#it's like. i feel like i deserve an ed but whenever i see anyone else struggling i just want to give them a big hug

[thriftedtchotchkes]

give in

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel shows you how to love yourself the way you deserve

warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, age gap, comfort, smut, size kink, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, exploring sexual trauma, mentions of guilt & shame, intrusive thoughts

word count: 2.8k

“Doin’ real good, baby. That’s it, nice and slow. No need to rush it.”

Joel needs you to believe it. 

He can feel your discomfort and sense the intrusive thoughts threatening to overtake you, but he needs you to know that everything you're doing right now is okay. 

It’s normal and natural, and under his roof, highly encouraged. All he's ever wanted is for you to feel good. For you to allow yourself the grace and gratification of coming undone at your own perfect hand.

But you live by an unspoken rule, one that doesn't apply to anyone else. There's nothing you love more than watching Joel touch himself, whether it's quick and dirty or drawn-out and meticulous, his body teetering on the edge of all-consuming release for hours. Yet, when it comes to your personal pleasure, there’s only shame.

He's beginning to realize that your aversion goes beyond a lack of education. You were young when the outbreak hit, and while FEDRA schools aren’t exactly known for their top-tier sex ed classes, that isn't what's holding you back.

There's something else there too, buried beneath the surface. A lifetime's worth of guilt and doubt that he alone gets the privilege of unraveling. So whenever you come to him for help, he leads you to his bed and gently coaxes you to self-completion.

He takes it slow and keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him otherwise—and you always tell him otherwise. But those are your boundaries to set. New rules to replace the old ones. 

Pressed firmly into your side, he whispers soft reassurances in your ear, his lips brushing the wispy baby hairs framing your forehead with every word. He swallows every gasp and moan, and cherishes the sharp sting of your nails biting into his skin as you reach your peak.

And when you come down from the clouds and turn to him with hazy eyes and a blissful smile, he knows it's all worth it. Even if it takes years more, he’ll continue to talk you through it, banishing the cruel thoughts that plague you and replacing them with the promise of relief.

Just like he is right now.

--

"Tell me what you're feelin'. I wanna know what's goin' on in that pretty head of yours."

You shake your head, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. Your body never responds to you the way it does to Joel, and on the rare occasion it does, it just isn't the same. It takes too long and there's none of the gradual build-up that allows you to lose yourself in it. Not in the pleasure of it anyway.

"S'a little...dry," you mumble, slowing to a stop. It'll start to burn if you keep going like this, but you're not sure what else you can do. Joel presses a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear before pulling back.

"Lemme see your hand, sugar," he says, gesturing for yours with his own. Confused, you remove your fingers from between your legs to hold up in front of his face. 

You're waiting for him to inspect them or come up with a valid reason why they're not working when he abruptly sucks them into his mouth. His tongue feels hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dips between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. 

A wave of heat almost identical to the one enveloping your hand begins to pool at the base of your spine, and you feel a sudden, heady whoosh at the apex of your thighs. If he could just keep doing that, exactly that, but further down your body—

But to your disappointment, he stops as suddenly as he started and slides your fingers from his mouth with a lewd pop before guiding them back to your core.

"How 'bout now?" he asks earnestly, and Christ. He's so good at that. He always knows how to work your body, even by proxy. 

You're wet. You don't even need the added moisture of Joel's saliva anymore. Just the action itself has you breathing heavier, eliciting a craving you never knew you had. Your fingers slip clumsily through the slick leaking out of you, and your eyelids flutter at the fleeting sensation of your fingertips catching your entrance. 

"B-better...feels better," you stumble over your words. Your fingers continue to explore your folds without your permission, stoking the fire in your belly. And also your doubt. "But I'm—J-Joel it's..."

That telltale embarrassment is starting to creep in again, reminding you that you're doing something wrong. It feels too good and you really don't want to stop, but what does that say about you? Sinner, slut. The intrusive thoughts are louder than Joel's gentle panting in your ear now.

As if he can hear them, he snakes a hand past your stomach to grip the soft plush of your thigh. He spreads you open, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massages soothing shapes into your skin, silencing the ugly words with his kind touch.

"S'alright, sugar, you can keep goin'. You liked that, right? That's good. You're treatin' your body the way she deserves," he says encouragingly. His hand inches closer to where you're dribbling onto the sheets, but stops the moment his thumb reaches your coarse curls. 

You ache to wrap your soaked fingers around his to tug him closer, but you know you can't. And that feels surprisingly okay. For the first time in a long time, you're actually keeping yourself sated enough without his help.

Now that your legs are parted, it all feels...different. Heightened, almost. It's because you're hyperaware of every movement you're making, you realize, and it turns you on way more than it should. Or no. No. Exactly as much as it should. 

Joel isn't immune to it either. 

As your bedroom fills with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds, you can feel Joel fighting harder not to rut into your side. His body is tense beside you, and the bicep pillowing your head flexes intermittently every time your hips swivel to meet your hand. His praise is also starting to take on an edge, tinged with something a little...filthier.

"Y'hear that? You're gettin' so loud, sugar. So wet," he grits out, his expression pained. "Just look at'cha. Needy, perfect girl. Doin' everythin' right."

His eyes dart up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. He's watching you a little too intently, likely to avoid the image of your glistening palm and fingertips working to bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. You're making a huge mess.

And it's making Joel hard as a rock. Twitching and leaking, and temptingly bare against the sweet friction of your hip. You know he's doing everything he can to focus on you, but he can't even begin to imagine how much his reaction is spurring you on. 

More. You want to give yourself so much more.

"Joel, I don't think I'm doing it right," you twist to whine into his tousled, graying hair. You breathe him in, and the familiar scent of pine and suede makes your head spin and your fingers stutter. "S'not enough. I-I need more, I keep losing it."

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, wrenching his gaze away from you to glance down the bed. He can't even hide how badly he wants to touch you. His cock jerks the moment he catches sight of you again, smearing precum across your skin, and you involuntarily mimic him, your hips bucking up into your unpracticed touch.

Blunt nails dig into your thigh before his hand trails back up to your stomach. It trembles as he guides you, languidly and with a hint of desperation. 

"S'okay, just follow me," he instructs you, swirling his middle and ring fingers in a tight circle around your belly button. You shiver at the raspiness of his voice. "Right around your clit. Remember where that is?" 

But before you can shake your head, his arm slides out from under you and he shifts further down your body to lean over you, propping himself on his elbow. His fingers continue their path on your stomach while he moves lower to gently tug up the hood of your clit, revealing your swollen nub. 

"Fuckin' hell," he swears quietly under his breath, his stomach visibly tensing. He's careful to steer clear of everything else, giving you enough space to heed his lesson. 

"Alright, c'mere, sugar. There ya go. See? You remember," he releases you, shifting a hand to your thigh and wrapping the other tightly around the base of his cock. He keens, his back nearly bowing with the pent-up tension in his body. "That's it. Nice, tight circles. Just like when I make you cum with my mouth."

You choke on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as you're suddenly inundated with memories of Joel between your legs, fucking you with his tongue until you gush into his mouth. You press down harder, swirl faster. No guilt, no disgust. It all still feels so good. 

He notices the change in your breathing immediately and begins to stroke himself in time with the rapid rise and fall of your breasts. The hazel of his eyes darken to pitch black. A warning, preparing you for the ecstasy to come.

"Oh, you like that, huh? S'good, you're doin' so good. Can ya give yourself two fingers?" he croons, teasing just below the ridge of his cock with his thumb while he waits for your response. 

"I...yeah. Y-yes," you whimper, your brows furrowing as you slip your fingers lower to circle your entrance. But as you start to press into yourself, you hesitate. "W-wait, it feels like too much. I don't want it to hurt."

At that, he all but winces like he's in physical pain, and his hand shoots to the base of his cock again and squeezes.

"Christ," he grits through his teeth, but it sounds more like a growl. You never meant to make him fight his own body like this, but you won't lie and say you're not devouring every second of it. He exhales sharply through his nose to ground himself. "Does it feel good when ya take my cock?"

Those dark eyes are locked on yours, but somehow they're still so gentle. He's not saying any of this for himself. You can tell, it's all for you. Reminders that you can do this if you want it and that he'd never ask you to do anything that could harm you.

You nod quickly because it does feel good. You need him to know that having him inside you feels so, so good. 

"Look at those pretty, little fingers of yours. They bigger than I am?"

Your eyes drop to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around himself. He's leaking all over his fingers, thick and tinged an angry shade of red.

"No, Joel. You're bigger," you whisper, your pleasure intensifying the longer you watch him. His lips quirk into the beginnings of a smirk.

"Now, ya don't have to. You can get yourself there just like that. S'just as good," his drawl commands your attention. "But I think you'd like knowin' how it feels like to cum around 'em—"

The tips of your fingers begin to sink into your heat before he finishes his sentence. The sensation is...everything. Too much to keep your eyes from rolling back or your jaw from dropping. It's just so different. As you bottom out, you wonder how this is even possible for Joel. How he ever manages to fit.

"S'hard to move," you pump your fingers in and out experimentally, moaning quietly at the addictive way they drag against your walls.

You're not too naive to realize your body stretches to accommodate him, but you're too caught up in the sight of his hand resuming its previous pace to recall that knowledge. He looks a little desperate and sounds even more so.

"Fuck me. S'it tight? Tell me, sugar. Tell me how tight ya are," he pants heavily, unable to stop himself from fucking into his fist. You unknowingly match his pace, clenching around yourself every time your palm slaps into your clit.

"M'so tight, Joel. And wet and warm," your eyes flutter closed as you lose yourself in the beauty of your own body. 

Letting the slick sound of his hand slamming into his pelvic bone be your guide, you bring yourself closer and closer to your own distinctive state of nirvana. The same explosive release Joel gives you—you're finally allowing your body to experience it for itself.

"Joel, I'm...I...," you sob around your words, barely able to force them out as your entire being quakes with your impending orgasm. "...I can't—m'gonna cum, Joel, I can't."

Without warning, he throws a leg over your body to straddle your hips and crashes his lips into yours. He continues to work himself as he coaxes your mouth open, his tongue brushing yours fleetingly before he pulls back. 

"Let go, sugar. Give in to it, s'okay. I got ya, I'm right here," he breathes against your lips, and you tilt your head to meet them. When your head drops back onto the bed, your eyes are pleading. You need his help. 

And he understands. That's what he's here for.

"Cum with me," he murmurs, dropping his forehead to yours. "C'mon, perfect girl, you deserve it."

You believe him. The shame and never-ending guilt that twists and snags like barbed wire in your chest is nowhere to be found right now. There's only silence, save for you and Joel teetering on the cusp, and his tender reassurances in your ear. He's right. You can have this. 

"Ngh—Joel, it's...cumming. Fuck, fuck, m'cumming."

It creeps up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaks, then slams into you like a freight train. His name leaves your lips in a sharp exhale of sheer relief, repeated like a prayer while you ride it out. 

You're vaguely aware of a ragged, drawn-out groan above you as you soak the sheets beneath you, your cunt squeezing your fingers hard with every spasm, just like he said it would. You feel it all. 

Then you feel him splatter across your stomach and breasts in thick, white streaks, his release as messy and prolonged as yours. Gasping, you continue through your aftershocks together until sensitivity sets in.

Joel collapses on the bed next to you and immediately pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky, drying mess smearing between you. He cups your cheek and kisses you, firmly but chastely, before reluctantly pulling away.

His eyes search yours carefully like he's looking for something. Peace, maybe? A sense of calm, an absence of the cloudiness he so often sees there and fights to keep at bay. Whatever it is, he must find it because then his lips are on yours again, a longer, deeper kiss that you melt into with loose limbs and a light heart.

"How we doin', sugar?" he asks tentatively as he parts from you. 

You take a moment to respond, appraising your body and everything it can sense right now. The wetness between your legs and on your chest, your aching wrist and thighs, and that sweet, pleasant buzz settling at the top of your spine. 

"Good," you tell him honestly. You gaze up at him with a blissful smile, preening at the affectionate one he gives you in return before burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

"Thanks for this," you continue, mumbling carefully into the warmth of his skin. "And for putting up with me. I know all of this is shitty and weird, and not fun. Just...thanks for never giving up on me."

He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer and enveloping you in his strong, soothing embrace. It feels safe here. In Joel's bed, surrounded by his scent and heat, and unwavering patience, you start to feel hopeful. He lifts your hand to his lips and softly kisses the pads of each finger, then the center of your palm.

"Ya don't have to thank me for any of that. We'll keep doin' this, s'long as it takes," he murmurs, urging you out of your hiding spot to meet his eyes. "Not a damn thing wrong with ya. Ya hear me? You're perfect."

Maybe one day, you'll be able to believe him outside of this bedroom. But for right now, you just feel lucky to be loved by a man like Joel. One who accepts your trauma and your past, and will always be there to protect you, even from yourself.

thanks for reading!

[ghostlyfleur]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

eddie munson x shy!oc

contents: anxiety, curse words, friends to lovers. lovesick!eddie, inexperienced!reader, self-consciousness, first kiss, sharing clothes. eddie’s jacket is oversized on reader. can be read as x reader, but a bit oc too? carnival date.

word count: ~1.5k

eddie munson is in love.

she is entirely inexperienced in anything romantic or sexual; no first kiss, never even got close to it. extremely shy and anxious, has a seemingly innocent aura, is a bit out of sorts, ditzy, with a sort of luna lovegood vibe. doesn’t argue with people, always tears up if confronted about anything, doesn’t have beef with anyone and is a lot more rational than emotional even though she tears up so easily. also doesn’t hold grudges or care what people think of her…

the thing is, she has been introverted her whole life, a very anxious person, and so doesn’t understand that eddie munson likes her because she needs to be told how people feel about her very explicitly otherwise her mind will convince her they hate her. anxiety is like that. and she’s the kind of person that has a hard time realizing that people can perceive their existence and have feelings for them, no matter what type of feelings, so even though eddie is not at all shy about flirting with her and giving her all of the attention in the world in his over-the-top, overdramatic way, he also knows that if anything other than the friendship he’s thankfully managed to build with her is going to happen, romantic-wise, that she has to be the one to initiate it— but she’s oblivious!

on the other hand though, she doesn’t even bother hiding her infatuation with eddie — it’s a lot more than infatuation by now. she’s always looking at him with stars in her eyes and laughs at his jokes and smiles that big, square, goofy smile whenever they lock eyes and constantly praises him because he deserves to feel as special as he is, right? and she goes into detailed talks about lord of the rings with him, likes many of the same bands he does or simply lets him play his favorites for her, and she truly loves to watch hellfire play dungeons & dragons.

her eds even made her a special edition pink hellfire shirt. ‘cause he’s a simp.

one day, as she’s out with chrissy and heather outside a diner, talking and laughing and catching up, eddie is close by somewhere with friends. his van is parked nearby.

it starts getting chilly, and eddie’s girl starts shivering, so she quickly excused herself away from the girls, “gimme a second!” and reaches through the open window of eddie’s van, making a mental note to grill him about it later — “‘cause it isn’t safe, eds!” — to grab his leather jacket thinking of how he has told her over and over that she can borrow it, that “what’s mine is yours, sweets. i don’t mind sharing if it’s with you”, so she figures it’s okay, right? and goes back to the girls who are fucking smirking like they see something she doesn’t.

it’s about fifteen minutes later, and eddie is walking towards the trio, simply because he misses his girl and wants a hug, when he sees it.

she’s wearing his jacket. his jacket.

in typical eddie fashion, he makes a scene— gasping dramatically, he clutches his chest over his heart and falls to his knees, because fuck what anyone around thinks. his precious girl is wearing his fucking jacket! and she looks like a fucking angel.

“eds, what are you doin’?”

“do you know how heavenly you look in my jacket? i just had to get on my knees to worship you.”

the boy shuffles closer to his sweet girl on his knees still while he talks and she’s flustered, okay? she’s shy and her face is on fire and she’s covering her cheeks and giggling. and because it’s eddie, her eddie, she’s not running away to have a panic attack. ‘cause it’s eddie and he’s being sweet, so she can’t focus on anyone else long enough to feel crippling anxiety or embarrassment. doesn’t even care that chrissy is cooing and heather is smirking.

“that jacket is yours now, you own it. you pretty much own me by now.” eddie says, on his knees, in front of her

“it’s okay that i took it right?” she makes sure even after his display of joy, ‘cause anxiety isn’t rational “you said i—”

her eddie knows her, though. he stands up, gets real fucking close to her, so close they’re almost touching, with this look of absolute adoration and “i’d give ya everything i have if i could, pretty.”

fast forward a few days later. chrissy kept yapping on and on to the oblivious girl about how “in love” eddie is, but it’s as though her brain won’t let her even entertain the idea.

that’s until she’s having a semi-regular quote unquote friend-date with eddie, something they’ve done quite a few times before, and this time they go to the fair. they’re doing everything couples might do, eddie is very aware of this, and he’s over the moon to just be enjoying quality time with his pretty girl until she spots a photobooth, “oh, eds! we have to!” and eddie’s desperately counting coins to pay. the pictures go a little something like this:

after coming up blank with pose ideas, they just look at each other and laugh, but at the sound of his free and bright laugh, she just stares at her boy like he’s a dream come true— first pic is taken, looking at eddie like he hung the moon while he’s mid-laugh.

eddie notices her staring and goes from loud laughs to breathless ones, a smile on his lips, and whispers a soft “what?”— second picture is taken as the girl quickly presses her lips to his, her very first kiss, and it’s caught on camera.

the third picture depicts eddie’s sweet girl nervously rambling “i was going to ask for permission first, i promise!” while eddie has a glassy, dreamy look on his face, slack jawed, looking at her lips.

and at the fourth snap? eddie presses forward to shut her up with another impossibly soft and tender kiss, both of their eyes are closed and his hand is holding her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

after they part from the second kiss, eddie acknowledges that it was her first kiss, a shy “was that okay?” to which his sweetheart just smiles really big and nods excitedly over and over with a breathless giggle. that was the perfect first and second kiss and she couldn’t ask for more.

they hold hands the rest of the night.

[biceratops7]

*Wakes up in a cold sweat*

Ed and Stede give eachother exactly what they need. It’s the way Ed looks at Stede and the way Stede says Ed’s name. They share these rituals together in a way neither dreamed possible.

There is a running visual motif of Stede being looked at. In these moments we’re placed (literally, talking about the camera here) in his point of view, where we can feel how… confronting it all is for him. His father glaring down at him with dissatisfaction that’s long since boiled into anger. His wife staring at him in an awkward silence like the frustration of being lost in emotional translation isn’t even worth a comment anymore. Nigel’s mocking gaze, Izzy’s calculated focus, It’s all to make you feel how unflinchingly exposed he is… but not vulnerable. He doesn’t get that because in order to be so you need to be understood. Stede lives with all eyes on him, but is not seen.

Then there’s Edward, who essentially has the same crushing issue but with a different presentation. His motif is his name, and what the other characters choose to call him is indicative of if they know him, or just know of him. Blackbeard is what he answers to most, but it’s not something he identifies with in the present, at best he has a very complicated relationship with the person that name represents. The greatest sailor who ever lived, the devil pYrate, a persona he perfected that has flown to the tallest mountains dragging Ed behind him. The only characters that call him Ed/ Edward unprompted or unironically are Stede, and interestingly… Izzy. We’ll come back to that later.

Now here comes Ed, sauntering out of the hell fire and into Stede’s life like the patron Saint of leather daddies. And here we see that same familiar pov shot, and boy does Ed fucking LOOK at him. The last sight Stede sees before he conks the fuck out is this beautiful man who’s heard so much about him at his… well, Stede-iest, and is gazing at him like the loveliest thing in the world right now would be to know him even more. Ed’s heart eyes are no joke, they’re famous for a reason. Each time he looks at Stede, it is giving, it is wanting, it is a deliberate act of love.

Of course in the same sense Stede fills the hole in Ed’s life as well (not that one shut up), the desire not to be revered, but beloved, known. To just be… Edward.

Stede used to have no noteworthy opinion on the matter of Blackbeard, enthralled by the legends as anyone else… until he met him, saw this kind and excitable man who loved all the things everyone else found silly. And suddenly now it’s none of his business. Stede doesn’t push, gets offended when information is revealed to him without Ed’s consent. He treasures all the ways he can get to know Ed, and holds space for whenever he can’t. He still admires Blackbeard sure, but only because he’s one of many facets that create someone far more interesting: Edward. From Stede, Ed’s real name is spoken with love, playfulness, simple familiarity, returning the warmth of the way Ed looks at him like another fine thing he deserves. Even when he’s not actually around to hear it, the natural thought process in Stede remains.

I think it adds nuance and depth to each relationship that this is presented in foil with Izzy, because Izzy uses Ed’s real name as a commodity. It has value only as a threshold of hierarchy for Blackbeard’s inner circle, which as the previously sole member, Izzy is preoccupied with keeping exclusive. He’s possessive of a concept, and the more he learns just how different “Ed” is from it, the more the simple notion of Ed becomes ridiculous. Though both call him “Edward”, it’s only Stede that does so as an unconscious demonstration that he accepts Ed’s autonomy of personhood and is adoring of whomever that is.

The last time we hear Izzy say “Edward”, it’s mocking. To him the name now only represents the pitiful death of a greater ideal “Ed” decidedly is not. The last time Stede says it, it’s when he’s confessing to Mary that he loves him. One instance treats Ed’s name as a mask of his true self, and an inferior one at that, and the other is quite literally revealing.

The image he holds when he tells Mary he’s in love is Edward looking up at him smiling, breaking bread, completely un-pedestaled and joyful to be so. And Stede knows understanding now, being wanted, vulnerability, comfort. He calls those all Ed.

[galesdevoteewife]

Let’s talk about Mystra

Hello everyone, I wanted to talk about Mystra👋🔮

As much of a crazy lover as I am for my fictional wizard, the more lore research I do, the more I feel like Mystra deserves some love too. This goddess lives a cursed life. I know I know she asked Gale to kill himself, but bear with me; here are my arguments:

A bit history of Mystra

There’re 3 Mystra: Mystryl -> Mystra (Elminster’s Mystra) -> Mystra (Midnight)

In short, Mystryl is the fourth deity in the universe, composed of Shar & Selûne’s essence. She is one of the primal existences while the universe is still new and trying to settle down, a significant component of the universe itself. While Mystryl’s spirit was born naturally, Mystra and Midnight were both once mortal and raised by AO to inherit Mystryl’s power.

Is Mystra bad?

Midnight, “Mystra 3rd ” is who we met in BG3. She was a human magic user born in 1332 DR. Midnight was aiding Mystra 2nd at the time of troubles. She’s a kind-hearted and humble woman who ascended in 1358 DR. She didn’t want godhood at all; she only did it to counter Cyric, the bad guy.

From comic book Avatar (1991)

For decades, she even tried to allow only the good use of magic, later learning her duty and place as the guardian of balance and impartial arbiter of the Weave; no matter how Midnight feels or hopes things could have been. She was only 26 when she had to wave goodbye to everyone she knew, shouldering the 24/7 goddess duty. It’s true that she will inherit other Mystra’s memory, but personality-wise she is only 160 years old; even Halsin is older than her. (Not to mention she spent 94 years in dormant)

Note[1]: Later on all the Mystra mentioned I will be talking about Midnight

Note[2]: Dec17/2023 I will come back and edit this section; it's misleading according to Ed Greenwood's tweet. The current Mystra is likely a blend of all three Mystras with an unspecified proportion. I will provide details on the stories and deeds of the other Mystras.

Being Mystra sucks. Truly.

Imagine your body is just a thing lying on the street; anyone can command you to dance for them so long as they know the right spell. While you CAN reject it, you are NOT ALLOWED to.

What’s worse is that too many mortals and too many gods want the Weave, but it’s not something that she can “give”. Like no one can give away their body to someone else. She IS the Weave; I think of it as the Weave being the cells that compose her. Whoever wants to take it away will have to separate her mind and “body” by:

killing her and inherit the Weave, where all the attempters failed step 2, then only resulted in a broken/Weaveless crisis

or completely manipulating her mind, which is the option no one ever considers; they all go straight to killing her

Whenever DnD wants to change the rules, they kill Mystra.

Shar wants the Weave, Bane wants it, countless mortals want it too. According to the conversation between Gale and Lorroakan, it’s almost a common conversation trying to dethrone the goddess and take the power for themselves.

And no one is there to protect Mystra; she fights alone. Although she has a good relationship with gods like Selûne or Azuth, nobody lent a hand when she was murdered. She relies on her chosens and her own power.

On top of defending herself, aka protecting the Weave, another important duty is to maintain the Weave. Whenever a spell is cast, it damages the Weave, and she is the one to patch the holes. The more powerful the spell is, the bigger damage it will cause. That’s why her dogma includes “Use the Art deftly and efficiently, not carelessly and recklessly.” She also needs to keep an eye out for possible upcoming threats. A tough and tedious job, and no holidays for the goddess.

It might sound a bit twisted, but she is taking care of the world by taking care of herself. Anything happening to her means catastrophe for the world. (e.g., Spellplague, where magic caused mutations to the users, see wiki here)

But she asked Gale to explode himself!

Yes, and she also promised Elysium once he’s dead. There is actually a thorough afterlife setting in the Forgotten Realms DnD setting. In short, a spirit doesn’t perish when a mortal dies; it would be drawn to the Fugue Plane and wait for the god they prayed to in life to send a servant to take them to their heaven.

It’s a terrible fate for the faithless or false spirits, those who either defy their gods or never choose one. They are forever punished in this grim plane and even become part of the Wall of the Faithless.

Fugue Plane and Wall of the Faithless: those are spirits piling up into a wall

In Mystra’s case, her heaven is Elysium, judging by the name, you can already tell it’s likely a heavenly place. Significantly better than the Fugue Plane, that’s for sure.

It’s a fixed truth that all will die someday, and Gale’s afterlife options are:

Defy Mystra: When he dies, he will be forever punished as a false in the Fugue Plane. Not to mention Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead, is also Midnight Mystra’s former(?) lover, and he detests cowardice.

Defy Mystra and try to gain favor from another god: I think this will mean changing class and profession for him, as a wizard he is tied to Mystra after all.

Serve Mystra and be taken to Elysium: And who knows, since he is chosen of Mystra, she might even revive him someday. Mystra 2nd did that for her other chosen before. Note: Interesting reading about how her chosen become weaveghost after death, see wiki here.

Obtain godhood: When the god Gale dies, he will go through a completely different process.

An interesting thought here is whether Gale knows about all these. It will largely define what his true colors are. It wouldn’t make sense if he is completely ignorant of afterlife logic, though. His background is an experienced wizard (probably studied some necromancy), goddess ex, and apparently visited heavens before.

Is Mystra power-thirsty?

I wouldn’t say so. She is already OP, and AO asked her to nerf herself by sharing and storing power in her chosens. Even if she were to gain more power, she is not allowed to keep it.

She wants the Shadow Weave

She sees Shar’s secret creation, the Shadow Weave, as a threat and aims to eventually subsume it into her portfolio, even if that means sacrificing her last remaining goodness and humanity.

From the DnD book “Faith & Pantheons”

We see how Shar is using her Shadow Weave in the cursed land, and it's safe to say it's not an ideal living environment for most beings. Shar has been very keen to kill Mystra and take over her power; I don’t think the world would be a better place in her hands than in Mystra’s.

She wants the Karsite Weave

The same logic could apply to the Karsite Weave. While we can argue whether Gale has a good heart and can be trusted with godlike power, he did show some concerning traits, did he not? Maybe in the future, when he is wiser and calmer, that's how I read Mystra’s line when she tells him to be patient.

Why doesn’t she just cure him since she can?

This is 100% headcanon. I think Mystra as a goddess is able to foresee some future. In Elminster’s story series, Mystra 2nd often asked him to do things that seemed irrelevant but were actually needed in the future. In Gale’s case, could it be that’s what Midnight meant to do? To mentor and humble him? Even prepare him to go through this journey? (Hardly imagine the prime archmage Gale joining our little merry band, and Elminster did say, “Mystra was anything but idle- she chose you as her champion.” What could that means?)

Gale has a curve where he goes from being “irked by untalented apprentices” to “enjoying teaching a lot” if not using the crown. He could have been relying on magic too much, and his ego or pursuit of power had led him astray from his good nature. If you look from this perspective, offering to use the orb before the final battle could be him still having doubts about the team's ability and having more faith in magic aka his own power (mixed with his deep love for everyone that he'd rather die than see their lives wasted, of course).

She is a terrible lover, and she doesn't care about Gale at all

According to patch 5, how time feels in the outer plane is very different from the material plane. God Gale came back in 6 months, and he seems not aware that it has been months. With this logic and putting myself in Mystra's shoes, she got mad because Gale recklessly activated a magical nuclear bomb and ignored him for a couple of weeks.(~1 year in the mortal world) When they meet again, this grumpy jumpy bean is thinking of the possibility of killing her for her powers already. Excuse me???

I will say there could be more considerate ways to handle this subject other than asking him to bomb himself. This long-distance cross-race romance was very problematic, but I will reserve my opinion on how much love she holds for Gale. Probably not seeing him as an equal partner, of course, but drawing the conclusion that she doesn't care a tad about his well-being might be too hasty, in my opinion.

A screenshot of Mystra telling Gale that she wasn't the one who took his gifts away from him. That's not an expression of 0 sympathy to me. I've never seen her make this face except for this line.

*UPDATE on Dec 11/2023* Add a tweet from Ed Greenwood, the creator of the Forgotten Realms. Ref: X

*UPDATE on Jan 11/2024* • Add a screenshots during Gale's meeting with her • Add a note on DnD weaveghost setting *UPDATE on Apr 15/2024* • An great analysis of Gale & Mystra's relationship and Mystra's behavior logic

-DISCLAIMER- I am very new to the DnD world, but these are what I dug up and puzzled together. I could be very, very wrong, but please be kind; I did all this out of love for my wizard 💜💜💜

[munson-blurbs]

congrats on 2k followers friend!!!! well deserved and well earned via talent and hard work 🎉

I've been having a lot of perv!Eddie thoughts, especially since I read your diner post... But I specifically can't stop thinking about Reader/you and your good friend Eddie falling asleep during a movie night. He wakes up before you and sees that you've been exposed in some way during your shifting in the night (shorts rode up to show ass/crotch, shirt showing off a tit, etc). and this little perv, he sees it and all he can think is must bite, must mark, must squeeze. And Eddie is not great at impulse control, as we know.

anyway, love your work and can't wait to see what amazing things you have in store for us with your big, beautiful brain!!

MYOOOOOO MY LOVE 💚

I hope I did your req justice xoxoxo

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), m! masturbation, perv!Eddie, somno if you squint

WC: 1.1k

--

Eddie’s movie nights with you always had a good rhythm: eat popcorn, watch something that anyone else would give you two shit for (this week’s pick was Grease 2 and was surprisingly Eddie’s choice), and stay up late catching each other up about the week. You two hadn’t had as much time to spend together since you went to college, leaving Eddie stuck at Hawkins High for his third go-around at senior year, but Saturday nights were your time together. And Eddie had you all to himself.

Well, kind of.

In order to actually have you all to himself, he’d need to stop acting like a goddamn pussy (Jeff’s words, not his) and ask you out. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it, but whenever he got close, he’d chicken out. He’d always get lost in your eyes, or focus too hard on your lips, and his brain would practically short-circuit. Instead, he tries to convince himself that it’s better this way; that he’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.

He tries when you star in all of his wet dreams.

He tries when he takes a shower and pictures soap suds sliding over the curve of your breasts.

He tries when all the women in his Playboys or in the Pay-Per-View movies he watches start to pale in comparison to you.

And he’s trying really, really hard right now, when he wakes up to see the movie’s credits rolling, and you still sound asleep, with the strap of your tank top sliding down your shoulder, leaving your chest exposed.

The morally sound thing to do would be to wake you up, or at least attempt to pull your strap back in place. Just bring it to where it should be; let his finger graze over your soft, warm skin. He can’t help but wonder what else is soft and warm.

“Shit,” he murmurs, wincing as his erection becomes all-too prominent under his gray sweatpants. He can’t risk you waking up and seeing him sporting a hard-on, especially once you realize that he got that way from your wardrobe malfunction.

He starts to get up to go to the bathroom to relieve himself, all-too grateful that Wayne is at work, but you shift in your sleep and rest your legs on top of his thighs. A tiny content sigh slips from your lips, and that’s all Eddie needs to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

The way his hand snakes into his plaid boxer shorts is almost instinctual. All he can think about is running his tongue over your nipples until they peak, grabbing the plush of your thighs as he pulls you closer to his lap, feeling your growing wetness as you grind against him. Begging for him to make you feel good.

Eddie uses the beading pre-cum at his tip to lubricate his stiff cock, feebly trying to get himself off without waking you. He watches carefully as your legs gently rock back and forth with each slight buck of his hips. Jesus, what he would give to have those legs resting on his shoulders while he disappears inside you, inch by inch…

“Eds?” you whisper, voice still groggy with sleep. “Was’ going on?”

He freezes on the spot, hand still on his dick. “N-Nothin’. Just, um, tryin’ to find the remote.”

“But you were saying my name,” you frown, turning over to better face him. It’s then that you see your exposed breast, making you giggle. “Were you trying to wake me up so I’d fix my shirt?”

Eddie flushes pink, unsure how to proceed. Does he pretend like he didn’t even notice? But how could he not; you’re right there. Does he flat-out lie and say that he was trying to get you to adjust your top? He certainly wasn’t going to tell you the truth–that he did, in fact, see your tits and he was, in fact, jerking off to them.

“I, um, no–didn’t see–”

“Too busy flogging your log to realize that my tits were out?” His gaze drops to where yours is–the crotch of his pants, where his fingers remain wrapped around his length. “Don’t be embarrassed,” you coo, pushing yourself up and sucking a bruise into his neck. “If I didn’t want you to see them, I would’ve worn a bra.” You climb onto his lap, taking his hand out of his own pants and bringing it down yours. His middle finger presses against your clit, and you release a moan of pleasure. “Touch me, Eddie. Feel how wet I am for you already.”

So wet, he thinks. Almost too wet…

Fuck.

Eddie wakes with a startle, groaning as he feels the mess pooling in his boxers. He’s going to have to start chugging coffee to stay awake during movie nights if he can’t keep himself under control.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes, but he can’t find you. Maybe you left. Oh, God, what if you woke up before him, saw him have a wet dream, and got so freaked out that you just bolted? How would he face you again?

“Oh, shit, you’re up,” you say from the bathroom doorway. There’s a guilty look on your face that Eddie just can’t place. “I guess we fell asleep.”

“Y-Yeah,” Eddie stammers, throwing a blanket over his lower half and forcing a laugh. “We’ll have to watch Michelle Pfeiffer dance around another time.”

“Is that what got you all worked up?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything…nothing wrong with a celebrity crush. Everyone, um, everyone has one,” you finish lamely.

Eddie clears his throat. “Who’s yours?”

“My celebrity crush?”

“Mhm.”

Now it’s your turn to feel a wave of embarrassment crash over you. And maybe it’s because you’re still kind of tired, and maybe it’s because he really was moaning your name in his sleep, but you say, “Just this local rockstar. You might have heard of him; he’s the lead singer and guitarist of a band called Corroded Coffin?” 

Eddie swallows thickly, processing your confession. “You have a crush on me?” There’s no way; this must be another dream. He pinches the inside of his arm and feels a small sting of pain. No, this is real. 

You nod. “Is…is that okay?” You look up at him through wide, wondering eyes.

“Fuck yeah, it’s okay. More than okay. I’ve wanted you since…forever, Sweetheart.”

You offer a sly smile as you take away the blanket to straddle his waist. You point to the wet spot on his crotch. “Think you can get it up again? For me?”

“For you? Of course.”

--

[niceboyeds]

alligator tears (e.m.)

pairing: Eddie Munson x reader with an appearance from Uncle Wayne

warnings: alludes to panic attack, talks of past abuse, mentions blood, comforting!Eddie, comforting!Wayne, sorry if i forgot anything but let me know and i’ll add it

word count: 1.1K

Eds taglist:

@neewtmas

nav

——————

“what was that?!” you hear a yell from the other room. footsteps coming toward you, almost seeming louder than normal.

the vase you accidentally knocked over shattered onto the floor, glass covering the kitchen. you feel yourself shaking and your breathing becomes staggered as you sit on your knees and begin picking up the glass. trying to hurry and get it cleaned up before he can get into the kitchen, but it’s no use. it’s such a mess and he’s already rounding the corner.

“what happened??” he runs inside, looking around and sees you on the ground looking incredibly frightened.

you feel yourself reverting back to the same defense mechanism you used growing up. curling yourself tight into a ball in the nearest corner. tucking your head under your arms, trying to protect your face.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry!! i-it was an accident! please don’t hit me!!” you plead, begging him not to hurt you.

you haven't felt this way in so long, you thought you had worked past it. but your newly found fight-or-flight technique has returned into your childhood “be small and weak, maybe he’ll skip you this time” method.

“hit you?! baby what are you talking about?” you hear the words leave his mouth, the voice familiar. you know it’s not your father, but the rest of your body can't seem to figure it out.

“i’m so sorry.” tears are staining your face as you sit there, sobbing into your knees.

“baby,” he reaches out to you, causing you to flinch and try to scoot yourself further into the lower cabinet doors. “you’re bleeding. let me help, please…”

you peak through your arms, seeing a face who has never once laid a hand on you aggressively or out of anger. “Eddie?” you sniffle out. “i’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just barely bumped it and it fell. I c-couldn’t catch it and—”

“honey, I don’t care about the vase.” you stare at him, confused as to why he’s not mad at you. you broke his vase and he should be upset.

“I-I’ll get you a new one, I promise.”

“I don’t care about the vase.” he repeats, as if he’s trying to drill it into your head. “I care that you’re more upset about the cheap vase than you are about the cuts on your hands.”

“oh. oh my god...” you look down at your hands, seeing them covered in blood. you hadn’t noticed the cuts along your palms and finger tips, too busy trying to clean before anyone saw.

“can I help you?” he asks softly, reaching his hand out to you again but not quite touching you. he waits for you to nod before holding onto your forearms and helping you stand.

he brings you over to the table, sitting you in a chair before rushing to the bathroom. he returns shortly after with a first aid kit.

you sit quietly, letting him clean your cuts and watching as he removes a couple slivers of glass.

“do… do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, holding a hand against your cheek gently and rubbing his thumb back and forth to soothe you.

“not really.” you answer honestly, and he respects your decision. he knows of your past, you’ve told him bits and pieces, but he hasn’t experienced the PTSD you had mentioned firsthand. until now.

“okay, I understand. whenever you want to, i’m here.”

“i’m—”

“you better not be trying to apologize again.” your silence is all he needs to know he was correct. “you never deserve to be punished, whether things happen accidentally or not. you are allowed to feel safe and comfortable without a second thought. I will never lay a hand on you like that, ever.”

“thank you.” you whisper, shedding a few tears at his gentle words. you open your mouth to say something else but the trailer door opening startles you, making you jump at first but the face who walks inside immediately calms you.

Uncle Wayne walks into his home, surely exhausted from a long night at work, huffing about something until he sees the mess you’ve made.

“wha… what happened?” your bottom lip starts to quiver again, more tears running down your face as he speaks.

“I’m gonna clean it, I’m so sorry!” you rush out, trying not to upset him.

you know he’s tired, he usually showers and goes to bed immediately after getting home. and now you fear he’ll be mad that he can’t go about his regular schedule.

“what’s with the alligator tears? accidents happen, kid.” he walks over to scope out the mess still wearing his work boots and he shoves a bit of the broken glass with his foot.

“s’alright, easy cleanup.” he nods his head a couple times, like he’s agreeing with his own words, before reaching into the closet where the broom is kept.

“please, I’ll—”

“shush, I got it.” his voice is firm, you know he won’t budge on his choice, which leaves you to continue sitting in the dining chair while Eddie finishes tending to your cuts.

“did my boy tell you about the mug avalanche he made?” Wayne speaks up again, scooping the glass into the dustpan. he looks over at the two of you and sees you shake your head no, informing him to continue.

“Eddie was maybe 12?” he starts, trying to remember the age but brushes it off quickly. “anyways, he couldn’t reach the shelf that used to hold all the mugs, so he climbed up onto the counter. but he pulled himself up using the cabinet, whole thing came crashing down ‘n made a mess all over the place. found him cryin’ and—" he explains the story, Eddie is quick to join in.

“I wouldn’t say I was cry—”

“hush boy, it’s my story.” Eddie clamps his mouth shut and allows Wayne to finish. “I told him accidents happen. there’s no consequence for being human and making a little mistake.”

“s-so you’re not mad?” you sniffle, tears dried up and your chest calming.

“not at all.” he insists, pouring the last bit of broken glass into the trashcan.

“see baby, it’s okay. a little vase is not important.” Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly as you begin to feel safe and at ease.

“okay. thank you.”

“no need for thanks. family cares for family, and you’re part of ours now. no more alligator tears, ‘kay kiddo? they really pull at my heart strings.”

it all seems to click right there, in this moment you know they’re all you need to feel safe and loved. he’s right, they are your family. a chosen family, which seems so much more special.

[rainbow-nerdss]

you were my town

Written for @augustwritingchallenge day 10: Exiled Buddie, 1.3k AO3 link (Part 2)

Eddie first kissed Buck on a Wednesday evening in June, and everything clicked into place. There in Eddie’s house, on his couch, with the sounds of Chris’s video game echoing from his room down the hall, Buck knew nothing would ever be the same.

He was terrified, but he was so, so happy.

Eddie kissed Buck, and when they pulled apart, Buck saw the nerves in his expression. 

“Buck, I—”

“Me too, Eddie.” Buck cupped his face, tracing a finger over Eddie’s jaw, watching his eyes flutter closed. “Fuck, me too.”

Buck wanted to tell everyone.

Eddie… didn't.

He wasn’t ready to come out, he was still processing it, and Buck understood. It was difficult to keep something so huge, something that made him so happy from his family, from Maddie, but he understood, and he’d wait as long as Eddie needed.

He was over the moon, going out with Eddie whenever they could manage it, staying over when Chris went to sleepovers, sneaking kisses in the bunk room between calls, falling deeper and further in love with each passing day.

Buck was happy. They’d tell people eventually, but for now the thrill of keeping it a secret, the sneaking around, the furtive glances when nobody was watching, it was all he needed or wanted. 

Just Eddie. Just them.

Buck could see that Eddie felt bad about it, though. When Maddie asked whether Buck was seeing someone, mentioning how happy he seemed, Eddie averted his eyes with a frown. In Bobby’s backyard, when everyone split into couples and the two of them stand a careful distance apart, Buck incapable of tearing his eyes away from Eddie, he saw the frown lines on his face. 

Finally, the guilt got the better of him. The shame, the fear, the hurt.

"I can't keep doing this to you, Buck,” he said. “I think… I think we need to go back to how things used to be. I can’t make you lie to them for my sake."

Buck couldn’t believe his ears. His heart wanted to break, but he fought it. “Go back? Eddie, no. I don’t want that. I’m happy, aren’t you? I thought we were happy.” 

Eddie wouldn’t even look him in the eye as he shook his head. “You should have someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved, Buck.”

His voice broke on Buck’s name, and Buck lost hold of the pieces of his heart, feeling them shatter.

"Eddie, I can't just… Please, Eds. I love you." Tears pricked at his eyes.

"I love you too,” Eddie said, and Buck knew that already. He knew without a single doubt, and somehow that made it hurt so much worse. “I love you so much, but I just… I can't do this anymore."

Buck wanted to break down, wanted to curl up in a ball and sob, wanted Eddie to comfort him, but… he couldn’t. Instead, he turned the sadness to anger, grit his teeth and lashed out with his words.

“So, what?” he spat. “You just want me to forget these past few months? Forget everything we’ve done, how it felt to have you, forget how much I love you and just go back to being friends?”

Eddie said nothing. He stared at a spot on the floor in between them, and he said nothing.

And finally, Buck just stood and walked away.

Work was impossible. Being around his family, suffering this heartbreak while pretending nothing had happened, when the only person who knew why he was upset was the one who caused it, it was too much.

He couldn’t do this.

Buck requested some time off from Bobby — he hadn’t used any of his vacation time in  years, and Bobby was happy to allow it, asking where he was planning to go.

“Just… traveling,” Buck said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the city.” 

He didn’t think Bobby bought it, but he didn’t have the energy to think of a better excuse.

Eddie frowned when Buck told him, like he hadn’t seen it coming. 

They hadn’t looked each other in the eye since that day. They pretended at work, though every call where they worked side by side felt like a blade through Buck’s chest. Eddie knew Buck better than anyone else. Surely he knew what this was doing to him?

"What about Christopher?" Eddie asked.

Buck looked up then, meeting Eddie’s eyes and refusing to look away. "I'm not leaving him. I’ll call him." 

Eddie winced. It was clear what Buck meant, the emphasis on him. Because Buck might not have been leaving Chris, but he was leaving Eddie.

He took Chris out for the day before he left, just the two of them. They went to the zoo, and Buck broke the news as they sat down, eating ice cream by the sea lion enclosure

“I’m gonna be out of town for a couple of weeks, okay buddy? I’ll call, and I promise I’ll be back, I just… I’ll be back.”

"What about dad?” Chris asked. “He's been really sad lately, he needs you here."

They hadn't told Chris that they’d been together, not in so many words. They were taking things slow, making sure it would last before they said anything.

Buck was grateful for that much, at least. Glad that Chris wasn’t suffering along with them.

"I need him too, bud,” Buck admitted, and even just saying those words, his voice shook, threatening another round of crying. “It's just… it's complicated. I need some time apart, and so does he."

Chris had his own phone now, so Buck could stay in touch without going through Eddie. No matter what happened, he knew Eddie wouldn't deny him that.

Maddie was worried about him, and Buck couldn’t blame her. She remembered the last time he ran, after all. The last time she ran. He assured her he'd be okay, that it wasn’t like before. He had a home to come back to now. 

“What happened to you, Buck? You were so happy, and now—” her lips curled downwards, clearly on the verge of tears, which almost set Buck off, too. “You know you can tell me, whatever it is.”

Buck shook his head. “I can’t, it’s… It’s not mine to tell, Maddie. I’ll be okay. I just… I need a little time, that’s all.”

He talked to her on the phone most days, telling her about the places he saw, and listening to her talk about everyone at home. 

She didn't mention Eddie. 

Buck didn't know if that was because she knew, or if she just didn't want Buck to feel bad that Eddie wasn't doing well.

Because he wasn’t okay. He couldn’t be. Buck would know that even if nobody told him, because he knew what Eddie must be feeling. 

Because it couldn’t be all that far from what Buck was feeling.

He called Chris daily, and always carefully steered clear of asking after Eddie. 

Bobby called once a week, just to catch up.

Everyone else, well… Buck sent out updates every once in a while. He responded when they reached out, but that was about it. 

He didn't stay anywhere for too long at first. A week in Portland, then a few days in Seattle before heading east, catching a flight to Chicago, where he stayed for just a single night. 

It all felt empty.

He steered clear of cities after that, nowhere feeling right. He knew it was futile, that he wouldn't feel comfortable anywhere but at home. Not just L.A., but Eddie's house. 

Buck had been about to give up his lease, he’d been trying to figure out the right fucking words to ask Eddie if he could move in.

And now he was on his own.

He rented a little cabin on the edge of the woods, just a short drive from the shore of lake Michigan. It was nice.

He had a neighbor, an old guy called Henry who lived about a half mile down the road, but other than that, other than his phone calls, it was just Buck. 

Henry stopped by when he saw Buck had moved in, and invited him fishing. Buck was shit at it, but the company was welcome. 

It wasn’t the sea, but it was close enough.

It wasn’t home, but it was… 

Well, it wasn’t home.

[eternal-armin]

safe in the deep cliffs.

after acting weird all day, eddie confronts you about what's going on. reader: masculine. cw: running away, mentions of abusive parents, mentions of beatings alluding to homophobia, briefest mention of s.i.

"eddie, what are you doing?!" the moment you stepped out of the car, the rain drenched you, but you didn't mind. it flickered gold in front of the headlights, which simultaneously illuminated him.

"oh, i dunno, [y/n], i think that's better aimed toward you! why are you trying to leave hawkins?! it's barely three in the morning!" a hood was the only thing eddie wore to protect from the pouring rain. and beyond it all, you could still see his gaze. on the border of angry and shocked, but moreso, curious. why now? why today? just... why, in general?

"i-it's—it's nothing, eddie, okay? just go back home. i'll be fine."

"no, nuh-uh, i am not fucking leaving until i know what's going on! you wouldn't be driving out of hawkins just willy-nilly, i know you, [y/n]! tell me what the hell is going on!" eddie approached you, but in no menacing way. he was a concerned friend. "you act weird all day, you don't talk to anyone, you don't even fucking look at anyone, you don't eat, and now you're just... disappearing yourself? is that what this is?!"

your mouth opened, you tried to speak, and yet no words left your lips. all day, you'd purposely distanced yourself from your family, from your friends, and from eddie, because maybe it would hurt you less. hurt them less. it was already a decision that tore you apart. you didn't want anyone else to feel that, too.

eddie managed to see, beyond the pouring rain which flickered with light, the tears that welled up in your eyes.

"hey, hey, hey, you don't need to cry. you don't—i'm sorry for yelling at you, just please, please don't cry." eddie stumbled over his words, hands cupping your cheeks with such care that you felt like a porcelain doll. his thumbs brushed away the tears, brushed away the rain.

you managed a smile despite your trembling lips, but it disappeared quickly, your expression contorting as you tried your best not to cry.

you couldn't stay in hawkins anymore.

you couldn't stay with your family anymore.

you couldn't deal with the dickheads in this small town anymore.

"i-i'm sorry, eds."

"wha—" he exhaled quickly. "what are you sorry for? what are you doing? please just tell me." his voice trembled. the ache in your chest grew so much worse just from hearing that. the normally expressive and hyper eddie now stood in front of you with only concern in his eyes. concern for someone like you.

you couldn't keep lying to him like this. you knew damn well that he deserved better, and you knew he was thinking of something a little more, uhm, permanent, than running away.

"i can't stay here anymore, eddie." your voice was quiet and each word was laborious to say. to say and not break down into sobs, at least. this was the closest you had ever gotten to telling anyone about your plans. you didn't like it.

maybe you just didn't like the fact that it was him.

"w-wh—what do you mean. i mean, yeah, this place is fucked up, i know, but—why is running away your go-to answer? you can't seriously just... leave everyone behind, right? right?" he kept his voice measured as well, and you could almost feel how choked up he was getting.

"of course running away isn't my go-to answer, eddie, but i don't have any other choice!" your voice broke through many of the words you spoke, your throat hoarse from keeping in so many cries. "i'm sick of being beaten up by those dickheads whenever i go to school! i'm sick of my parents doing the same thing! i-i can't keep living like this, eddie, this is the only choice i have left before i..." your voice lost its momentum, trailing off back into the scared and quiet self you knew oh-so well. "...before i do something stupid. i-it's the best option i have. no one will miss me."

"that's a lie, [y/n]. that's a lie and you know it. there are many people who would miss you. me included! in fact, i may be at the very top of that list! you mean the entire goddamn world to me, i-i—i wouldn't be able to live without you!" eddie did not beg. but his eyes did.

it absolutely tortured you.

and thus, you found yourself unable to look at him, unable to raise your eyes above the top of his shirt. you were supposed to be tough, you were supposed to be strong, but here you were. whimpering and crying like a wounded puppy because you were too weak to deal with the cards you were dealt.

at the same time, though, you knew this was the strongest you had ever been.

"if you're leaving, bring me with you. at least. you'll do better with someone with you, it'll—... who the fuck am i kidding, i just want to be with you. i want to go with you. i want to protect you. please, [y/n], let me come with you." he squeezed your shoulders.

"what about your friends? what about your band—what about hellfire? none of them will be the same without you."

"yeah, it's the same story for you, rockstar! it'll be hard to live without them but it would be impossible to live without you! i would not be able to live if i didn't have you by my side, alright?!" he cleared his throat, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. "s-sorry. sorry. that was, uh... that was loud."

all of a sudden you were so close to the one person you dreamed of. the decision was difficult to begin with and made so much harder simply because you were so close to eddie. you didn't want to just be friends with him. but that also fueled the abuse from your parents and the 'people' at hawkins high. neither of you could live without the other. it had been that way since you were a freshman; and for four years, you were practically joined at the hip.

why should he have to stay in this shithole while you go? what kind of person would you be if you left him here? you knew damn well that you would shatter in the first week without him. and by the desperation in his voice, it would be the same the other way around.

finally you had the strength to look him in the eye. "you would rather disappear with me than live in your hometown with your friends and family?"

"[y/n], i would give up any number of things to be with you." seeing eddie so deadly serious, and so absolutely close, surely he knew that he would melt your resolve. it was cotton candy in water. you stood no chance.

"...okay. o-okay." you nodded slightly. as much as you tried to think you were independent, you knew that life would be hollow and empty without someone to walk with you down the path.

never before had you seen such a grand look of relief on eddie's face. and he didn't think before smashing his lips onto yours. your surprise barely lasted a second before you kissed him back, hands resting on top of his. and, despite the depressing circumstances from which it came, finally being kissed by eddie was still just as much a dream come true. his strong hands about your cheeks, his soft lips pressed lovingly against yours. you didn't feel the rain anymore, nor the drenched clothes you were wearing.

it was just you and eddie. the world could wait.

"if you want to pick up your guitar, we can stop at your trailer. and... you can get some new clothes," you suggested. you and eddie were huddled in your car, warming up, holding the other's hand.

"don't you want to get out of here as soon as possible?"

"of course i do. but you treasure the thing. and i'd be lying if i said i, uhm, didn't want to listen to you play once we leave." even though you'd both shown your feelings to each other, you found yourself being a bit bashful. it was still absolutely adorable to eddie.

he grinned slightly. "well, i'd be happy to play for you. i can probably snag some dry clothes for you, too. we can both start out this shit not sticky and soaked from rain."

a smile twitched at the corners of your lips. there was no way you could ever live without him. "thank you, eddie. a-and i don't just mean for getting me dry clothes. there's a lot i haven't said thank you for." your hoarse throat led you to be quiet, and somehow that made your emotions clearer.

eddie let go of your hand, placing a finger beneath your chin and tilting your head toward him. such a small gesture gave you butterflies.

"you don't have to thank me for a damn thing, pretty boy."

[arttrampbelle]

I feel nrs shits on raiden because ed has a problem with the character personally.

Why? I honestly have no fucking clue.

Raiden isn't that hard to understand so im not understanding the big deal.

We can have him go dark but not liu? Oh yes because he's the special one. I forgot. 🙄😒😑

Everyone else can get at least something that makes them feel believable,even likable and flawed.

Oh but heaven forbid liu kang fucks up.

See this is why hc liu is better. Non god liu kang is better.

But back to raiden.

Why is it. Why is it. Whenever raiden makes a reasonable mistake,that anyone can make.You guys take it so hard?

And villainize him.

But if liu makes a mistake its the end of the world but never do the same. Like all is forgiven and forgotten. Emphasis on the forgotten part. 🙄

If any other characters do reasonably fucked up shit. And have decent character flaws. You guys dont bat an eye.

But raidne does it. Suddenly you shit on him.

He cant win no matter what he does,how you write him. Im starting to think you guys hate raiden because you have unresolved daddy issues,authority issues,or you hate to admit that a godly powerful being cant wipe you ass all the time and you *sarcastic shock!* might actually have to solve the problems yourselves?! Wow what a concept.

Like srsly tho. Raiden isn't infallible. But he isn't a fucking chump loser can't get shit done.

He could get shit done but he has a code of honor,rules he has to follow by(that he hates),he has so much on his plate. And honestly you guys never appreciated his character.

Like out of pure spite. Im gonna do raiden self indulgent stuff today. Just to spite people.

Legit half the crap we got in 12. We could have gotten with raiden if you guys at nrs bothered to fucking write him properly. Instead of being lazy selfish pricks with a bias and favoritism towards other characters. *couch liu kang cough* (like i love liu but not written like that,never like that. God liu? Gross. Humble monk warrior liu? Yes)

Because liu kang playing "savior and creator of everything" is disturbing,disgusting,and disrespectful.

Like srsly they are legit telling THE SAME FUCKING STORY AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN. SAME AS 11. SAME SHIT. oh but because its uwu brand liu kang. And not the real liu kang. Suddenly its ok?! No!

Legit mk12....os the same fucking thing. Just liu kang brand.

It's no exciting. Its not new. You guys are lying to yourselves.

We could have had any fucking god charactera in mk do the same shit. And get the same result.

You guys could have had this with raiden. But noooooooo. You wanna shit on a character for shock value and no reason. Gtfoh.

You could have actually done something worth a damn but nope. You only care about gimmicks and whatever carries your attention spans for five secs for a quick fix of serotonin because you can't fucking get thru your heads you are being manipulated by a fucking company that lost passion years ago.

But that's besides the point.

So yeah. Raiden.

I'm so sorry they never gave you the love they should have.

Tobias should sue for your trauma. (Half joking here people. Tobias was the one who created and came up with the idea for raiden in the first place. And layed many foundations for this game but is half heartedly given credit while boon steals (no pun intended) his thunder)

Raiden i am so sorry for your mistreatment.

*hugs him*

Srsly if you call yourself a mortal kombat fan. And you genuinely hate raiden Do us all a favor and throw yourself in the dumpster fire. Plz. Also block tf outta me.

Look as a shang tsung tsimp. I love many many other characters too. But raiden is a comfort character,tho i self ship with him too he is comfort character. So i won't tolerate slander and disrespect.

Anyways. Raiden....my thunderdilf.....you deserve sm better.

I hope real raiden fans understand this. And make more PROPER kontent for you. Unlike nrs. We will treat you right.

[brigdh]

My first impressions, without looking at anyone else's reactions:

Episode Four:

Stede: “It was an accident" Roach: “That’s what they all say” Wow, they really went there with the domestic violence metaphor, huh.

“You are no mermaid”. I love it. Also, once everything is good again, Ed really deserves some mermaid roleplay. Weirdo.

OMG MORE STABBING AS PENETRATION METAPHOR. The lesbians flicking the knife as it sticks out of a shoulder! The sounds! Ed and Stede's faces as they watch! INCREDIBLE.

Ed going to hide under a blanket whenever he feels bad is clearly a Thing for him.

I feel like the failure of Anne and Mary retirement is kind of a commentary on potential Ed/Stede retirement plans.

Awww, no lesbian kiss. :((( I am here for burning down your house as an act of devotion, though.

Izzy crying and saying ‘cocksuckers’ when they give him the unicorn leg <3<3<3 And Izzy discovering what he is: a unicorn!!

Ed running off into the forest with Stede is SO CUTE.

Episode Five:

LOVE Lucius calling out Ed’s “apology” for, you know, not actually containing an apology.

Lucius got to push Ed off the ship! :DD So much fanfiction come to life.

Stede’s “Hello there” when he sees the pretty red jacket! I AM DYING I LOVE HIM The swishiness through every scene where he's wearing it! My frilly clotheshorse. <3

JIM HAS TWO HANDS! I know the shot of them, Olu, and Archie wearing garlic was in the trailer, but I hadn't realized Jim was holding hands with both of them! I LOVE IT.

I like that they're apparently conducting (somewhat) competent raids now! I need art about Stede and Olu fighting back to back immediately please.

Lucius/Pete matelotage! Yessss! We all called it, but still! So excellent! So sweet the actual proposal!

Not gonna lie, I had hoped for more drama for the first Ed/Stede kiss of this season. But this was very cute! And going slow is honestly probably the healthy choice for them. Ed awkwardly flirting with the callback to 'you wear fine things well' was adorable. And the hand-holding becoming a game to see who's on top (snerk) – these competitive boogers. <3

Overall, I really liked the theme of ‘is change possible’ in both episodes. I felt that worked well with both the sillier metaphors and the serious arc of Ed (and Stede, to a lesser extent) figuring out what he wants and where he went wrong and beginning to, as Hornighost put it, 'do something about it'.

Also, Buttons isn't really gone forever, is he?

[imagine--if]

Bonjour, I've just been reading your Dano first non stop! I was wondering if I can get a Dano

Pairing? If not that's cool

(I've never asked for one of these so please forgive me)

I'm a 16 year old female who's kina into witchcraft, I have a small ( Giant ) obsession with true crime. I'm the jealous / clingy type and I always want attention. I am a slasher fanatic and aspire to be a female Hannibal Lector. Ya know taking out the pigs from the inside. I have a samm friend group and am obsessed with horror games! I am inlove with the Victorian ere and the 1920's

I guess that's really it, thank you for taking the time to read this! Have a wonderful existence B)

(I'm soooo sorry for the delay in answering this! Hope you like your results even if they're a bit late 😅💙)

I match you with…

Edward Nashton!

I mean, this guy works as a forensics accountant, which means it's pretty easy to pick up on people in high places committing crimes and to join the dots with each case. I see him as a person who would watch crime shows whenever they're on too, so seeing how you're into that sort of thing shows that you're intellectual and not corrupt so he can connect with you mentally in a deeper way 🥰️ especially when you've both got a darker side to you.

Then the riddler commits crimes for you 😵

Jealous and clingy? Meet Edward Nashton 😂 he's literally the same, and will happily give you all the attention you need and deserve. You're spoilt rotten by the madman, that's for sure 😍 He's always trailing after you for affirmations and hugs and all, so there's no space to feel jealous; it's not like he's got eyes for anyone else, no one could replace an angel here!!

Ed doesn't get jumpy much when he watches you play horror games - he usually just observes from being pressed up impossibly close to your side and finds it interesting how you choose to defend yourself and solve problems and stuff. It might even inspire him when he's creating his rat traps.

He's definitely the type to pay close attention to the things you say you like, so suddenly you're getting little trinkets that relate to the 1920s and witchy stuff just to see your eyes light up 🥺️

Certified simp here, he's all yours hehe 💜

[twunny20fission]

Current & personal thoughts on self-diagnosis

A while back, I learned more about the idea of "self-diagnosis." I have been hesitant to fully embrace it for myself.

I struggle with articulating why that is. I worry about being a hypochondriac. I don't want to be accused of latching onto a "trendy" diagnosis. (The actual danger of such accusations is phenomenally small, I'd bet. But what if?)

I was surprised to read that (some) workplaces are (kind of) embracing allowances for people with neurodivergence - even in self-diagnosed circumstances. It falls under allowances for disabilities...and I hesitate to diagnose myself with a Disability. Less for the stigma and the othering (I'll come back to that) and mostly because I don't feel like I deserve allowances any more than anyone else.

[Sidebar: what happened to "your neurodivergence is a superpower"? I feel like that messaging disappeared pretty rapidly. I don't feel like I have a superpower or deserve a superpower. If I had one, I wouldn't choose 'i see things that are incorrect everywhere I look and it makes it hard to breathe for most of the day' as a superpower.]

So IF I were to self-diagnose and IF my workplace allowed...allowances, what would that look like? 15 minutes here and there to go sit in a dark & quiet room? Sounds nice, but I know I'd waste that time worrying about the things I'm not getting done. (related: I despise naps. Don't @ me, if we're still @ing.)

Allowances seem to me to be too much like when I was excused in school. I was in "Talented & Gifted" or TAG from 4th grade through the end of High School. It'd be like an hour a week, and we'd go sit with the 3 other Other kids in our grade and do brain games or special projects or some other intellectual waste of time. I thought it was cool, and I thought it gave me special status. But I never saw the point. I always felt the gazes of the other (non-talented, non-gifted) students as I told the teacher I had to go to TAG. I thought they were jealous I got to leave class, in awe of my specialness.

But all it did was Other me.

And the three people that TAG-ed alongside me in 8th-12th grade were, yes very smart. But they were like...normal smart? Social smart? Hygienic smart? Aside from coming to TAG, I never thought of them as misfits in the same way I thought of me and my friends. (I should clarify, I was only kind of friends with one of the other TAG kids in my grade. Of the other two: one I had an awkward crush on for most of HS and she professed to hating me whenever my name came up (as far as I can recall) and the other was literally as far away from me politically as possible (we took an entire period of American Government debating the Flat Tax. I still don't get how he thought it was a good or fair idea. I wish him well in his conservative bubble, wherever that may be these days.)

So. I don't want to be othered anymore. I don't think I need allowances. Getting a professional diagnosis might make me feel...some way. But I don't know that it would help me. I'm going to be miserable and weird and anxious and plot-hole-obsessed and masky and off-putting to most people, regardless of whether or not I have a diagnosis.

[tennessoui]

Please give me the TA scene where Vos takes Obi-Wan to a bar to get drunk and forget about Anakin and pick up some hotties but oh no Anakin is there and Obi-Wan is a little tipsy and doesn’t want to be rude so he goes to say hi. Then for the rest of the night when he tries to go Anakin pulls him back into conversation because he doesn’t want Obi-Wan going home with someone else

yes!!!!!! TIS THE SEASON (halloween)

(2.3k)(the first TA obi-wan snippet!!)

The thing about Quinlan that Obi-Wan hates the most is that his friend is the only person in the entire world that can out-stubborn him. That’s usually not a problem. But sometimes it is. Sometimes it results in Quinlan forcing Obi-Wan into doing something he’d rather not do.

All those people that say peer pressure isn’t really real have never met Quinlan Vos.

Obi-Wan sort of wishes he’d never met Quinlan Vos when the man shows up at his door on Friday evening carrying three different bundles of clothing.

“Because I’m nice, you get to choose what you want to be for Halloween,” Quinlan announces, laying out the options on Obi-Wan’s coffee table.

“Drunk and alone in my apartment,” Obi-Wan says. “That’s an option, right?”

“Just for that, I’m taking Indiana Jones off the table,” Quinlan replies, not sounding sorry about it at all. “I’ll be that one. I think I could make the whip look hot as hell.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and peers at the costumes. “Sexy nurse or sexy….Red Riding Hood? I’m not wearing that. I doubt it would even fit me.”

“Bullshit, you have a very dainty waist, Obi. But hurry up and choose because we’re going to be late.”

“We’re going tonight?” Obi-Wan splutters. “It’s not even Halloween!”

“It’s the Halloweekend, Obi-Wan. It’s like you’ve forgotten all of our sophomore year.”

Obi-Wan’s tried to block most of it out, that’s true. The parts he remembers, at least. “I think we’re a bit too old for Halloweekend, Quin,” he protests, staring down at the costumes. “And I--”

“Have been obsessing over this so-called hottest professor in existence, yes, I know.” Quinlan holds up his hand when Obi-Wan starts to disagree. “No, you know I’m right. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ve never heard you casually talk about someone so much and I’ve been there for all of your co-ed crushes. So what we’re going to do tonight is go and get your hot professor fucked out of your head, and the best way to do that is either sexy nurse or sexy Red Riding Hood. So.”

“I do not want this,” Obi-Wan reiterates slowly. “I very much am not aboard this plan.”

“Don’t make me invoke the BFFFOC, Obi,” Quinlan threatens.

The BFFFOC, or Best Friend Forever Failsafe Override Code, was thought up between them one night their first year of college. If ever one of them was going down a path that the other deemed unwise, they had the right to invoke the override and talk some sense into them.

“I don’t think me not wanting to dress in a slutty and offensive nurse outfit counts,” Obi-Wan protests loudly.

“It’s not about the costume, Obi, and you know it. It’s about this professor. You know you need to get over him. So get under someone else. I’d offer, but that would be in complete violating of--”

“BFFNBTBT,” Obi-Wan finishes with him, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I recall.”

That one, Best Friends Forever No Below The Belt Touching had been resurrected after a very unfortunate one night stand. The grounds for that code are some of the ones Obi-Wan is still trying to forget.

“Fine,” he snaps and hates himself for it. One day he’ll learn how to say no to Quinlan. “But I’m going with Red Riding Hood.”

“I thought you would!” his friend cheers. “The cape’s long enough to cover more of your upper thighs and you’re a bit of a prude.”

Obi-Wan snatches up the packaged costume from the table. “Fuck off,” he says, quite pleasantly in his opinion. “And I’m not paying you back for this.”

“You should shave,” Quinlan tells him as he turns towards his bedroom. “Really commit to the role!”

Perhaps tonight Obi-Wan will strangle Quinlan with his own length of Indiana Jones whip. The thought puts a smile on his face.

In the end, Obi-Wan does end up shaving. It’s not something he does often, but he’d looked at the costume. The dress doesn’t even come down to his fingertips. The hooded red cape somehow just a little bit longer.

And he thinks making Quinlan wait for thirty minutes while Obi-Wan gets ready is the very least of what he deserves.

Dragging out the process, however, doesn’t magically give Quinlan enough time to realize how stupid this is, because when Obi-Wan peers around the edge of his door, Quin’s on the couch in full Indiana Jones costume regalia, flicking through his phone.

“I look like a pervert’s idea about what Swedish barmaids looked like in the 18th century,” Obi-Wan complains, trying to flatten the hem of the flared out dress as he regretfully leaves the safety of his bedroom.

“That’s what the hood’s for,” Quinlan says sagely, looking up from his phone to take in Obi-Wan. “What, no makeup?”

“I need you to know that my biggest regret in my entire life will always be that I sat next to you on our first day of chem,” Obi-Wan tells him placidly, adjusting the cape around his bare shoulders. He hates to admit it, but the feeling of the inner fabric of the hood feels good against his skin. Soft.

“Oh, don’t say that, Obi, I’m sorry. You’re pretty without makeup.”

“I’m about to throw a punch,” he warns.

Quinlan grins and slings an arm around him. “Well then, looks like it’s time to go.”

----

They slide into two seats at the very crowded bar only thirty or so minutes later. Everyone around them is wearing some sort of costume, some so wild or revealing that Obi-Wan doesn’t even necessarily feel bad about the amount of skin he’s showing off.

Someone walks by in a golden speedo and Obi-Wan takes a gulp of his drink. At least this place does some heavy pours.

Quinlan leans into his ear. “See anyone?” he yells of the din of loud music and voices.

“I see a lot of people,” Obi-Wan reports back immediately.

“One more tongue-in-cheek response out of you, and I’ll make you do tequila shots, young man!”

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes, but then a girl in a french maid costume smiles at him flirtily from across the bar. His first thought is that he likes Professor Skywalker’s smile a lot better. Then he wonders about what Professor Skywalker’s doing tonight, if he likes Halloween. If he’s dressed up. If he’s alone.

“I would like two tequila shots,” he tells the bartender when she passes them.

“Obi-Wan, you shouldn’t have!” Quinlan tosses his arm around his shoulder and pulls him in for an awkward, but enthusiastic hug when the shots arrive.

“They’re both for me,” he responds. “You can choke.”

“You wound me so precisely,” Quinlan shakes his head, and flags down a bartender to order his own. Obi-Wan decides to ignore him, licking at the back of his hand quickly before sprinkling the salt onto the damp skin.

The first shot goes down easily, but he doesn’t even wait ten seconds before he’s brought his hand back to his mouth for another lick.

Halfway through, he looks up at the feeling of eyes staring at him. He follows his own instincts until his eyes latch onto bright, familiar blue ones across the way.

If he’d taken the shot, he would have choked in this moment when confronted with Anakin Skywalker, out of the lecture hall and looking so intensely at Obi-Wan that he feels strangely vulnerable. Examined.

He breaks eye contact with his professor when Quinlan’s arm tightens on his shoulder and he knocks their shot glasses together.

It’s second nature at this point to do shots with Quin, and he drinks his down automatically as his eyes can’t help but to dart back to Anakin--Professor Skywalker--at his table.

He’s sitting alone. Not even that dressed up. Obi-Wan has no feelings about this.

Quinlan, who is frighteningly observant at the worst times, clues into Professor Skywalker’s presence before he thinks he should, after only ten or so minutes have passed. “That guy is staring at you,” he whispers very loudly to Obi-Wan, taking a pointed sip of his newest drink. “Or maybe me, but he sorta looks angry whenever I touch you.”

As if to prove this, Quinlan moves in to place a sloppy kiss on Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan can’t shove him off quickly enough.

“Yep, definitely looking at you.” Quinlan concludes. “Looks blond, older than us, but like. Not ancient. What are you thinking? Wanna go over? I think you should, he looks like he’d give you a good time.”

Obi-Wan stares down at his drink. Quinlan doesn’t know what Professor Skywalker looks like. He doesn’t know that he’s actually cajoling Obi-Wan into the arms of the one person he’s set against him seeing. If Obi-Wan were a better friend, he’d tell him. But Obi-Wan isn’t. Obi-Wan’s feeling a little tipsy from the drinks, and his legs are all smooth, and he wants to talk to Professor Skywalker. He wants to see if maybe the man could want him if he’s wearing this. If he looks like this.

“I’m gonna go over and talk to him,” he decides in a rush, already lifting himself out of his seat. Quinlan crows in delight and reaches out to steady him when he stumbles a bit.

Water next, Obi-Wan thinks. He’s going to have water next.

It’s a short trip across the room to where Professor Skywalker is sitting. It just feels longer because of nerves. God, what is he doing? Why is he doing this?

But suddenly he’s at Anakin’s table. Suddenly he’s standing right in front of him, drink clutched in both hands, very aware of how much skin his outfit is showing off.

Anakin’s eyes dart down and the back up again before lingering at the exposed skin of his thighs. If it were anyone else, Obi-Wan would think he’s being checked out, but it’s his professor. And no matter how much Obi-Wan may want Anakin’s eyes to stick on him like a brand, he knows the older man would never want that same thing.

“Professor Skywalker, hello,” he finally says, fiddling with the straw in his drink. A few seconds later, he takes a sip, conscious of the way the man follows this motion. If it were anyone else--

But it’s not.

“Obi-Wan, I’ve told you to call me Anakin,” the professor scolds. “Especially outside of the classroom.”

“Sorry,” he says immediately. “Um. Anakin.”

Anakin’s arm drapes itself over the back of his booth as he sits more comfortably in his chair. “Please, sit.”

“I don’t want to intrude or anything, I just saw you and thought I would say--”

“Obi-Wan, sit,” this is a much clearer instruction. Obi-Wan drops into the other chair. Anakin looks him over again. “I have to admit, I didn’t have you pegged for being into this holiday,” he says roughly. “Or so committed to it.”

Obi-Wan thinks he’s probably blushing as red as his hood. “No, I um. You’re right. My friend, I--he wanted me to come out with him, and he only got me two costumes--I wouldn’t, but he--”

“Indiana Jones?” Anakin cuts in to ask sharply. “Sounds like a bit of a controlling boyfriend if he made you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

There’s an air of protectiveness in Anakin’s voice that makes Obi-Wan feel warm on the inside. Even though the professor couldn’t have been more wrong.

“No, no,” he corrects him anyway, even though a part of him is yelling that Anakin really doesn’t care that much about the details of his personal life. “We’re just friends. And I….”

He trails off, and Anakin arches one of his thick eyebrows in expectancy.

It may be that expression, the knowledge that Obi-Wan could give Anakin the answer he’s looking for, or the drinks in his system, but he finds himself continuing, admitting quite quietly, “I like it.”

Anakin straightens in his seat and takes a long pull of his own drink. “You like it,” he repeats. “Am I to assume you’re just a fan of the fairytale?”

Obi-Wan bites at his lip. He knows he shouldn’t say anything more, but....but they’re so far from the lecture hall here. It’s hard to remember why they shouldn’t talk about this. It’s hard not to let his mind wander to what he would say if the person he was talking to was not his professor, but a man he was interested in spending the night with, someone he was trying to seduce.

He shakes his head shyly.

“I like the hood,” he admits, because once he’s thought of it it’s incredibly difficult not to say it. He hardly even tries, if he’s being honest. “The cape is just long enough I can feel it on my thighs. And I like the skirt and--” he hesitates here, but it’s not called liquid courage for nothing. “The lingerie it came with.”

Anakin freezes with his drink halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he sets it back onto the table again and studies Obi-Wan with darkened eyes. His expression is unreadable and it makes Obi-Wan squirm in his seat.

“Fuck,” Anakin breathes out, the word almost lost to the roar of noise in the bar.

Obi-Wan fidgets in his seat. “Actually, sir,” he says suddenly. “I’m sorry, I should go, I only meant to say hello--”

“You should stay,” the professor interrupts, leaning forward and placing his hand on Obi-Wan’s forearm. The touch is electrifying. “For a drink.”

“Just a drink,” Obi-Wan agrees probably too quickly, a part of him responding to Anakin’s pleading expression perhaps more than it should. “My, what big eyes you have,” he jokes in regards to his professor’s begging look.

“The better to see you with,” Anakin replies immediately. For a second, his hand on Obi-Wan’s arm doesn’t move. Then his thumb strokes over the smooth skin there before he pulls back. “My dear.”

[justasimplesinner]

This one is based on my current situation. Origins Eddie is interested in a coworker (most likely in the same department as him) but is too shy to say anything so they're just friends. However, his crush starts getting unwanted advances from another coworker. Nothing extreme but definitely bothersome and a little stressful for this crush. So how would Origins Eddie react? (Hopefully he finally admits his feelings lol)

currently on riddler brainrot and im sorry in advance for anyone subjected to all the bullshit im about to post today

Arkham Origins!Eddie being a massive simp hcs:

there wasn't many people in the GCPD that he truly got along with, even in his own department (although those guys were certainly more used to him and less phased by anything he said). when you came along to work there, it wasn't love at first sight, he didn't immediately take a liking to you, and the feeling was certainly mutual. he's kind of a dick. can be hella obnoxious and self-centered and if you'd just let him, he'd probably go on some egomaniac tangent, although he's not as far gone as he is in the later games so you can still kind of talk to him

i wouldn't say you two wanted to tear each other apart every time you saw one another, but you certainly had a very love/hate relationship at first. it took a long while for him to see you as something more than just a rookie and as much as you hated to admit it, you strived to prove him wrong. not so much as gaining his approval, just kicking his ass because he was being such a pain in yours. thankfully not all your coworkers were dicks, so you got a lot of reassurance whenever he verbally tore you down, but that didn't mean you gave up on proving him wrong

Ed would never admit it out loud, but he admired your determination. actually, there were quite a few things he admired about you. the passion, the drive for work, how you'd stay after hours just to make sure you had everything right, how you seemed to genuinely want to help those people out there. and your sharp tongue, too. especially your sharp tongue. it may have not seem like it, but he absolutely loved bantering with you. you were always so quick with the insults, having a rebuttal to everything he threw your way. and, as opposed to him, the thing with you was that you made sure not to go overboard with what you said and if you did, you weren't above admitting that it was a dick move and apologising

that's what really got you two a little closer in the first place. it was another amazing confrontation that had everyone else in your department on the edge of their seats to see who admits defeat first, when you took it a step too far. and you immediately knew that, right after the words came out of your mouth

"i'm going to fuck your dad and give him a child he actually loves"

silly, right? just a random insult, that's it. he was being a dick, he deserved it. and obviously you didn't truly mean it. but those words stung. hard. you've never seen him shut up so fast. for a second, you swore his face twisted in something akin to agony. just as soon as it appeared, it was gone, and he turned right back to his work. but he was silent. Ed would never willingly let you have the last word in. and yet, for the rest of the day, he was silent

maybe you shouldn't've, but you felt bad. you could see you struck a nerve, prodded at a topic way too sensitive for it all to still be called lighthearted banter. of course, at first, you were too stubborn to really apologize, but all it took was some shameful and regretful thoughts as you were driving home that day and you decided to just suck it up and apologize. fuck your pride, maybe you hated his guts but you didn't want him to hurt. besides, if he gave you the silent treatment like that, who would entertain you when you were bored at work?

you squeezed his coffee order out of one of your coworkers that usually went on the coffee shop trip, even bought him a stupid little peanut-chocolate bar in green wrapping as you arrived at your workplace at the asscrack of dawn like he always did. motherfucker always came in first when it comes to your department, and you wanted to catch him alone, without any prying eyes. when you came in, he didn't even greet you with something like "look who decided to be on time for once" which sucked since you hoped he'd be in a better mood that day

you didn't have a whole speech prepared, which you kind of regretted now that you were face to face with him, alone, and had to apologize truly from the bottom of your heart.

"i'm sorry for what i said yesterday. here. as compensation." quick, simple, and to the point. but that was never the way things go with Edward fucking Nashton. "this is your bargaining chip? you couldn't convince a five year old to sit still for one minute with this shit-" "listen here, you little shit, this is the only green candybar i could find in the store, so shut your green-loving mouth up and let me do my thing, arlight? i don't want to be dramatic right now, but i really am sorry. i didn't mean to actually say anything hurtful or prod at a sore spot or anything. it doesn't change anything right now, but if i had known, i wouldn't've said that. so just accept this very modest but very heartfelt bribe and stop giving me the silent treatment. i got a taste of what's it like yesterday, and i'm not about to endure it today, because your stupid little banter is genuinely the best part of my workday here and i'm not giving it up without a fight."

that seemed to do the trick, because with a few mutters about how crude and utterly untactful you were came the acceptance of you apology, even the admittance that you weren't the only one looking forward to those silly little fights you two indulged in. that was the first step. but, what was shocking to the rest of the department, you two didn't continue in baby steps. you broke off into a run

it escalated quick. with you breaking the ice between you two came the initially-reluctant, eventually-desired friendship. the banters still continued, but Edward wasn't as hard on you when it came to your work as he used to. suddenly, breaks were filled with genuine conversation over hot cups of coffee. Ed wasn't a regular person, talking about your day or the weather simply didn't satisfy him and he found it meaningless. instead, whenever you two talked, he'd breach the most random fucking subjects but you quickly got used to it. you were probably the only one who could put up with him for more than ten minutes (the weeks of insulting each other made you immune to his sarcastic quips) and that didn't bat an eye if he just started rambling about something completely out of nowhere

you became someone he intentionally seeked out, which is a big thing. he often told you otherwise just to fuck with you, but he liked talking to you. you were unphased by how quickly he could jump from one subject to another or for how long he could go on and on about something. you always listened. you offered your input. you were always up for a debate. and fuck yeah sometimes you were stubborn about something you didn't understand, but if he actually proved to you that you were wrong, you'd take the blow and move on. despite being a very persistent and loud-mouthed person, you never insisted on always being right or getting mad at him for knowing something you didn't. if you saw that you really were in the wrong, you accepted it and even inquired about more so you could educate yourself on the subject. sometimes he thought you were so knowledge-hungry because you wanted to be ready for any possible argument that might ensue between you and someone else and needed to be the expert so you could tear a bitch into the ground. and yeah, it was funny, but it was also, in a way, admirable

it was no surprise to anyone when your banter turned more flirtarious. after all, you two were practically attached at the hip at this point. the thing was, you didn't take it seriously. at first, he thought he didn't too, but boy was he wrong

and so, the pining started. all day every day, Edward was consumed by yearning. there was nothing he loved more than the two of you constantly trying to one-up each other and make the other blush and stutter uncontrollably, there was nothing he loved more than hanging out with you both at and outside work, nothing he loved more than just doing simple, menial stuff with you like playing videogames or getting lunch. on one hand he really wanted to tell you all this - you, the only person to ever give him so much positive attention and show him any form of genuine care for his well-being - but on the other... what if you didn't feel the same? i mean, you obviously didn't. you would've said something already, right? you were always so straightforward. did you see that he wanted more? were you just trying to let him down gently or were you oblivious? there was too many thoughts, too many doubts and unfortunately, those were the ones even your presence couldn't help him with

there's nothing worse for a man than to find out he has powerful competition, and Edward is no different in that particular aspect. of course, he's way better and he spends more time with you and you obviously think higher of him than of the other guy, but... do you smile so much around him too? when you two banter, you're always playful, but you never grin the way you grin with the officer that took a liking to you. you never take on that tone with him, the one that's toeing the line between incredibly condescending and abnormally sultry. was he being replaced, was his rightfully earned position as your best friend endangered?

there's a lot of doubts in his head, but also the sick need for rivalry, to destroy his competition. that man was interfering a little bit too much to Ed's liking and he make it a point to show it every time he comes into the Cybercrime department, every time he tags along in the breakroom, every time he gets close to you when Edward's already there. he has half the mind to just rope that motherfucker into some sketchy shit to get him out of his hair

he makes it a point to spend even more time with you to show the other dude who's the better one. you're suspicious but absolutely not complaining about all the sudden game nights or movie marathons or quick trips to the burger joint. you're not complaining about the way Ed trails behind you like a puppy everywhere you go and the way he has deep conversations with you more and more. you feel like what you two have is finally progressing, and your heart flutters every time you wake up at his place, your head on his shoulder or his in your lap after watching gameshow reruns all night. you feel your stomach absolutely exploding in butterflies at every domestic little thing happening between you two, even as simple as cooking breakfast or going out for a smoke

but there's tension rising between you two, something just waiting to be snapped. it's clear to everyone but you what's going on between your two "suitors" and how Ed's constantly on his toes. a few of your coworkers had half the mind to interfere and end this madness but they decided you two better solve all this out on your own

and you did. you did solve it out.

You were at his place again. At this point, you could say you slept over more than you didn't. Hell, you've already had your own drawer and shelf in the shower! It was as much your apartment as it was his. Not that you were complaining, of course. You could really see why some of your more nosey coworkers joked about you two already being married. I mean, c'mon, eating chinese take-out on his old couch, watching the Family Feud marathon up until midnight? It's like the definition of "Married Couple ActivitiesTM".

And this... this really was home for you. This stained couch, his sweatshirt hanging loosely from your frame, his constant talking about how some people were just plain-out stupid because how could they not know that? This is where you felt like you truly belonged. Cliche much, but it was true. It's like everything was in it's rightful spot, your back leaning on his side, your whole form being shaken with his movements as he got a little bit too emotional about a fucking gameshow, his smell surrounding you from every side, his arm wrapped around your collarbone to keep himself grounded. Everything was just right, and you felt happy. Content with how things were. Not quite perfect, but just enough.

Until your phone rang with a new message, disrupting the half-peace around you and startling you half to death. You were so used to having it on silent that when it suddenly beeped and vibrated against your stomach, you almost jumped out of your skin, nearly knocking your leftover food from your lap.

– Fuckin' hell. – you breathed out under your nose, holding up the take-out box to reach into the hoodie's pocket and retrieve the offending object. Ed gave no reaction, really, outside of automatically taking the food from you and putting it on the table, relaxing right back into the couch, his other arm still securely around you. God, why were his hands always so cold? And the bastard made it his mission to put them on your bare skin any chance he got. It was like having an icicle laying against your neck and shoulder.

You took a glance at your notifs to see who was interrupting this fine evening, when you felt a chuckle rippling out of your throat at seeing the contact ID. That man was absolutely insatiable. You're pretty sure he could compete with Edward on who's more persistent.

– And who's got you smiling like an idiot at your phone? – you could practically feel Ed's words crawling up your spine, you felt the vibrations travel through his body into yours. You didn't have to turn your head to know he was looking over your shoulder, this nosey fuck.

– It's just Rhodney. – you felt his muscles tense up, his head getting almost cheek to cheek with you to read the texts. You let him, not like there was anything to hide there.

– And what does he want that's so important he had to interrupt the show? – he muttered with an air of disdain, his breath whipping right past your cheek. You always found it funny how he reacted to anything even slightly related to Rhodney. Their hate for each other was clear, what with how they always seemed to hiss at one another like angry cats.

You leaned back into him a little more, crossing your legs over the armrests and forcing him to relax a little into the couch.

– Apparently a dinner tomorrow at seven. – you snorted, fingers hovering over your keyboard. Maybe if you paid more attention, you would've heard his breath hitch. – He's outdoing himself lately. At first, it was just a coffee date in some nook cafe. I've turned this into a little game - every time he asks me out, I make a ridiculous excuse as to why I can't go to see when will he finally get the hint. – you rambled on, clear amusement seeping into your voice as you spared a glance back at him. His eyes betrayed the little war going on in his head whether he should be disappointed or amused at your antics. You've never seen anyone with eyes so expressive as his. Looking into those baby blues could really make you believe eyes were the window to one's soul.

– Why not just tell him you don't want to so he pisses off? – was what he finally decided on. His voice was weirdly tense, like he was clenching his jaw or having trouble to even get the words out. It was completely out of character for him to have problems to say what's on his mind.

– It's more fun this way. – you decided to let it slide, instead opting to shrug off his inquiry and smirk under your nose as you looked back to your phone – What do you think I should tell him this time? Maybe... 'I need to watch my neighbours pet fish because he has separation anxiety'? – you chuckled, ready to type out your another incredible idea until you felt the arm on your collarbone tighten and his body shift under your back.

Suddenly, there was a hand holding the side of your head firmly.

– Maybe tell him this.

Before you had time to react, you could feel his mouth positively crashing against yours as he leaned over your form to gain better access. You could feel his heavy, trembling exhale hitting your face and his hand clenching in the fabric of the sweatshirt he gave you. But most importantly, you could feel his insistent, slightly chapped lips right against your own.

It took a while to register. Just that second too long to let doubts flood his brains at his impulsive decision, to make his fingers desperately squeeze tighter as he started to lean back, to probably spill his apologies, to drown in his self-loathing in humiliation but then your hands shot out to grab at his sweater and pull him right back in.

Fuck no, you've wanted this way too long for him to jut pull away. You've wanted to run your hands up his chest, to cup his face, to bite his lip and tangle your fingers in his hair, to-

He sat back gasping, having left you just as breathless, staring right into your eyes that still haven't fully gotten rid of the surprise you felt. None of you made a move to really pull back from each other, your fingers still tangled in his now-messy hair, his arms circling you safely, your breaths mingling with each other.

– Yeah, this one will get the point across. – you breathed out, still staring at him in bewilderment, wanting him to say something, anything about whatever the fuck just happened.

What you got instead was a slim but strong hand cupping the side of your neck and jaw, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered, right before frantically diving back in for seconds:

– It better.

[aminiatureworld]

Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

 Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

 Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing  to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

 Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.  

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

[oliviamillss]

reading dreams chart

im only going to use up to orb 3, for stronger accuracy lmao

**if you can’t be bothered to read it all, theres a summary paragraph at the bottom**

sun:

sun in 7th: strong emphasis on relationships. tends to copy others lingo/habits. extroverted. probably ‘needs’ others. only really shows his true self around his close friends/family/partners. 

sun at 19 degrees: a libra degree. (emphasis on this bc libra rules 7h), makes him a very charming, likeable, particularly popular guy.

sun opposite ascendant: inner conflict, probably doesn’t feel like people see him for his true self, may struggle showing true self. may feel misunderstood. may need approval/validation a lot.

sun square mars: hints to daddy issues. may struggle with a lot of built up anger and frustration, but it seems like he takes it out very positively, as you can see he is competitive, so i think he lets it out through gaming. probably very energetic, motivated.

sun square saturn: high expectations for himself. probably the type of person to think ‘i’m only good enough if i do this’. probably very hard on himself. also probably very insecure of himself, but doesn’t show it. another sun square masculine planet, more hinting to daddy issues.

moon:

moon in 7th: probably relies on close friends/family/partners a lot. loves to help people, esp people he’s close with (kinda mr beast vibes). probably very like ‘oh shit, he’s sad, i need to do everything within my power to cheer him up’ if that makes sense lmao

moon in virgo: looking after people!!! esp with the sun square saturn,, high expectations. probably a very much perfectionist, which also explains why he is competitive. may ‘always need to be right’. but virgo moons are actually so lovely omfg

moon at 9 degrees: sagittarius degree, likes to help people by optimism, and giving things to the person that they would want (im aware that sounds obvious lmao). probably feels a sense of achievement when cheers them up.

moon square pluto: probably hard time dealing with and growing from negative things that have happened, possibly struggles with letting things go. possibly self destructive (why did that one heatwaves part come to mind), possible trust issues + anxiety, probably very particular about who he lets close into his life, maybe quite protective. 

mercury:

mercury in 6th: likes to help people, probably not disappointed if he spends his time working with someone, may struggle with anxiety/depression. a quick learner, probably overthink every word because it wast the ‘perfect’ thing to say. 

mercury in leo: funny asf, and out there, also thinks his ideas/things to respond and say are the best, with the 6h and 7h placements, he is open to listen to others, but in the end he only really wants his one lmfao, good with conversation.

mercury at 1 degree: aries degree, another fire placement which emphasises the loud, out there kinda vibes.

mercury trine mc: career and reputation are strongly linked with what he says. (this is obv bc hes famous lmao). he’s smart, particularly with technology and its linked to his career. *im aware this sounds like im just describing him, this is exact so thats why its overly accurate*

mercury opposite neptune: daydreamer, probably has a lot of thoughts and ideas in his head, but they just dont come across right. probably zones out, may struggle with focusing. but very creative, has big and creative ideas. i havent mentioned it before but its come up too many times now, but he has a lot of placements, when manifested badly, creates a good manipulator

mercury square jupiter: optimistic, possibly thinks his ideas are the best (we’ve covered that before), can be really overly talkative or just nothing at all. (i rlly dont know much about this placement)

venus:

venus in 7th: he will have a beautiful relationship with his future partner. charming asfff, probably a good flirt. tends to love love. needs to be liked, sort of a pleaser. 

venus in virgo: the type of person to remember everything about the people he cares about. loves to help the people he cares about. probably sees the people he truly loves as ‘perfect’, which may end up being really bad if they’re toxic. 

venus in retrograde: struggles feeling loved, possibly feels like he doesn’t deserve love. probably the type to be like ‘how could you ever love me?’

venus square mc: attract people who take care of him. either has self-esteem issues, or is quite a dependant person. creative. may struggle finding people who support his career, or may have to change a few things about himself to be liked by others. 

venus trine jupiter: very likeable, and he’s veryyy lucky. he’s funny, and a generous person, probably very giving to his close friends and family. charismatic asfff, likely he will marry someone foreign. 

mars:

mars in 9th: more things hinting to attract(ing/ed to) foreigners. loves experiencing things with people he cares about. likes to learn more and more, possibly stubborn, makes sure his opinions are known.

mars in scorpio: that boy needs privacy in his life, doesn’t like being predictable. probably an overthinker. we’ve already known this but he’s definitely a top. probably could get anyone he wants, seductive asfff. also pretty spiteful.

mars at 17 degrees: leo degree, fame bitchesss

mars square ascendant: hates to lose, competitive. people may be intimidated by him at first, can’t really hide anger, pretty stubborn.

mars opposite saturn: really hard on himself. wants to be the best of the best, leader. stands up for himself. another placement hinting to daddy issues. harsh about his work, and himself in general, perfectionist. 

mars square uranus: anger may change a lot, a lot of energy, probably struggles to focus, doesn’t like to be the one who is being controlled/has restrictions. probably struggles with authority. outbursts of anger.

jupiter

jupiter in 3rd house: loves writing, and is actually pretty good at it. knows how to talk to people, how to persuade them, and how to manipulate them. good liar, knows how to sell his wants across, how to get what he wants.

jupiter at 4 degrees: cancer degree, cancer rules his 6h. he uses his luck/money to help others.

jupiter square neptune: big dreams, desire to escape the world as it is.

saturn:

saturn in 3rd: afraid of/ is often misunderstood. struggles to open up?, maybe he wasn’t listened to much growing up. hard on himself academically, feels like he isn’t smart enough. hard time expressing himself. maybe feels like noone really cares for what he has to say?

saturn at 16 degrees: cancer degree. idk what else to say abt it lmaoo

saturn square ascendant: quite serious, maybe struggle with the way he looks? possibly quite overwhelmed about his life,, feels like he has too much to do at times. fear of rejectionnn

saturn square uranus: maybe he doesn’t like change, tradition v change clashing. authority troubles. probably needs freedom, but feels unstable without what he’s used to. rebelling against norms. 

uranus: 

uranus in 12th: probably very curious about unexplainable things, maybe quite into conspiracy theories. two complete ends of the spectrum: fear change/need it, unpredictable things happen/ everythings the same. 

uranus at 14 degrees: taurus. taurus ruling 2nd, i guess it shows change in dream’s wealth.

uranus opposite north node (and conj south node): with exceptions, doesn’t like conflict. he is fine with joke conflict, but the second there’s an actual argument he tries to be the ‘peacemaker’ guy. technology is major in his life. also quite nervous about his career/future. 

neptune:

neptune in 12th: awful sleep schedule. overworking himself, never relaxing. vivid dreams. once again, this has come up loads and i just haven’t mentioned it: intuitive asf, george is the same. whether either are aware of it or not, they are super intuitive.

neptune at 2 degrees: taurus degree.

neptune sextile mc: creative, also likes helping others, empathy to the public. has big dreams career wise. 

pluto:

pluto in 10th: determined person, gets a lot of hate, but also a lot of love. trust issues, persuasion/manipulative abilities. leader leader leader. another hint to daddy issues, maybe privacy invading, maybe overprotective. don’t want to be controlled.

north node:

north node in 6th: overwork himself. but i think we can interpret this as his life goal to be working to help people. literally mr beast. just work hard, and give a lot away. humble.

chiron:

chiron in 9th: possible restriction from either his or his communities beliefs/religions. maybe he’s afraid of leaving where he is right now (sapnap moving to orlando, whenever its brought up its always george coming to orlando)

lilith:

lilith in sagittarius: need for truth. dislikes restrictions. hides emotions, uses humour to avoid them/ make people think they’re okay when they’re not. stubborn asf. 

lilith in 10th: tend to be sexualised/ reputations for being sexual. another placement hinting to daddy issues. really wants to be at the top, the most powerful. likes using his dominance/ power to seduce. motivateddd.

lilith conjunct pluto (exact omfg): typical ‘mystery’ guy. probably the mystery/scorpio vibes he pulls off attracts/ seduces people. the most dominant partner ever. sex is probably so intense and overwhelming

moon square lilith: possible mummy issues. his need for sex can change quick asf, from one end of the scale to another. struggles to open up. 

 i ought to mention!!

there’s a theory that the degree of your venus sign is the birthday of someone who is v important in your life. what’s dreams you may ask? 1. and when are george and sapnap’s birthdays? the 1st. they’re soulmates, your honour.

summary!!!

basically, dream has so much care and love for his friends and family, and probably relies on them a lot. he only shows his true self around them, and he (at least thinks) people don’t really understand him in the way his friends and family do. he is a social person, who’s very likeable and charming. he lovesss helping people, doing everything in his power to cheer others up, he remembers details about the people he loves. he is such a perfectionist, needing to succeed and win and everything, and is very competitive. he probably doesn’t think he’s ‘worthy’ if he’s bad at something. he sets very high expectations for himself. he is very hard on himself. if he wants to, he knows how to manipulate people. he has so so many placements for an amazing manipulator. he may struggle to express himself or open up, and may be hard on himself academically. maybe he doesn’t feel ‘listened to’. a lot of emotions like anger and sex drive may change rapidly for him. he over works himself a lot. a major theme in his life is tradition vs change. he is probably afraid of change, or finds it uncomfortable, or he may have some sort of attachment to traditional values/things, no matter how much he wants to change. he is also a peacemaker. he was born to be loved or hated, kinda like marmite but if the balance was more equal. he doesn’t like restrictions. he uses humour to hide his emotions.

im also thinking of doing a synastry reading between george and dream but idk yet lol

hope you guys enjoyed, this took ages lmao<3