#cookie cutter cherry

[kiki-mimi222222222]

I just wanted to remind ya all, that Cookie Cutter 🩸🔪 game exist, and those 4 crazy men did a great job. Thank you)

Give them money for the sequel, please.

(From left to right: C-bow; Napalm; Cherry by herself; Romanov; Tabuto)

[natiebugs]

A perfect gift for cherry! 🍒

[stef-gallery]

getting ready for Cookie Month, December~

[riaki]

guys pls consider… lifeguard!gojo bit inspired by a post i saw a long time ago from @/shotorus, thank u sel + inez !

lifeguard!gojo, who signs you in for a pool session and gives you the wrong time-slot wristband because he’s too busy gawking at you with hearts in his blue eyes to notice he registered you to swim for 12pm-2pm. when, in reality, it’s 4pm in the afternoon and the hot sun is slowly sinking in the sky.

lifeguard!gojo, who mistakes your polite attempts to correct him as signs of disinterest; he sees things through romance-tinted glasses. of course he can't keep a wounded pride, and so he makes it his saturday afternoon goal to win your heart. after all, who in their right mind would reject him in all his dashing chlorine scented glory?

lifeguard!gojo, who reintroduces himself all suave and cool and he thinks it's working mid-hair slick-back— until he gets smacked in the face by a stray rubber ball, and his sunglasses go flying. it leaves a red spot of hashmarks on his nose, like the ball was a cookie cutter and he was the dough. but he doesn't mind, because he got to hear your pretty laugh as you pick up his shades and hand them back to him, albeit at his own expense. you even say a cute thing or two about the chipped popsicle sticker on the frame.

lifeguard!gojo, who's unreasonably (and immaturely) upset over the fact he can't seductively rub sunscreen into your back because you already have beforehand. but he's not complaining; it smells good when he's forced a little closer to you to avoid a rampaging train of kids running across the pool deck. he should yell at them, but the smell of summery citrus and sea salt wafting on the humid breeze distracts him.

lifeguard!gojo, who pours every ounce of his remaining energy into gettin your attention the entire time you're there— with loud whistle blows from the scribble-adorned plastic whistle hanging from his neck, grabbing your attention, only to just offer a charming wink in your direction. or, squeezing idle small talk between every lap you swim, teasing you with a lazy grin on his lips from under his shaded lifeguard stand when you complain about the heat of the blazing sun.

lifeguard!gojo, who ropes his poor, exhausted snack stand friend with the blonde hair and dark shadows beneath his eyes into helping him— when you give up on swimming laps and begrudgingly let him convince you into going down the waterslides as if you’re a nine year old with neon pink inflatable buoy rings around your arms.

lifeguard!gojo, who forces nanami (snack stand man) to ‘accidentally’ send you down the slide early— you’re caught up in the surprise, the sound of rushing water and kids shouting and a cicada’s buzz filling your ears— and before you know it you’re tossed into the bottom of the pool by the stream of water, disoriented and panicking until two steady arms fish you out of the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who ‘rescues you from drowning’ holding you bridal style to his chest with his sunglasses balanced on the edge of his nose, letting you catch a glimpse of his uncanny blue eyes hidden beneath his dripping white hair. his whistle lanyard hangs loosely around his neck, drawing a line down the center of his toned chest.

lifeguard!gojo, who can’t help but double over as he laughs obnoxiously— boyishly when he gets to watch your face flush cherry as you scramble to get out of his arms and fall straight back into the refreshing water with a splash.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s forced to reconcile with what he thinks is defeat when he gets you kicked out of the pool early because of his earnest registering mistake— and in doing so, you forget your ring on the pool deck. it's just your luck— you don't even realize it until the sun's almost set and you’re halfway home.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning up and getting ready to close for the night when he spots a gleam of silver reflecting the hazy purple sunset, and he recognizes it as your jewelry (even though that was the first time he ever met you). of course he'd remember it— he'd been absentmindedly staring at your fingers, burning them into his mind; imagining how they'd feel in his damp hair.

lifeguard!gojo, who slips your ring into his pocket after trying it on and marveling at how small your hands must be in comparison to his.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning out the gutters, waist deep in the pool, when he hears your voice again— pretty like birdsong in the spring, dew gathering on the fragile petals of blooming petals.

lifeguard!gojo, who waits for you to come in— the gate was unlocked— and watches as you kneel on the concrete deck, elbows on your knees as you smile down at him. you look really cute, with your hair falling over your face like that, framed by the dying sunlight.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s a little disheartened when you tell him all you came back for was your ring, and not him. or his phone number.

lifeguard!gojo, who disappears beneath the water for a moment— then resurfaces from the pool dripping wet, hair clinging to his face while he acts as though he'd found your ring at the bottom of the pool. "it's stainless steel, yeah? don't worry about rust." he reassures you with a chuckle when you panic; he thinks it's cute.

lifeguard!gojo, who holds the ring just out of your grasp when you make a grab for it, laughing as you almost fall right into the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who tells you he'll only give it back if you give him your phone number in exchange as he climbs out of the pool and sits next to you, on the gutters, the sound of rushing water filling his ear.

lifeguard!gojo, who, sitting by your side, focuses on the way the pool looks with the lights turned on, an ethereal underwater dreamscape distorted by the incessant moving water. a way of distracting himself from how beautiful you look in the painted sunset.

lifeguard!gojo, who gets his first taste of you when you ask him to face you; you muffle his yelp of surprise, but it doesn’t matter because you taste even better than you smell, a sweetness like crystal rock candy and blueberries on his tongue when his lips meet yours.

lifeguard!gojo, who takes the opportunity to catch your wrist and slide your ring back onto your finger with a quick lingering kiss to your cheek; his lips are a little wet from his earlier pool dip, but the dreamy look in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.

lifeguard!gojo, who sees you out, still riding on the thrill of your lips; the pride in his chest now that he's got your contact saved on his phone with an excessive amount of heart emojis and a (˘ڡ˘ς) next to your name.

lifeguard!gojo, who can't wait for the next time you come back to the pool, and who ignores the angry slew of texts from his boss scolding him for leaving the gate unlocked in favor of the selfie you send him.

you: [ one image attached ]

lifeguard boy 🛟🤍 : GAYATTTTT LET ME HIT PLSPLSPLSS 🙈🙈😝😝😝😋😋🤞🔥🔥🔥⁉️‼️🔞💯💯😼😻💺💺🗽

bonus: nanami gets u two popsicles to share tagging @sugumimi NAOMI I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WERE TALKING AB my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[poppy-metal]

So we know love island!Patrick would be messy on purpose but I'm just thinking how love island!Art would be so fucking messy unintentionally.

Like going back to what you were saying about being a bombshell that seduces him. Acting loyal to his partner in front of everyone but letting you crawl into his bed in the mornings to cuddle when she leaves. Sneaking kisses in hidden corners and getting handsy with each other because he can't resist you. Telling the guys his head isn't turned just all over the place but when the next recoupling comes around he picks you and it's like he dropped a bomb in the villa because everyone truly thought he'd be the one loyal guy in the house. It'd be even funnier if he goes to the hideaway with you immediately even though he wanted to "take it slow and do it right" with his last partner lol

It'd make for some great fucking tv.

I love toxic!art ❤️ everyone is lowkey into him being a secret asshole because the whole cookie cutter wholesome boy thing was boring as hell and his relationship was bland and everyone was rolling their eyes at it - drama loving whores.

you're like a picture out of arts wettest dream. literally cherry picked for him - the type of woman he jerks off too secretly but never admits to wanting out loud. seductive and mean and flirty and no one thinks you'll turn his head but he's like wet paper. you straddle his lap during a challenge and kiss him and he can't help himself. he fucking moans into it and can't keep his hands from wandering too your ass - so fucking soft in his hands - he chases your lips when you pull back and everyone is shocked. his girl chews him out and he feels so terrible about it, promises it was just a challenge thing and he was just playing it up - avoids you like the plauge the next day - but a twist is thrown in - you get to choose a man to take to the hideaway - to spend a night with and you're like a tiger - honed in on your prey - art is like a fucking innocent little deer in your jaws. you pick him obviously and all the girls blow up. you don't care though. you only want art and you'll have him no matter how bad it makes you look or how much you're scorned for it. art swallows at the grin you give him.

he makes so many empty promises to his girl - tells her he's gonna sleep on the floor - he's not even gonna talk to her - you're obviously delusional and deranged and he doesn't even like who you are as a person - you digust him - she eventually calms down, and she's pretty sure she can trust him. all the girls are telling her so. telling her how steady art has been this whole time and that you're just a slut and a bitch and art wants a classy woman, of which you are not -

he lasts ten minutes. ten minutes in the hideaway alone with you before he's inside you - pillows knocked off the bed and your skimpy little thong pulled to the side as he slides his cock home - he hates himself, he really does - he can't even think about the consequences and how this will definitely come out and ruin everything he's built - he just can't - he can't resist you - it was hopeless from the start - and god - you're like heaven around his dick - his eyes roll back and his hips are snapping into yours immediately, fucking you how he'd never fuck his couple - fucking you like he's punishing you for making me do this - balls slapping wetly against your pussy and you're moaning into it - fingers dug into his back with your legs wrapped around his waist.

"fuck my pussy, yes, yes, yes -" you chant, licking the shell of his ear and driving him crazy. "fucking huge cock - oh my god - you need to cum in me - cum in me and fuck me all night, baby-"

jesus.

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name.

i knew from the first note played i’d be breaking all my rules to see you. you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name. so dim that spotlight, tell me things like “i can’t take my eyes off of you.” i’m no one special, just another wide-eyed girl who’s desperately in love with you. give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar.

Eddie has three major rules when it comes to working with celebrities: 1. don’t flirt with the talent; 2. don’t hang out with the talent; 3. don’t, under any circumstances, fuck the talent.

He’s had enough rockstars’ managers kick him out of hotel rooms after waking up to an empty bed with cold sheets to have learned his lesson ten times over by now.

He doesn’t even think of adding a fourth rule: don’t fall in love with the talent. Has never even come close to needing a rule like that. Not until he meets Steve Harrington.

~*~

“Ed, I got a new one for ya, he’ll be here at two,” Eddie’s boss Murray says from the open doorway of Eddie’s office.

“Huh?” Eddie eloquently responds, mouth full of the banana he’d found in the office kitchen for lunch. “What?”

Murray rolls his eyes. He gets endlessly annoyed when it turns out no one can read his mind.

“New singer-songwriter coming in at two, asked for you specifically. Working on his second album, so look alive.” Murray tosses a demo in Eddie’s direction before departing the office and moving down the hallway towards his own. Eddie barely catches it just before the plastic corner gets him right in the eye.

This is the problem with Murray. He gives no details and leaves absolutely no room for follow-up questions. The other problem with Murray is that he waits until the last minute to spring shit on Eddie that he knows Eddie’s not going to like.

Eddie flips the plastic CD case around in his hand so he can read the words written in Sharpie on the front. ‘S. H. - 2’ is all it says, giving him absolutely no information. It’s already ten to two, so Eddie doesn’t even have time to listen to a single song if he wants to make it up the two floors to the conference room where he usually meets with the talent for the first time. Eddie scowls in annoyance; he hates being unprepared and he just knows Murray is conspiring against him somehow.

Eddie pushes up from his desk and leaves his office, heading for the elevator. He pressed the button for the 42nd floor. He likes to play this game where he tries to hold his breath for the duration of the elevator ride. Two floors is easy. The ride up to the 40th floor is a lot harder.

By the time Eddie makes it to the conference room, his appointment’s already in there. As he walks through the glass doors, he realizes that when Murray said “new,” he didn’t actually mean new. He meant, like, new to them.

Because sitting in the conference room at the head of the table is former boy band heartthrob Steve Harrington.

~*~

Eddie had never had Steve’s poster on his wall in high school or anything embarrassing like that, thank god. But he had kept one of the pages he’d ripped out of the library’s copy of Tiger Beat folded under his mattress for early morning daydreaming. And Eddie had certainly never listened to his music when he’d been in Teeny Boppers United or whatever the hell his band of cookie cutter boy-next-door types was called (he definitely knew).

Now, here Harrington is, sitting across the table from him, hair full of blond highlights and cherry lipgloss (Eddie thinks, imagines, hopes) on his lips.

“Um, hi. I’m, uh, Eddie. Munson. Eddie Munson,” Eddie holds out his hand for Steve to shake and Steve does. Eddie tells himself he’s imagining the way Steve’s eyes linger on him and how he takes just a second too long to pull his hand away.

Steve smiles, blinding and perfectly white. “Yeah, man, I know. My friend Robin has worked with you before? She had real great things to say,” Steve tells him and he sounds more sincere than a former-pop star asshole has any right to be.

“Buckley?” Eddie asks surprised, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, she’s been a huge help with my solo stuff. She co-wrote a few of the songs on my first album.” Steve drums his fingertips on the thick wood of the table.

“Huh.” The sound leaves Eddie against his will, as he’s trying to mask his surprise. Robin Buckley was talented and she had a sound that Eddie would never guess Steve Harrington would be into. She was indie, for sure, almost folk, bordering on a breathy country sound that Eddie thinks she’d deny if she heard him describe her like that. “I’m not entirely sure I’m what you’re looking for, to be honest with you.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He has no idea what Harrington’s sound is now that he’s broken free of the teenage bubblegum scene. But he’s always had a self-sabotaging streak a mile wide and he feels both relieved and disappointed to potentially have this out.

Steve frowns slightly, the crease between his eyes deepening. “Did you listen to the demo? I actually have this one song and I’m struggling with the bridge and, you know, not to, like, geek out or fan girl or whatever, but I’m, like, so into your sound and your lyrics and just the way you can construct a metaphor that seems so obvious when you hear it but is still so surprising in the context of the song it’s in and I think it would really complement what I’ve already started and…” Steve’s been gesturing wildly with his hands and must realize he’s rambling, because he trails off, blushing. “I mean. Did you listen?” He asks again.

“Honestly, Murray only just told me about this meeting about ten minutes before it started,” Eddie shrugs, but he feels bad about the way Steve’s shoulders fall.

“Ah, okay,” Steve pushes back from the table. “Yeah, okay. No worries.”

And Eddie feels, like, not great about this. He doesn’t like the disappointment he can see etched across Steve’s handsome features. So he reaches a hand across the vast wooden table, gesturing for Steve to stop.

“Wait,” he says, hand raised between them. “Listen, I’m… skeptical, to say the least. But. I’ll listen to your demo tonight, okay? And I’ll let you know what I think tomorrow. Is that… does that work?”

Steve nods quickly. “Yeah, dude. Yeah, that’s awesome. Thank you. Um. Do you… did Murray give you my number?”

“Here,” Eddie slides his notebook and pen across the table.

Steve picks up the pen, scrawling across the entire notebook page, before sliding it back toward Eddie. “My, uh, personal number.” Steve runs as hand through his highlighted hair. “I’m really looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Thanks, Eddie.” He reaches out again to shake Eddie’s hand and this time, Eddie knows he doesn’t imagine the way Steve’s fingers linger on his palm.

Eddie clears his throat. “Talk soon,” he says, smiling, before Steve is turning and leaving the room.

~*~

Eddie had gone to LA with stars in his eyes and big dreams circling his head. He’d had hopes of making it big, of thousands of people screaming his name. It had sounded so good back then, when he'd been trailer trash in the smallest, most close-minded town in the American Midwest. And it had kind of happened. He’d recorded an entire album, had even had a national tour. But he’d realized fairly quickly that it wasn’t what he’d really wanted. Performing was fun, but what he really cared about was the song-writing. The way a perfectly constructed verse could speak to someone, on a deep, intimate, important level. That’s why he cared about music, that’s why it had always been so important to him. It wasn't the performing or the flashing bulbs of cameras or the after parties filled with people who wanted to get close to fame. It was the songs. It was the words and the meanings behind them. It was what it all meant, down to the end of it all.

So Eddie had changed course. He’d begun song-writing instead, freelancing at first, selling a song here and a collab there. Until he’d been approached by Murray Bauman, who’d heard what he’d done on a Taylor Swift track and was impressed. Murray had offered him a job in New York, writing and producing, an office and a salary for the first time in his life. And Eddie loved what he got to do now, loved the tracks he produced for other people to sing. He’d thought it would feel strange, like he was missing out on something, but it didn’t. It just felt good.

That had been five years ago and now here he is, sliding Steve Harrington’s demo into the CD player in his living room. He presses play and crosses the room to grab a beer from his kitchen. Just as he's crossing the threshold between rooms, he hears the first three notes of the song and it stops him in his tracks. He tilts his head back toward the stereo.

Because the song isn't the sound of a boy band lead gone solo, belting out pop lyrics that would guarantee major radio play. This song is soft and melancholy, the poetic lyrics of a chorus crafted with vulnerability, a complicated bridge that ties it all together. The song ends and shifts, the guitar twang taking on a pop rock tempo, more upbeat than the last song. Steve's voice comes out, deep and honey-sweet, different than his boy band days. The lyrics are still sadder than Eddie would have thought and Eddie's impressed by the words juxtaposed with the upbeat instrumentals and the tone of Steve's vocals.

Eddie listens to all four songs standing there in the doorway between his living room and kitchen. Can't bear to tear himself away. And when the fourth and final song is over, Eddie crosses the room to click 'play' all over again.

~*~

Eddie waits to call Steve. He wants to call him immediately after his third listen, but he figures that it would be a bad idea to interrupt a client’s dinner or date or whatever former pop stars do on Thursday nights.

He spends all day at the office the next day listening to Steve’s first album on repeat. He thinks he can tell where Robin had helped with the lyrics, can see the ways the two of them have come together, and he can hear how their voices complement each other on the track she’s featured on. He listens to it on repeat for hours, before swapping it out for the new demo all over again. He thinks he can trace the way Steve’s voice has evolved since the first album, can see the places where his song-writing has matured. He spends the weekend deconstructing each song, finding the spots of vulnerability and the developed self-confidence that allows that vulnerability to take center stage. He feels a little guilty for not calling Steve, but he can’t imagine Steve’s sitting by the phone or anything anyway.

But the end of the weekend, Eddie knows he can’t say no to Steve Harrington. He knows that he has to be a part of this album, no matter what. That this project is going to be something magical, something unimaginable.

First thing Monday morning, Eddie calls Steve and makes a deal.

~*~

“Fuck, you have no idea how happy I am to hear from you,” Eddie hears Steve breathe down the phone line. “I’m such a huge fan and hearing what you did with Robin… I was worried you were gonna say no, y’know? When I didn’t hear from you?”

Eddie smiles to himself, small and involuntary. He’d never thought he’d hear Steve Harrington sounding so earnest.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I was just about ready to say no.” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and then shifts his phone from one ear to the other. “But I gave your demo a listen and I revisited your first album and I gotta tell you, I think there’s something really special there. I’m excited to see what we come up with.” He’s downplaying this, he knows it, but he doesn’t want to seem too eager. He doesn’t want Steve to know that he’ll probably die if he doesn’t get to work on this album. That’s probably a little too over dramatic, even for Eddie.

He hears Steve suck in a breath, can’t tell if that’s good or bad. “Dude, thank you. I’m so excited. This means a lot to me. Thanks, man.”

“Alright, well, I’m gonna have my assistant call you in a few days to set up some meetings and get everything worked out, timeline-wise. I’ll be in touch soon.” Eddie has to get off the phone now, before he says something dumb as fuck.

“Awesome. Thanks again, Eddie,” Steve replies, before there’s nothing but a dial tone.

~*~

Eddie has Chrissy set up all the meetings, scheduling studio time and booking out the conference room.

For months, Eddie’s life revolves around Steve Harrington. All he can think about are what chord progressions will have Steve’s voice sounding its best, all heavy and sweet, or what rhyme scheme the chorus should have to enhance its emotional tenor in the way Steve wants.

They record together, Steve in the booth and Eddie at the console. Sometimes Robin joins them, happy to take on second guitar and suggest a new phrasing for a line that’s giving them trouble.

Steve enlists the same band he’d used on his first album and Eddie’s kind of impressed by how well they all seem to get along. How committed they are to helping Steve figure out the vision for this album.

Towards the end of recording—long months spent trying new things, taking out second guitar here, adding a keyboard track in there—Steve convinces Eddie to play lead guitar on one of the tracks they wrote together. It’s one of the unfinished ones from the demo Eddie had been so enchanted by, the one that Steve had said was giving him trouble on the bridge. They’d spent long nights in Eddie’s office ordering late-night pizzas and trying to figure out how to make the song work. Eddie was so frustrated he was about to suggest they just scrap the whole thing until Steve started drumming on one of the discarded pizza boxes, humming along with a switched-up melody, a reversal of what they already had, a dramatic shift from chorus to bridge and back again. Eddie couldn’t do anything but stare and then the words were coming, Steve finishing his sentences when Eddie stumbled searching for the right word. By morning, the song was finished.

Eddie agrees to play, if only because he loves the song so much, so proud of the work they’d put into it. It has nothing to do with the way Steve’s sweet smile spreads over his face or the faint pinkness Eddie can see rising in his cheeks. In the end, Eddie’s even convinced to lend his vocals to the song. He doesn’t let himself think about how good they sound together, Steve’s deep voice belting out the lyrics with Eddie’s softer cadence just underneath.

~*~

Steve goes out on tour almost immediately after they finish recording. The record label says there’s so much buzz around the album, so much anticipation, that they should strike while the iron is hot.

“Don’t forget about me out there on the road,” Eddie jokes, voice light and airy. He and Steve are at his favorite coffee shop, just down the street from his offices.

“Could never,” Steve tells him, smiling, tone just on the wrong side of serious. He takes a sip of his coffee.

They’ve been dancing around each other for months, probably since they’d started recording if Eddie’s really honest with himself. But Eddie has rules and he’s been burned before. So when they’ve finished their coffee, they part ways. Eddie wishes Steve luck on his tour and Steve says he’ll be in touch.

Eddie’s life goes back to normal.

~*~

They text sporadically. Eddie doesn’t mind. He remembers how chaotic and stressful tour had been when he’d done it and he hadn’t been nearly as huge as Steve is now. Eddie knows it’s an endless parade of meet-and-greets and sound checks and dress rehearsals, one day blending into another. He’s surprised Steve even reaches out to him at all.

Steve is set to perform the last show of his tour at Madison Square Garden. Eddie thinks about showing up, grabbing the free tickets he gets as part of the job and surprising Steve. He thinks about it a lot actually, all five months Steve’s gone, fantasizes about how Steve might greet him, how he’d pull him into the green room backstage and…

A week before the show, Steve calls him.

“Hey, man!” Steve sounds winded and breathy. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know, same old same old.” Eddie tries to sound as casual as possible, but he can’t control the grin that spreads across his lips.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, listen, I only have a minute, but I was wondering if you’d be open to, uh. Coming to my show at the Garden?” Eddie thinks he might be imagining the nervous lilt to Steve’s voice, the unsure way he poses the question.

“Yeah, man, of course. I’d love to be there.”

“Great! I’ll text you the details.” Eddie doesn’t even have time to say goodbye before Steve has hung up on him.

~*~

The night of the concert, Eddie shows up backstage, feeling just a little out of place. He’d bypassed the front of house, but he hadn’t missed the line of young women and girls snaking out of the venue doors and onto the streets of Manhattan. He had known Steve was big, but he hadn’t imagined it would be like this.

A woman with short blonde hair leads Eddie into the green room. Steve’s getting his makeup done, but when he sees Eddie in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes light up and he smiles, wide and goofy. He pushes up from his chair and crosses the room, moving to pull Eddie into a hug before Eddie can even say anything, arms looped around Eddie’s neck. Steve is warm against him, his muscles firm and soft—a strange juxtaposition—as Eddie wraps his own arms around Steve’s waist.

“So happy you’re here,” Steve whispers against his ear, breath hot. Eddie can’t even react before Steve’s pulling away, crossing back over to his chair and dropping himself into it. Steve looks at Eddie in the reflection, their eyes meeting. “I have a favor to ask.” Steve suddenly sounds hesitant, fingers fidgeting in his lap.

“Oh, no,” Eddie jokes, winking at Steve in the mirror. “What is it this time?”

Steve blushes. “I know you don’t really perform anymore, but I was hoping you’d help me out with our song? It’s the last song of the show.”

The words our song echo in Eddie’s ears and he can’t help his smile. Sure, he doesn’t really perform anymore, but, he realizes in this moment, he’d do pretty much anything for Steve. The thought should be terrifying, but somehow it isn’t.

“Dude, that’s awesome.” Eddie watches Steve practically sag in relief. “I’d love to.”

Before long, Steve is being rushed around, manhandled on his way to the stage, and Eddie is left to follow behind so he can watch from the wings.

Eddie had thought he’d known Steve. They’d written and recorded together for months, felt every emotion possible in the time it had taken them to complete the album. But watching Steve perform is something else entirely. Steve glows under the harsh stage lights, smiling and charismatic as he jokes with the girls in the front row vying for his attention. It’s magical to watch Steve perform the songs they’d made together, to sing words from Eddie’s own brain. Eddie is transfixed by the way Steve’s lips wrap around each note, like each word that comes out of his mouth is the most important word that’s ever been spoken. Steve is otherworldly on stage.

“For the last song, I have a surprise,” Steve stops in front of the mic stand as someone rushes to bring him his favorite guitar. He pulls the strap over his head. Someone on the side of the stage nudges Eddie, holding out a guitar that Eddie’s never seen before. If he’d known about this, he would have brought his own beloved sweetheart, but he’ll have to make do with what he has. No backing out now. “You’ve probably heard of Eddie Munson.” Steve smiles as the crowd cheers. “Yeah, he’s a huge deal. He’s worked with everyone from Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers to Bruce Springsteen and Metallica.” The crowd cheers again. “I worked really closely with him on this album,” Steve smiles. “And he took something raw and messy and made it so fucking great.” The crowd screams. “I always close the show with my favorite song off the album. It’s the one that took us the longest to write. We were so frustrated, I thought Eddie was gonna tell me to just forget it. We spent so many all-nighters stuffing our faces with pizza and cursing ourselves for ever even thinking we should write this stupid fucking song.” Steve laughs with the crowd. “But then, one night it all clicked. It all came together. It was like magic, sitting there with Eddie on some ugly couch in his office, just about ready to give up. We made magic together.” Steve looks out at the crowd. “So. Eddie’s here to help me share this song with you.” The crowd goes wild as someone pushes Eddie out onto the stage, but Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Steve, who’s smiling at him from under the lights, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Playing the song is easier than Eddie had thought it would be. The notes come to him like muscle memory, like he could play this song in his sleep. He can’t take his attention away from Steve where he sings into the microphone. It’s all too much for his heart to handle. He feels like he might die here, right on the spot.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it’s all over. The crowd is deafening and Eddie’s got a smile on his face so wide his cheeks ache. Steve waves to the crowd before taking Eddie’s hand and leading him off stage.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, pulling Eddie along down the backstage hallways back towards the green room. “That was un-fucking-real.” Steve’s smiling, cheeks red.

Eddie can’t say anything at all. All he can do is follow helplessly behind Steve, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His heartbeat so loud he’s sure Steve can hear it.

They’re back in the green room before Eddie can even blink. Suddenly, his back is pressed up against the closed door, Steve practically plastered to his front. He can barely breathe as Steve’s lips crash into his.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, pulling back slightly. His breath is hot against Eddie’s lips. “Been thinking about you for months.” His voice is soft, barely there.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie groans, running a hand through Steve’s hair, trying to pull him back in. “It’s so okay, Stevie.”

Steve lets out a groan of his own and then he’s kissing Eddie again, lips parting and tongue curling against Eddie’s.

Eddie’s not sure how long they stand there pressed up against the wall, hands tangled in hair, kissing each other breathless. All too soon a knock comes from the other side of the door and they jump apart.

“Steve?” A muffled voice calls out from the hallway. “You have a meet-and-greet in five.”

Steve looks at Eddie, laughing a little. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot,” he whispers, before raising his voice to respond to whoever’s outside, “Okay, just a minute!” He kisses Eddie one last time, soft and so sweet. “Come with me?” He asks.

Eddie nods and follows after Steve.

~*~

Eddie watches from the sidelines as Steve takes picture after picture. It’s kind of uncanny, the way Steve’s smile seems genuine in every photo he takes, the interest he seems to take in every person who comes to meet him.

The line has dwindled down when the next group of fans catch sight of Eddie in the shadows. “Oh my god!” One of the girls squeals, before turning toward Steve. “Can we get a picture with you and Eddie?”

Steve laughs, already nodding, before turning towards Eddie. “You mind?” He asks, holding his hand out for Eddie. Eddie slides his hand into Steve’s and has his picture taken.

~*~

After, Steve invites Eddie back to his fancy hotel room, but Eddie counters by inviting Steve to his apartment. Steve’s face brightens, clearly excited to see where Eddie lives. Eddie tries to mentally envision how he’d left his apartment, thinks it’s probably safe for world-famous superstars to visit.

They take Steve’s car, his driver dutifully ignoring whatever’s going on in the back seat, and by the time they make it up the six floors to Eddie’s door, they can’t keep their hands off each other. They crash through the front door, attached at the lips. They stumble down the hallway to Eddie’s bedroom and Eddie all but tackles Steve down into the sheets.

The next morning, Steve insists on making a homemade breakfast. Eddie rarely cooks, but by some miracle, he’s got eggs and bacon in his fridge. Eddie knows he’s got a dopey look on his face as he sits at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, watching Steve move around his space.

Later, when they’re curled up together on the couch and Steve is dozing against his chest, Eddie scrolls through his Instagram feed. He’s tagged in a ton of photos from the night before, up on stage with Steve, eyes fixed on each other as they play their guitars, crisscrossing beams of light all around them. He scrolls for a few more moments, before he sees the picture they’d taken together at the meet-and-greet, with the three girls who’d asked for a picture with Steve and Eddie. Steve’s blushing, his hand still holding Eddie’s, a wide smile on his face. Eddie’s just as flushed, eyes glassy, but he’s not even looking at the camera, face turned toward Steve instead. He looks lovestruck. It would be embarrassing, but Steve shifts in his arms, letting out a tiny little sound from the back of his throat.

Eddie screenshots the photo and saves it to his camera roll.

~*~

@thecaptainsgingersnap gave me “dealer's choice lyrics from Superstar” :)

This turned out waaaaayyyyyyy longer than I originally planned, so I probably should’ve split it into two posts, but here we are. Hope you enjoy it!!

[yandereloverwritesstuff]

Super Psycho Love Part 3

Watch your back, your new stalker admirer didn't get to the top of the food chain by being gentle.

Yandere! Jock x Nerd! Reader

Part 1, Part 2

Content Warning: Stalking, Sexual themes, Manipulative behavior

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that." The stern gaze of Mrs. Eisenhower, the European history teacher, met his, "I'm not going to arrange to have her tutor you. She has too many obligations as it stands and I've never once seen you show an interest in your GPA in all the years you've been here. If you would like to proposition her, you can do so personally." She said with pursed lips and raised, barely there eyebrows. Ms. Eisenhower adjusted her bejeweled bifocals and swiveled her desk chair back to face her desktop.

His blood pressure leaped and his face soured. Any person on campus would and could have predicted the outcome. Eisenhower was the unnecessarily proud sponsor of the speech and debate club and harbored a deep resentment of the politics that gutted their budget. She was a stocky, straight-laced woman with a frizzy ginger bob and a penchant for handing out lunch detentions. He had gotten so used to preferential treatment that some part of him had forgotten teachers could actually use the word no.

"I'm sure coach would appreciate it if you would help me out with my grades."

She scoffed and took a sip from a mug with Catharine the Great's face plastered on it. "I'm sure he would too. That doesn't mean I will."

He shoved the chair roughly as he got up, storming out of the classroom. Students eyed him wearily as he stomped by. He knew you would probably reject him outright if he asked directly and was planning on a teacher to strongman you into interacting with him. It wasn't implausible; he was barely maintaining a 2.0 GPA. Of course, he'd need help from one of the most promising young minds the school had to offer.

He kicked a trash can and it weakly coughed up an apple from the previous lunch period.

The ripe scents of sweat, mildew and too-sweet body spray hung heavy in the girls' locker room. You suppressed a coughing fit as you navigated the perfumed clouds of Japanese Cherry Blossom and Love Spell, looking for an empty bathroom stall. Changing in front of the other girls may have been tolerable if your class was made up of literally any other group of teenage girls. You held your change of clothes to your chest in a death grip.

Bella and Lauren, a fairly-popular junior, were talking in front of the dirty, stained sink mirrors.

"I mean he hasn't asked me officially yet, but we talk all the time." Bella propped a thin, artificially tanned calf on the sink, slathering some fruity lotion on it, "Yeah, no, I think he'll definitely ask me to be his girlfriend soon."

You tried to duck out of their line of sight.

"Didn't he go upstairs with Jordan H. at Connor's party a few weeks ago?" Lauren asked, absentmindedly fixing her strawberry-blonde hair into a messy bun.

Bella frowned, "Yeah well, Jordan's a sophomore slut anyways. He would never be serious with someone like her."

You crept behind the pair quietly, hoping to check the shower stalls. If they were empty you could be in your next class in under ten minutes. She turned abruptly and narrowed her eyes. You never understood the appeal. Sure, she was nice-looking, but in a very conventional cookie-cutter way. There were probably a million girls walking around the western hemisphere with the exact same combination of facial features. Bella had a face one could forget directly after talking to her.

"Hey, you," She eyed the plaid bundle in your arms, "do you dress like that for religious reasons?" Lauren giggled and murmured a weak stooop, lightly swatting Bella's knee.

"I just like the way it looks." You said blandly.

"You do know that it's the 21st century right? It's not a sin to show your kneecaps. They put it in the constitution or something." Bella grinned, and Lauren clasped a well-manicured hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.

"Yeah, something like that." You kept your head down and continued past them. After a minute in the very back of the locker room, where the fluorescents flickered unpredictably, you found an empty shower stall. You ripped back the powder pink curtain, trying not to look too closely for roaches in the dimly lit corners. The mold that grew in the grout of the shower was bad, but it was better than dealing with Bella's snide remarks or complaints about her kinda boyfriend arrangement with one of the school's linebackers.

"What? I was just trying to help her. I don't know since she's probably never seen a cell phone or used the internet. She's totally trapped in the 1950s."

"Wait, do you think that means she's racist?" Their laughter echoed through the locker room.

Just four months and then you'd be done.

He waited for Bella. Really though, he was waiting for her so he could see you.

You were one of the first ones out, briskly walking towards the wide gymnasium doors, boldly painted in the school colors. Your pigtails fluttered dutifully behind you. Adults always made sure to emphatically tell you that you'd find your kind one day – that there's this hypothetical far-off date where you'd magically stumble across people that just got you. It always felt more obligatory than anything.

When Mrs. Eisenhower told you how kids like you were the future, it seemed more like she was assuring herself that there was a way to change the systems made by people like Principal Mulligan, where rewards were distributed among the chosen select few. Or maybe it was the idea that people like her could be a part of those few that motivated her. The chess club had to hold no less than three bake sales on top of selling magazine subscriptions and chocolate bars to get to nationals, but neither the football nor cheerleading team had to worry about anything like that. The school covered it all and even had air conditioning in the buses. They wouldn't want their overly aggressive meatshields to get overheated. Something, something, grumpy 200-pound 'roided teenage boys are a liability.

When you felt the hand on your shoulder your head snapped back.

It was him.

"Bella should be out soon." You mumbled, readjusting your worn leather satchel. It wasn't intentional, your curtness. It just never occurred to you before that he would have any reason to speak to you.

He was surprised that you felt real, that there was soft flesh and fabric underneath his palm. You smelled nice, like honey and a little bit of sweat. He could definitely give you a good sweat if you'd let him be alone with you for a few hours.

He thought of the ice baths Coach made the team take after conditioning. Stinging, numbing, definitely not arousing. Not like your pigtails and flushed cheeks and the way you had to peer up at him because of the height difference.

"Can I help you?" You ask gingerly, warily eying the hand on your shoulder. It was definitely still there.

"Yeah, I need a tutor for European history. I know that you're smart and could probably help me." His brows were lightly furrowed.

"Oh." You said lamely, crossing your arms over your chest, "I don't think I have the time for tutoring this semester. I've got a pretty busy schedule." His hand was still on your shoulder. God is this the lady killer no teenage girl could get over? You briefly glanced at his bicep. He was both bigger and dumber than you originally gave him credit for.

"Wait, you don't understand. I really need this, like really."

"Why? You're set to graduate, right? Just focus on football and you'll be fine." You remove his hand from your shoulder cautiously. It's heavy and calloused and feels unnatural in your soft, pristine scholar's palms.

His face flushed a deep, beet red. You didn't know that it wasn't frustration, but something else entirely.

"It's not about graduating. I'm grounded until I can get my grades up. Mom's worried about me being accepted into her Alma Mater –apparently, just football may not be enough to get a scholarship." It wasn't actually a total lie. It's just that his mom already gave up on getting him to give a shit academically after freshman football season. He never listened to her anyways.

"My schedule won't allow it. I'm sorry." You looked around the gym. Some passing juniors looked at the two of you curiously, equally confused as you. Others, mostly boys snickered to themselves like they were already in on the joke. Either way, you knew deep down that no one was going to help you get out of this one.

"Wait! What if I paid you to help me?" He blurted out. You waited a beat. If he was willing to fork over his (or his daddy's) money, he probably wasn't going to try anything inappropriate. You figured whatever that semi-pained, constipated expression on his face was the closest thing to sincerity he was capable of expressing.

"How much?" You asked sharply.

"So you do have time. " He grinned teasingly.

"Depends on the pay."

"If you can get me a B, 30."

You scoffed, "70".

"60"

"65"

"62"

"65"

"65" He agreed, "So you'll do it?"

"Yes, I can do Sundays and Thursdays – no later than sundown."

"Alright, cool." He nodded and slipped his phone from his back pocket and handed it to you. "I should probably get your number so we can talk to each other and shit."

And shit. God, how was he getting all these girls to sleep with him? You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew for a fact that Anastasia Beverly Hills was supposed to release a new eyeshadow palette before the holidays, and your Mac quads were almost entirely pan only. You knew your parents wouldn't just hand you money without asking what it was going towards. If you were cautious they were borderline neurotic. But they didn't have to know you were getting paid to tutor...

You hesitated a moment before you entered the digits on his cracked screen. Something in the way he looked at you, focusing intently on your hands as they hovered over the number pad, made you feel uneasy.

"There. Don't text me at weird hours." You unceremoniously handed him his phone back, unaware that his home screen was a photo of you taken the first time he followed you home. Why would you check that? As far as you were concerned, he didn't even know you except for passing each other in the halls occasionally.

He watched you walk off, blood rushing to places that it shouldn't be right now. He didn't plan on attending his next class, but when Bella draped her small, petite arms around his shoulder he suddenly felt deeply interested in hearing what Ms. Donovan had to say about that second act of Macbeth he didn't read.

"Hey handsome." Bella purred softly, before following his line of sight. She frowned when she saw you scurrying away. "What did she want?"

"I need a tutor. My mom's pissed off at me again. I only just got my dad to give me my keys back, but no parties until I bring them up again." He shrugged. "I think all she ever does is school and I have her in European History."

"Hmm," she pouted, "that's bullshit for your mom to do. It's senior year and on top of that, you have to deal with the fundie too. Totally unfair." Bella's arms snaked around his waist. "Maybe I could help take your mind off of it? You always skip English class anyways."

He softly pulled away, "I should go if I want any hope of attending homecoming, sorry."

Bella's frown deepened, but she let him go. "We're still going together, right? Like you said?"

He froze. He forgot entirely about that. In fact, he wasn't sure if he actually did say that; if he did, he must have been wasted.

"If. If I'm going." He corrected, "But I need to fix my grades first."

He'd been talking to her since the summer after sophomore year, but he never enjoyed her presence. She was his cheerleader, in the unofficial pairings the school divided them into, and now he was stuck pretending to tolerate her long after he came on her back.

He'd much rather be stuck with you, or you stuck with him – whatever was more realistic. As he walked to his English class, he knew he'd be jacking off to your shared encounter later tonight. He caught the sly way you eyed his bicep, your shyness. He wanted to see your body drip with sweat, down the valley between your tits and on your thighs. You looked like the repressed librarian type and he could definitely, eagerly help with any curiosity you might have. The thought of you shyly admitting you've never done anything before him while gently stroking his dick with your soft, cautious hands carried him through his last few periods. God, he wanted to break you.

[abitohoney]

So after a recent Big Move™️, I’ve finally gotten my household goods delivered to my new home. WOOT WOOT.

And as I pulled out some baking/muffin pans, I thought

Damn. I’d like to think I’d be rough and tough and a “don’t look at me wrong or I’ll punt your ass over a high-rise” sort of girl boss in the Arcane world.

But realistically all I want is to bake some treats for Sev and Ran. Make sure they’re eating good. Dust off and adjust their collar before they head out on a mission/task or to a meeting or whatever. Pack them little snacks or lunchboxes. Pretend to not be fussy over them since I also have my own work but actually unintentionally show ✨affection✨. Give them a goodbye kith. Be a lil Susie-homemaker in denial.

Also this moonshine is kind of hitting hard send help

OMG congrats on the big move! I still remember my first big move! Exciting (and exhausting)! Hopefully you're past the exhausting part and slipping into chill mode.

Hard same on thinking I'd be a kick ass girl boss in Arcane but really just wanna be Sev and Ran's little Honey homemaker. 🤓

Some silly, cute, fluffy thoughts inspired by this below the cut. SFW believe it or not.

Fussing over them and packing them lil snacks and lunches sounds like a dream! 🤩 Gosh, just imagine packing them both a little paper sack lunch for the first time. They just give you a look like "Seriously? What am I, 8?" Meanwhile you're just smiling at them adoringly.

Maybe they both sit with the rest of Silco's cronies come lunch time. They're already feeling ridiculous carrying they're matching paper sack lunches, but they're just assuming it's gonna be some lame old bologna sandwiches and stale leftover chips from the last Jericho's dinner.

They simultaneously open their bags to pull out not just any old sandwich, rather it's the freshest looking bread they've ever seen, holding equally fresh greens, meats, and cheeses. And best worst of all, you'd used cookie cutters to cut them into heart shapes. Sevika and Ran exchange glances, brows raised. They both set the sandwiches down, behind their bags, hoping to hide them from the rest of the gang, only to pull out more incriminating lunchables. Several slices of pineapple, cut into disgustingly cute little stars. Then comes the veggies, cause of course you made sure their lunches were a complete balance of nutrition. Chubby little baby carrots arranged on a thick homemade hummus in a flower design. One little cherry tomato decorates the center.

The coup de grâce to their humiliation? Custom, tiny cupcakes decorated in bright pink, red, and purple icing and bedazzled with heart shaped sprinkles of the same colors.

Another exchange of glances, cheeks flushed, then eyes averted downward. Neither dare make eye contact with anyone else at the table. Not that any of them would dare to even so much as snicker at Silco's second in command or top assassin. Not if they valued their life.

So Sevika and Ran consume their entirely too cute lunch in silence. It's an uncomfortable one, but deep down, beneath those hard exteriors, their hearts swell with pride and joy. They have someone like you- who cares so much- to so lovingly select, create, and craft the sweetest of lunches. And just for them. ♥️

Sending help ASAP! (It's just me in a box with holes so I can 'help' you finish off that moonshine)

Also, every time you send me something ISTG I get such a strong itch to write my poly Sev x Reader x Ran fic. I will some day. (Still anxiously patiently waiting for your writing too! <3)

[xohyeona]

CERISE emerged onto the scene as a fictional soloist under SOMNIA RECORDS, originally debuting under RESIDENT HILL MEDIA in december of 2022. making her debut with her mini album, GEMINI, CERISE presented an alluring aura through her honey-like vocals and sharp visuals. going by a stage name as opposed to her real name, she has made it clear that she wishes to separate her idol identity from her personal life. she makes it a point to be fairly vague about her life, leaving fans curious as to who she really is.

despite the secrecy, many fans speculate about her life, which mainly comes from her music. she has stated before that she takes inspiration from her real life and media she consumes, making fans question her experiences. it is also a well known fact that her creative directory is mainly decided by her, giving herself the opportunity to build her artistry and bring her creativity to life.

CERISE’s introduction to the world began with a 30 second teaser with the instrumental to the opening track from the album. the teaser, showing a dark angelic aesthetic, ends with the words ‘EMBRACE YOURSELF NOW’ displayed in the center of the screen. this symbolizes CERISE wanting to embrace herself with her music and encourages others to do the same.

CERISE has captivated a stable audience and dedicated fan base through her creativity and authenticity that she displays in her music. outside of her music, CERISE has been praised for her habit of speaking her mind and rebellion against the idol industry, opting to do what she wants rather than following the cookie-cutter idol standards.

BASIC INFORMATION ⸻

BIRTH NAME : park hyeona / 박현아

STAGE NAME : cerise / 쎄리스

BIRTH DATE : june 19th, 2002

FACE CLAIM : sohyun / triples

DEBUT DATE : december 16th, 2022

COMPANY : SOMNIA RECORDS

DEBUT ALBUM : GEMINI

FANDOM NAME : cherries

FANDOM COLOR : maroon oak (#4f111c)

DISCOGRAPHY ⸻

GEMINI ⸻ mini album (2022)

KILL THE DAY ⸻ mini album (2023)

LAST DANCE, LAST CHANCE ⸻ mini album (2023)

RAISE A GLASS ⸻ single (2023)

BLACK SEA ⸻ mini album (2024)

template cr. @/ladyzheng on twitter

[babydollmarauders]

BLUSH — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

🌷: “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” with Nico

the kitchen counters are cluttered, ingredients everywhere. flour dusts across the island countertop, sugar cookie dough rests in the mixer, and Taylor Swift echoes from the alexa. i’m currently having what my fiancé has affectionately named, ‘a mental bakedown’. the stress of work mixed with my fiancé having been gone for road games all week has caught up with me, and now i’m baking all sorts of different treats to get my mind off of things. just today i’ve made cupcakes, raspberry tarts, jelly filled donuts, macarons, cherry turnovers, and now sugar cookies.

i’m focused on rolling out dough, looking up to grab a cookie cutter, i jump at the sight of my fiancé leaning against the kitchen entrance with an amused grin.

“how long have you been standing there?” i ask, wiping my floury hands on the front of my apron.

“about five minutes.” he tells me, eyeing the trays of desserts on the counter closest to him. “what’s all this?”

“i’m making desserts for the team to celebrate your wins?” my lie is transparent, and i know by the gleam in his eye that he doesn’t believe a single word.

“while i appreciate the well thought out excuse, i think we both know what’s happening here.” he chuckles, stepping over to stand in front of me, cupping my face with his hands. “why are you having a mental bakedown, darling?”

“this week was just a lot.” i sigh. “my boss is on my case about making sure the new hire knows how to do everything before i leave, and i had a hard time sleeping without you here and i just- i was under a lot of stress.”

“i’m sorry, love. but look at the bright side; i’m back now, and you only have two weeks left at this job before you get to focus on writing your book.” he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, but chuckles when he pulls his hand back with flour on it.

“yeah, you’re right.” i tell him before letting out a forced laugh. “sorry, i destroyed the kitchen.”

“don’t worry about it, baby. now, what did you make? i’m craving something sweet.” i beam at his words, a smile taking over my face as i step away from him and grab a raspberry tart from a tray.

“here, try this! i altered my recipe and personally, i think they’re my best so far.” i hold it out to him but instead of taking it from me, he leans forward and takes a bite, his lips grazing against my fingers. i watch as his eyes close, and he lets out a soft moan.

“that’s really good, babe. i think you’re right; it’s your best yet!” his words go in one ear and out the other, my train of thought still focused on the sound he just let out. i can feel my face heating up as my mind wanders to the thought of him making those sounds with me, between our bedsheets, and my thighs clench. “is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”

i’m snapped out of my thoughts by Nico’s comment and i him in response.

“i- uh-” i struggle to find the words to convey my thoughts, my fiancé chuckling at my strain. “you and i and— bedroom.”

-

-

[proseka-headcanons]

Warera Pegasus Tankentai! HCs, pt.2 :D

Minori went over to Toya's house exactly one time. Never again. His parents assumed she was his girlfriend and she had to explain that she was, in fact, a lesbian. And then his family was just, so cold and serious. Nope, never again. Toya can come over to her house, where her family wouldn't make things weird and uncomfortable.

Tsukasa and Minori first met when they both left an audition they failed. Similarly to Singing Amongst the Cherry Blossoms event (if I'm remembering the name correctly) when he met Kanade, they literally just, ran into each other.

Their SEKAI is a bakery (I have yet to decide whether I want our solo SEKAI creators to remain solo SEKAI creators or if this is gonna be a group effort from everyone). It's cozy and earthy.

Tsukasa's item in the Bakery SEKAI is an apron, Minori's item is a measuring cup, Toya's item is a cookie cutter set. Their group items are a bowl of dough with a whisk and a dessert platter. Miku's item is a set of measuring spoons that look like cherries.

Toya still befriends Akito, but it takes longer for them to enter a relationship. Meanwhile, Minori is admiring Haruka from afar, and Tsukasa and Ruin barely speak to one another. It's slowburn™ basically.

Tsukasa and Minori will sometimes ask Saki and Kohane for ideas for their next dessert. The two girls will often assist with color schemes they can use, or ask the other members of their group (Emu and Mizuki) for input. They get a box of the desserts as a thank you.

While they aren't all that supportive of him being an idol, Toya's brothers take the time to at least compliment his baking skills, knowing fully well that their brother can be petty. Considering he baked them a batch of cookies and made them bad on purpose when they voiced their opinions on male idols. Yeah... they're scared of making him upset. It wasn't a nice time.

Minori has a line of pet treats in their bakery. As the only one with a pet, she knew she wanted to include baked goods for them, so she worked on something safe for pets.

They would like to have a physical bakery one day. It's a silly little dream they've created together and it'd be nice if it happened some day.

OH MY GODDS SILLY I love your headcanons sm they always put a big smile on my face - 💎

[kiki-mimi222222222]

it's getting better, I guess

[crowstealingbones]

Hazbin Hotel critique

okay I'm a fan of Hazbin but I feel there isn't much to work with. The concept for it is great, music slaps but I feel that there are contradictions that could be expanded and improved upon. For one I don't like how the show goes from joking and poking fun at Angel Dust for being hypersexual but then say that hypersexuality isn't his fault which it isn't but I think the show could take the topic of SA in the industry with a little more grace and not making fun of the victim for being hypersexual and promiscuous. For those who may not know hypersexuality can stem from SA and abuse. Also in the scene from the club in the one episode where Angel stands up to his abuser is a good step but in the same episode Sir. Pentious asks to have s-x with Cherri and when she asks why he says he wants to have s-x with everyone even though he clearly dosen't he then gets dragged into a room by other people when he's desperately trying to get them to stop. I feel the topic of SA in the show can show very mixed messages and this is a big example of it. Another thing I don't like is the designs  and feel they could also be improved on. Of course when designing characters it's important to not to make the design busy and recognizable but also easy for animation . But that doesn't mean to reuse an almost identical color palette for every main character (except maybe Vaggie and Angel) and the same palette for most of the hotels backgrounds. They also just make the designs not accurate to the characters. Alastor looks like a fox and barely a deer if it wasn't for the small antlers that blend into his hair. Angel looks like a weird ball of fluff with two arms rather then a spider, Nifty looks nothing like a bug, and Husk looks like a completly different character design that wasn't supposed to be his character was used for him. The designs seem all so cookie cutter and bland, also the characters feel like they don't have depth only edgy stereotypes.

Hazbin stans, this is just my opinion and how I feel the show could be improved, I will go into a little more depth with certain characters but these are my two main issues for the show in general,pls don't attack me for this silly tumblr post

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

Nah but it's the way every time a story features or is about women or a woman's story, people always want to try to make it about men or say "what if there were men instead?"

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and Six: the Musical both have parts of their fanbase(although thankfully in Six it's not the majority) saying that there should be a version with all men or going "what if this female main cast had a male main cast instead"? Even though the point of both is to provide representation for women, MLP is about how there's no wrong way to be a girl and changing the way girls'/girly shows are seen as shallow and less good, and giving girls multiple strong female characters to see themselves in instead of just one token/cookie cutter archetype, while Six is all about REAL-LIFE women whose lives were destroyed because of misogyny, it is all about girl power(same as mlp) and women getting to reclaim their stories from a patriarchal society that shortchanged and silenced their voices throughout history, but no let's make it about men lol.

The same is true for Sailor Moon, I have seen some people say that it's sexist or "misandrist"(as if that's even a thing lol) because it's all about women and the women are more powerful and how Tuxedo Mask "always needs to be saved" like goddamn let the girls be the heroes who save the world for once.

And for that matter PRECURE. Unpopular opinion that will surely get my head bitten off by fans but I don't think Precure NEEDS male Cures and it's not "erasing" feminine boys or saying boys can't be feminine or "reinforcing gender roles" to point that out. Precure is a franchise about female characters being the heroes and main characters who are powerful while also being feminine, it's supposed to place the women center stage and give them the spotlight when most media doesn't do that, trying to fit boys in it is just ruining that message imo. Tbh I would be happy if there were no male Cures at all, idgaf about your "but let boys be feminine" shit cuz I mean yeah but like go watch Cute High Earth Defense Club Love or something, that show seems more your speed(@ sexist Precure fans who say this, not you). I once got my comments removed TWICE for trying to point this out to someone, to the point where I just blocked them lol. One person even went so far as to make a petition for Toei Animation to make an all-male Precure season, again, just go watch Cute High, bc clearly that's what you're looking for.

I also saw some people complaining about Project MC^2 being "sexist" against boys and making them out to be stupid just because it's about girls being smart spies and good at math/art/science, one review even said "teach girls that boys matter too!" oh rly like they don't know already??? Like the world doesn't already tell them that each and every single day??????? The second girls get the spotlight everybody acts like boys are being attacked, but when boys get the spotlight it's all crickets and shit bc boys are supposed to take center stage like no one cares about girls getting attention. Your seven-year-old son isn't going to enter a self-hating misandrist crisis because one wee show said "women do run the world!" we still live in a patriarchy ffs.

Also in Cardcaptor Sakura the main character is a girl and the story has many female characters and is very empowering to women in general(while also having a great deal of powerful men and even a canon m/m couple), and yet I still saw this one annoying guy write an entire screed about how Sakura sucks as a character and should never have been Cardcaptor, the cherry on top was them saying that Syaoran should be the Master of the Clow Cards instead...because it's not enough that this show has multiple representations of positive men/masculinity in addition to women/femininity, it's still not good enough if it's a girl power fantasy, it MUST make a boy the hero!

I also saw someone say that Touhou, which has an all-female cast, needs more men. Wonder if they'd say the reverse if it had an all-male cast(correct answer: they wouldn't).

And then there's the Encanto fandom's entire can of worms where they went through that phase of wanting the female-dominated cast to be all about Camilo and Bruno, sidelining the women in the process. Like bruh. 😕

I really do wish that people would stop this shit, female-centric media is really never allowed to exist without people wanting men to be prioritized in it and take away from the female representation even though men have enough representation already lol, people can't handle when not everything is about men. It's why I will never listen to or take anyone seriously when they complain about shows like these being "sexist against men" and say that anything I write is too female-centric. Like. GOOD. The world needs more female-centric casts to shake up the status quo! You guys love complaining about shows being gendered and wanting gender equality in fiction only towards female-centric works, because you don't want to see women playing central roles without men also being there. Sucks to be on the other side of the playing field now, huh?

Anyway, I was inspired to write this to you rather than make it an original post because of your comment about people wanting Jennifer's Body to be about men(with Miguel as Jennifer) and yeah that is so disgusting and irritating. 🤢 I didn't even know that was happening but I'm not surprised because nobody ever lets shows about girls just center girls first and foremost. It truly is everywhere and I'm sick of it. Not everything needs to be about men, just let the women have something. Please.

Sorry this was long lol. 😅 Thanks for reading this far lol. You're a trooper! Have a nice day!

THIS ASK IS SO REAL ON SO MANY LEVELS!!

this also extremely effects lesbians and trans women because with lesbian women you’ll have people being like “do they really have to be gay? Why can’t they just be normal?” And with trans women it’ll be like “why can’t we just have normal nonqueer characters” or even “why can’t men just be men anymore” it’s like they hate any and all women and girls no matter what we do and it’s so insane to me

also I talked a little about this same phenomenon happening with Jennifer’s Body (2009), where there were people making aus of that movie with mainly MALE characters which downplays the whole message and plot of the god damn movie and it’s so ughhh

anyways sorry I took so long to get to this ask but everything you said is extremely true and I’m glad you brought attention to it!

also btw RADFEMS AND TERFS FUCK OFF THIS POST IS NOT FOR YOU

[transtanium]

PSA: THERE IS A KICKASS METROIDVANIA ON STEAM CALLED COOKIE CUTTER

YOU PLAY AS A LESBIAN ROBOT NAMED CHERRY AND CAN DO BEAT-EM-UP STYLE COMBO MOVES AND BRUTAL FINISHERS THAT ARE BASICALLY DOOM GLORY KILLS

THE ART STYLE IS SO OVER THE TOP AND GORY, EVEN WITH THE ROBOTS

TRY IT MAYBE?

[ghostkidsblog]

Do you have any headcanons about the Shadow Boys when it comes to food? (I know that's random but I'm hungry so this came to mind)

Of course I don't mind, although I don't know which category of food your asking so I'll try to name at least 5-7 food types.

Griffin stagg

I see Griffin actually loving the flavor of mint chocolate chip ice cream or strawberry ice cream but it has to have small bits of strawberry in it or he refuses to eat it.

Spaghetti and meatballs, his mom made it for him once testing out a recipe and now forever loves them and asks his mom to make them for dinner at least 2 or 3 times a week. He would also help his mom make them whenever he can.

Animal cookies, his favorite would always be the lion shaped cookies, I mean like it's animal cookies, besides I think he used to play with them when he was little

Apple juice and cherry/ strawberry sodas are his all time favorite drinks, you can't tell me he doesn't enjoy cherry or strawberry soda. Also it's a funny moment when there is a fight going on and he is just there drinking his apple juice box in the background.

Billy Showalter

Billy gives me the type of person to like apple pie, along with any dessert that is apple flavored

Chocolate ice cream all the way. He loves and I mean loves Chocolate ice cream, he also enjoys sherbet ice cream

Hates root beer soda, he actually is a fan of coca cola, he likes the classic cola can.

Loves and I mean LOVES Caramel apples on a stick. His sister introduced him to the dessert ever since he was little and they went to the local fair, and has loved it ever sense then.

Vance Hopper

I haven't thought much about Vance so most of these if not all are ideas from a couple of friends on discord gc!

Vance would like to eat old fashioned recipes because his mother would make them for him growing up. ( It can be french,Italian, heck even Greek whatever you headcanon to be he will always love the old recipes)

He is a meat lover, meatloaf,hamburgers,hotdogs,etc. He will love it if it has meat in it.

Rocky road ice cream, I thought long and hard for this one, I genuinely think he would love the rocky road or any Flavor with huts in them.

Spicy chips, he would eat them without a problem. He has a high tolerance to spicy foods and he loves them to snack on.

Cookies, personally snickerdoodles or sugar cookies. He baked them with his mom and molded them with cookie cutter with whatever shapes they had. I like to think vance liking cinnamon treats sue me for headcanoning that.

Bruce Yamada

Mint chocolate chip & chocky chocolate ice cream, I had that idea in my head since freaking October. He would love those two flavors.

Chocolate desserts/treats he would love to have anything chocolate flavored.

Peaches and apples would be his favorite fruit in my book. He would share his peache or apple in slices with his friends/shadow boys.

Big league bubble gum, he also likes other flavors but I can't seem to find what type of flavors there are.

Robin Arellano

I don't care what anyone says Robin is a HUGE SWEET TOOTH KID, he definitely likes those bonbon cookies in the Mexican store

His mom's cooking is the best, whether that be empanadas, enchiladas, heck eve chicken soup, it's his favorite because his mom makes the best food

He strikes me as a sour gummy worm kid, like he would enjoy eating sour gummy worms while everyone else he knows dislike or hate the taste of them or how they look

Chicken tenders was his favorite school food, the only thing that looked safe to eat was chicken tenders and he would gladly give you a full on lecture/rant on how the chicken tenders are the best option (he also like dinosaur nuggets!)

Mangonada & cookies n cream is his favorite ice cream in my book

Finney Blake

M&Ms and 100 grand chocolate bar is his favorite candies (he definitely separates the cold tone M&Ms and warm tone M&Ms then eats the cold tones ones first)

Vanilla ice cream lover but doesn't mind eating other flavors (he would put sprinkles & other toppings on his ice cream you can't change my mind on that)

Grape and cherry soda lover (he definitely goes to the store only getting grape or cherry soda and nothing else)

Garlic bread is his favorite bread to snack on (his mom taught him how to make it when he was a bit young and still has the recipe on how to make it)

He strikes me on loving a chicken Alfredo and beef stroganoff dish (he was sleeping over at Robin's at the time and robin’s mom made these two dishes and Finney loved it so much he asked Robin's mom on how to make them afterwards)

Sorry for such a late response, I've been busy with both personal and school problems. Thank you for being so patient with me and I hope you enjoy this answer for your ask! :D

-Ghostkid