you don't care; you bunch it in your hands as Eddie explains, "Sorry it's so big— we only have these leftover 'til we order more."

Unconcerned, you pop the shirt over your head. You giggle as you realize it covers your skirt and fits easily, even over your cardigan, arms spreading wide to show it off. 

You thank him genuinely, then follow up with a tease. "When's my first show? I'm free next week."

Eddie laughs, the sound scratchy and thick, and it flutters low in your belly— the knowledge that you'd amused him. "Hold on, now," he says. "You haven't even auditioned yet."

"True," you reply, smiling as his eyes crinkle at you. You don't know what possesses you— it's a total non sequitur, and it makes no sense to ask right now, but you really want to know. "Was it good?" you ask, voice hesitant and quiet. "The, um…" you work to clarify as his head tilts in confusion. "The blowjob?"

Eddie's brow jerks, but his answer is quick and sure. "Yeah," he replies, a corner of his lips curling in a small smile. "Yeah, it was good."

And had you known what would come next, you never would have asked. But you didn't know Eddie would follow up with a question of his own. 

You didn't know he'd noticed.

His head tilts again as he asks plainly, "Why did you fake your orgasm?"

The words strike like a physical blow, and the liquid rush of hot mortification is so overwhelming that your knees nearly buckle with it. Your cheeks heat, blushing bright in the shine of the streetlight, horror flooding your face as you stare at him. The shame of it— of Eddie not only knowing you'd pretended to cum, but voicing it like this— pricks at your eyes, stinging as they water.

Instantly, Eddie looks utterly stricken, eyes darting helplessly over your face. "Shit, I— I'm sorry—" He takes a step forward, brow crumpling, arms extending, fingers flexing as if he wants to grab onto something— you, the van door, his hair. Something. Anything. "Fuck— Look, just forget I said anything—" 

The sight of Eddie's distress just makes your own distress more acute; you stumble to explain. "No, I'm just…" your chin trembles as you attempt to tell the truth. "I'm just embarrassed."

He looks even more horrified. "Was it…." He trails off and swallows, voice hoarse. "D-Did I do something wrong—?" 

Your eyes widen. "No, no! You were great. I… I just felt, like…." You force the words out, hating how his face looks enough to voice them. "When they came over to, like, watch…." Admitting this is embarrassing, but you're already mortified, so the benefit of truth outweighs the sting. "I just felt kind of pressured, and it took me out of the moment." 

Eddie blinks, frowning less fiercely now, but he doesn't look entirely convinced. But you know by now that he’s kind, so you let that strengthen you. You admit, "I… I've never actually gotten there before from… from someone going down on me. So, it's not you." 

You want to make him feel better, but Eddie Munson is too perceptive; he searches your expression, reading something there. "I swear," he says slowly, cautiously, "I'm not trying to be a dick, but.. has he ever made you…?" He trails off, dark eyes free of judgment, sympathy in the tilt of his brow.

You blush deeply, averting your eyes. Eddie isn't being a dick, but the question is too intimate. Your truthful answer is too revealing. 

"Please," you whisper instead, voice trembling. "Just… please don't tell Steve about this." 

You can feel Eddie move closer, though your gaze is stuck to the giant t-shirt hanging from your frame, concealing your clothes beneath a swath of black and white. When he stops in front of you, body close but not touching, you take a bracing breath and finally drag your eyes to his face.

Those bright brown eyes are so big, and Eddie's touch is careful as he pulls you in, folding you in the cradle of his arms. The chill of the outdoors is soothed; hot embarrassment fades as you breathe in smoke and apples. You let him hold you, burying your nose in his collar, chasing that scent until he speaks relief. 

"It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."

-

Not long after Eddie and Chrissy have left, your phone vibrates.

You're brushing your teeth, swathed in flannel pajamas, squinting in the bathroom light as you hear it, and when you swipe to unlock it, peering down at the text, you smile through foamy toothpaste.

'If you want to take over as frontwoman of Corroded Coffin, you're gonna need to nail your audition song.' Eddie has followed the text with a Spotify link.

You spit, rinsing it down as you plunk your toothbrush into its holder. "I'm taking out the trash real quick," you tell Steve, carrying your phone past the bed where he's reclining, scrolling on his own phone.

The apartment stairwell echoes with My Curse by Killswitch Engage; it trails after you all the way to the trash room. This is better than Lacuna Coil— it's driving but somehow still melodic, and that first howl is so guttural that it quivers behind your ribs. On the way back up, you pause at the third story landing as you open up your text messages and record the voice note, typing, 'You can send in your two weeks now.' 

At first, you feel silly. But when you listen back, your voice sounds full, echoing off the stairwell walls. And you haven't gone overboard; you've only sung about fifteen seconds, your favorite part of the song, enamored by the strength of the singer's baritone, the emotion in his vibrato: 'There is love burning to find you; will you wait for me?'

Before you can let the rising nervousness freeze you, you hit send.

By floor five, he's answered. 'Holy shit, sweetheart. If you can scream, I'll clear out my desk right now.'

You flush and giggle at the choice of words, the sound echoing loudly in the emptiness. At the threshold of your floor, you type back, 'I'll leave that to the professional, I think.' With that, you slip your phone into your pocket, pushing open the door.

When you return to the comfort of your bedroom, soft light illuminates Steve's hazel eyes as he glances up, a broad smile spreading on his lips. "Hey," he says softly, lips crooking higher as you slide under soft covers beside him.

"Hi!" You smile at him before plugging in your phone beside your bed.

"So," he begins, running a palm through his bangs, mussing them against his forehead. You straighten them fondly as he talks. "I was wondering. Was there anything Eddie did today that you really liked? Something that you'd like me to do?"

Steve's gaze is warm as he waits for your reply. You feel appreciation rise at his consideration, grateful that he'd be willing to change or adapt based on today's discoveries, the things you'd appreciated. 

But as you think about the things you'd appreciated most— Eddie's calloused hand squeezing yours, the rasp of his thumb against your lip, his murmured words: 'I won't tell anyone. I promise—'

You realize that you can't really explain it. That it's amorphous; that when you try to grasp it, it slips through your fingers, visible but not yet palpable.

Like smoke.

"No," you answer, "Nothing really." When Steve continues to gaze at you, you realize he may want you to reciprocate, so you oblige, face open and receptive. "Was there anything you liked that you might want me to do?"

Steve's brows raise optimistically. "Yeah, actually," he replies. "I kind of liked the dirty talk. I was thinking maybe we could do that more."

'Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, Steve, lick my cunt, finger-fuck me so fucking hard, shit —'

Chrissy's mewling voice echoes in your head, words she'd said mashing together until they loom large. Self-consciousness prickles as you imagine trying to imitate her, but Steve's kind face stares back at you, hopeful and encouraging. "Yeah," you say, lips tugging into a small smile. "Yeah, I can try that."

Soft, broad fingers weave through yours, and Steve lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back, hazel eyes gleaming. "Thanks, baby," he says. "I love you."

Your smile softens. "I love you, too."

That night, you dream of smoke and ink. Roots creep, deep and aching, burrowing further down into you.

[suncchaser]

Misogyny in the Marauders Fandom

DISCLAIMER: This is not a personal attack. I have spoken on this topic a couple of times already on this blog and I simply decided to make a separate post to compile all my thoughts on this because this is a topic that is important TO ME. If you find it annoying, or ranty or unnecessary, you are entitled to your opinion. Also, I am not a native English speaker, so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. 

Since I created this blog, I have been open about my opinion that the Marauders fandom (and the Harry Potter fandom in general), like many others (I would dare say most others) is incredibly misogynistic. This is an opinion I have held for many, many years and one that I have seen a lot of people share, but usually with a lot of backlash from the people who tend to disagree. And that backlash tends to come with a certain degree of cynicism that bothers me quite a bit. 

Every single time I have seen discussions on this topic, the concept of misogyny being used is always incredibly simplistic. Misogyny isn’t the mere concept of hating women. It goes deeper than that. Every single one of us, regardless of gender identity and sexuality (because some people on this app think being attracted to women absolves them from misogyny), have ingrained prejudices against women simply because of the society we operate in. We are taught these things from a very young age and it’s hard to unlearn them. I am writing this as a 25 year old woman who needs to check herself quite often because I am not perfect and like everyone else, I have these prejudices too. And these biases will manifest on every aspect of our lives and interactions, including on how we engage with fandom because our actions do NOT exist in a vacuum. It’s all a manifestation of who we are as people.

Does this mean every single Marauders fan who chooses to engage with primarily male-centered and mlm content is a horrible person? Of course not. The main point I have been trying to make is more often than not, these biases are not at all conscious. There is no ill-intent behind their actions. That’s why I keep saying it has never been a personal attack on anyone. It has always been a broader discussion on a broader issue. 

One of the most common rebuttals I have seen when this topic is brought up is the idea that the fandom is so male-centered because most of the characters we have any canon development on are men and therefore we should blame J.K Rowling for not writing women better. We can blame J-K Rowling for many things because there are indeed many problematic things in the Harry Potter books, including misogyny in her treatment of female characters. However, that argument does not apply here for more than one reason. 

The first reason and the most blatant is how proudly this side of the fandom has distanced themselves from canon. So, you cannot in one moment say “we don’t care that (insert male character the fandom has decided to assign a sob story) was a bad person in the books because we don’t care about canon” while at the same time, blaming canon for the reason why the female characters do not get a fraction of the attention male characters get. You either care for canon or you don’t. 

The second reason and I have mentioned that several times before is the characters the fandom chooses to develop from the crumbs we get in the books. Regulus, Barty and Evan have been the three male characters who have had a massive surge in popularity since around four/five years ago and at the moment, I would dare say they are the three most popular characters outside of James, Sirius and Remus, who are basically the main characters of this era. While Barty was an important character in the Goblet of Fire, Regulus and Evan are no more than mentions and were not important at all to the story (do not lecture me about Regulus, he has a cool and interesting backstory but it has no impact on the story apart from giving Kreacher substance and make things harder for the trio) and yet, they are incredibly loved. Who they were in canon - blood supremacist terrorists - has been watered down, pushed aside and they have been given characterisations that victimize them and make them more sympathetic towards the audience. Yet, female characters like Marlene and Dorcas, who we know were members of the Order of the Phoenix and actively fighting against Voldemort, are nowhere near as developed as them, even though they have such wonderful potential and are as blank of sheets as the boys are. Same with Pandora, who is the mother of a beloved character in the main series. The fandom had five characters here to flesh out and develop, yet only the male characters were given that treatment. It was a choice. 

One other thing that has bothered me for a long time is how often, the female characters are treated as accessories to further the men’s storylines. They serve as therapists, token friends, a little object to create drama between the mlm ships. Take Pandora and Dorcas as an example. I am not going to lie, I avoid anything related to the Slytherin Skittles and despite my greatest efforts and the fact everything I have learned about them has been against my will, I know and understand the backstories that were created for Regulus, Evan and Barty. I know what their fanon motivations were. I know nothing about Dorcas and Pandora despite the fact I have tried my hardest to look into it because I actually have interest in those two. Because their storylines make no sense, their motivations aren’t explored, they are there to make the three male characters more sympathetic. How does Dorcas go from being a Slytherin student and friends with wannabe DEs and blood supremacists, which was never a dealbreaker for her because she loved them apparently, to being a member of the OoTP, so important that she’s killed by Voldemort in person? What makes you think that Dumbledore would even trust her to allow her in the Order? He wouldn’t. How does Pandora go from being a Rosier, a member of a very prejudiced pure-blood family with a DE father, twins with an aspiring DE and friends with two others (at the very least very prejudiced), and despite being portrayed as super passive and never standing up against them, she is not corrupted by their beliefs and seemingly goes on to raise one of the purest characters in the whole series. Because yes, Pandora raised Luna for nine years of her life, so the way Luna is is undoubtedly a lot to do with how Pandora was. It doesn’t make any sense. But it’s not supposed to make sense because they are there just to serve a purpose and not to be their own characters. 

I have also talked about Lily and how her character has been treated since Jegulus gained popularity. Lily, who was always the most prominent and developed female character in the Marauders fandom, has been sidelined and pushed to the background for the sake of another mlm ship with zero canon basis. James remained one of the most popular characters, a part of one of the more popular ships, still center stage while Lily was the one to be shoved aside in order to make this fandom even more male-centered than it already was.

And since then, her character has been treated horribly. Vilified, humiliated, turned into an incubator, had her son turned into a “jegulus baby” because this fandom hasn’t learned to create OCs when they want mlm ships to have kids rather than take the children from the women and remove them from the narrative (also side-eyeing Wolfstar shippers who do it with Teddy because where the FUCK do you think the name Teddy even came from?). I will leave some examples below:

The bottom line is the interest for female characters and any relationship involving them, whether it’s wlw and wlm, is much less compared to the interest the fandom has for the male characters mlm ships. And there is no explanation for this apart from misogyny. And like I said above, it may not be ill-intended or conscious but it doesn’t change what it is. Whenever I see defensiveness on this topic, whether here on Tumblr or on Twitter, I always check their pages and I find the same thing nearly every time. They will have a wlw ship on their bios that they never mention a single time in the midst of their 200 posts per week on their favourite mlm ship. They will scream to the skies they do not ship Jily because they headcanon Lily as a lesbian and it has nothing to do with their favourite mlm ship but the only lesbian Lily is mentioned on their pages is indeed in relation to their favourite mlm ship. 

Instead of attacking people, maybe it would be better to reflect a little on why you refuse to engage with content about the women and only seem to have any interest about the men. And if you find yourself not caring, at least acknowledge why you don’t care about your internalized misogyny rather than becoming defensive about it.

[booksandmore]

I’m sorry but CC only has herself to blame for making TMI known as “the incest books” in all of the reading communities outside of TSC fandom.

She herself ruined TMI becoming as big as it could’ve been & TSC in general by putting incest in all 6 books of TMI…That’s why no one posts about it on Booktwt or Booktok..

There’s no point in being upset at readers judging TMI for having incest in it when that’s a valid criticism.. Clace kissed multiple times for three books all while not being officially sure whether or not they were related or not..then CC got petty & doubled down on the incest after being criticized for it already & had Clary kiss her biological brother in book three after people already hated it with Clace in the first two books.

Clary’s brother almost rapes her in book five and tries kissing her in the last book. TSC is not GOT where it gets a pass. Non TSC stans really want a LI calling his girlfriend’s Dad his own Dad 💀 Jace was calling Clary’s brother his brother while being romantically involved with Clary. Just because he was adopted by Valentine as a kid didn’t make it normal for Cassie to have Jace call himself a Morgenstern or to call his girlfriend’s brother his own brother.

TMI hate = CC’s own fault.. any TMI stan bitterness should be directed at her own questionable writing choices. Sorry but seeing TMI stans hating that TMI is judged for this all when it’s the authors own fault is weird yk? It’s been too long, Cassie understands why TMI gets hate. As a TMI stan it makes me upset that she dragged the incest on the entire series because I can’t proudly ever talk about Clace, Seb or TMI as a whole because she got weird with the writing in that series on purpose to spite people who criticized the incest in Books 1-2. It was petty for her to drag on incest for that long knowing people hated it..It’s her fault.

I’m tired of people outside of the fandom being judged for not liking the incest for Clary with two Mmc’s when..it’s valid not to like or be comfortable with. TMI stans always having to make excuses for her too is even sadder bc it’s not our fault or other readers’ it’s the authors fault for putting that in a fun YA series that didn’t need incest AT ALL. That’s probably why the show was a flop and the movie, no one could take the series seriously with that arc for Clary with Jace and her brother Sebastian..

no yes i totally get it!! it is frusterating to see tmi get dismissed but im not gonna force anyone to do anything they dont like. it’s valid to not want to interact with something cause it grosses you out, i’ve definitly done that before as well. we all have our limits and that’s okay!! that said feel free to ignore the rest of this i just wanted to explain my thoughts more thoroughly but it got a bit long😭you might not like anon sorry

first of, i do admit it’s been a while since my reread and also, i haven’t touched the other series since i first read them so i can really only speak for tmi rn, and if i get anything wrong that’s on me

i should probably clarify that my original posts were create because i was just so baffled that people were sayong cc has some kind of incest kink and that’s why she was forcing it into her books. like?? an author choosing to engage with darker taboo topics doesn’t mean they’re into it im pretty sure. its not like i know her personally, but if she had a kink i sort of suspect it would show up in the rest of her books yk? is it really that hard to imagine that she’d include it for a reason?😭

for me, maybe because i’m used to books like the secre t history or older classics, i tend to look past the taboo of it and focus on what it does for the story/reveals about charchterization, if that makes sense?

i think that tmi is very much about family, and sebastian having these fucked up views about family (where he mistakes romantic love for familial love) really goes to show how horrible valentine was as a father, and how terribly he was treated and how desperate he was for love. i think he doesnt know what it means to be loved by family and that’s why he substitutes it with something else. cause i think that deep down inside he does have a normal brotherly love for clary, its just that he doesnt know any other way to show that

for me the incest thing is a plot device and it frusterates me how no one wants to engage with it that way. could it have been done differently? probabaly. but they don’t even try to examining why it’s there at all! they don’t bother analyzing or asking, hey, does the author have any particular reason for putting this here, or writing it the way she did? they just dismiss it as gross and go away. but i really do think it has a purpose and point in the story that gets lost on a lot of people

the thing is, it’s meant to be uncomfortable! it’s meant to be gross! it should weird you out!! i doubt cc meant it to be viewed positively, especially when neither the charchters nor the narrative does. it’s meant to show how badly these adults and this society have fucked up these children, and robbed them of being able to love freely and safely yk?

most of my frusteration really just comes from how puritanical fandom has been. you can choose not to engage with something if it grosses you out, that’s fine and valid and we’ve all done that before. but looking down on someone for wanting to engage with it objectively is??? i think it’s just etiquette to not engage with what you don’t like. block the tag. curate your own experience. that kinda stuff

again anon if you chose to read this anyway i really do respect and understand what you’re saying. i’m really sorry if i came across as mean or rude but like. i really really love tmi and i cannot tolerate it being dismissed like that