#did not really consider that combo but I'm having fun

[menlove]

don't talk to me for 5 days I just discovered a band that's a mix of pop punk and faux oldies/faux 60s/70s rock. but w pop punk vocals. absolutely incredible lmao

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[megamindsecretlair]

Thinkin' 'Bout You, Part 3

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Infidelity. TOXIC FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play, spanking, dirty talk, degradation kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Use of n-word. Referring to female anatomy as "she".

Summary: As a sneaky link, Stunna is highly demanding of your time. He doesn't care if you get caught; when he wants you, he wants you. Your man takes you to a neighborhood block party that you're determined to have fun. That is, until you're introduced to Stunna and his wife.

Word Count: 8,379k

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: I'm sorry!!! I didn't intend for this to be so long. Let's all say thank you to @planetblaque who always helps me achieve greatness with these ideas. I had a really suck ass day and this healed me. LOL Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot

You haven’t seen Stunna in a little over two weeks. Lyin’ ass nigga. You were irritable and ornery. Your friends and your man noticed the difference in you and you blamed it on the planets. You blamed it on PMS. You blamed it on anything but that bum ass nigga who was just supposed to be a good time.

This nigga really had you checking your phone multiple times a day. Things between Malcolm and Stunna were ramping up. Both were on high alert and had been making moves on each side. You only knew this because your man was plugged into all that shit. He wasn’t a top dog but he wasn’t a corner boy either. 

He never mentioned Stunna by name but you knew that once you heard about Malcolm, Stunna was likely doing shit too. And fuck him, you missed him. 

You sucked your teeth for the hundredth time as you got ready for this funky ass block party. You were not in the mood to be around others nor were you into being shown around like a pony. It was the one area where you and your man did argue. It was like he was with you just to show his boys that he could get with you. Which was wild, because he wasn’t ugly. Not by a long shot. 

You finished with your hair and makeup and looked at your stank face in the mirror. This was such bullshit. Stunna was not your man. He had an entire wife that he was likely dicking down, cooking for, and showering with presents. The more you thought about it, the more you got mad irrationally. There was no way you were catching feelings for this nigga.

You were just addicted to his dick. Addicted to the way he held you like he loved you but fucked you like he hated you. Your man was too gentle for that and it was why you loved him. But why was it so hard to get fucked? 

Your pussy was mad. That’s what it was. Your pussy was calling the shots. “Guess what bitch, you belong to me,” you said. You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You are that bitch!” You told yourself. It sounded silly the first few times you tried this, but you found that the more you practiced, the more your brain listened and you truly felt like that bitch. You had two niggas sprung off of you. Not many could say that and not get caught up. 

You looked at your outfit on the bed. Some silly jeans and tank combo that would have looked great on you. You didn’t want to look great. You wanted to look fuckable. You had been telling yourself that time with Stunna was limited anyway. Stunna going silent on you was the best thing that could have happened. 

The trash took itself out and now you could focus on your man. Focus on getting him so hot and bothered that you cut out of the stupid ass block party early. You wanted him to be desperate to rip your clothes off. To push past that little hint of shyness he clung to in the bedroom. 

You flipped through your closet as your man came into the room. “Is you ready yet?” He asked.

“Not yet. Changed my mind on my outfit,” you said.

“Gah damn! You been getting ready all day!” He said. He sucked his teeth and went back to his phone. Always on his damn phone. If he wasn’t so shy, you’d swear that he was cheating. He had the better morals of you two. And you would not pick an imaginary fight just because you were missing dick that was never yours to begin with. 

You walked over to him in your dark silky panties and pressed your chest against his clothed one. “We could always stay home and have some fun,” you said. You rubbed his arms and he let out a slow breath.

“Fuck, don’t do this to me,” he said. He kissed your cheek. “I would love to take care of that. But if I don’t show my face, I ain’t family. And you do not wanna know how these niggas treat you when you ain’t family,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and peeled yourself off of him. “Come on, babe, don’t do that,” he pleaded. 

He stepped forward but you lifted a hand. “Bye nigga, let me finish getting ready,” you said. You wouldn’t look at him until he sucked his teeth and went back out into the living room. You closed the door behind him with a sigh. 

Was there a way to combine your man and Stunna? Stunna’s desperate neediness and your man’s quiet consideration? You liked cuddles and shit, being wrapped up in your man’s arms. But you also liked getting the coins knocked out of you. 

Decisions, decisions. Maybe it was time to move on from your man. You hated to have to kick him out. You couldn’t afford this place on your own and you doubted that you’d find a new man willing to pay all your bills and not wanna move in. You loved Nandi but you could not have her as a roommate. Shit. 

Now you were back in a funk as you searched through your clothes. Hanger after hanger and none of the shit felt right. Looked right. If your man didn’t want to suck the jelly out of your pussy, then you would make that nigga jealous. Make sure everyone else at the block party was thirsting after you whether they had someone or not. 

Your hand stopped on a bodycon dress. Army green and ribbed. Halter neckline. Ouuu. You stared at it. You were supposed to wear this around Stunna. You used the money he gave you to buy yourself a number of dresses, sexy panties, and a few pairs of shoes. Things that you could take pictures of yourself in or have him appreciate for half a second before he was lowering you on his dick. 

Well, the nigga ain’t come around. And was your life supposed to stop simply because he couldn’t be bothered to text? All that “miss you so much baby, can’t wait to get in that pussy baby” shit was all a fucking lie. 

Your phone chimed from your dresser. You lifted the dress out of your closet and brought it over to the mirror. You placed it in front of you to see how your body was looking and if you wanted to wear it. You peeped your phone.

Satan: where you at, babygirl? 💦

You: 

You stared at the screen debating if you should answer or not. This was your big chance to end it for good. He couldn’t have possibly thought that you were going to come running whenever he snapped his fingers. Or in this case, hit you up like everything was fine. 

He had you out here acting out of character for dick. It was good dick, mind you. Phenomenal dick. But not enough to make you forget who the fuck you were. 

You: out.

The three dots on your screen started up immediately and you muted his conversation. The nigga could be mad. At the end of the day, he didn’t know where you were and he wasn’t going to show up while your man was here. Stunna was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. 

You grinned as you threw on the dress, feeling immediately sexy in it. You bought it with money that wasn’t yours and you looked incredible in it. Your ass was fat and you played with your butt, looking back at yourself in the mirror to watch it jiggle. All you were missing was Megan Thee Stallion pumping through your speaker. 

However, your man nixed that while you were getting ready. You typically wouldn’t let a man tell you what to do, but he did make sense. When the queen was on, it added at least one more hour to you getting ready. 

You bent over in your closet to find some all white sneakers you could throw on. You had an anklet that you got on a girl’s trip to New Orleans and you wrapped the shiny green beads around your right ankle. 

You found a shredded jean jacket in your closet and tossed it on. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked good and felt good. Your hair was in an updo and doing what it do nicely. Your makeup was flawless. You felt so pretty. Fuck all these niggas.

Weak as you were though, you couldn’t help flipping your phone back over to see the dozens of texts from Stunna.

Satan: out where?

Satan: baby?

Satan: You see me texting yo ass.

Satan: I know I been gone, but cmon

Satan: really? This what we doin’?

Satan: out where? 

He began to call you by your name in the thread, getting more and more agitated the longer he didn’t receive a response. Good. Let the brat know how it feels to be ignored. Let’s not forget, he was not your man. 

You left the room, putting your phone in your pocket. “Okay, ready,” you said. Your man got off of the couch and that damn phone. He whistled as he looked at your outfit. 

“Damn, you look good!” He said.

“Yeah, I know,” you said. You opened the front door and descended the steps. It was a nice, breezy night for once. The heat from earlier didn’t want to lose its grip, so it was a welcome change to the unseasonable chill. 

“C’mon girl, you gon’ be mad at me all night?” He asked.

“Maybe,” you said. You folded your arms across your chest and waited for him to lock up behind you. You weren’t really that upset that he didn’t want to stay home instead. It was that at the end of the day, he was always going to run behind his friends than cater to you.

Women were always expected to drop everything for their man. To fall on the proverbial sword time and time again to lift him up to greatness. Where were the niggas that…liked women? 

Niggas fuck with women, tough. It’s some type of rite of passage to get a girlfriend, treat her nice, get some loving. But it was always an argument outside of that. Where to eat, what to do. And when you made a fuss that you actually had interests that did not involve watching niggas play 2k with their boys on the mic, suddenly you were nagging too much and needed to go sit down.

The system was fucking broken. Niggas got their freedom and acted the fuck up. You knew it wasn’t all niggas. But you were damn tired of searching through the haystack for a good needle.

Finished, he moved beside you and grabbed your hand. You snatched it back and took off down the street. The block party wasn’t too far so you didn’t have to worry about sweating out your hair and makeup. But it was a brisk walk that you set. Maybe the exercise would burn off this lingering pressure.

Pressure that felt like you were going to combust from not getting some dick. Not even your man touched you. Because you were in such a pouty mood over Stunna’s dumb ass. 

The further you walked, you heard music and laughter. Seasoned aromas from the grill made your mouth water as you thought of what you would get. Some ribs? Chicken? You couldn’t decide as your stomach rumbled letting you know that it was past time to eat. 

Your man put his arm around you, pretending to his boys that all was fine and that you were the love of his life. Sometimes you don't feel like it. You let him though. It was easier than listening to him bitch and complain later that night. 

The party seemed to ramp up as true night made everyone relax and hang out. The music was thumping and people were greeting each other, playing spades in the corner, or talkin’ shit. You spotted Nandi and Brooke over by the drinks and you kissed your man’s cheek and told him where you were going. 

“Girl, what’s wrong with you now?” Brooke asked.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed some Hennessy off of the table and poured a generous amount. You took a sip, letting the sweet cognac burn your throat. 

“Yo ass always got a damn attitude now, snapping at people and shit.” Nandi held her hand out for the Henny and you handed it to her. 

“I just be going through shit!” You said. You sipped more and the alcohol slowly worked through your system. Your shoulders loosened up and you swayed to the music. You may have drunk it a little too fast, but that was okay. You’ll get something to eat and it'll balance itself out. 

“Shit like what?” Nandi asked. 

You felt cornered by your girls and you eyed them both. The urge to spill everything was strong. Strong enough that you even opened your mouth but you resisted at the last moment. You sipped your drink and looked around for the food. 

“Just shit,” you sighed.

Brooke looped her arm through yours and you walked as a trio towards the food. Heavenly aromas of chicken and ribs made your mouth water. The mac n cheese was almost gone so you knew it must’ve been fire. 

“You gotta stop keeping stuff bottled up inside. That’s why ya ass mad all the time,” Nandi said.

“Mhm, that’s right. You know we got you!” Brooke said and shook you. You giggled even though you weren’t truly up to it. You didn’t want them to worry about you. 

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m just sick of my man sometimes,” you confessed. There, they could chew on that. 

“You know he treat you good, which is rare these days,” Brooke said.

“Preach on it!” Nandi raised her hand as if she was in church and agreed. You giggled and shook your heads at them. It was hard to be in a pissy mood when they were around. 

You had managed to avoid checking your phone all night. You were sure Stunna sent all kinds of nasty messages calling you out of your name. Not knowing what he said was giving you a power trip. He could have gone radio silent. He could be fuming. The world would never know.

For the first time in two weeks, that boulder on your back felt lighter. You grinned at your friends, letting the alcohol give you a bit of “fuck it” attitude. Your man dragged you to this bullshit but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun.

“Uh oh, we in trouble,” Brooke said. 

Nandi called you by your nickname, the one that meant no responsibilities. Or a fake name you gave to dusty niggas who were only entertaining for an hour. You grabbed a plate of food, the steam reaching through the styrofoam plate. 

You sat and chit-chatted with your girls, cleaning your plate clean. Then you grabbed another drink and headed to the middle of the street, singing and rapping along to the current song. 

You had drawn a small crowd, people following your lead to dance. A circle formed with people taking turns showing off their moves. Choruses of “ayes” and “okays” were chanted in unison, turning it into a giant communal experience. 

Someone tapped on your shoulder and you turned to see your boyfriend. “Hey baby!” You said. You threw your hands around his neck and kissed him sloppily. He kissed you back, chuckling at your changing attitude. 

“Feelin’ good off that drink, huh?” He asked. 

“Real good,” you slurred slightly. Your eyes were half mast and you were swaying to the music. You were glad you wore sneakers. Trying to be cute while gone on the drink was not a sexy combination. 

“Come on, I want you to meet some of my peoples,” he said. 

You sighed and stomped your foot. “But I’m having fun!” You said. 

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s real quick, I promise,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you groaned. 

“Fine,” you said. You told your girls that you’d be right back and they better hold your spot. They giggled and agreed, telling you to hurry back.

Your man held your hand as you walked onto the sidewalk. You walked towards a couple. There was a plump woman with beautiful curly hair, a dark pink shirt and leggings. The man wore a gray Henley with the top two buttons undone. The sleeves were pulled up on his forearms. A gold chain sparkled every so often as the street lamps hit it.

“Baby, this is LaTrice and her husband Big Stunna,” your man said.

Your breath seized in your chest. You would have coughed if you had any air in your lungs. Your lips stretched into a smile as you shook hands with LaTrice. “Nice to meet you,” you said. 

It was only by experience and repetition that made you recite the words automatically. She smiled at you. “I love your hair,” you said and grinned. 

“Thank you! I love yours!” She said. 

Stunna’s hand was warm in yours. Even smack in the middle of your significant others, he held on a second too long. “Nice to meet you too,” you said. You kept eye contact with him to a minimum.

The alcohol in your gut turned sour as you ran your tongue across your teeth. Your heart beat thundered in your chest. Your man pulled you into his side and you wrapped your arm around his middle and damn near leaned your head on his shoulder.

“We know each other from way back on the block. LaTrice didn’t play that shit. You weren’t gonna bully her,” your man was saying.

“Damn right. Fuck anyone who try,” she said. She fist-bumped your man and you smiled. 

“You must have embarrassing stories about him from way back when,” you said. As long as you focused on LaTrice, you were okay. You were vibrating with energy. There was unrestrained anger, irrational jealousy, and outright longing. You just wanted to sink into Stunna’s arms and breath in his delicious cologne. 

He looked damn, fucking good too. That Henley and chain combo was doing wonders on your body. Hearing him laugh was making your pussy throb and thighs clench. You crossed your legs and then immediately uncrossed them. You didn’t want Stunna to get the wrong impression. 

LaTrice pulled a few stories out about your man and you teased him, throwing extras on it. You poked at his cheek and hip bumped him. You squeezed his cheeks and planted a little kiss there at all the stories LaTrice told you.

You weren’t doing it to make Stunna mad. Okay, you weren’t only doing it to make Stunna mad. You were a little too gone, tipsy on its way to drunk, and you couldn’t help feeling up on him. You damn sure couldn’t do it to Stunna. 

“So what do you do?” Stunna asked you.

You were forced to look at him. The venom in his eyes could fell a horse. You swallowed a painful lump in your throat and you cleared it by drinking more. Stunna brought his own cup to his face. 

He threw his arm around LaTrice and hugged her close. You explained your shit job and downplayed the description. It wasn’t a glamorous job and it didn’t really matter because he already knew this shit. 

Fucking bastard. You licked your lips and tangled your hand with your mans. “Baby, I need another drink,” you said. 

Your man looked like he wanted to die. As if you were committing some kind of grievous sin by asking for a drink around Stunna. Yeah, yeah, you knew the mu’fucka was important. Didn’t mean shit. Your other personality was out tonight and she was still in “fuck it” mode. 

“Ya’ll have a good evening,” Stunna said. His eyes were for you though. He was not smiling. You smiled sweetly. 

“It was great meeting you both!” You said. You turned away with your man and walked down the street toward the drink table.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Your man asked, as soon as you were out of earshot of Stunna and his wife. 

“What?” You asked. 

You poured yourself some more drink. As you did, your traitorous eyes went in search of Stunna. He was already facing you. He had positioned himself to stand facing the street. His boys were talking to him, but he was drinking from his red cup and eyeing you.

You turned away to look at your man, already sipping your own drink. Maybe you could drink enough to bypass the horny. You were already planning to ambush your man after this was over and finally get some dick. But after seeing Stunna…

“You know what! I’m trynna introduce you to my world and you off being rude and shit. Those people are important! You can’t just worry ‘bout yourself when they around!” 

You waved your hand at him. “Back up, nigga and quit talkin’ to me like that,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who it is!” 

“You need to. Because all that money you like spending? Come from him,” he said.

Your face split open and you started to snicker. Stunna was paying for your lifestyle twice. It really shouldn’t be funny. You did really feel bad about stepping out on your man. There was no excuse for it. 

But your man just had no fucking idea. You looked back towards Stunna who was still watching you like a hawk. You leaned closer to your man. “You know I appreciate everything you do for me, baby,” you said.

You tried to kiss his cheek to put on a good show for Stunna. Your man moved his cheek at the last moment. “I fuckin’ hate when you get drunk,” he said. 

“I just fuckin’ hate you. You bummy ass nigga,” you said. 

“You just get mean. You can’t handle that shit. You need to figure out why you chasin’ that shit so hard,” he said.

“Say another fuckin’ word,” you said. Your words were slow and measured. 

“You’re a mean ass drunk!” He said. 

You laughed and got closer to him. “Don’t bring yo ass home tonight,” you said. You walked away, walking back over to your girls and the music. You were out of Stunna’s eyesight. You were burning.

Fire danced just beneath your skin. The Henny made a dangerous cocktail in your gut. You were horny as hell, pussy throbbing and aching just from looking at Stunna. But you were also mad as hell. Why were you trying so hard to make this shit work with your man?

You were clearly total opposites. Wanting different things. Hell, he looked dead at yo ass in your panties and no bra and thought, “Time to go be with my niggas.” What? All this ass and…nothing? 

You told your friends what happened and a chorus of, “Fuck that nigga” rang out. You agreed. But it did nothing to put out the fire inside you. 

You just needed relief! You needed that sweet relief that came from a thorough claiming. You were sweating as if you ran a marathon but you refused to take off your jacket. You didn’t want Stunna walking by to stare at what wasn’t his.

You sighed as you pulled out your phone.

Satan: OH, like that?

Satan: You gon’ wear the dress I got you for that nigga? Kissin’ on him all in my fucki’n face??

Satan: Just ain’t gon’ answer me, now? That’s what we doin’? 

You put the phone away and focused on your girls. You were going to have fun and that was all there was to it. The music turned up louder, the circle still going. You hopped in the middle and began to twerk, shaking your ass and putting the bodycon to good use. You knew your ass was jiggling in all of the right ways. 

When you left the circle, your eyes immediately found Stunna. He was standing with LaTrice with his arm around her and sipping out of his red cup. You wiped the sweat from your brow and rolled your eyes.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. 

You cheered your girls on as they danced but you were starting to get woozy from the drink. You stumbled over to the drink table, grabbing some water. 

“Say what’s up shawty.” You looked up and scrunched up your face. A dusty mu’fucka dared to talk to you. His teeth were yellow and stained brown, crooked, and his nose went in the opposite direction of where it should be. His outfit was a size too big, hanging off of his thin frame. 

“The sky, nigga,” you said and sucked down the water. 

He sucked his teeth and called you a bitch. Whatever. You stumbled closer to the nearest house so you could lean against it. Your eyes were crossing. The ground was spinning beneath you. You put the cool water bottle against your forehead. 

“Shit,” you groaned. You did drink too much. Henny always made you act the fuck up. And you always regretted it. And yet, when you went out to a function again, Henny was the first thing you reached for. 

You took deep breaths until the lights stopped spinning in front of you. You lost track of Stunna. Wherever he was, you knew he was wrapped around LaTrice. You had no right to be jealous but you were. You wanted to be tucked under his arm. Shown around by him.

It was corny when your man did it but if Stunna did it, you’d preen and giggle like a schoolgirl. 

You stood up, ready to head back to your girls when something gripped your hand and yanked. You took a deep breath, ready to scream. 

“Shhhh,” Stunna said. His other hand covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming and giving yourself away. 

He pulled you in between houses, past the gated fence, and into a random neighbor’s backyard. There was a tiny shed back there with a door already propped open. You struggled against Stunna’s hold but he held firm. 

He tossed you inside the shed and you stumbled over boxes and knick knacks on the ground. There was a table in the back filled with various tools. Stunna closed the door, shrouding you in total darkness. 

“Turn on the light,” you said.

“No. Fuck you think you doin’?” He asked. 

You could only rely on your intuition and the scent of his cologne as he crowded your space. “Move nigga!” You screamed, pushing against his chest. He barrelled forward until your ass pressed against the table.

“You don’t answer my fuckin’ text messages and then you show up here with that nigga?” He asked.

“That nigga is my man! You are not!” You pushed against him again, but your mind was back to swirling. Tipping. It was somehow worse in the dark. Robbed of sight to keep your equilibrium, the ground felt shakier than ever. 

“Fuck that and you know it!” He yelled. 

“Fuck you, Stunna! You’re here with your whole ass wife! What, you was gon’ fuck me on your way to the block party? Make LaTrice sit out in the car while I suck your dick?” 

You placed your hands behind you, to steady yourself on the table. It was still in use so it wasn’t overly dusty, but it was still gross. You hated this. You hated being so near him and couldn’t claim him. Couldn’t name these feelings inside.

“And if I did? Your little ass belong to me,” he said. His hand found your throat and you hated how you responded. Hated that your eyes crossed and thighs clenched. 

“I don’t belong to shit,” you said. 

“Mhm, bet you if I lift this dress, that pussy gon’ be singing for me,” he said. He brought his lips close to yours but didn’t kiss you. He smelled like he drank just as much as you did tonight. 

Your hands gripped his wrist. His smooth skin was hot to the touch. “Stunna, this is fucked up,” you said.

“You sayin’ I’m lying?” His lips moved against yours as he spoke. He was so damn close. He breathed out and you breathed in. It made it dirtier and naughtier that you couldn’t see him. 

“Tell me I’m lyin’ and I’ll leave this mu’fucka right now. Tell me you ain’t fuckin’ dripping under that sexy ass dress. Shaking that ass that’s meant for me. You know I’on like that shit,” he whispered. 

“This is my dress, Stunna.” You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t even lie. “Where’s LaTrice?” 

“Answer my fuckin’ questions!” He slammed the table behind you and you flinched away. He still held you by the throat so you couldn’t escape him. Lord above help you, but you were even wetter. 

“I’m not answering shit, nigga!” You yelled. 

He chuckled and a fan of sweet alcohol fell across your face. He finally kissed you roughly, pressing his lips to yours enough to bend your head back painfully. You melted instantly, moaning and leaning into the kiss.

He pulled away just as roughly and sneered. “Tell me you want me to rock that shit,” he said. He placed his forehead against yours and breathed for a few moments.

You wished you could see his face. You wished you could see him in the light of day. But it would always be sneaking around with him.

“Fuck you, Stunna,” you said. You reached down to feel his chest. Lowered your hand until you were cupping him. He groaned from the contact. He was already so long and thick. His erection was straining against his jeans and you moaned. 

He began to kiss you again, moving his hand from your throat. He gripped and squeezed your booty, molding his big hands to the globe of your ass. You moaned, finally feeling some kind of comfort. Some kind of proof that you meant something to somebody. 

His tongue was thick against yours, exploring every corner of your mouth. You heated up for entirely different reasons. He moaned into the kiss, stepping closer. His erection pressed against your belly and you moaned.

Your pussy already clenched, thinking of that dick sliding inside of you. 

As he kissed you, his hands slid your dress up. You helped him and moaned when cold air hit your legs. He moved his hands beneath your panties, growling at finding it wet. “Knew yo ass was fuckin’ soaked.” 

“You know Henny makes me horny,” you said.

“I make you fuckin’ horny. Quit playin’ with me,” he said.

“Know your lane,” you said. He chuckled and kissed you again, sweet this time. You didn’t want sweet. You bit his lip and he hissed, jerking back from you.

He was right back to kissing you with more force. He lifted you and helped you sit on the table. You dangled off of the edge. He scooted in between your legs. “My lane is between these thighs. My lane is making you scream my name while I’m in that shit,” he whispered against your lips. He trailed kisses down your neck. He unzipped his pants and lowered them, scooting you closer to the edge.

He placed his mouth over your titty through the fabric and he bit down enough to tug on your nipple. “Oh fuck!” 

He pulled your panties to the side and then you were gasping at the fullness of him. The sheer magnitude of being filled with him. This was also a new position for you. He had bent you in so many ways before, but it was never this intimate. This close. Pressed chest to chest and breathing each other in. 

He began to rock inside of you, pulling all the way out and then slamming back in. “Daddy’s sorry,” he said. 

“Fuck!” You cried out. Your thighs tingled as you locked them around his waist. He pressed sweet kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and lips. You held on to his shoulders because right now, that was the only solid thing for you. In the darkness, you didn’t know which way was up or down. There was just him. 

“I know this little attitude is because you’re mad at me. Because I promised to deliver and I dipped. I had to take care of some business but I won’t be gone that long no more,” he said. 

As he spoke, he rammed inside of you, sliding with ease aided by your horniness and the alcohol. 

“You can’t promise that,” you said. “Ouue, shit.”

How did he make every glide seem different? Every hip thrust a different word, every groan a different tune? You felt weightless, gone off of the Henny as you were, but you were also attuned to everything he was doing. Moving. Saying.

“I can. And I’m sayin’ I’m sorry. That Daddy gon’ stick around and take care of his princess,” he said. 

You moved your hands down to press against his chest. He knew he was swinging too much dick to be going at this type of pace. He moved your hand and placed it behind you, using force to keep your hand where he wanted it. 

“Fuck you, I got a man,” you said. Stunna switched up his strokes so that he seemed to hit deeper and you cried out, throwing your head back.

“Yeah, me,” he said. He pressed his lips against yours and you were both fighting for control. Fighting with wet, sloppy kisses to see who would win out on top. Mama ain’t raise a quitter, so even as he tried his hardest to make you fold, you wouldn’t.

Not until he gave up control of your hands and brought those long fingers to your clit. You were already coasting close to your orgasm but you were holding it at bay. Too focused on making him see that you didn’t belong to each other. 

He hissed and moaned when he made contact and you were gone, clutching to him and screaming out your orgasm.

“Say my name, baby. I’m the one making you feel this,” he said. He continued to flick your clit as you convulsed and broke. Shattered. 

“Fuck! Stunna!” You finally relented. Let him have this fucking victory. Let him have it all. If only he could keep doing this. Keep bringing you to the edge over and over again and letting you fall over it safely into his arms. 

“Sound so pretty when you cum. Daddy gon’ make it up to you. Can you get away tonight?” 

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. But your other persona was still out, still riding the drink, so you nodded. “I’ll have the house to myself,” you said. 

He continued to ram into you chasing his own pleasure while you were still trying to recover from yours. He kissed you, sloppy again until he was moaning and releasing inside of you. He pumped a few more times as if he wanted to keep it all in there with just the power of his dick.

You giggled a bit and stilled, dick convulsing. “What’s so funny?” 

You goofily told him and he chuckled, kissing your forehead. “Goofy ass. I’ll see you in an hour,” he said. He kissed you as he slipped out of you. He kissed you while he zipped himself back up. He kissed you while he moved your panties and helped you off of the table. 

He cupped your face in his warm hands and kissed you, tongue licking your lips. “An hour,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up,” you said. 

He left first, slipping out of the shed and back into the thunderous noise of the party. You stayed behind, five minutes and then ten minutes. You were still trying to catch your breath. Still trying to piece yourself back together after finally getting what you wanted. 

At what cost though?

When you were sure that you could walk without falling, you left the shed and closed the door behind you. The party was starting to wind down anyway. Your friends were dancing on random men so you didn’t bother saying bye. You didn’t see your man either. Good fucking riddance. Asshole.

You walked home in a dreamy haze, the alcohol still buzzing through your veins. You overindulged, that was on you. But you were also finally getting a night with Stunna. An entire night where you could find and lose each other’s bodies over and over again. 

Making it home, you entered the house and locked it behind you. You had some time before Stunna showed up, so you stripped down to your bra and panties, threw on some good R&B music, and dipped into your personal stash of Hennessy.

You were swaying to the music when you heard the soft knock on your back door. You crept to it and peeked behind the curtain. Stunna stood there in all his glory, that Henley was still doing wonders on you even though you already got your orgasm. 

As soon as you let him in, he grabbed the drink from your hand and shot it back. “I could have poured you one,” you said. 

“What’s yours is mine,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He was still trying to push that he was your man. Despite showing his wife all around the block. But you weren’t here to argue. You weren’t here to lie. 

You walked into his arms and tilted your head up. He grinned, wrapping his hands around your waist, fingers sliding down to grip your ass. “You forgive me?” He asked.

“Nope. I’m trynna see what apology dick feel like,” you said. He laughed, throwing his head back. You cherished the sight. 

He swayed to the music, dancing with you. You put your head on his chest and rocked with him. The music filled you up like water pouring from a cup. But there was a deep urge, a yearning to consume him. 

You pulled him by the hand towards the back bedroom. You had kept all the lights off in the house. Not that you were trying to hide what was going on in here, by much. But you had found something in the darkness with him and you wanted to know if it was still there. 

In the bedroom, moonlight slanted through your blinds illuminating part of the bed. Stunna was mostly in shadow as he stood beside you. Part of his face was brightened by the moonlight and you took a moment to breathe him in. Take your time. If one night was all you had like this, then you wanted to make it last.

“Apology dick huh?” He asked.

You nodded. “I kinda like you sayin’ sorry for once,” you said. 

He laughed and pulled you closer, wrapping his hands around you once more. He kissed you and nibbled on your lips. “I am very, truly, deeply sorry,” he said. He slowly pronounced each word so there was no confusion.

He cupped your cheeks and kissed both sides, both of your eyes, across your forehead, and finished on your lips. He kissed both of your hands, bringing it to his lips with a quiet sigh. He dropped down to his knees and kissed your bare tummy, lips tickling you as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you worry.” 

He pulled your panties down and helped you step out of them. He kissed your thighs and then gently pushed you onto the bed. You sat down and he grabbed your feet, fiddled with your anklet with a smile and then planted soft kisses there and then rubbed them.

You moaned and closed your eyes. You didn’t think that your feet hurt all that much. You wore comfortable sneakers. But his thumb pressed into your arch and your back curved, thrusting your titties out. 

He spread your legs and then set to work taking off his shirt. He kneeled closer, breathing deeply. His tongue darted out and began to lick and tease your entrance. He used his hands to spread you open, bare yourself in the most primal of ways.

He glanced up at you and you grinned at him. He then got to work eating you out like it was his entire reason for breathing. His lips teased your clit. His tongue darted in and out of your entrance. You were a moaning, crooning, sloppy mess under his masterful tongue. 

Your fingers slid into his hair and tugged and pulled as you licked your dry lips and caved to the unrelenting pleasure. He made out with your pussy. So much so, you half thought you were intruding on a private moment. 

You sat up a little to look at him at work. It was like he was praying between your thighs. On his knees, devoted to your pleasure. He worshiped at your altar, moaned hymns into your pussy, and gave offerings with his tongue.

One of his hands left you and you heard his zipper get pulled down. He moaned and the vibrations tickled your clit. His arm jerked as he pleasured himself while he made out with your pussy.

Your pussy fluttered and a moment later, you were clinging to his head as you smashed your pussy into his face, cumming without abandon. You screamed and cried out, shaking and trembling with pleasure.

Stunna stood up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. His chain looked damn good around his throat. He stepped out of his shoes, pants, and briefs. He made you sit up so he could take your bra off.

“Forgive me?” He asked.

“I ain’t heard no apology,” you mumbled. 

“Like that?” He asked. “Yo little bratty ass get on my fuckin’ nerves.” He smiled but you knew that you really did get on his fuckin’ nerves. It should make you want to behave. He was really good when you behaved. 

Before you could respond, he grabbed your ankles and yanked you further down the bed. You yelped and giggled as his gaze turned feral. His eyes were drooping, smiling out the corner of his mouth. 

He pulled your legs up higher to rest on his shoulders. Your toes barely reached behind his neck. He lined himself up dipping into your pussy once, twice, and then slammed in on the third one.

“Shit!” You yelled. You dug your elbows into the mattress to try and get up. He held firm to your thighs. 

Then he pushed forward, your knees grazing your chest. You heaved but couldn’t find enough air. “St-Stu-” 

“I missed you too, baby. Now accept my goddamn apology,” he said. He rammed inside you. 

Your eyes crossed and your body drooped down onto the bed, all the fight leaving you. He smacked your face, a tiny sting bringing you back to the present. “You gon’ accept my apology?”

“Nuh,” you moaned. He couldn’t expect you to speak while he had you in this position. He already fit snug as a bug, but now he felt even tighter. Your pussy sucked him in and didn’t let go. Didn’t want to let him go. 

He had to feel the quake in your thighs. See the desperation on your face. The way you gasped and wailed for air. 

“Grippin’ the fuck outta this dick. Fuck! Missed this fuckin’ pussy. Daddy missed the fuck outta this pussy,” he moaned. 

Tears sprang to your eyes as you needed air but needed to cum even more. He pushed forward still, rutting inside of you. His chain bounced on his chest with the force of his thrusts. Your legs had no choice but to bend and open wide to accommodate him. He pushed your thighs as far back as they could go. Damn near touching the bed.

Stunna moved his face towards your titties, suckling them into his mouth and pulling.

“Stunna! Stunna! Fuck, that shit hurt!” You yelled. Hurt and felt so good, so magical. The bite of pain was its own shot of alcohol. He lifted his head and watched your eyes get watery. 

“Accept my fuckin’ apology,” he said.

“No-o,” you moaned. 

He increased the pressure of his thrusts, slamming into you with force. You scooted up the bed with each intense stroke. Pressure built up in your hips. Your hearing went out one ear. A tinny ring fought for dominance in your mind but you could only focus on that elusive feeling. 

That whisper of an orgasm. The calm before the storm. 

His balls slapped your ass. Your essence pooled out of you and soaked your thighs. Made a mess on the sheets. His grunting joined the fray. The moonlight caught glimpses of his sweat pouring down his face.

“You ain’t gettin’ this nut till you accept my goddamn apology,” he said. He started to slow down, slowing his strokes but they were no less powerful. That whisper was starting to drift on the wind.

“Wait!” You said. 

“Yo hungry ass want this nut, don’t you?” He asked.

“Yes!” 

“Been needin’ this nut so you can act right, huh?” His hips dipped with his stroke and you moaned.

“Yes! Fuck!” You cried and bounced on his dick, needing him to go faster. He was already impossibly deep, the Henny making him last longer like a little demon. 

“You gon’ answer my texts?” He asked.

“Stunna, please, baby. Please! I’ll be good,” you whined. You didn’t know how the balance of power shifted. You didn’t know where you lost him. Perhaps he was just out of apologies to dole out, not used to the word falling from his lips. 

He slipped out of you and you cried out, reaching for his hands to pull him back towards you. He grinned evilly and stroked himself a few times before joining you on the bed. 

He laid down on his side and then pulled your right leg up. His right arm came around to keep it up. Satisfied that you would keep your leg in the air, he grabbed his dick and slapped it against your pussy.

The wet smacks and hint of pain made you moan and bite your lip. “You gon’ answer my texts,” he said, his voice raspy and low. He slid inside you and you groaned. 

His arm came up to pinch your nipples, tugging on them as he started to move faster, slide in deeper. He pulled a little too hard and you cried. “Yes! Daddy, fuck! Yes, I’ll answer your texts!” 

“All of my texts. Don’t you ever leave me on read again,” his pants blew across your ears as he slammed inside of you. He moaned and groaned, couldn’t help his dick from burrowing inside you and carving a space with his name on it. 

“I won’t!” You moaned.

He moved his hand to your mouth, pushing three fingers inside. You happily sucked on his fingers, your head growing fuzzier. 

“Shh, Daddy’s talkin’,” he said. 

Your wet gulps and moans quieted down as he kept going. “You’re my fuckin’ bitch. And when I wanna get in this pussy, ain’t shit you can do to stop me. If I wanna fuck you before a party and got LaTrice outside in the whip, the fuck you gon’ do?” 

Oh god. You were on that precipice again. Your lower belly ached. Pussy throbbed. Talk of his wife waiting outside while he fucked you stupid should not turn you on. And yet you were leaping off of the cliff.

Your body was soaring, flying, so high in the sky that you couldn’t see the bottom anymore. He moved his fingers away so he could hear your cursing, moaning, and screaming as you flooded his dick with your essence. Your whole body shook and convulsed. 

Stunna wrapped his hand around your throat and thrust in earnest. You thought he was already hitting your shit, but he got up on his elbow and thrust as if there was no end in sight. As if you could consume him. Gobble him up. 

“Accept my fuckin’ apology,” he screamed in your ear.

“I forgive you!” You managed to say around the hand on your throat. 

Like it was the starting whistle, Stunna moaned and pushed inside, climaxing. His eyes rolled back, mouth open wide, as a shiver overtook him. Like he had been tense these past two weeks, bottled up, and found heaven as he came.

“Sheeit,” you whined as you felt his dick pulse and stuff you to the brim. 

Stunna shook himself and slipped out, lifting up higher so he could watch his cum slip out. “Goddamn, babygirl,” he said. His cum continued to leak out and he groaned, pushing himself back in.

“St-Stunna!” You cried.

“I know baby, I can’t help it,” he said. He kissed your cheek and moved down to your neck, sucking on the tender meat.

Stunna eventually stilled, slipping back out and laying back against the sheets. The moonlight hit him just so and you sighed, both at the picture and the intense moment. 

You couldn’t move. You were blissfully fucked out, pleasantly sore, and so deliriously happy you had no words. 

Stunna stared at the ceiling with you, too busy gasping for air to say much of anything as well.

The moment didn’t need words. It transcended them. You always thought it was bullshit that you shared energy when you had sex. The shit just always felt good. But with Stunna, it was incredible. Mind-blowing. There was definitely a give and take of energies. You just weren’t sure what you would gain from him or what he took from you.

Stunna snaked his hand down towards you to tangle his hand with yours. You smiled as sleep tugged at you. Your blinks slowed until your eyelids were practically stuck together. You fell asleep to the soothing snores of Stunna.

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 2

[unique-high]

Hey gurrl I'm new to your blog I absolutely love you stories and was wondering if I could ask one for cha eunwoo I can find an blk female book on him and it frustrating 😭😭

Well the company there are in is hybe

Cha eunwoo is a well established idol and actor while yn is still a trainee that eunwoo fell in love with and as been flirting with but she is an oblivions person so until he told her before she knew. Cha eunwoo age same as current while since yn is a trainee I would say 18

Soo sorry for the long ass quest😘🙏🏾

a/n: omg sorry it took me forever to freaking get to this! Please forgive me. I wrote this in one night so I didn't have much time to check for grammar so I'm deeply sorry for any mistakes.

Eunwoo waits for you after practice. Every day. Always at the door. He waits. The other trainees would playfully poke fun singing KISSING the nursery rhyme as they walk out giggling passing the older male. You're sweaty, your limbs feel like jelly and a tired smile smoothes onto your face every time you see Eunwoo. And damn he loves your smile. It reminds him of the early days of summer when the weather still felt a little nicer.

Sometimes you and Eunwoo didn't need to speak. There was that silent talk that said more. When his eyes said more too but you never notice the way he looked at you. The little pleading behind his dark eyes for you to look at him a little longer and the little hint of love hidden in his irises for you to find.

There's a close enough space between you and Eunwoo as you walk beside him. He intentionally lets the back of his hand brush against yours, just that brief moment of skin-to-skin contact was enough for him though he craved more than that.

“Practice go well?”

“I kept getting the steps wrong again and the teacher scolded me.” you pouted.

Eunwoo pets your head. “Do you want to practice with me?”

He knew the dance by heart. He sometimes watched in on you and other trainees to see how you were progressing.

“Oh...No I know you're super busy preparing for your new drama. I don't want to bother you."

“You won't be,” he said. “You just need someone to fully break everything down to you.”

“Thanks. I'd really appreciate that.”

For you, Eunwoo doesn't mind doing things like this even if his schedule is going to be super busy. He can always make the time for you.

Eunwoo took you to your favorite cafe, down the street from the company's building. Instead of you ordering for yourself, Eunwoo orders for you, knowing your drink combo by heart.

You never had any real friends growing up, even with the other trainees you've been with for almost a year, you still weren't sure if you could consider them friends. But with Eunwoo, you consider him to be your best friend. You and he did the things best friends do, talk in the way best friends do, send TikTok videos back and forth, with “Lol this reminds me of you.” or “This is so us.”

Eunwoo pays for your drink like he always does. And you would shove your money at him to take it. He never does. He's a good friend.

It's when you're both sitting outside the cafe, enjoying the nice weather that Eunwoo is staring at you, watching you drink from your cup. He's staring so long that you become a little insecure.

You choke on a laugh asking, “W-Why are you staring?”

“Staring?” Eunwoo's thick dark brown cock's up.

“Yeah...At me.”

“I'm not starting.”

“You're doing it now.”

“I'm not.” Then he looks away down at his drink while folding the corners of a white paper napkin that's under his cup. “You, um... You look really pretty today.”

You laughed. He expected that. Your voice carries with the slight breeze that pushes by. “I'm not.” You said. “And after sweating all day, I'm surprised you don't think I smell.”

You raise your arm to get a whiff of yourself. Not so bad.

Eunwoo lets himself look at you. But don't full-blown stare at you. He tries to focus on the small things on you; like the yellow mustard stain on the front of your baby blue crop top that you tried your hardest to clean after lunch, then he looks at the lavender scrunchie on your wrist that he gave you back in April, you always wore it as good luck. He looks at the baby hairs on your arm. Then lastly, at the scar on your chin, you had gotten when you were five from your older cousin.

“Even after practice, you're still pretty,” he said.

Now that you think about it. This was Eunwoo's first time calling you pretty and you weren't sure why that coming from him made you feel like you were dancing on your tippy toes.

“You never called me pretty before.”

But he has a billion times in his head.

“Y/n, just accept my compliment.” he smiles. Of course he wanted to move along with the whole pretty thing because damn he wouldn't be able to explain why he thought you were pretty.

Or maybe he could. Or maybe he couldn't.

If someone were to ask him to name the five things he thought were pretty about you, he'd say, “Five isn't enough.”

“Why am I suddenly pretty?” You pressed him playfully.

Eunwoo rips the corner of the napkin under his drink, balls it in a tiny ball, and throws it at your face.

“Did I say pretty?”

“You did.”

“Hmm, I think you misheard me.”

“I didn't.”

“I think you did.” he laughs.

“Why are you denying it now?”

“Denying what?”

“That you called me pretty?”

“Did I call you pretty?”

“Eunwoo, stop messing with me,” you whined.

He winks at you getting up from the table and grabbing his cup and napkin. “I always thought you were pretty. I just never dared to actually say it out loud.” he walks away from the table.

You hop up grabbing your cup as you rush alongside Eunwoo. Slapping your hand out over his forehead, you checked for a fever.

“No fever,” you mumbled. Your hand fell away. “Do friends usually find their friends pretty?”

“Yeah, all the time,” Eunwoo said.

Yeah, but calling your friend pretty while you were in love with them was a different kind of pretty.

“Oh,” you said. You threw your cup in a trash can and so did Eunwoo.

“I think you're just as pretty.”

Eunwoo's face warms up. “D–Don't say that.”

“It's true though. Like your visuals are killer.” You gushed over him and damn, that made him want to stop walking and kiss you.

The walk back to the company was short. Your day wasn't over yet since you had vocal practice in the evening that lasted way later than you wanted to. You and Eunwoo linger in the company's lobby for a few minutes, just talking.

“I want to tell you something before you go,” Eunwoo said.

“Oh, What is it?”

Eunwoo looks around at the few people walking through the lobby, he grabs your hand pulling you to a more private area without listening ears. His heart beats a little faster. His hands get a little sweaty. His words are a little stuck now.

“I like being your friend.”

“Eunowoo, I like being your friend too!” you smiled up at him. And that man could have melted in his shoes.

“Being friends is nice, but I don't think I want to be friends anymore,” he said quietly.

“Did I do something wrong?” There's a creak in your voice.

Eunwoo cups your face with his warm hands that burn at your cheeks. “Of course not, Y/n.”

“Then why don't you wanna be friends anymore?”

“Because....” he paused. “I want something more with you than just a friendship.”

“What do you mean?”

Eunwoo playfully rolled his eyes. “I want us to be together.”

“We're together now.”

He laughs. “No, like I want us to be together together.”

“As in....” You trailed off.

“Boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Ooooh like that.” you smiled warmly.

“Yeah. Like that,” he said. “I've always been in love with you.” it's the way he says it that felt like a soft landing.

“You have?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“The first time you smiled and said hello to me.”

Falling in love with you had been easy. You made it easy for him without even knowing it.

“Oh, god, not that time when I had a milk mustache.” You made a funny face that made Eunwoo laugh.

“Yeah, that time.” That was his favorite little memory of you.

You took Eunwoo by surprise when you stood on your tippy toes and kissed him. Your kiss felt like heaven, like it was the sweetest thing, your lips perfect against his, and he could kiss you every day for hours, if that's even possible.

He kissed you back, his lips moving with urgency, like if he didn't kiss you enough or make it deeper enough you would just disappear. You feel his lips pulled into a smile.

“I love you, Y/n.”

[dont-offend-the-bees]

rules: answer and tag people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with!

tagged by: @dear-monday and @manicpixiedreamedwins ! Cheers m'dears! 😊

Favourite colour: it changes a lot but I'm in a bit of a green era right now! The colour combo I come back to a lot/is most commonly associated with me is pink and yellow though 💛🩷

Last song: HOT TO GO! (catchy bop that's also on my Catwin playlist lmao)

Last movie: my friend finally showed me Phantom of the Paradise it was unhinged I loved it 💛

Currently reading: have started a reread of The Edge Chronicles for... reasons. Have started with Beyond the Deepwoods bc it was the one I could find but if my books weren't so scattered I probs would have started with the Quint trilogy/Gloamglozer

Currently watching: DBDA, as always, plus still squeaking slowly through House MD and occasionally Ted Lasso!

Currently craving: it's first thing in the morning so honestly like, some very buttery toast and a big, cold drink of something a lil sweet and fruity (like me)

Tea or coffee: tea all the way — which, fun fact, despite being a Brit I did not drink at all until my 20s. I went to stay with someone I thought was really cool for a weekend and was like aaaah she's really cool do NOT be weird!! And basically weaned myself onto tea over the long weekend by just not saying no when it was offered xD I would say my relationship to tea now is fairly casual, I don't have strong tastes/opinions on it and will often pick something else to drink given the option, but it's comforting to partake in the deeply ingrained British social ritual lmao.

Right that's enough out of me, I'm gonna tag some wonderful DBDA fandom people bc I haven't been this sociable in a fandom in ages and I love it! So @mellxncollie @every-moment-a-different-sound @williamvapespeare @tw0-ravens @m-eowdy @shadowquill17 @arisprite @wordsinhaled and probably a load of others I've forgotten, if you see this consider yourself tagged if you wanna do it! 💛

[familyvideostevie]

𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] | part 4 [4.6k] | au masterlist

OCTOBER

The rain starts halfway through the first market of October. It comes without warning; a chilly Saturday with scattered clouds turns dark and the bite in the air seeps into your bones. The crowd thins in a matter of minutes despite the promise of a market rain or shine, since a summer rain can be something free and spontaneous. A fall rain is bound to end in a cold.

"Do you need help?" Joyce asks. It's barely started to drizzle but you can see the dark drops marking her jacket. "I think we can close early. Jonathan is almost done with the flowers, I'll send him over here --"

"No, I'm okay," you tell her. You shove candles and jars of honey into your crates with as much care as you can spare. The pickup is just around the corner and you can load everything yourself even if your back will feel it later. "Really, I'm sure other people can use the help more!" Joyce tuts but runs off. As soon as she does the rain picks up. You can feel it spray onto your face from the wind, feel it soak into the wool sweater you're wearing.

"Eddie --" you say, about to wave him off, but he picks up the other full crate at your feet.

"Keep packing or someone much meaner than me will come over to help you," he says, winking. "I'll put this in the New-Bee's pickup on my way out, okay?" He's off before you can get in a word of protest.

You decide to tackle the rest of the stock before bringing out another crate but your hands are shaking so much from the cold and your skin is wet and everything is wet and you're worried you're going to drop something. You manage to pack one more and are debating whether or not to bring it to the truck when you hear heavy footfalls in the rain behind you.

"I'm fine," you yell over the rain. There's no response so you turn and the sight punches a hole in your chest: it's Steve. He's soaked to the bone, just like you, but he looks like...like...well. His own sweater and flannel combo are weighed down with water and his jeans are a shade darker than usual. You feel a little warmer than you did a second ago.

He jerks his chin up in greeting and he reaches forward to gently grab your elbow. "We gotta go," he says. "I think there's gonna be lightning soon. And you're soaked." He takes in your chattering teeth and the crates around you like he's doing a calculation in his head.

"I gotta get the stock --" His palm is so warm even through your dripping sweater that you have to keep yourself from leaning into him.

He tugs on you gently. "Leave it."

"Steve, I made this stuff." The plea is pathetic in your ears and you wonder if he'll make fun of you for it. You really hope not, since you've been turning over what Dustin said to you for days and it's fair to say that Steve Harrington is a puzzle you want to figure out. If he lets you.

The warm hand on your elbow disappears and you expect him to storm off but he just scoops up the third crate you've finished filling and heads for the truck.

"Gee, thanks," you mutter, squatting to grab the stacks of candles for the last crate. You're really shaking now but you're trying to move fast, so when a peal of thunder finally tears through the air you're startled enough to drop one of the glass jars. It shatters and the candle wax inside rolls away.

You don't think as you start to pick up the shards of glass with your bare hands, don't consider that maybe it's a bad idea until you slice your palm with one.

"Shit!" you yell, staring helplessly as a thin line of blood wells and drips down your skin. It doesn't look deep but it hurts. A warm hand on your back almost sends you careening forward into your mess but another on your shoulder steadies you.

"Woah, what the fuck happened here?" Steve asks, harsh tone at odds with how he's touching you as he crouches down to examine the glass.

You are humiliated to feel tears gathering and your throat getting tight. "The thunder, I --. It startled me and I--"

"Are you bleeding?" He hauls you up and a few steps away from the glass before you can answer. Your hold your injured palm out in front of you like it'll bite but Steve is quick to grab your wrist gently when he notices you shaking. You sniffle and his eyes meet yours for just a second.

"Hey," he says so softly you can barely hear him over the rain. "Hey, it's fine. Lemme just --" He digs in his back pocket with his free hand before he produces a blue bandana.

"That better be clean," you grind out, hoping to regain control of the situation, but the words are thick in your throat. As it is, you feel entirely too caught up in Steve's orbit, in the warmth of his touch and the kindness in his gaze. He smirks as he wraps the cloth around your hand, tying it tight enough that it won't come off. You hiss and he winces.

"Sorry," he whispers. He clears his throat and releases you. "Just this left?" He taps the side of the last crate with his foot. You nod. Steve makes quick work of the rest of your stock before he picks it up and heads out into the rain. You glance at the glass you're leaving behind before heading after him. The rain is coming down harder and lightning flashes before another crack of thunder makes you jump again.

"Told you!" Steve shouts, tucking the tarp over the back for the last time before you both clamber into the front seats. The rain pounds on the roof and the windshield and you're both panting so hard the window starts to fog. Steve is shivering though trying to hide it, jaw clenched as he runs his hands through his sopping hair. You turn the truck on and blast the heat.

"Where's your car?" you ask. Your voice sounds louder now that it's just the two of you.

"Robin drove today." He angles one of the vents towards you. "She uh, took all the stuff back already."

"So you're stuck here?" You can't believe that she'd leave him on accident or even on purpose.

He shrugs. A drop of rain travels down this column of this throat and you swallow. "You needed help." He says it like it's obvious. Like you should expect him to stay through a storm just to be at your side.

"Okay," you say. "I'll-- I"ll drive you home." Steve looks at you like he's seconds away from laughing in your face.

"With that hand?" All at once the pain rushes back, the steady throb of the cut on your palm taking over. The bandana is as soaked as the rest of you so you can’t tell if you’re bleeding through it. "I don't think so," he snorts.

"Steve." It's the softest you've ever said his name and he all but flinches. "I don't want to fight with you."

"I--we're not fighting," he argues, then catches himself. "I don't want to fight with you either. So I'll ask nicely." He clasps his hands like a boy in church. "Please, oh please, will you let me drive?"

Part of you wants to refuse just to be difficult – and because you totally can drive one handed. But you decide right now, in the cab of your truck as it pours, to try with Steve, and maybe this is what trying looks like. Because he stayed in the rain to help you. Because you’re tired of convincing yourself you don’t want to like him. And well, because your hand really does hurt. "Fine," you sigh. "But I'm not going back out there." Stubborn to the last, your dad always says.

"I'll go over you," Steve says quickly. The cab of the pickup is big for Steve to barely brush your thighs as he hauls himself into the driver's seat but you're so close for just a few seconds that you feel your breath hitch. He's dripping wet like you are but you swear that you can feel the warmth that seems to emanate from him through the fabric.

"Does New-Bee's have a first aid kit? Or do you want to go to the hospital?" He adjusts the seat a little and pulls out of the parking lot in to deserted downtown Hawkins.

"Bob has one," you say. "I think that'll be fine." Would he actually drive you to the hospital if you wanted to go? Something tells you that he'd stay with you the whole time, too. It makes you shiver.

Steve eyes you. "Shouldn't take too long," he says. "Gotta drive a little slower in the rain." The thunder rumbles but it sounds far away now. He hits a bump and your hand smacks your own knee and you hiss.

"Green or red apples?" Steve asks suddenly.

"What?" He repeats the question. "Uh...green," you say. He nods.

"Same. Cats or dogs?"

"Both. Steve, why are you asking--"

"Really? You like cats? They're monsters, I swear. Get scratched every time I go near one." The questions continue. Tulips or daisies? Night or day? Sunrise or sunset? He seems delighted that you're playing along with his game, willing to tell him even small tidbits about yourself. You're both only children, both like morning, both hate spinach. He likes sunrises but you like sunsets, and he actually yells in outrage when you say you "can't stand ice cream."

"I always get a brain freeze!" He's waving his hand in the air like he's searching for the words.

"You're just eating it wrong, or something. Who doesn't like ice cream?" You laugh, the pain in your hand forgotten for the moment. Oh, you think. He's distracting you.

Steve pulls into New-Bee's and Bob's truck is missing. He must be out somewhere, maybe caught by the storm which is still raging, rain steady though not dangerous anymore.

"You're coming in, right?" you ask. He nods, once again running a hand through drying hair that's about to get wet again as if it’s a nervous habit. Maybe it is. But you don’t know why he’d be nervous.

"Ready?" He turns the car off and braces a hand on the door. "We can get the stuff later." You nod and he counts down on his fingers before you fling yourselves into the downpour, running towards the wide farmhouse covered porch. The cold is a shock and Steve grabs you mid-gasp, your uninjured hand in his as he hauls you up the steps and out of the rain. Your fingers feel frozen in his but you don't let go.

You start to laugh. Water pools at your feet and you're cold and your hand hurts and Steve is looking at you like you've lost your mind. But you laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

"What's so funny, honey?" Steve asks, incredulous. The nickname only makes you snort and laugh harder. It sounded so sour coming from him just last week and now it's sweet, now he's grinning at the noise you're making. "Besides, me, clearly," he adds before he starts laughing too. It occurs to you that this might be flirting.

"Steve," you gasp between laughs, "you hate me." He stops laughing but you keep going until you smack your hand on your knee again, and this time it hurts so much it brings tears to your eyes immedietly. Steve hisses like he's the one who's hurting.

"I don't hate you," he says, almost as an afterthought. "Can I see your hand, please?" You hold it out without hesitation. Something has changed between you but you can't exactly pinpoint what or when -- just that now you're offering yourself to him easy as anything.

This time his touch burns, callused fingertips and wide palms overwhelming as one gently unties the bandana and cradles your palm. He whistles long and low. He pulls it gently to his face and you bite your lip because it has been so long since someone touched you like this, with care, with attention.

"I want to see it under some light but I don't think there's any glass in it. And it's not deep enough for stitches. And it’s only bleeding a little bit." He’s rambling.

"Do you do this a lot?" you ask.

He's still looking at your hand but manages some sarcasm. "What, play doctor?"

You flush. Definetly flirting. "Steve."

"Nah," he sighs, letting you go. You shiver again. "I've seen lots of small injuries working at Sara's for so long. Let's go inside, okay?"

The front door is unlocked as usual and as soon as it smacks closed behind you the rain starts to pound harder. "Can I drive you back when it calms down?" you ask him as you tug off your soaked boots.

"Sss-ure." Steve fails to hide his shiver. "Where's the first-aid kit?" You wave for him to follow you to the upstairs bathroom.

"I bet I have some stuff you can change into, if you want." He's going to get sick if he stands around in his soaked clothes much longer.

"Hand first."

"I can do it myself, Steve," you say over your shoulder on the stairs.

He smirks. "I'm sure you can."

The bathroom is big enough that you can both stand in front of the sink, the first-aid kit open on the counter next to you. You allow Steve to examine your palm in the dull light, keeping your eyes on the ceiling. Something tells you that looking at him or your hand might not be such a good idea right now.

"I'm just not as good with new people as I thought," he says, picking up on the abandoned conversation from the porch. He rubs an alcohol wipe along your cut and you scrunch up your nose, eyes pricking. You don't want him to see you almost cry again. "There hasn't been anyone new here in a long time. So I just... we got off on the wrong foot." You don't say anything. You feel him start to wrap the gauze and deem it safe to look down.

"I don't hate you," he repeats, eyes on your hand. "That's what I'm saying."

"I don't hate you either," you say softly. Steve looks at you then, eyes warm and hair damp, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin.

"Fooled me." He secures your bandage with a satisfied hum. "You said something about dry clothes?"

He follows you down the hall to your bedroom. Steve doesn't comment on the bare of your walls, the way your suitcases are out as if you're going to use them at any second. His eyes linger on the numerous candles on your vanity. The bottom drawer of your dresser is full of New-Bee's branded clothing that Bob has given you, soft things you've taken to sleeping in. A pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt should work, and you hand them to him.

"Thanks." He turns on his heel to return to the bathroom.

"Bring me your wet stuff and I'll throw it in the dryer!" you call after him before stripping out of your own soaked clothes, the damp denim of your jeans making a wet sound on the floor. Soft pants and a favorite hoodie fill you with welcome warmth as the rain continues to thud on the glass panes of your windows. You almost run into Steve in the hallway on your way to the closet with the dryer and you have to swallow a lump in your throat at the sight of him.

He's --. Well, he's in your clothes, barefoot in your hallway. To see him this way feels intimate in a way you don't know how to handle and it makes your heart do something funny in your chest.

"These are comfy," he says. His hair is a mess and you're staring and for some reason his cheeks are pink.

"You can have them," you tell him without thinking. Oh god, you think. Where did that come from? "I can get more from Bob, anyway." You pull open the washing closet and he throws his stuff in the dryer alongside yours. Your traitorous brain wonders if he's still wearing his underwear.

"Well, now what?" He looks at you through damp bangs, arms crossed. He looks softer than you ever thought him capable of being.

"This will take like, half an hour maybe? So I guess you have to hang out with me until then." He groans and you swat his arm, the venom from your first meeting nowhere to be found. Steve heads back towards your bedroom as you finish setting the dryer and you find him sniffing some of the glass jars he'd been eyeing earlier.

"These smell great," he tells you, eyes fluttering as he inhales one labeled evergreen/lavender. "You made 'em?"

"Yeah." You sit down on the edge of your bed. "Test batches for new scents."

"Still burning your fingers?" He looks at your hands, one bandaged by his own and the other curling into your blankets. You shake your head, remembering how he'd come to talk to you at the market, how his gaze had darkened when he noticed your fingers.

"What were you going to ask me last week?" you ask. He sets down the candle and straddles your vanity chair so that he's facing you.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, well." Maybe he doesn't remember. "I just-- before those kids of yours showed up, you were going to ask me something."

"You remember that?"

"I pay attention." The to you goes unsaid but seems to float in the air between you nonetheless.

"Oh," Steve says. He crosses his arms on top of the chair and sets his chin on them. "I was going to ask you to uh, hang out? But looks like that is happening right now."

"Really?"

"Don't sound so excited," he grumbles. You roll your eyes. "Uh, Nancy is gonna be in town this week and we're gonna have a Friday night...thing. By the lake."

"Steve," you say. You feel warm, warmer than you have all day. Because he wants to hang out, wants to be friends. And he has, maybe this whole time. "I don't know who Nancy is."

"She's Mike's -- the tall kid you met -- older sister. Jonathan's girlfriend. She's at school but she's coming back for her little sister's birthday. Holly, she's a real sweetheart--"

"Okay," you say.

"Okay?" he parrots. "You don't even want to know who will be there?"

"Careful, Steve. It sounds like you don't want me to come after all." He laughs.

"No, no, I want you to come. Now can I ask you something?" You nod, crossing your legs and his eyes follow your movements. "What did Brenda say to you? A few weeks ago, before we, uh...fought again."

It seems to be a day of catching each other off guard. "Does it matter what she said?" He taps his fingers in a random pattern on your chair.

"I just wanna know." His eyes are dark, his expression guarded. You can feel the walls you've only just broken down start to rebuild and you're desperate to keep them at bay. But you don't want to lie to him. Not while he's in your bedroom in your clothes after the day you've had together.

"She...she told me to be wary of you." His eyebrows raise and his jaw tightens. "She said you uh, broke a lot of hearts in high school."

"Why did she say that to you?" Now that is a truth you are not going to tell him. That she caught you staring.

"Dunno," you mutter.

"Is that why?" he asks. "Why we didn't get along? Why you were so mad that day?" How can you tell him it's because he makes your brain fuzzy, because you were hurt that he judged you so fast? That you did the exact same thing to him?

"I don't--. No." You rub your face with one hand. "Steve, I don't even know her. I don't know why she said that to me--"

"It's true," he interrupts. "I was an asshole back then. I guess I still am," he adds. "I guess I haven't changed a ton, based on how I was to you. How I am to you." He snorts and it's a harsh sound.

"Steve," you begin. "Steve, look, you said it yourself. We got off on the wrong foot and I was as much a part of that as you --"

"You don't have to defend me. You have no reason to." Why does it feel like this is turning into a fight? “That’s just my story, I guess. And everyone knows it.”

"I don't think I understand --"

The dryer beeps and he's out of your room in a flash. How have you lost track of the conversation so quickly?

"Steve," you say. "Steve, wait a second." He's in the hallway pulling his clothes out and shoving them into a paper bag he's found on the shelf. He won't look at you.

"I think I better just go. I don't...I don't want to fight again." The rain has all but stopped without your noticing.

"Then don't fight with me! Steve, come on, I'll drive you. It's bound to rain again and you'll get sick. This is a stupid idea!"

"Yeah, well," he mutters. "That's never stopped me before. See you later. Uh, thanks." He holds up the paper bag with his dry clothes as he shoves his bare feet into his boots. And then he's out the door.

"What the fuck just happened?" you say out loud to yourself in the empty kitchen.

____

It's frustration and embarrassment that keeps you from chasing after Steve. From going to see him at Sara's that night and on Sunday. You spend the rest of the weekend furiously making candles only to realize you've just made batch after batch of the one Steve picked up in your room -- an evergreen and lavender scent. Your hand doesn't hurt anymore, the cut already healing into a thin scabbed line underneath the bandaids you keep on it.

"Not that I'm complaining," Bob says when you bring the finished jars into the farmhouse on Monday morning. "But what's the fixation on this candle? You've made enough for three farmer's markets at least."

"Bob," you sigh. "I think I messed up but I don't know why." You and Bob talk most days when you run into each other in the house, but you hardly speak to him about non-farm matters. And yet, who else do you have to turn to? You don't think you can call anyone to talk about Steve, since everyone knows him, and you feel silly about the whole situation as is.

"And candles are going to fix it?" he teases. You groan and he claps you on the back gently. "Listen, kiddo. I know you've had a rough go of it and that Hawkins might not have sold you yet. But you're finding your way. And I know that you've made quite the impression on a few folks already." He picks up one of the candles you're labeling and smells it. "How about you take some of these over to Sara's? Give 'em a few and see if Hop wants to put some up in the store on the property."

Your boss eyes you as you feel your cheeks heat and you shift from foot to foot. "Sure, Bob," you tell him. You realize you have no idea what Steve does during the week, let alone on a Monday. It's time to find out.

You rehearse an apology on the drive to Sara's Farm. "What do I have to apologize for?" you mutter as you the truck bumps down the long drive. But urge to get back the Steve that padded around your room barefoot in borrowed clothes is stronger than your stubbornness. The property itself is huge -- much bigger than New Bee's. There are multiple barns that look well-built and maintained along one side of the fields and on the other you see a variety of livestock grazing. A bright blue chicken coop is next to the small farm store and the farm house sits charmingly in front of what looks to be rows and rows of trees. You wonder where Steve lives.

The farm store is empty of customers on a Monday morning but it's full of beautiful produce and goods: bags of apples of all colors, cherries, and sunflowers. Root vegetables and fresh eggs sit next to baked goods you have a feeling El is responsible for. There are t-shirts and hand-painted canvas bags and flower arrangements with the Byers Flowers tag on them. At the register sits a man you've never met but know on sight -- Jim Hopper. Former police chief, current farmer and collector of wayward individuals, if you've got the story right. That's how Steve ended up here, anyway.

"Uh, hi?" you say. Hopper looks up from a tattered paperback but he doesn’t spook.

"Hello," he drawls. "You here from Bob's place?" He jerks his chin at the New-Bee's bag you're carrying full of your candles.

"I--yeah." You introduce yourself and he sucks on his teeth and stands, gesturing for the bag.

"You're the new girl Harrington talks about," he says. "I'm Hop. Welcome to Hawkins." Your brain is trying to make sense of what he's saying. Steve...talks about you? It's not that strange considering you have been a massive pain in his ass on purpose but still.

"I've been here almost a month," you blurt out. Hopper looks at you over the candle he's smelling. It's a look that says: I know what you’re really here for.

"Belated welcome, then," he says. "You make these?" You nod. "They smell great. I'll call Bob and tell him we'll stock 'em."

You look at your shoes as if they're suddenly very interesting. "Is uh, Steve here?" Hopper sighs and wipes a hand across his face as he mutters something that sounds like damn kids.

"Not today," he replies but offers no details. Your fists clench in your pockets because something about this feels rehearsed. "Hey," Hopper says and you look up. "Maybe if you bring some more candles tomorrow he'll be here."

But when you return the next day with a full crate of candles you find El and the boy you remember as Mike sitting behind the counter. El grins when she sees you and calls out your name. Mike whispers something in her ear.

"Hi El, Mike. Where can I put this?" Mike hurries around the counter to take it from you. There's a clear set of shelves right by the register that he starts to fill.

El rests her head in her hands and smiles at you. "Dad said you'd come by today. That color is really pretty on you." You're wearing a deep green sweater under a denim jacket.

You wink at her and she giggles. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Parent-teacher conferences," Mike says. "Hop's there so we get to run the store today." He carefully lines up all the candles so the labels face outwards. El watches his every movement.

"Are your other friends here?" A screech from outside floats in through the open window followed by what sounds like Max's laughter.

"They're supposed to be collecting eggs," El says. "But the rooster doesn't like Dustin very much."

"And, uh..." You examine a jar of strawberry jam. "Is Steve here? Your dad said he might be." Her eyes are soft as she chews on her response and tucks her hair behind her ears.

"He told me to tell you that he's not here," she says. Mike looks at her with fond exasperation.

"El, I don't think we were supposed to say it like that."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Steve is being silly and Max and I won't be a part of it. So be glad she's outside because she'd be less nice than me." She looks at you, mouth twisted in a grimace. "I don't know where he is today but if you come back tomorrow maybe you'll catch him."

"Great," you mutter. "He's avoiding me." You blow a raspberry to keep your frustration at bay. "Here's some free life advice, Mike." He looks at you warily. "Don't avoid girls. They'll find you." He sputters and El cackles.

And you fully intend to catch Steve sooner rather than later because this is getting ridiculous. Wednesday morning finds you driving over to Sara's yet again. No candles this time, but you have a plan: search every inch of the damn property for this ridiculous boy and make him talk to you. Because you don't want all of this to be for nothing -- the thing between you that changed from something cold and hurtful to something that made you look forward to seeing him. That, and you want to go the hang-out on Friday without things being awkward.

You bypass the store completely and head for the orchard. It's a bitter cold day, the first one in a while, and you should have worn gloves. As it is you're shivering in your jeans and long-sleeve layered under a the same sweater as yesterday and a flannel and a jacket. The tip of your nose feels like Jack Frost himself blew on it and you're rubbing it when you almost crash into someone popping out of a row of apple trees.

"Hey!" says Robin, arms reaching out to steady you. "You okay?" She looks as cold as you but she's smart enough to be wearing a beanie. You haven't seen her recently, haven't talked to her one-on-one since your first meeting in the library. You wonder if Steve told her what happened.

"Wasn't watching where I was going, sorry." You sigh but Robin's friendly energy tamps down your frustration. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know," she sing-songs. "No classes today, so I'm here to help a bit with apple picking. If you want advice on the best varietals right now I'm your girl. Hopper made us memorize an entire list this year. I think I know more about apples than I ever wanted to." She digs into her cargo pants pocket and pulls out a huge red fruit. "Good breakfast though!" The crunch of her bite makes you smile and she tries to say something through a mouthful of fruit.

"Robin, don't choke!" She rolls her eyes and makes a show of chewing before trying again.

"Are you coming on Friday night?" she asks. "Nancy is psyched to meet you and Eddie won't stop bothering me about hanging out with you and Steve --" She groans like his very name is a chore to say. "Well, I bet you're here to see Steve, right?"

You chew on your lip before responding. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"Sounds like a classic case of Steve getting stuck in his own head and being a jerk. But that's just my opinion." Robin rocks back and forth on her heels and takes another bight of the apple.

"I wanted to apologize but I don't really know what I'm apologizing for," you admit. "I think we were about to become friends."

She hums. "Well, he's in the orchard a few rows that way." She points in the direction you were heading. "Just listen for the radio playing Springsteen really loudly. And please, please come on Friday." She pulls you in for a hug so quick you don't get the chance to return it and darts off back towards the farm store. You listen hard and hear some music in the distance so you head towards it, you cold hands shoved in your pockets.

"I'm dyin' for some action," a voice carries over the orchard. "Sick of sittin' round here tryin' to write this book." You quicken your pace along the openings in the rows of trees, head craned to glance down each one in search of Steve. "I need a love reaction," he sings and you try very hard to keep a hold on your frustration. "Come on now, baby, give me just one look---"

It gets harder when you find him at the top of a ladder. The radio is loud from its place in the dirt and he's pulling apples from the top of a tree and tossing them into a cloth bag. Stock for the farm store, you guess. You're content to watch him, drinking your fill after a few days without a glance. The realization that you missed him is a sudden one that has you rubbing at your chest. But its not the ache that you’re so used to – it’s something entirely different. What is this boy doing to you?

As if he hears you thinking, Steve turns over his shoulder mid-singing and spots you. His eyes widen and his cheeks color even more -- he's already flushed from the cold and his efforts -- and he starts down the ladder. "Bee girl," he calls. "Fancy seeing you here." He skips the last few rungs and hops onto the ground to turn the radio down. You realize that he's wearing overalls over a soft green sweater that matches your own. He's not wearing gloves either and his ears are pink and you want to touch him and -- wait, what?

"You've been avoiding me, Steve," you say, your heart beating entirely too fast.

"How's your hand?" he asks. "You keeping it clean?" You hold up your palm so he can see the bandaids there.

"It's fine. Steve, I said you're been avoiding me--"

"Yeah," he admits. "I'm sorry."

"I-- what? Really?" You've come ready to argue again, ready to stand your ground and tell him he's been unfair.

"Really. Did you...not expect me to apologize?" He frowns. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just got in my head about stupid stuff. About the way other people think of me, all that shit." He digs his hands into his overall pockets. "And I took it out on you. So, I'm sorry. I uh, I won't do it again. I swear."

"Oh," you breathe. "Well, then." You laugh a little and Steve smiles hesitantly. "I was ready to fight. Tell you to stop being such a stubborn asshole and talk to me." He grimaces.

"I was embarrassed, actually," he says. "I mean, a girl from high school tells you the truth and I get shitty about it? Not a good look." He takes a casual step towards you to inspect a branch of the tree you're standing by. "I just feel like you're getting all the worst parts of me."

You snort. In the days you've spend thinking about him, you know that's not true. He's stubborn and he's quick to defend and he's possessive. Steve is all of that, but he's also funny and kind and helpful and loyal. You'd be silly not to admit that to yourself. You hope he can see those things, too. "I want to be your friend, Steve," you tell him. His head snaps up to look at you. His eyes are warm and the corner of his mouth curls up.

"I want to be your friend, too," he says softly. A cool wind rushes down the row of trees and his ladder shakes. "Is that safe?" you ask, shivering a little.

"Yeah, it's better when I'm on it, actually --" He notices you shake. "You're cold." He steps forward to rub his hands up and down your arms. When he catches your fingers he hisses. "You gotta wear gloves, honey," he says. The nickname seems to slip out without his notice. It sounds different than when he said it in jest on your porch. It's sweeter than you imagined it would be now that he seems to mean it, almost sweeter than you can handle. "You should go back to the store and make Wheeler give you some free cider."

"Do you want to come?" you ask. Just minutes ago you were ready to fight with him and now you don't want him to stop touching you, stop being near you. This boy is giving you whiplash.

"I gotta keep going out here or Hop will feed me to the chickens." He looks almost pained to send you off alone. "But I'll see you Friday? Are you okay with Eddie picking you up?"

You nod. "Yeah. I'll be there." You eye the ladder again. "Be careful, Steve. I don't need my new friend falling out of a tree!" His laugh warms you all the way to your toes.

__

Time passes impossibly slowly for the rest of the week. But then it's 7 pm and you're waiting for Eddie to pick you up and you're excited. Over a month in this town and you're finally feeling like you've got your feet under you -- you've got friends and they want to hang out with you and you're making things you’re proud of and you feel good. The night is chilly and you're sure to shove a hat and gloves in your bag along with some marshmallows.

A car honks and you almost trip over yourself on the way out the door. Eddie sits in a van that looks like it's on its last legs. You can hear the music blasting but he turns it down as you climb in.

"It smells like mushrooms in here," you say. He laughs and backs out of the New-Bee drive.

"Usually smells like weed." He winks at you. "I think the 'shrooms smell better. Earthy, ya know?"

"Whatever you say." You're about to start basic small talk when he clicks his tongue loudly.

"So, you and Harrington, huh?" he asks. You try to keep your expression neutral but your eyebrows lose the battle and raise to your hairline.

"Me and Harrington, what, Eddie?"

"I don't know sweetheart, you tell me."

You fiddle with the heat nob. "He's not that bad, I guess." Eddie laughs again. He's a joyful dude.

"Told you so," he sings. "Glad you came around, or I think he'd have blown a gasket starting at you all the time." You look out the window. It feels like things have gone from zero to 100 in the span of a week. Loathing for Steve turned to frustration turned to something warmer, something softer. You want to know him. You want to understand him and to talk to him and to figure out what makes him tick. And you want him to know you.

Eddie spares you more talk of Steve and instead regales you with stories of his band and his odd boss at the mushroom farm, Rick. You deduce that in addition to selling mushrooms legally and weed a little less so, Eddie is perhaps the sweetest, strangest boy you've ever met.

The lake, Lover's Lake, you remember, is dark and you have to walk down a small bluff to get to the bonfire. Steve doesn't seem to be there yet but Robin, Jonathan, and a girl you assume is Nancy all cheer when you arrive.

"There she is!" Robin cries. You pull out the marshmallows. "And she brings snacks!"

"Steve should have the graham crackers and chocolate when he gets here," Jonathan says. "Glad you made it."

"I'm Nancy," the girl next to him says. She's bundled in an Emerson sweatshirt and a jacket you've seen Jonathan wear before. "It's so good to meet the one who seems to be looking after these guys when I'm not around." She pats the spot next to her and you settle in between her and Robin.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you say. "I'm just the new girl in town."

"The new girl in town that we are obsessed with!" Robin adds. "She's great, Nance. An expert in bees already, too. The candles she makes are beautiful." You're starting to feel like a product Robin is trying to sell.

"It's true," Jonathan says. "The kids love her, too."

"Kids," Nancy scoffs. "Mike drove us here, Jonathan. They're hardly kids anymore."

"Your brother is sweet," you say. "And Steve said it's your sister's birthday? I hope you're having fun being home for that." Nancy smiles softly and leans into Jonathan. The easy affection between them makes your chest ache.

"I always love coming home," she tells you. "Hawkins is a special place full of special people." Her smile turns to a smirk. "Though I've heard you've become well acquainted with one of them."

Eddie snorts. He's already got a marshmallow on a stick over the fire. "That's one way to put it, Wheeler." You bury your face in your hands and groan.

"We're friends now, I swear!" you say. "He just pissed me off at first."

"He was an asshole, you mean," Robin corrects fondly. "Oh, Steve. We love him, don't get me wrong. But you were a sight to behold, putting him in his place like you did."

"I really wish I was there for that," Nancy sighs. "But seriously, I'm glad you're friends now and that he asked you to hang out with us. I was going to make Robin do it if Steve didn't get his act together --"

"Munson!" a voice interrupts. "Can't you wait for the rest of the s'mores stuff?" Eddie's marshmallow is now on fire as he greets Steve with a sheepish grin.

"Grocery store is a mess tonight," he says, dropping two plastic bags on the ground by your wood log benches. He's got a thermos tucked under one arm. And -- you swear you gasp just a little bit -- he's in a beanie. "I got graham crackers, chocolate, beer, and warm cider for anyone who doesn't want beer." He passes the six pack to Robin and she, Nancy, and Jonathan take one. Eddie looks between you and Steve and the thermos like he's trying to solve a puzzle before he takes a beer, too.

"Guess this is for you and me, bee girl," Steve says. Robin scoots over and Steve settles next to you on the wood, his thigh pressing warm into yours. "Hey," he says quietly, just to you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. It's no longer a surprise that you're so glad to see him. Eddie starts to ask Nancy about the big city and Steve cracks open the thermos and pulls out two chipped mugs from one of the plastic bags. You take one and his bare fingers brush against yours, warm as always.

"Did you bring gloves?" he asks, pouring hot cider into your mug. "And a hat?"

"Why, you gonna give me yours if I didn't?" you tease. He grins and your stomach swoops.

"Nah," he says. "I forgot my gloves, so I'm just making sure I can steal yours later."

"Wait, I brought blankets!" Eddie runs back to his van to grab them and tosses one to you and Steve. You hold his mug as he wraps it around you both, the thermos held between his legs.

"No need to steal my gloves," you say softly. He snorts a little.

"So," Nancy begins. "I hope I'm not prying, but can you tell me how exactly you ended up in Hawkins?"

"Oh," you say. "Uh." The cider is warm when you take a sip. You wonder if Steve made it himself before coming over here. "There's not much of a story, really." Robin gently knocks your foot with hers and Steve's thigh presses into you even more. "My folks wanted me to go to college so I did. But I didn't like it and I didn't want to waste money so I asked if I could uh, drop out."

"Badass," Eddie says. Nancy shushes him.

"I don't know what I want to do with my life," you continue. "And we had a connection to Bob and my parents told me to try the total opposite of college which is working on a bee farm, I guess. So, I'm just trying to figure it out." You take another sip of your cider. “Start a new story, or something.”

"I'll drink to that," Jonathan mutters. You laugh and it's echoed around the fire. He starts to tell a story about his classes at community college and you pull the blanket tighter around you. Steve is warm at your side and you glance at him. There's no use pretending that he's anything short of beautiful. You've thought so since you first saw him, even when he made you see red. But in the firelight and his hat he looks soft, young, happy. You trace the line of his jaw with your gaze and look away only when you realize you're staring at his lips. On the other side of him, Robin grins at you.

"Who wants to skip rocks?" she says. You realize you have no idea what's been said the last few minutes. She stands up and tugs Nancy from your side. "Come on," she says to the boys.

"Not on your life, Buckley," Steve says, but she's already down the bank with the others. "I hope no one falls in," he grumbles.

"Don't be such a grump," you tease. "They can handle themselves."

"It's too cold." Steve pouts exaggeratedly and you reach up to tug on his beanie.

"Thank you for inviting me, Steve," you say softly. "I'm having a nice time and it's...nice to have friends." His pout turns into something a little more real and his eyebrows furrow. "I like Hawkins a lot. I've just felt kind of adrift, if that makes sense?"

"I didn't help," he sighs. "I made it worse, I'm sure. I'm sorry for --"

"But you're helping now," you say. You put your hand on his knee and he inhales sharply. "No more apologies needed."

"I like the candles that you made," he blurts out. “The new ones that we’re stocking at Sara’s.” You smack your lips and keep your hand where it is.

"How did you know I made them?"

"You told me, just now." He's teasing but his face is flushed. His eyelashes look impossibly long. "Nah, I knew. You're a candle wiz. Even if you're clumsy." He eyes the hand that isn't on his knee, the one that you cut. You hold it up to show him, just like you did on Wednesday in the orchard. You feel bold under his gaze, bold in the darkness with your new friends laughing down at the shoreline. Bold because you've gone from being alone to being wanted in the span of a week and it feels good.

"I made them because you were smelling that one in my bedroom," you confess. "The evergreen lavender tester."

Steve's face does something complicated, like he's sorting through how he should feel about this. "Aren't you observant," he mutters, but it's teasing. His eyes catch your gaze again and this time he's searching for something. Then his hand settles over yours on his knee and you're worried he's going to pull it off.

"Can I try something?" he asks. "You can tell me to go fuck myself if you don't like it." The memory of your first meeting makes you laugh but it comes out as a nervous giggle because Steve is leaning in. He's leaning in and the crack of the fire and the laughter by the lake is drowned out by the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You close your eyes and wait to be kissed.

Steve is warm everywhere. His hand on yours, the line of his body as he turns into you, the palm that frees itself from the blanket to cup your jaw. He breathes into the small space between you for just a second too long and you decide to close the gap. He gasps against your lips and it's such a sweet sound that you smile. It's a soft kiss, sweet and hesitant. His lips are gentle but the hand on your face suggests that he could take control at any point, that he's letting you decide how long to keep this up.

You linger, pulling away only to lean back in for another quick peck against Steve's growing grin. You can't help it.

"C'mere," Steve says, tugging you into a hug. A first kiss has never felt so enormous, so monumental. You hide your face in his neck. "You don't taste like honey, honey," he says into your hair. "I feel kind of cheated."

You pinch his thigh and he yelps.

"We're friends, huh?" you say, knowing that you're crossing a line that maybe you can't come back from. And it's a dangerous move because you know right there, in the cold October night by the fire with his hand on your face and a blanket around you both that you could love him. It would be so easy. He could be your home if you wanted him to be. And that's terrifying.

"We're whatever you want," Steve replies.

___

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird @mrs-dr-reid @toomanyacorns @darlingoctober @selfdeprecatingnerd @dullsocietyy @keep-drivng @shireentapestry @mintfrostflower @freezaz123

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[bryce-bucher]

Midwest Lost Post #5

Stepfather:

For the past month I've been pretty busy, so I've mainly just been focusing on working on Midwest Lost whenever I have a chance. In this time I finally got the character model for the stepfather mostly complete and in the game. In this fight he is "unwinding" after work so he's ditched his pants and put on a bathrobe, but he was too dejected to change out of his work shirt. He's an abusive guy with a messy life, and he often takes his anger out on whoever he thinks he can have power over. Unlucky for the protagonist, this often means he's the target of his rage. Luckily for the protagonist, he has a big ass sword.

The Face:

For a while now I've been pretty concerned on how I am going to handle face textures in this game. I need the characters to be expressive for the various cinematics and for certain emotional beats to hit properly, but creating proper detailed faces is a bit of a wild west territory for me. Because of this, I decided to try an experiment. Recently I've been trying to learn how to paint properly using a VR painting tool called Vermillion, It's proven to be a really powerful and relaxing way to paint, so I was wondering if it would be feasible for me to paint character textures in it. At my current skill level I honestly thought it wouldn't work out at all, but surprisingly it did!

As you can see here, I spent a good 4-5 hours painting this face texture in VR. It looked pretty horrible until like the last 40 minutes of the process or so. I guess that's how its supposed to go, but it really surprised me that it came together at all.

After I got that base texture completed, I exported it and touched it up a bit to better fit the model. I then added a pair of eyes and eyebrows on top of the texture in Affinity Photo. They are a lot more cartoony / simplistic than the base texture so that I can change them out and create new expressions easily. I was honestly unsure if that would clash too hard with the painted face, but I think it looks pretty good. This was a really fun process, and It's got me excited for the amount of opportunities it has afforded me. Character creation is my favorite, but until now I really never thought I'd be able to paint the more detailed organic aspects of certain characters / animals. Oh yeah I also painted his knees in the same way lol, but I think going into detail about that would be redundant.

Heavy Attacks:

The last major thing I did recently was finally implement some heavy attacks. Rather than have separate inputs for light and heavy attacks, the attack button causes a light or heavy attack to occur based on whether or not you are currently holding the stance/strafe button. The heavy attacks I decided on are meant to be able to close in a considerable gap between you and the enemy, so that you can get in there more easily after slowly strafing around. Alternatively, you can just use heavy attacks whenever as long as you just press the strafe and attack buttons at the same time, so really they are for whenever you feel as though you can afford the wind up and cooldown of the animations. But yeah, as you can see in the gif above, the heavy attacks currently take the form of a two swing combo where you can lunge forward with the sword pointing outwards and then follow it up by swinging it back over your head and slamming it down. I think they are pretty satisfying to use as of now, but I might consider extending the combo in the future.

Conclusion:

That is all 4 today. I really want to get more work done on all of these games. I'm really tired of being stuck in the same debug scene in all of them. Hopefully this year I can dedicate more time to all this, and maybe I can make a second scene for one of them lol. Next time I post one of these it will probably be midwest lost again, but if not I'll be working on J(a)SON next. A big part of me being busy this month is that I'm actually attending GDC alongside Quinn K. If any of u mutuals out there want to meetup at GDC lmk.

[pleucas]

Would you ever consider doing a colouring tutorial?

Heyooooooo

I've done a coloring post before (a few months prior), but somehow, my coloring/painting process has changed a lot since then lol. I'll give a breakdown of my process (and go into specifics on coloring) here, but please do take it with a grain (or a spoonful) of salt... I'm still very much learning, and though you can use my process as a guide, experiment on your own to find what works for you! This post got a little long I'm ngl so. open at ur own risk. it's really just me rambling and being a bit too pretentious for my own good

using my recent post as an example, my process is basically just:

first i get a clean sketch (after many hours of pain finding detailed references lol), not gonna go into that since you asked abt coloring

then i immediately go to block out shapes over the sketch. For big paintings, I don't do lineart (because i find that it eliminates a lot of depth that can be achieved with shapes and shading) — for smaller sketches and pieces, i'll do lineart tho.

I started darker to lighter in this painting because I knew I wanted harsh light. For me, it's a lot easier to project "additions" onto a surface — ie, if there's a harsh light, that's the addition vs. a shadow in neutral lighting as the addition. dunno if that makes sense, but breaking tones down like that helps me understand how i want to chronologically color smth and choose my bases:

for example, since I knew I was gonna have harsh light here, I felt comfortable with just getting the tones for my shadows down immediately. There won't be many midtones due to how extreme I saw it to be, so there was no point in finding a neutral base tone.

how i choose colors varies from painting to painting, but for this one, I decided to lean purple-blue because skk are just one of many red and blue gays (same reason why most of my other skk works lean red-blue-purple), and also because I knew I wanted my light to be on the warmer side — thus, the shadows and unlit areas will be cooler.

i also wanted it to recede (to emphasize the perspective and for depth), so for the base colors, i made them cooler + darker as they went back. This wasn't as clear in the finished product, but i think it did a good job at reminding me the vibe i wanted as i rendered

By how much I've written for this step, I guess you can assume that it's the step I put the most consideration into — and you'd be right. I think base colors really determine the vibe, and it sets you up for the rest of the painting. Sometimes I have to color adjust my bases over and over (with hue adjustments, color balance, curves) until I'm satisfied. I think that satisfaction is obtained w/ more ease as I've painted more and more. Alongside the sketch, this step takes me quite a while. Sometimes it's fun to mess with really wild color combos, but that's another topic.

Then I block out the lighting, which is probably the most drastic step but also somehow the quickest for me. Once you understand how light affects color (warmth, tone, etc) and you gain confidence with it, blocking out values in relation to base tones isn't too hard. That ofc takes practice and a lot of fundamental understanding of Shapes & Colors but there's a lot of stuff online abt the theory specifically from professionals, so I'm not gonna lecture y'all as a fanartist for glorified literary author rpf

then i just start rendering, layer by layer. above is a screenshot i took mid-rendering; at this point, dazai's clothes were basically done but I later worked on the face + hair more and textured the tie.

I try to do the stuff I want people to focus on first, because at least for me, that's when I have the most energy to make smth detailed — the more detailed an area is, the more naturally drawn you eye is to it (this is because the brain likes areas of high contrast, and details are entirely founded on the placement of contrast).

My art has never been too extremely detailed — I enjoy flatter + bigger shapes, styled texturing and silly patterns, but I find that "detail" still translates into "effort". When I look at paintings, it's very clear where someone put most of their effort — and when I can't tell, then I know I have a very confident + experienced artist who can effectively distribute their workflow (goalz). So yeah, I render in my very silly poly style but still keep that in mind.

eventually, I finish rendering. This part is kinda a blur tbh, and it always varies from artist to artist. I'd say the things I keep in mind are:

shape + form (making sure my rendering doesn't mess up gesture or vibes, and that it keeps things loose)

composition (making sure i don't overdo areas where i don't want people to focus on)

and tone (ensuring that the depth and believability of the scene stays intact so that my non-realistic style can work)

I added the bullet because i wanted a reason for the goofy expressions, just a bit more pizazz so that skk's drama was also believable lol. also visual storytelling or whtv (but that's not something i usually prioritize, it mostly comes with the concept and sketch).

I also added the bullet for some compositional spice. the dark shadow on dazai's arms was there to also emphasize the warped perspective, but it also left a weirdly empty vibe that I didn't enjoy lol. So yeah, bullet! and ofc my favorite, weird flowy line pattern thing that doesn't adhere to the laws of physics

I think a lot of my traditional painting experience leaks into my digital painting practice. I don't like lineart too much, and since I mainly work with acrylic, I rely on opaque color blocks, layering, and "carving out" shapes. probably explains my affinity for solid flat brushes in Procreate,,,,, but yeah. It's a little all over the place, but at its core, it's a lot of technical stuff mixed with habits after finding what works for me.

Dunno if this helps at all, or if it was interesting lolol. Thank you for reading until the end if you're still here! I appreciate it. I'm still learning but I've definitely learned a lot since I started this blog so it's exciting to track my progress. I'm sure I'll see this in a few years and laugh lolol.

[lurkingshan]

SHIPPER TAG GAME

Tagged by @negrowhat to give away all my fandom secrets. I came up in the US, so most of these will be Western shows. Also be aware that I'm old and been around in fandoms for decades, some of you youths might not even recognize these ships.

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

Felicity and Noel. I was very into them (and very anti-Ben) when I was first watching this show at the tender age of 14, but then I rewatched it as an adult, realized Noel was a classic Nice Guy with some clear warning flags, and settled into Team Ben.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Hmm maybe Elizabeth Wakefield and Todd Wilkins? I think I started reading Sweet Valley High at, like, age 8. For TV, I was a sitcom kid and I was obsessed with Dwayne Wayne and his flip-up glasses as a child. I loved him and Whitley. Damn now I want to rewatch.

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

The first I read? I am pretty sure the honor goes to Buffy and Spike.

They were the first ship I remember having that classic fanfic brainrot combo of 1) captivating me entirely with their dynamic and 2) canon leaving me unsatisfied. I lost months of my life over at Elysian Fields.

In terms of the first fanfic I wrote, the honor goes to Ian and Mickey.

I was big into Shameless for its first four seasons. But then the show went way off the rails, the fandom went with it, and I quit watching and scrubbed all my fandom activity off the internet.

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

I honestly have no idea. Probably something Buffy, I was doing a lot of internet dwelling for that show.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

Getting into discourse is my whole entire thing LOL. I have survived many, many ship wars and let me tell ya you haven't seen unhinged until you've been knee deep in the tags in a long-term fandom with multiple ships for the protagonist. One of the things I love about BL and nearly all Asian dramas is that we go into every show knowing who the main pairing is, so we don't have to fight about ships.

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

Hmm I was a big Buffy/Angel anti and that was before Spuffy was even a twinkle in my eye. I never liked that man in a romance until he got hooked up with Cordelia in his own show (but then they ruined it ugh). I was also very anti-Harry/Hermione back in the OG HP days (let characters have meaningful platonic relationships!).

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

I've been on a Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian kick of late.

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

OTPs are eternal! Like I said above, since I mostly watch Asian drama now, they're baked in. My fav of my current watches is Ten and Prem.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

YES I AM STILL MAD ABOUT ROBIN AND BARNEY.

You show me two characters who are clearly uniquely compatible, you give me a brief taste of their extremely fun and non-traditional relationship, and then you break them up and stick her with the milquetoast Nice Guy protagonist in a total betrayal of your entire narrative premise? Fuck off forever, HIMYM, I will see you in hell.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

Hmm nothing comes to mind. If I decided to hate a pair in the past I am pretty likely to still be hating.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

I would like to see you try to cancel me!! I'll echo Eboni here and say Brian and Justin, though of course there were people who hated them because of the age gap back in ye olden times, too. Fandom spaces are mostly women and women in queer fandom spaces often struggle to account for the totally different culture and power dynamics between m/m pairings.

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

I don't really do crack ships, I am a canon pairing girlie.

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

I don't know who the ultimate winner is, but I think it's probably a neck and neck competition between Spuffy and Wangxian as my most read pairing.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

There's actually a lot of variety in them in terms of personalities, appearance, and tropes. I think what makes me really click into a ship is the feeling that the two people are uniquely suited to each other and well matched to go through life together.

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

When I don't believe they can actually make it.

Tagging @my-rose-tinted-glasses @twig-tea @imminentinertia @shortpplfedup @stuffnonsenseandotherthings @littleragondin.

[retphienix]

So after many many many years I'm finally playing Starbound and it's been, interesting.

So out the gate, some context on my 'experience' before playing.

When starbound came out I was OBSESSED. I wanted it so bad because it was colloquially considered "Better Terraria".

If you weren't active in this section of gaming at the time, it really was painted that way.

Terraria at the time of Starbound's release had just hit 1.3, Moon Lord is finally a thing.... but there's something to be said of what pop culture knew vs the reality- because Terraria's time in the spotlight was finally slowing and most people thought of WoF as still being the end game. Another group still thought of the mechanicals and Plantera as the end-game range of things- Moon Lord was NEW but also the audience was momentarily distracted away from this silly 5 year old 2D minecraft.

It wasn't uncommon for the discussion around Terraria to be "Oh yeah that was fun, but did you hear about the 'kickstarter' for Starbound? It's Terraria IN SPACE!

A former dev of Terraria just up and left and made BIGGER, BETTER Terraria!"

Or that was the casual pitch between gaming circles.

The hype was heavy and I never got to play it, womp womp.

Fast forward a few years and talk starts up about Starbound again, for all the wrong reasons.

The main guy did some mega shitty things to contributing artists and didn't compensate them, videos begin appearing in my circle of the internet that both exposed this story and talked on the game at large.

I learn that this indie darling title apparently SUPER failed to meet expectations over time. That it promised ports that never happened. That updates apparently focused on aspects it didn't need to and the end result is a messy title with a TERRIBLE gameplay loop for the main quest, among other things.

At this time I decide to glance back over to Terraria, a game that had sat off my radar despite my initial love for it- and I find out Terraria FUCKING EXPLODED.

TERRARIA BECAME A FUCKING MEGA HIVE OF CONTENT AND QUALITY THAT YOU CAN DEDICATE 120 BILLION HOURS INTO AND LOVE EVERY SECOND.

From humble beginnings, lol.

So at this time I figured I lucked out, in a sense. Starbound always looked interesting, but I got to enjoy Terraria back in its humble days AND at it's height today, it's okay that I didn't play Starbound, I probably won't bother :)

Then a bud who casually enjoyed it years ago bought it for me since I was talking about Terraria and I figured "Fuck it, let's find out."

And uh, Buddy lol

Okay, my experience so far, because it's kind of a roller coaster of highs and lows.

Right out the gate my first hour or so was Not particularly fun.

Combat felt terrible, the weapon you start with has a bizarrely unfun combo it deploys and movement SUCKED- it felt bad to fight and it felt bad to explore, I was not happy- but:

I have eyes, I can see in my inventory that I'm missing "Techs" and I begin finding a couple (still bad, but less bad) weapons and start thinking "Okay, okay I'll keep going this is obviously not the game yet."

By the time I get to the outpost and unlock my techs I've also got a couple new weapons- I'm still mostly unimpressed with melee, with all the flashy energy depleting moves not making up for how they "feel" to me, especially with how many enemies either CHARGE, or shoot, but I'm beginning to enjoy combat because of the alternatives.

Shields are a nice addition that makes 1 handed weapons my immediate preference since many of them don't rely on bad combos or gimmicky (underwhelming) energy attacks.

Guns become more common and I'm REALLY enjoying the gunplay since they ALSO get secondary fires- it's at this point I realize this isn't entirely different from Terraria where most players (myself included) find ranged combat with magic, bows, guns, throwables, and even non-true melee to be more fun than true melee- I appreciate the comparison.

Movement becomes IMMEDIATELY less shit with techs. Some techs are underwhelming, but I become a fan of the multi jump and spike ball rather quickly.

I enjoy the quest to repair the ship, though I'm mostly getting the hang of things and my weapons still aren't "really" shining.

Once my ship is repaired I'm sent on the first Trek, this is both the beginning of my least favorite part of the game AND this SPECIFIC instance is 100% my favorite part of my experience thus far.

At this point I can move my ship, I get a mech, I am told to explore a planet and scan things to get access to a dungeon, and this entire process feels like a training montage of sorts- I'm learning to use my tools and I'm making some upgrades to my gear and home base, it's nice!

I gather a lot of resources but before I can really use them I've completed the scan and go in to the dungeon.

I FUCKING LOVED my entire time in the Florian dungeon.

I've got my weapons in check, I'm loving the dungeon challenges, I'm tricking enemies into traps, I'm LOVING it- at this moment I'm at the highest point, movement is feeling nice in this arena, combat feels great, the boss was fun- love it, 10/10

I can't emphasize enough that this Trek from "research stuff" to "First dungeon" was my most fun period with my grasp of mechanics growing during the Trek and then the dungeon being a REALLY fun arena to play with it all- loved it!

I even explored a hostile glitch castle for the hell of it because I had all these new toys and wanted to :D

...

Then it ended.

Then I get told to just, do it again. The research part immediately becomes my least favorite thing in the game. It was fun in the context of 'training' as I learned how to play, but now I have to travel to new planets that have 1 or 2 new ores and seek out key items to scan- I'm bored, I hate this. Where's my miniboss fight like on the first planet or when you repair the ship? Where's the hand crafted content? I'm just finding wood homes and scanning whatever is highlighted green.

I return home and realize something else I hate, crafting becomes a fucking chore. I upgrade all my benches and realize actually using them is a challenge in defeating tedium and nothing more.

You can't craft from benches using nearby chest contents- a common mod in games of this sort (which isn't available as a mod here), you can't craft from chest content AT ALL since you can't open the crafting menu and a chest at the same time (A feature Terraria has which alleviates this problem altogether), chests are TINY- even the best of which like the one in your ship are not big enough to hold every kind of crafting material you'll find, and the game FLOODS me with new resources that all do mostly nothing.

I end up with 10-20 filled 20-40 slot chests of blocks and materials and crafting immediately becomes unbearable because you can't even sort or quick stack with chests.

I hate it.

So now I'm confronted with the crafting aspect of the game becoming suddenly unusable, storage becoming annoying as hell, and the game saying "Go scan stuff, idiot :)" and I'm just frustrated.

So I opted to try and improve these aspects.

I sought out basic mod workshop support to make these 2 problems less annoying because I realized "This fucking game is going to ask me to do this SIX times, ridiculous."

I found some basic storage mods that let you manage containers so they can sort, search, and quick stack along with increasing chest size based on overworld size (It results in chests being buffed across the board)- this all told really did fix my crafting problem because while I still can't open a chest and craft from it like Terraria- I can now actually fucking find my stuff in this mess because BASIC QOL fucking exists for chests now (and I no longer need 15 chests for materials which helps too lol).

The research problem was a bit tougher to tackle because I didn't want to just change the entire game with like a "skip this part" button, or by playing an overhaul mod, I wanted to play Starbound- I just want to make it more enjoyable.

So after passing over a lot of mods I found something.... interesting to attempt and make the enforced exploration grind less annoying- an RPG mod that makes killing things give xp so you can improve and refine your character over time.

A unique solution, but my thought process was that I had just made crafting no longer a complete chore- so I have "small" reasons to explore for materials right now, but I needed another motivator on top of that and then exploring and scanning stuff would become less annoying- so "grinding xp" + "collect materials" sounded like enough to me and I installed and got started.

My second Trek was miles less fun than my first, but my solutions did help quite a bit.

Researching just feels entirely worthless- I scan a gong and get told "Yep, they swing at this thing" and that somehow eventually teaches me that they had a library someplace. It's... stupid! It's unfun and stupid. On paper it's clearly "encouraging exploration" but they didn't make exploration fun since every planet is a nothing-burger with some ore in it.

The most interesting thing I found was the hostile glitch castle and that was NOT RELEVANT to anything progression based! Every planet I find stuff to actually scan is just a boring landmass with some chests- why not toss more mini-bosses like the starter planet has onto these? Force me to fight a mini-boss to discover the next dungeon- don't tell me to go "scan a vase" wth???

My mods pan out, I end up focusing on them a lot more than the dumb scanning task (again, why not mini-boss progression instead, scanning is not gameplay) and I make it to the second dungeon.

The second dungeon.... is.... fine?

The first was SO FUN and the second is just a lot of empty rooms and far less exploration to be had? I mean the first was also a straight path but it was designed well enough to have fun- this one arguably has more routes but far less to enjoy while exploring?

No fun traps or enemies in death boxes, just tubes and mountains of books.... a severe downgrade.

That was capped off with a much less fun boss as well. Instead of being more freeform like the spider, the sword boss is just "Learn the pattern and hit them when they are stuck in animations or "exhausted"" and.... it's fine.

Just like how the dungeon on paper is "fine and expansive" but in practice feels less fun to explore than the florian one, the boss on paper is perfectly acceptable- a billion bosses work like this- the FIRST dungeon boss works like this more or less- but the damage is high to punish you and it's just not fun?

The rush ball attack is just fucking stupid to avoid or block so I just gave up and tanked half the damage during that phase because you can survive every time and fuck that move it's stupid.

But core to it all, it was disappointing and unfun. The spider was fun to shoot and avoid and spawned adds and you had an AI buddy helping- it was neat!

This boss was just "Stand on the bookcase and shoot down at her. Okay jump now. Okay rush ball so block and dodge. Okay wail on their stupid health bar while they are tired. Rinse repeat a couple times and you win."

And that's pretty much where I am now.

I had a bad first impression.

An okay time repairing the ship,

A REALLY REALLY REALLY good first trek + dungeon.

A sudden blast of annoyance at how crafting and progression is handled with bad QOL and even worse quest design (scanning).

I modded it slightly to improve this and had a decent time on the second trek + dungeon but vastly less fun than the first.

All in all, I haven't begun to experience any of the things I only half remember from retrospective videos talking about uneven development pitfalls, but my experience has been plenty uneven all the same lol.

Really it just comes down to me being annoyed that so little thought was put into QOL for crafting despite having so many materials and me being VERY FUCKING ANNOYED at the scanning progression objective- it's just not fun or properly encouraging exploration- it's busy work- it's bizarre?

I mean hell, now I'm going out scanning bird relics to find the bird coords.

I'M BIRD.

I'm looking at crates identical to the crates I've supposedly seen my entire life and going "Oh I see, this definitely gets me 3% closer to finding the next dungeon" this objective isn't good lmao.

It feels like something a version 1.2 release of the game would revamp and remove so that you instead get directed towards the proper star/planet combos to find semi-pre-genn'd towns that tell you to go to pre-genn'd dungeons to fight a mini boss like the first planet does. Like legitimately- THAT is exploration showing you each race's theme and giving fair explanation as to why you now know the coords (they tell you them for killing the boss, or the boss has it etc).

THAT is what the game should have been like 5 years ago, instead they stuck with this placeholder model which is not particularly entertaining lol.

Anywho. I'm rather enjoying myself now that I've given myself more reason to explore with mods. Hoping beyond hope that the game shakes up this scan objective going forward but uh... doubting it.

I really am sorry to have my first (only?) post about Starbound be so negative on things but it's my experience with it so far. And I really can not emphasize enough- that first trek + dungeon combo FUCKED. It was SO FUN shooting shit and rolling around and running into some pre-gen content that gave purpose to the random-gen stuff around it (the castle I stumbled upon and the mini-dungeons you go through to repair the ship followed by the good dungeon you do for the florian orb). All great there :)

[uncontrol-freak]

Obligatory Outsider submission or Jacob :)

sdkkasjdkjdksad okay >:)

Outsider

How I feel about this character the light of my life, the void in my heart. I speak through him to the world. only he can convey things I have on my mind. I love him, in simple words, though it lacks the depth.

All the people I ship romantically with this character obviously Corvo. occasionally Daud, if I feel like.

My non-romantic OTP for this character BILLIE. I'm literally obsessed with their post-doto friendship potential (or maybe I'm just too brainrotten after a few nice fics I've read). I kinda like that this friendship is often considered as Almost Canon.

My unpopular opinion about this character revealing his backstory in dh2/doto was a good move, I don't think he's lost any charm after we've been told he's a former human (though I guess this opinion would be called unpopular somewhere on reddit lmao).

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon. that damned Harvey Smith's commentary where he mentions him having coffee and pastries. it should have been in the game.

(also weird void sex with Corvo) who said that

Jacob Boyer (thank you for letting me ramble about him)

How I feel about this character honestly I feel for him. he's the one out of pack that I oddly resonate with. I want to protect him at all costs (or maybe make him worse). also he looks cool hehe.

All the people I ship romantically with this character to be honest he strikes me as someone barely interested in romantic relationships. I kinda get the appeal of Jacob/Dev though.

My non-romantic OTP for this character OH MY VOID. IT'S REMI DE LA FUCKING ROSA. maybe I'm biased and suffering from duckling syndrome because Jacob and Remi was the first combo I did with my friend but oh void these two have such a fun chemistry. I couldn't get enough of their banter. they give off found family vibes tbh, and this is what I liked the most. Remi saying "everyone knows I'm the daddy" still lives in my head rent free.

My unpopular opinion about this character (Redfall fandom and popular opinions are two never crossing parallels unfortunately) he's a bit of stereotypical 'loner merc' type of character but honestly I don't care much.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon. I would ADORE more interaction between him and Miss Whisper. the gal gave him that eye. for what reason? why it's HIM out of all people?? and she doesn't even control him via that artifact??? I need answers. also yeah I'd love more reaction from him to her death because of the reasons above. like he gets really bitter during Addisson mission but barely reacts when it comes to the one who turned him into a cryptid. hello Arkane??

[dingoat]

hi sorry I haven't gotten around to your ask yet I'm working on it, BUT I'm tossing the favorite SWTOR oc question back your way (and also whether they're following canon or doing their own thing).

I'd also love to know if you have any particular bothan headcanons you like a lot.

Hi hi!! Don't worry at all, please take your time with your response! We're all here for fun and interactions, not pressure, right? And thankyou for asking!!!

Now, part one is easy, haha. Ahuska is hands down my number one best favourite SWTOR OC, even if she appears somewhat differently in game than in my imagination. She's my main toon, the only one actually up to speed with game content, the only one with passable gear, lots of fun pets and mounts and outfits, and is currently working on polishing up her Mojo Dojo Copero Dream House.

(I absolutely need to draw her as her proper bothan self in this outfit!)

BUT, where she matters to me even more than that is in her story/RP, and here things diverge... quite a lot, hahaha. Very very originally she was just a toon that I made to PVP alongside my husband with (I actually did think of her as a bothan right from the start), but when I found myself hungry for RP I fleshed her out a little to join a RP guild in game which is where her life really started (particularly owing to @koboldgirl and the exceptional times we've had writing together). The group's premise was a Mandalorian clan rebuilding itself after all the Zakuul business, but despite that vague timeframe her story never really touched on swtor events or canon characters (the toon is an Imperial Agent but she is not REMOTELY an Agent, even as much as I love the IA storyline). Over time I made a bunch of wonderful friends in the swtor community and Ahuska's story has intercepted a few others here and there, and from that perspective keeping the timeline vague/unimportant and away from key canon characters/moments has really helped with being able to have her interact with others without contradicting their own things they have going on. I think engaging with other characters/writers is what motivates me more than anything and I get a tonne of joy in seeing/considering/plotting how they might interact!

(Read more for things getting weird and werewolfy.)

Now, Ahuska also took a deep dive into an AU with @askshivanulegacy that started as a halloween drabble challenge and has somehow become literal years of very intense worldbuilding and fiction and words can't describe how much I love this story, hahaha. It's still very much Ahuska, and very much swtor, it's just... swtor if the Empire managed to perfect a weird-science-sith-alchemy-intelligence-conditioning combo to create a very star-warsy version of werewolves (and were-any-other-critter). The first generation were designed to be secret soldiers/weapons, but the project failed and Ahuska is the sole survivor, going on a wonderful journey of self liberation and learning what truly makes a monster. The second generation (and all subsequent) came from Intel refining the technology and utilising it as an extra toolset for the most elite of elite Cipher agents, which is where almost all the rest of the cast comes from. Naturally there's a lot of divergence from canon here by the very nature of things, but funnily we also lean on a lot more canon swtor story beats, particularly when we look ahead to the KotFE and beyond time period.

I have so much love for every iteration of Ahuska, honestly, and I know I've mentioned it here and there but she really truly did play a huge role in pulling me out of a pretty grim place, not only helping me rediscover a lot of creativity but also helping to restore my trust and faith in people in general. She's led me to people who are now my absolute dearest friends, which in turn has taken me quite literally, physically across this humble planet we live on. I genuinely believe sharing stories is a massive part of what makes us human and I get very sentimental when I consider what a significant place this silly little bothan holds in my heart <3

Now, it's getting late for me, haha, so I will probably visit the second part of your ask in another post, but I love that as a question! >3 Once again ty for sending this and I can't wait to hear about yours!

[executables-sims]

Get to know you: Sims Style

Thank you so much for the tag, @goatskickin! :D I am ill rn, so please excuse the rambling. x) Long post ahead!

What’s your favorite Sims death? Maybe fright? I've only ever had it happen once via ghost, the anim is pretty funny. :)

Alpha CC or Maxis Match? My Simblr probably says otherwise, but I don’t have a preference! I’ve had nearly every possible CC style under the sun throughout my years of playing, and I constantly think about reviving my 'semi-realism' folder (living vicariously through you, other simmers!). I didn't play with CC until early 2006 though, so MM is a little bit more nostalgic. :)

Do you cheat your sims weight? Hell no! I'm still in awe of Nysha's townie body diversity mod finally letting townies be fat. :D I wish the game had a better way of managing bodyshapes so I could add more variety that way.

Do you move objects? Of course!

Favorite Mod? Of all time? Impossible! My continued interest in gameplay is always because of new mods. :)

I did gain a new outlook thanks to a mod recently, though! My wild romance sim Blaze Biermann ended up 'mood swinging' to fortune before he went to uni, and instead of reverting, it got stuck.

He had a few flings still (pleasure secondary), but after he returned home and met his daughter (for the first time since her birth), he started cringing whenever I directed him to romance his dates. It felt like he had grown as a person, and I loved it!

TL;DR: Randomly change your sims' original aspiration/s to give them interesting character arcs! First Expansion/Game Pack/Stuff Pack? I mean, not my decision, but our first TS1 EP was Hot Date. I'm pretty sure I got TS2 EPs/SPs in order of release (miss those days of unwrapping a new one every birthday/christmas!).

Do you pronounce live mode like aLIVE or LIVing? We're LIVE, baby! 🎥

Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? I don't usually get very attached to my first-generation sims, but maybe Evonne Milos, from the gameplay/story hood I accidentally destroyed in four days? Never actually played her, but I had a lot of ideas for a corrupt 'sexpot' politician. x)

Have you made a simself? Lots! 99% of the fun I had playing TS2 as a kid was me and my best friend making ourselves and our respective crushes of the week, and we'd always live in one of those Veronaville lots that was two houses connected by a balcony. I can't even tell you the amount of times she got me pregnant against my wishes whilst I went to the bathroom, lmao.

Which is your favorite EA hair color? For colour consistency, probably brown? But there are a lot of brunettes in Brunwick (must be the name!), so I enjoy the recessives popping up in gameplay. :)

Favorite EA hair? Does an EA download count? Jeanette is lovely.

Favorite life stage? Ohhh dude, that's so difficult to answer. They all bring different challenges and dynamics to the household! I feel like I've started to appreciate the child lifestage more since Brunwick has grown large enough to have multiple friendship groups. It's fun watching them goof around with each other and be actual kids, instead of sitting indoors skilling. I really need to build a park! :)

Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

Are you a CC creator? Yes, I really love how this game has led me to so many creative hobbies! Would like to tackle BHAVs one day. :)

Do you have any Simblr friends or a Sim Squad? Yeah! I consider us all friends over our shared enjoyment of the game really, but as a chronic lurker I'm not the best at cultivating connections. x) Does anyone wanna make a secret club? xD

Do you have any sims merch? No, but I do have a bunch of rad sims memories. 👉😎👉

Do you have a YouTube for sims? Nope, but I watched plenty of sim music videos back in the day! Found a lot of songs that way. :) Some formative memories here: One / Two

How has your “Sims style” changed throughout your years of playing? I sadly don't have screenshots of my oldest saves thanks to a combo of no external HD and no screenshot program, but here's one example:

But gameplay-wise, a lot! My early years were probably based around creating stories more than actively playing, but when I did I would just emulate perfect families, attempt legacies, and restart BG hoods over and over. x)

Now I'm all about wants-based gameplay; witnessing and interpreting a story, as opposed to creating one from scratch. But I will add drama if I find my interest waning! x)

Who’s your favorite CC creator? Again, super-duper impossible to answer because everyone's CC makes the game fun, but my most recent CC shopping spree was Honeywell and HugeLunatic! :) 🛒

How long have you had Simblr? Technically 2011, officially 2013, but if we're being pedantic, I finally made a dedicated Simblr (this) in 2016. x)

How do you edit your pictures? These days, just sharpen and shrink! CC previews aren't too complicated either- a blurred out screenshot for the BG and a shadow.

What expansion/gamepack is your favorite? Ooh… maybe Nightlife, by a smidgen? I feel like it gave us a lot of new features and items, and the subhood was nice (as a non-builder at the time!).

Tagging: @daman19942 @aondaneedles @eulaliasims @profesionalpartyguest @tvickiesims @and everyone else, I love reading these! :D

[sun-lit-roses]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tags @curator-on-ao3 and @emonydeborah! I apologize for how long it's taken me to respond 💛

I'm so late to this, I have no idea who's already done it. If you haven't yet, please, please consider yourself tagged - and tag me in your response so that I can read your answers! (Actually if you have done it already, also link me so I can read your answers. These are fun questions with bonus fic recs so I'd like to see them all!)

Anyway, I got a little rambly, so I'll put in a cut to not murder anyone's dash 😁

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 82.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 397,560.

3. What fandoms do you write for? I've been primarily writing Star Trek (Strange New Worlds and Voyager) lately, with a dash of The Librarians and Leverage.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Fringe Benefits (SNW) - My beloved monument to ridiculousness where I approach the totally canon subject of Chris Pike's horse skills via Number One's hair.

October 2373 (Voyager)- My magnum opus! The one time I've managed to achieve completion of an October prompt list - five of them. In one coherent (ish) fic. Granted, it did take me until December... but the point is that I finished it! It follows a very eventful and occasionally random month aboard the Starship Voyager, where they have to deal with imprisonment, alien attacks, diplomatic meetings, and Kathryn's inability to talk about her feelings.

For the Captain Who Has Everything: A Prixin Story (Voyager) - Look. You can't just give me three delightful misfits for ONLY ONE EPISODE and not expect me to adopt them as my own. SO this is what happened next for the little Good Shepherd flock, where 'what happened next' is shenanigans to set up their Captain with her First Officer as a gesture of gratitude.

Growing Pains (SNW) - Aw, one of my early Chris and Una fics! This is one of the set I wrote while the first season was just airing weekly - hard to believe that was almost two years ago 😲 This one was the aftermath of Una 'I'm just fine-ing' her way into emergency surgery and Chris letting her know that there were things up with which he would not put - top of the list being losing his Number One.

Command Advice (SNW) - Another of the early SNW set! This was my 'spicier' take on the resulting conversation between Chris and Una after she learns about her Where Fun Goes to Die nickname. In one version, they have a very serious conversation about Starfleet principles. In *this* version, they're less serious. Also naked.

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! Or at least I try. I love and cherish every comment, but I tend to run (very) behind on responding and have to play the game of 'is it weird to reply to a comment this late?'

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? My very first fic ever! Actually I think it might be my only fic with an angsty ending. I guess I got it all out of my system early. That one is Wednesday, a Sanctuary fic where Helen has a very sad day.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Literally everything else. I can't even pick out of my collection of sappiness.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, there's very little I would not be willing to at least try writing! Up to now I think I've written at least mildly smutty M/F, F/F, and F/M/M sexcapades and/or BDSM. I'm working my way around to some F/F/M for SNW if I could get the three of them to cooperate.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I think I've only written one crossover and it was for SNW/The Librarians, bringing about a meeting between Eve Baird and Una Chin-Riley, which we would have in a fair and just universe.

Wait, I take that back! I also had a little snippet on Tumblr where Hawkeye, BJ, Jonathan, and Ardeth meet up, because The Mummy/MASH is... certainly a combo. Actually, I think I also had a snippet of Gomez Addams meeting Hawkeye and BJ? What is it about MASH?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Also not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Kind of? The Discord crowdsourced the plot to a ridiculously hilarious fic and I wrote a bit of it for fun, but I'm not sure if that counts? Co-writing does sound like a good time, though!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Voyager! The happiest little ship in the Delta Quadrant 🚀

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have a lot of bits and pieces on my hard drive that will never be finished and released into the Ao3 wilds - the plot didn't work out/was barely a plot, I've moved on from the fandom, I was trapped in a fever dream of my nieces playing Frozen on repeat, blacked out, and woke up to 3 chapters dealing with the socio-political ramifications of Elsa decamping and Anna appointing the prince of another land in charge rather than Arendelle's Privy Council. Anyway.

The WIPs I have posted, though, I fully intend to finish at some point! It may take a while and it might not be my original planned ending, but they haunt me. So one day I will have to put them to rest. Possibly with a 2x4, tarp, and shovel.

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think I'm pretty good at getting into the character's voice. I hope so, at least; I spend a lot of time on it! Also, humor, although that one is objective, of course.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Commas. Clearly.

Structurally, it varies per fic, but I have a habit of running thin on plot. I start strong at A, want to get to B, but the middle gets kind of wander-y. This also leads to me sometimes stalling mid-project if I get distracted or pulled away - hence my current three WIPs. Though it doesn't help that the past six months have sucked on letting me have much free time.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If it was short, easy dialogue in Spanish or French I might be able to swing it. Otherwise, I would need to phone a friend.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Sanctuary!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is a hard one. I love them all for different reasons, some of which have more to do with the time I was writing them than with the actual contents. Reluctance was my first multi-chapter fic ever back in the FFN days, so that seems like a pretty good candidate. I learned so much while writing that fic!

[expatesque]

Oooo if you’re open to helping us shop please help me find my wedding dress (big ask)? I feel like I’ve tried on every dress in London and am about to give up! I’m not tied to it being white (blue? metallic?) I just want it to feel special enough that I don’t look like my own guest, but not a full meringue moment because there’s only going to be 15 people total. Vibe is casual Saturday afternoon picnic in the park and drinks at our local afterwards, my budget is £2k!

Sorry I should have added that I’m super short so midis tend to fit better, maxi not really my vibe and I’m worried it might feel too formal for the picnic!

Oh my god this is my dream task. First off - congratulations! Sounds like it's going to be a beautiful wedding. Okay so I've got a few thoughts first before we dive in: (1) You can get anything shortened - I'm also relatively short (well, actually I have long torso and short legs, but works out the same) so 90% of my bottoms are tailored. And what better time to invest in some good tailoring than your wedding! Assuming the dress isn't beaded / heavy on appliques, it's usually<£30 to have something shortened, and it's the same price to have something taken up half an inch vs taken up a foot, to make a maxi tea length. So I'm going to recommend a few things that are longer but know that I always mean you should have them shortened if you want. (2) Have you thought about a veil? I just think it's the easiest, most obvious way to say 'Wedding!' but still keep things cool. Personally I love a birdcage moment but I'm also partial to a short veil, particularly if you get something meaningful embroidered on it (this one is fully customizable and I love the look of the phrase running down the side).

Okay now that we've done that, some thoughts: Rixo makes cute, special but low key dresses. For a city wedding feel, I love the shorter ones (60s vibes! This CAPE) but there's loads of cute options (remember, you can have the longer ones taken up!). They're also v affordable which is always nice.

On the less classically bridal end of the spectrum, we have La Double J who go big on color and pattern. Again, I'd consider adding a veil (maybe in a fun color?!) to feel more bridal. I'm not sure your body shape but this top and skirt combo! With a pale blue veil?! Come on. They also do have more classic bridal pieces as well. There's also Zimmerman - flirty and flouncy, their dresses have pure romantic vibes. Something like this could definitely read bridal (+ a birdcage viel and a little shrug maybe?). If you're not put off by black (again, veil and accessories can help) then this is to die for and super re-wearable. Or embrace the chill vibes and go yellow! They have loads of great options.

I'm sure you already know this but just in case: Reformation does bridal. Like their normal dresses, the options skew towards people with model proportions but they've got some gorgeous ones - love this minimal take. I'd also recommend Wolf & Badger again. Do you want to be a hot and cool minimalist? A sea foam mermaid? (I'd personally have the slits closed a bit and the whole thing taken up but that's me). A ball of spring flowers? The Badge has you covered.

And then of course, a net a porter troll. Are you a disco queen? The most elegant woman alive? (Prob not best for the park, but def could work for a pub). A garden fairy? A jumpsuit (!) babe? A queen of less is more? (maybe with tulle gloves!) A column queen? (I'd style with blue shoes that match, I have this pair from Ferragamo that I love).

Again for lots of these I think accessories are key. You add a veil, a glove (consider short too!), a white shoe and all the sudden, bang it's clearly bridal. I hope some of that is helpful, and good luck!

(okay also you did not ask about this but just a thought: you can get really beautiful, affordable, old embroidered white table clothes fairly easily online and at antique shops. How gorgeous would your wedding picnic be on all white 'blankets'? Maybe with something waterproof underneath because, London).

[crimsonedquill]

Hey there! Just gonna pop in and tell you you're doing god's work! 💚💙 And I'm addicted to Tumblr again bc of your blog lmao

If you're still accepting requests, can we have some sweet, loving and deliciously smutty Imelda x f!mc, except MC is self-conscious about her battle scars and Imelda rushing to console her even if she isn't particularly good at it

A Little Love (Imelda Reyes x f!MC)

I keep insisting this totally isn’t an Imelda Reyes stan blog but then I see another Melly request and it’s like who am I kidding lol

I also say this far too often but I really had a ton of fun with this prompt, it might just be my favourite yet. Imelda x feelings is a combo I’ll never not enjoy writing!

(Also, to the lovely anon who requested a sequel to the smutty shower post, I know this doesn’t technically count but I definitely consider it a spiritual successor 😛)

Content warning: NSFW (18+). Foul language, heavy smut, discussion of feelings.

MC was lying on her back in the middle of the big four-poster bed when she heard wet footsteps approaching from the adjacent bathroom. She looked up from the book she’d been reading to see Imelda leaning against the doorpost, hair still damp from her shower, wearing nothing but a comfy shirt and a particularly shit-eating grin.

“See anything you like?” MC asked as she returned to her book, her lips forming a smile behind the pages.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” came the retort. “We both know I could get much better.”

“Right. Can’t help but notice you’re standing half-naked in my bedroom, though.”

Imelda left her spot at the door and strode toward the bed, swaying her hips in that especially alluring way she knew MC liked. Sure enough, the girl briefly stole a glance over the cover, though her eyes quickly darted back to the text when the Captain stopped in front of her, hands at her hips. “I do admit you may have certain… redeeming qualities.”

“Uh-huh,” MC said.

“All the studying definitely isn’t one of them, though.” Imelda let herself fall on the bed, plopping her head on MC’s belly. “Fuck’s sake,” she sighed, “You have no idea how horny I am right now.”

MC flipped a page, undisturbed. “So, play with yourself or something.”

“Oh, I just might. I bet you’d love to see me put up a show.” The Slytherin smirked at her, propping herself up on her elbows. “Hey, I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

“You dump that stupid book, and I’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk upright for a week.”

“Merlin,” MC laughed, “never really been one for romance, have you?”

Imelda rolled her eyes. “Okay. How about, “I wish to consummate our love, you stuck-up precious bitch”?”

MC giggled again. As far as love confessions went, this was probably the best she could get from Slytherin’s finest.

“Whad’ya say, though?” Imelda asked, eagerly nuzzling her tummy. “Up for a little girl-on-girl time?”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s just so much studying left to do –”

“Fuuuuuuuuck that,” Imelda whined. “Your books always get all of the attention. I think it’s time you gave me some.”

MC smirked. Annoying Imelda Reyes would never not be one of her favourite pastimes. “Someone’s sounding a little needy.”

“Damn right I do. I’m a needy little love sponge. And I need you to soak me.”

All right, that had no business sounding as hot as it did. It probably also didn’t help that she’d been feeling a twitching down in her core since the moment Imelda had appeared in the doorway, practically looking ready to jump her right then and there. Not that she’d ever admit the Slytherin had that effect on her. She wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Imelda lightly caressed her through her sweater, correctly having read her lack of response. MC murmured, adjusting her hips a little. She felt a couple of fingers trying to sneak under the garment and quickly moved her hand to intercept them. “The top stays on.”

Imelda huffed something, too impatient to put up much of a fight. MC knew she had every right to complain. They’d had sex before, but it had never gotten to the point where MC had felt comfortable enough to go completely bare. There had always been stupid reasons, silly excuses, even the occasional argument. But Imelda had never pressed her.

Sometime, they would figure it out together, she decided. For now, however, Imelda seemed content, quickly hooking her fingers into the waistband of her trousers before slipping them over her hips. Her eyes lit up at her find.

“Oh, you lying –” she cursed triumphantly, “you are dripping like a good little bitch.”

Indeed she was. In fact, now that her cunt was exposed to her partner’s gaze, MC felt just how much she was throbbing, folds thick and swollen with desire. Imelda placed her hands in her thighs, slowly forcing them apart, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin. MC was glad the book was hiding most of the dark flush that was suddenly creeping up her cheeks. Not that she doubted for a second that Imelda knew exactly what she was doing; the mischievous smirk as she was drawing small circles around the rim of her achingly hot cunny said as much.

“You want this, don’t you?” the Slytherin teased, bringing up a finger, tip coated in slick. The other brushed ever so closely past her damp folds, causing a shiver to course through MC’s body. She simply nodded, lest her shaky breath would betray just how much she was dying for Imelda’s touch –

Another menacing chuckle, another brush against her tender lips. Fucking hell, there were days when she really wanted to curse Imelda’s proficiency in girl pussy – she knew she could keep this up all day if she wanted to, just edging her until she was a hot mess, begging for release.

“I guess I could give you what you need, but, oh, I don’t know,” Imelda mused. “What’s in it for little old me?”

Of course. Everybody knew Imelda Reyes didn’t do favours. Normally MC wouldn’t be so quick to indulge her, but she was bloody aching and she wanted to get off –

“Please…” she murmured from behind the book.

Imelda traced another circle, chuckling to herself. “I’m sorry, what’s that?”

MC dropped the book to shoot her a glare. “Would you please fuck my pussy alr –”

But the rest of her plea was lost in a powerful moan as her mouth fell open, eyes widening.

Ooooooooooh fuuuuuuuuuuuu –

It was good. So good. Imelda had plunged two of her fingers inside of her, cutting off her breath and sending her into a delightful fit. She shuddered as the digits dipped past her folds, sliding inside, sliding home.

“Bloody hell, I can tell how much you’ve missed me,” Imelda said, almost in wonder. Merlin, yes, she didn’t even realise how much she had been yearning for the feeling, but all of that didn’t matter now; Imelda had her, she had her now and she wouldn’t stop until MC was screaming her name –

MC whined softly, chest rising, book slipping out of her fingers and landing on the ground with a thud. Imelda smiled up at her, beginning to pump at a slow pace to let her acclimatise to the rhythm. Hell, if only MC realised how much this was turning her on, having her completely at her mercy, dictating every pulse, every twitch, every component of her pleasure. She felt heat beginning to build up between her own legs as she watched the girl writhe and twist on her fingers.

“Such a good, tight pussy,” Imelda cooed. “So fucking wet for me.”

She twisted her fingers, curling them inside of MC so she could reach that special little spot that always made her squirm. As she had predicted, it didn’t take long for her effort to be rewarded with a whimper and a gush of sweet juice spilling from MC’s fleshy curtains.

“That’s it,” she hissed contently. Fuck almighty, she had to get in on this somehow. Without losing pace for even a second, she wrestled her undies down past her knees and climbed on top of MC’s thigh, letting out a groan of relief as her heat was met with some much-needed friction. She began rocking back and forth, wetness spilling out of her, eyes burning lustfully as she fingerbanged MC nice and hard.

MC was beyond words. Her head had fallen to the side, eyes closed, lips mouthing silent curses as she fought back against the rising tide of her orgasm. She didn’t want this to end, fuck, she wanted to feel like this forever, she wanted to be fucked right out her senses, and then she wanted Imelda’s mouth on her until the sun came up and then she wanted oh fuck fuck fuck –

“Come on then, bitch,” Imelda growled between her own gasps, “you know I won’t stop until I’ve got you spitting over my fingers like a sweet little –”

That did it. MC came, clamping down on Imelda’s fingers, a strained cry slipping through her lips as electric waves rippled up from her core. The Slytherin looked on in awe her back arched up from the bed, the sweater slipping back to reveal just a tiny inch of marked flesh – wait, was that…

But then MC collapsed back again. Imelda waited a moment before she withdrew her fingers, the digits making a lewd sloshing sound as a blob of MC’s girly juices trickled from her well-fucked hole. Neither of them spoke as they sat there, air thick with the musky scent of sex and the sound of their breathing. Imelda noticed she she was more preoccupied with her new discovery than the fact that that she hadn’t even achieved her own climax yet. She had never told her about the scars. Why had she never told her about the scars?

As she managed to recover her breath, MC lifted her head to flash her a weak smile. Imelda didn’t return it. Without warning, she suddenly reached for MC’s sweater and gave it a yank, causing the girl to back away from her with a gasp. She drew her knees up to her chest and looked at her, breathing heavily, eyes wide.

“When were you planning on telling me?” Imelda asked, sounding betrayed.

MC seemed at a loss of words. She was clearly panicking, stuttering as she frantically searched for an excuse. “Mel, I –”

“‘Cause these aren’t new,” Imelda interrupted, pointing to her stomach. “Is that why you always weasel out when I want to see you? Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

“No, Mel, t-that’s not it at all –” MC sighed, casting her eyes down. “Look, I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to do it now –”

Imelda shrugged, crossing her arms. Maybe she should have felt bad for more or less ambushing MC during what was clearly a vulnerable moment, but either way, she wasn’t feeling any hint of shame. “Might as well. Who knows, I could reward you with another fuck when you’re done confessing, since you seem to think that’s all I’m good for.”

MC’s eyes suddenly shot up again, her tone shifting. “Really? You’re not sure you’ve got that backwards?”

Imelda frowned. “Huh?”

“Because that’s exactly the reason I was afraid to tell you,” MC continued. “Look, Mel, I – I think you’re great. I think the sex is great. But I keep wondering if that’s literally all there is to… us. Our relationship. To be honest, most of the time I can’t even tell if you’re in love with me or with my body.”

The words lingered, prickling, stinging. Imelda felt something unpleasant crawling up inside her chest. She wanted to say something, but her mind had trouble stringing together her thoughts. That wasn’t true – she didn’t think of MC that way, did she?

“I didn’t want you to know because –” MC hesitated, but then said firmly, “Because I thought you’d lose interest if you knew.”

Oh, shite. This couldn’t be happening. Imelda squeezed her eyes shut, sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, tried to gather her thoughts. “Fucking hell, MC.”

“You wanted to know. Now you do.” MC sat silently, still holding her knees as she waited for the Slytherin’s response. There was nothing more left to say, no more secrets. Whatever was coming, she would face it.

“I – I don’t –”

Imelda growled, frustrated with herself. She never got tongue-tied, so why was she doing it now? Pull yourself together, Reyes.

“I don’t love your body,” she muttered, before correcting herself. “No, I mean, I do love your body, but I also love you and… fuck, you know what I mean.”

MC was still looking at her, her expression unchanging. She took a deep breath and tried again.

“What I mean to say is – yes, okay, I like sex. Sex is nice, it’s simple. I’ve never cared much for sappiness, the pet names and flowers and holding hands, because you know, there’s always… more. I suppose I just… I’m afraid to get bogged down in stupid shite and commitments I don’t want.”

Hell, that couldn’t have come out crappier even if she had wanted to. She quickly tried to think of something else to say, but then MC suddenly took her hand. “I understand.”

Imelda looked at her, confused. “You do?”

“Of course. Merlin, I was surprised when you took an interest in me in the first place. The great Imelda Reyes, stooping to the level of such a measly peasant –”

“Oh, fuck you.”

MC chuckled. “But, you know, it’s all right. I never expected you to ask for my hand in marriage. You have your life, and I have mine. Though, that doesn’t mean we couldn’t get a little… intimate when we have each other to ourselves.”

Her thumb lightly stroked Imelda’s hand, the simple gesture doing more to excite her than she’d ever expected. She suddenly realised they were both still bare past their navels, her pussy immediately throbbing at the thought.

The expression on MC’s face bore something soft, something tender. It was as if Imelda only now realised how utterly beautiful she was. She swiftly moved in at her own volition, and just like that their lips were moving together, tongues meeting in a delicious kiss. Imelda slipped a hand underneath MC’s sweater, lips curling at her being rewarded with a soft moan. She spent a few moments palming the naked flesh before moving in with her other hand. MC shivered as she was relieved of the garment, though she wasn’t afraid – not anymore.

Imelda cooed with delight as she drank in MC’s naked torso; the embroidery of scars etched into her abdomen and arms, and then her breasts, beautiful curves ending into pink nipples. She didn’t know what all the fuss had been about, MC looked fucking hot. She was barely able to contain herself as she bent over and pressed her face between MC’s tits, devouring them with a ravenous hunger. The girl threw her head back, whimpering as Imelda kissed and suckled on the tender flesh, taking one of her nipples between her teeth to tug at it.

The sounds MC was making shattered the last of her resolve. That was it, she had to feel her. Quickly pulling back to throw off her own shirt, Imelda rushed to return to MC’s warmth, letting out a relieved groan as their tits started rubbing together, bodies slick with sweat.

“So pretty,” she gasped, “so fucking pretty,”

MC smiled at her, bringing a hand around to pull her down into another feverish kiss. She brought up her hips, essentially locking Imelda in place as they continued rutting in their sweet embrace. It was pretty damn perfect. As she moved, Imelda imagined she could even slide into her own release if they kept going like this, though then her lust-fuelled mind conceived of a better idea.

Wrestling herself free, she sat upright as MC looked at her with questioning eyes. “Patience,” she smirked as she seized MC’s legs and started repositioning herself. It took her a while to find a satisfying configuration, but eventually she managed to bring herself into a good position, her aching cunt just inches away from MC’s.

A sigh of relief fell from her lips as their slick cores finally came together. She quickly started scissoring, their folds producing a series of increasingly wet sounds as they rubbed against each other. They quickly mixed with the moans and whines from the two girls, joining as one in their experience of nothing but pure bodily ecstasy.

Imelda was seeing stars. She’d always loved physicality, whether it was punishing her body during a Quidditch match or rubbing one out when she was feeling needy. This, however, this felt… amazing. It was as if she was experiencing MC in a whole new realm of pleasure, feeling everything from her frantic breath to the muscles moving underneath her damp skin to her clit brushing against her own –

As much as she had resisted the idea, she had to admit that making love did seem to have some benefits.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a particularly loud cry from MC. “M-Melly,” she whimpered, “c-close…”

Imelda, too, sensed her own climax approaching, waves of heat welling up from the place where they connected through their slick.

“Good girl,” she purred. “Come for me…”

It took just a few more ruts for MC to crash over the edge; her own release followed suit, arriving in a paralysing surge of pure pleasure that had her choke back a loud roar. She collapsed on top of MC, letting her head fall in the crook of her neck. MC held her close, whispering soothing words to her as she trembled with aftershocks.

After they had recovered from their respective mind-shattering orgasms, they settled into a spooning position, MC wrapping herself in Imelda’s embrace. They lay silently for a while, until MC spoke up: “So… how was that for you?”

“Still weird as hell, I’ll admit,” Imelda replied. “But I think I’m coming around.”

MC chuckled. “As long as we aren’t discussing feelings, clearly.”

“Hey, I was making an honest effort there, bitch.”

“I know.” MC turned to kiss her on the lips. “I love you, okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Imelda wrapped an arm around her, pulling her bare frame closer against her own. “Let’s go to sleep, I’m tired.”

Closing her eyes, MC prepared herself for her venture into nightly depths, enjoying the feeling of Imelda’s warm body. She’d surely have thought the Slytherin was fast asleep the moment she had gone silent, but then came Imelda’s voice: “MC?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”