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#messy metaphor time
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So … this is probably going to sound corny as hell, but I was just on Twitter and someone’s post got me thinking.
I truly don’t know how anyone watched Supernatural without seeing that, or not wanting, Sam and Dean to be the heart and soul of the show. They ARE, of course.
Literally, Dean is the "heart." He’s the throbbing, open wound of emotion on the show. Our emotions aren’t always good or something we should let dictate our decisions. They aren’t even always truthful, but they are what drives us a lot of the time. He loves like crazy, for better or worse. He embodies bravery in a fight and fear of being alone. Dean starts the show as heartbroken (for his family, especially Sam) and lonely, and he ends it feeling completed.
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When Dean is the most not-Dean, it’s when he is a Demon. He still technically has a soul, but he’s lost his humanity (or heart).
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Meanwhile, Sam is the "soul." He’s the ethereal or cerebral, the essential spark that gives a body life (there is no show if there is no Sam, and there is no Dean if there is no Sam). It’s where the conscience and compassion come from, and where faith dwells. Sam starts the show as the soul that is tainted and needs redemption and, by the end, he gets it. Sam is hope and the yearning for more than the base (hunter) life.
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Sorry, this just popped into my head when I was thinking of Sam (🎶he wants more than this provincial life🎶) … and I can’t find a soul gif with Sam, so here he is soulless.
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When Sam is the most not-Sam, it’s when he’s soulless. His lack of compassion and care make him almost alien.
This even makes sense for why Sam can live on without Dean, but Dean can’t live without Sam. The soul can exist without the body (depending on your belief system). This doesn’t mean Sam is whole without Dean, just that he can exist without him. But Dean, being the heart, needs a spark to keep on beating. The heart can beat, or go through the motions, with artificial assistance when someone is brain dead (or has lost the spark of life), but they aren’t truly alive anymore. No one is home.
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Okay. I need to go to bed. This is a big oversimplification, and metaphors got pretty messy here, but I just needed to get my thoughts out there. Thanks to anyone who bothered to read my rambles! 🫂
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One more thing before I go to bed … The Impala is the body. The show is complete because it has Sam, Dean and Baby: the soul, the heart and the body.
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Okay, this is the last, last thing because I can’t help but write it … A human body doesn’t need wings. So, the feathered one is, in fact, not essential for the show to be complete.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months
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Izutsumi character study
#dungeon meshi#izutsumi#One of my goals for this year was to spend more time doing art studies.#What better way to start than with my favourite danmeshi character (not seen: a whole page of figuring out her features)#I feel like she is by far one of the most poorly understood characters in the series. Partially due to her 'late party member' status.#'She's abrasive and mean' - 'she's a picky eater' - 'she's a catgirl who acts like an asshole cat ' YES and that is the point!#Everyone in dungeon meshi is traumatized and messy about it but izutsumi is just less polite in how she tries to cope.#Izutsumi is a extremely traumatized teenager who has utterly lacked autonomy her entire life.#She is the epitome of a “If I can just have X thing then all my problems will be solved!” character. And the X is 'Freedom'.#Her epilogue was one of the best and wrapped up her character so wonderfully (WARNING: I WILL NOW SPOIL PART OF THE ENDING)#Because she finally gets her freedom! She can go where she wants to and she doesn't need anybody! Yet...it doesn't fix her.#She is so focused on doing only what she wants that she forgets her own needs. Sometimes you have to eat the things you don't want.#And sometimes you have to face the hard truths that you need more than just one thing to make you happy.#Life is not all about only seeking pleasures and avoiding pain. You need to be balanced in order to grow.#Eat your vegetables (including the metaphorical ones: I am eating more art veggies this year by doing art studies!!!)
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yk if i didn't grow up in a constant state of emotional repression, id probably be a disaster right now
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sophsicle · 11 months
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it is not merely a question of whether or not we have learned to analyze in particular kinds of ways, or whether people are able to intellectualize about a variety of experiences. It is also about coming to believe in the possibility of a variety of experiences, a variety of ways of understanding the world, a variety of frameworks of operation, without imposing consciously or unconsciously a notion of norm - Elsa Barkley Brown
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straighttohellbuddy · 2 months
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anyways something about when fall out boy said "Seems like the whole damn world went and lost its mind / And all my childhood heroes have fallen off or died"
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vampthropologist · 1 month
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Just watched Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire! It was fun and I think I liked it more than Afterlife. Interesting in a bunch of ways and an improvement in many. Also very VERY gay !!!
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orioncore · 1 year
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not gonna try thinking of a fancy caption for a sketch I have hw to do LMAO
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yes that's himeru's fs outfit that kaname is wearing (I didn't know what else to put him in), and the smaller drawings within the.. not–really–speech–bubbles–but–that's–what–they–look–like things are tatsumi, jun, and himeru's initial cards drawn very poorly
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emlos · 6 months
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i dont really like dreaming because all of my dreams are about me in a situation where i annoy everybody and i get ostracized
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chiropteracupola · 2 years
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drawing around about a potential ladyhawke-inspired au that I am not maybe am okay, fine, definitely am writing now...
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crypt1dcorv1dae · 2 years
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i cannot emphasize enough that i ship bbrae in a very trans, very gay, very QUEER way and i just simply cannot relate to the 90% cishet content out there... like have fun but the vibes arent doin it for me most of the time!!!
their vibes are SO specific to me... and ive only encountered a very small handful of people that have had the same view of them ksjdksn....
#raven is nonbinary as hell and likes everyone but tbh prolly unlabeled#she doesnt see a reason to find a specific word to deacribe her ...#but if prompted she would probably say nonbinary or genderqueer#gar is a bisexual trans man but not like 100% a dude either. hes got some special gender juice goin on#like hes every single creature in the animal kingdom.. he doesnt feel fully *HUMAN* let alone fully *male*#and he tbh takes a while to see/accept his sexuality but he does eventually#by the time hes like 19 hes probably accepted the fact that he likes men (and everyone else)#like he always liked guys but he figured it was just... admiration of his cool older teammates#also also gar knew he was trans super duper young so his birth parents knew/accepted him and let him name himself#he of course named himself after his favorite lasagna loving orange cat. bc he was like 4#he kinda regretted it bc garfield is a super dorky name but he likes the nickname gar a lot so he kept it lol#also the doom patrol also knew and accepted him but he didnt actually start transitioning until the titans#galtry knew but did not accept him and usually refused to call him by his chosen name :/#like gar passed well enough at that age so he had to refer to him accordingly to keep face but he didnt ever respect gar in any way#also about the bbraes specifically istg they need to be at least 21 and have know eachother since like 15 to be anywhere close to ready#like if they tried to date amy time before that it would absolutely not go well custheyre both too immature and young to be with eachother#like they could date someone else. someone easier. bc they are not easy to be with. theyre both difficult broken lil bastards#and they need years of maturity and built up trust and friendship and mutual understanding before taking that leap#or else the leap will lead to falling into a giant ravine and dying (metaphorically)#basically they need to be best friends before they make that move bc theyre both too messy for it to work out otherwise...#so theres years of pining and a while where each of them actually KNOWS the other feels the same... but they know neither of them is ready#so i imagine its less of a 'woah theyre together now!!!' and more just... the next logical step when the time arrives#they come together slowly and gently and without fanfair... (until kory finds out and screams so loud the entire tower hears it of course)
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endless-nightshift · 2 years
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I'm sorry sex?
No. I think you mean *fantastical allegory for sex that does not involve actual sex but brings the same if not more euphoria, pleasure and intimate sharing*
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carnageacorn · 1 month
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#ya boi be fucking around and FINDING OUT.#do yall remember (no) that text post i made back in november saying i am so sexy and fast there will be no rammies from this#anyway high key still dealing with the rammies and next month doesnt look great either REGARDING : the rammies#anyone: oh hey a few times i saw u were dating someone but u dont really ever talk about it#yeah dude because of how good of an idea it was and how its going and the choices ive made and how good its been for my life#that whole thing started in january but it only happened because of my november stuff if ur following along#anyway im single and soon nobody will be living with me and i CANT get into it all its so messy and ive been so silly#getting thru this work day with grit and spite and protein shakes. someday ill be able to stomach food again haha#its just that what would be in my way if i didnt manually create several difficult roadblocks for myself in quick succession#i would have to learn to identify sources of road blocks that are not ME something i have prior to now not had a lot of experience with#(due to that 95% of the roadblocks are placed in advance by me)#anyway lakevida voice if i speak with fewer than 4 layers of metaphor a sniper will shoot me thru my hoop earring so this is all u get#unless u are my sister which none of u are#NOT sure which substances r hanging out in my system in what ratios at this moment due to the sort of choices ive been making in the last48#but my boss is ALSO doing about how i am and we're both like. we left the problems at the DOOR of the BUILDING.#now what we have are the SYMPTOMS of the PROBLEMS and we are going to treat them with MANIC COMPLAINING#its gotten us thru a full hour of work so far but if i make it to lunch without throwing up i think they might throw me a party#anyway expect 4 more of these in the next hour due to the previously referenced substances
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saja-star · 2 years
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One of my favorite things about learning about traditional textiles is the little ghosts they left in the language. Of course the ghosts are there, now that I know to look for them. Once upon a time, half the population spent a majority of their day making textiles. Spinning, at the very least, has been a part of humanity since the Neanderthals. That kind of knowledge doesn't just disappear.
A heckle was a device with sharp metal spikes, and people drag flax through the spikes to separate out the fibers from the chaff. When you say someone heckled a performer, you think you are being literal but you're speaking in an ancient metaphor.
When my grandpa says "spinning yarns" to mean telling stories, he knows that one's not quite literal, but its vividness is lost to him. There is no image in his mind of rhythm, muscle memory, and the subtle twist that aligns clouds of fibers into a single, strong cord.
When a fanfic writer describes someone carding their fingers through someone's hair, that's the most discordant in my mind. Carding is rough, and quick, and sometimes messy (my wool is full of debris, even after lots of washing). The teeth of my cards are densely packed and scratchy. But maybe that's my error, not the writer's. Before cards were invented, wool was combed with wide-toothed combs, and sometimes, in point of fact, with fingers. The verb "to card" (from Middle English) may actually be older than the tools I use, archaic as they are. And I say may, because I can't find a definitive history. People forget, even when the language remembers.
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earthtooz · 1 year
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second chance romance with sae. write it.
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x : WITH(OUT) :*+゚
in which: after a messy breakup with sae, you find yourself waking up next to him two weeks later, this time just more in love.
warnings: 1.8k words, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, SFW, gn!reader, tooth-rotting fluff with quite a bit of angst, a lot of metaphors here and there i apologise if they don't make sense get on my brainwave (nicely), ooc!sae perhaps uhh lol, bad writing, reblogs appreciated!!
a/n: lets see if tumblr community labels this post... sigh. rip first version u were a champ. this is my official claim to become tumblr's sfw itoshi brothers (separate) writer. i've made progress with rin, it's time to show some (reluctant) love to sae!! i literally only wrote this bc @limitlesshq and i had an agreement.
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you wake up due to the rustling beside you, the movement rousing you from your slumber as the world becomes ever so clearer with each millisecond, the drowsy haze wearing off you as you take in your surroundings.
there’s a white ceiling overhead, the mattress beneath you feels like a cloud, and you can’t remember when your sheets turned a shade of gray. no- scratch that, you can’t remember when your mattress became this soft. 
hold on.
this wasn’t your room and the mop of magenta hair lying atop your chest is an indicator of such.
you’re in bed with a soccer star who just so happens to be the ex you messily broke up with two weeks ago. he’s wrapped around you like nothing had ever happened; as if you two were still in love and devoted to one another and hadn’t shouted at each other to the point that your throats were sore for a days afterwards. 
you needed to get out of here which was something easier said than done. especially when you had itoshi sae lying on top of you, wrapping you in a vice grip as he sunk further and further into your warmth, chest methodically rising up and down. you want to slap him for being so peaceful in this very moment. that should be you but instead, you’re panicking and trying to avoid another messy scene with your ex. 
the fact that said-ex was itoshi sae too… goodness what have you gotten yourself into. you should get out of here before it’s too late.
slowly, you begin to shuffle away, trying to pull yourself away from sae’s grasp. 
you’re halfway out when you hear the magenta-haired whine quietly, the sound causing you to turn your head and look at him. it’s to your horror that you’re greeted by a pair of hazy, turquoise eyes, still groggily waking up as sae tries to adjust to his bearings. he blinks a few times, waking up a little more with each flutter.
“where are you going?” he asks, voice hoarse from unuse. his arm tightens ever so slightly around you, pulling you back towards him and completely ruining your efforts.
you’re stunned, unsure of how to respond as sae tucks himself into your chest, breathing you in.
you hate the way you feel your heart lurch in your chest, rapidly beating with the urge to be as close as possible to him. this feels like a life you once knew, especially when his fingers start running up and down your spine, nimbly finding their way under your shirt. 
“sae,” you breathe out and his ministrations stop, diverting all of his attention upon you. “i have to go.”
he groans his protest, shaking his head. “why?”
“i just have to.”
“no.”
“what?”
“stay.”
“what?”
“did you not hear me? i said stay.”
just to prove his point a little more, he puts even more of his weight on you, tangling his legs with yours as if rooting you to his mattress. ever so demanding, he is.
the breakup was disastrous and entirely hurtful, wrecking you from the inside out when you woke up the next morning registering the previous night. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so heartbroken and it hurt even more with every trace of sae that remained in your apartment. looking back, perhaps it was a little naive to believe that he was the one for you, that he was your endgame and not simply another lesson to heal from. all that time spent in a relationship, crumbled thanks to an argument that lasted for three hours and ended with a decisive slam of his door. 
yet just when you thought you were making process on the journey away from him, sae finds a way to pull you back in.
“i can’t stay,” you whisper, voice already a little shaky.
the magenta-haired looks up at you, apathetic eyes boring into yours. “but why?”
“i just- i just can’t. thank you for letting me stay over but i’m going to go home now-”
fingers thread through yours and sae’s hand pulls yours closer towards him. a pair of warm lips press themself to your skin and linger there as if burning and branding you- all of you, as his. 
he then kisses each of your fingers delicately and softly. “don’t go,” he mutters between pecks.
you feel a little breathless. like he’s punched your gut with every piece of gentle affection he plants, twisting the knife he had stabbed in your chest two weeks ago deeper and deeper, reopening the raw wound of hurt and pain with unmatched love.
you need to leave before anything else can happen, before you begin breaking down in front of him. 
quickly shuffling away from the athlete, you abruptly pull your hand out of his, throwing the covers off of you. however quick you may have been though, sae is undeniably faster, his hands crossing the distance to pull you back. his strength forces you to sit down once more and you bounce a little from the soft impact. he drapes himself around you again, chin resting on your shoulder. 
“let me go,” you plead, putting your hands over his wrists as if trying to pry them off but you feel too much for sae to truly try and resist him. his spell, no matter how hard you try to fight back, is just as potent. 
you fear that you may never be immune to his poison. 
he begins trailing kisses along your skin, uncharacteristically affectionate. “i can’t,” he begins, voice wavering uncharacteristically, traces of heartbreak evident in his tone. this display of emotion shocks you endlessly and you stop fighting against him, freezing when you feel his breath shudder against your skin.
your heart is thumping heavily, causing your chest to clench.
"stop messing around, we-"
"i'm not messing around just stay," he hushes gently, "please."
you feel the world stop for a second. sae? pleading? he knew how to do that? the prospect of sae beseeching for anything was incredibly unfamiliar and the fact that his voice cracked merely proves how entirely unfamiliar the word was in his vocabulary. 
the love you feel for him will choke you before heartache does. unbeknownst to you, a tear begins sliding down your cheek and you don’t feel it until it’s halfway down.
“hey, hey, hey,” the magenta-haired mumbles, catching the tear with his thumb. “don’t cry.” 
he sounds so tender and doting it hurts. there’s so much love in the way he’s holding you, pressing himself closer to you with each minute as if he hates the idea of being too far away from you, as if he was trying to make sure that you were still the same love of his life from before he hurt you tremendously, as if he was committing you to memory before he does lose you forever.
but he doesn’t want that. he wants to stay with you. sae doesn’t think he can handle another day without you, that’s why he’s so stubborn to keep you here; to put you under his spell again so that you could feel an ounce of the love he has stored for you. so that this love has somewhere to go before it inevitably ruins him, punishing him for being so stupid. 
“i’m sorry,” whispers sae hurriedly. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry pretty, don’t cry.”
glancing away from him, you wipe away any remaining tears, inhaling deeply as to try and collect yourself with whatever willpower you had left.
"i need to leave," you murmur, not entirely meaning it.
"no you don't," he answers, entirely meaning it. "just stay until breakfast or something."
wordlessly, you fall back in his grasp, leaning into the athlete when you feel rapid beating against your arm. that’s when you realise that it wasn’t your racing heart… it was his. 
giving in to his desires, you tuck your legs back up on the bed and he manoeuvres you, practically cradling you whilst you find solace in his neck with your arms wrapped around his torso. here, you feel whole again. 
you’ve lived life with sae and without sae and you now know well enough to prefer the former. something tells you he feels the same too. 
“are you going to stay for breakfast?” he asks after a few minutes of simply soaking up the other’s presence. glancing up at him, his expression remains beautifully neutral, illuminated perfectly by the bright morning light that seeps through his windows. he’s radiant, gorgeous as ever. 
you hum against his skin. “i’m not too sure. i was going to leave before breakfast.”
“let’s go back to sleep then. i’m not hungry anymore.”
amused by his request, you agree nonetheless and sae is able to move the both of you around to the same positions you had woken up in with you on your back and him on top of you. the soccer player then pulls you closer and throws his leg over your hips- something he does to keep you in your spot so you won’t slip away from him again.
you won’t. you don’t want to leave and live a life without him. 
“are we back together?” you hesitantly ask. the question floats into the tranquil air, afraid to break whatever quiet, ecstatic haze you were both in but you need to know.
“will you take me back?” the soccer player counters, surprisingly shy and unsure, so unlike the arrogant sae you’re used to. he’s putting all the cards on your table despite knowing what he wants because although he wants to be with you for eternity and a little longer after that, it’s up to you to decide whether or not he deserves such a paradise.
sae can only hope you’re merciful. 
“i want to. i miss ‘us’, i miss you.” 
he immediately feels a heavy weight lift itself off and the exhale the magenta-haired lets out communicates his magnitude of relief. fate has saved him today. 
“good.” is all he says as your hands rise to the nape of his neck, playing with the hair there. “be here when i wake up.”
“so demanding,” you joke with a smile, “but okay.” 
as sae dozes off once more, you take the time to scan around his room once more whilst trying to lull yourself into dreamland as well. 
his decor had always been rather plain and it didn’t change until you started dating. remnants of you have been lingering around his place and you’re surprised he didn’t get rid of them the night you left out of rage. a little nanodroid that you gave him of a character from an anime you both like sits on his shelf, there’s that little fake plant on his desk, and there are still photos of you two on his dresser. 
he used to only have one pillow and the only reason he bought more was so you could sleep over comfortably. you don’t think too hard about the lingering smell of sae’s shampoo on the pillows that you had previously claimed as ‘yours’.
shifting a little so that you were comfortable, you gaze up at sae’s ceilings once more. a gentle smile makes its way to your face before you doze off peacefully knowing that two hearts have found their way back home. 
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msgexymunson · 9 months
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Forbidden Fruit
Description: The newest object of your affections happens to be Eddie; your father's closest friend!
A/N: this is just smut personified and I ain't even sorry. Enjoy it with caution, hells saving a mighty fine warm spot for you ;). 
Warnings: age gap, Eddie's in his forties, reader implied 20s. Voyeurism, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (wrap the thingy, trust me I'm old) 
5k words
Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Delicate fingers are slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You stroke at your soft skin, running in teasing patterns. Your body begins to react to your secret touches, downy hairs starting to stand on end as your skin prickles with sensation. Then your hand drifts lower, lower, until it meets your pubic hair. Massaging your breast with your other hand you try to relax and empty your mind, just focus on the feeling. Not that it works. All you see when you close your eyes is Eddie. 
This is wrong. So fucking wrong. He was at least 20 years your senior. Hell, he was one of your father's closest friends. It may as well be forbidden. He probably thinks of you more like a daughter than a lover. 
You couldn't help it though. Recently he was just looking so damn fine. You're not sure if it was just him getting better with age, or you growing up and appreciating the man in front of you. Either way, woof. 
Your fingers find your clit as you think back to earlier today; the events of which hadn't been much help in quenching your mounting feelings. It had been a lovely day, the sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Eddie and your father had teamed up to do some of the yard work. Eddie was always on hand to help with any manual labour, or to fix things. He was really very good with those hands. 
Well, it was a beautiful day, so sunbathing seemed perfectly acceptable behaviour, and not an excuse to be in the yard at all. Nuh uh. You'd headed outside in your skimpy red bikini, book in hand, and laid on a lounger keeping one eye on Eddie. 
God, he'd looked particularly good today. His hair was grasped in a messy bun with a shock of grey and white visible through it. His stubble looked a few days old, peppering his chin and sharp jaw. Those eyes of his sparkled, a deep chocolate brown you wanted to dive into. Jeans clung to his muscular thighs, only wearing an old wife beater on top, showing off his tattoos and chiselled arms. There was a brief moment when he'd lifted up his vest to use it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Abs had gleamed in the midday sun, flexing and taunting you on purpose, or at least it had felt that way. 
When your father had gone inside to grab them both a beer, Eddie had sauntered over to you and crouched right by your lounger. You had done everything you could to keep your face neutral, even though your head was screaming and flinging its metaphorical hands in the air. 
"Hey sweetheart." 
The gravel in his voice sent shivers down your spine. 
"Hey Mr Munson." You responded, trying to keep your eyes on your book. 
"How many times I gotta tell ya? Call me Eddie." 
You glanced over and saw a slow grin creeping across his face, as he eyed you up and down. Is he checking me out? 
Tearing his eyes away, he spoke again. 
"So, where's the little boyfriend today?" 
"What? Oh, him. We broke up. He was… selfish" you reminded yourself of all those disappointing encounters, flicking through your mind like a magazine of the mundane.
His grin widened at that. 
"Oh, that's such a shame." 
He sounded so sincere, but that smile of his was certainly telling a different story. You found yourself looking at the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned. Probably thought he wasn't good enough for me, just like father said. 
It was like he'd read your mind. 
"He wasn't good enough for you anyway." 
"You think?" 
He'd leaned into you, as if telling a secret. You could smell him, lingering sweat, aftershave and cigarettes. Drawn to him, you'd sat up and moved a little closer. His words were a whisper in your ear, his hot breath on your neck making your heart beat just a little too fast.  
"What you need is a real man." 
Mouth falling open, you snapped your head to face him. A quick wink and he was back on his feet, smiling at your father who had just returned from the kitchen. He had walked off without a glance back. 
You press your clit harder at the memory of his words, your other hand snaking its way into your top to tease at your hardened nipple. A real man. 
Was he talking about himself? Or had he just been teasing you for your taste in boys? Either way, his words had made you wet, your thighs clinging together in supplication. 
Fuck it. If he was on your mind you may as well lean into it. Your thoughts wandered, making up scenarios in your head, thinking of those thick fingers replacing yours. Your speed on your clit doubles, thighs squeezing together. It still wasn't enough. There wasn't enough pressure. 
Pulling your hand away in a huff, your eyes land on a cushion on your bed. Hmm, now that just might do. 
Clambering to your bare knees, you straddle it, positioning the seam to sit just where you needed it. 
Now, this was better. You could almost imagine him underneath you as you humped at his impressive length. You assume he had a huge cock. Well, he did in your fantasies anyway. Pulling your top off and away, you tease at your sensitive nipples, one hand keeping the cushion in place. 
So close, you were so close. The warm feeling was pooling in your belly, your clit humming with desire. Scrunching your eyes shut and whimpering, a particularly good rub had you moaning out "Eddie!" 
Unfortunately, you had failed to hear the approaching footsteps. 
"Yeah sweetheart?" 
Frozen, you can only watch in abject horror as your bedroom door swings open and the object of your fantasies is standing in the door frame. 
"Oh shit, I thought- did you just say my name?" He seems split between looking away and getting an eyeful. 
Grasping the bed sheet you quickly cover up your bare chest, cheeks burning scarlet. 
"Sorry." He adds, looking you up and down one last time, and finally swings the door shut. 
Well that's it, now I need to move to a different state. Fuck fuck fuck. 
"Hey, honey, come hear a sec!" Your mother's voice, ringing up the stairs. Trying to get the blood to diffuse from your cheeks with sheer force of will, you hastily scramble to put your top back on. 
"Coming!" You shout back. Well, you nearly had. So fucking close. 
Making your way downstairs past the bathroom you see your parents arm in arm, Eddie spread out on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Practically feeling his grin from here, you focus on your parents. 
"We're going out to dinner hon. Mr Munson here, well he was going to have a look at the cable. I can't get the damn thing to work. Sure you don't mind Eddie? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?" Your father looks towards Eddie with his question. 
"Nope. Completely free. I'm sure I can fix it." 
"Thanks buddy, you're a lifesaver. Hon, can you look after him? Make sure to give Mr Munson anything he needs." 
Cheeks flaring again with heat, you mumble out your agreement. 
"Thanks sweetie!" Your mother adds, planting a peck on your cheek. Then, they leave. It's just you and Eddie. 
He begins to walk towards you. The walls suddenly seem too close, your skin itchy, hairs standing on end. He stops in front of you, too close for comfort. A rough hand reaches to you and you flinch. He quickly pulls it away. 
"Well, better fix the cable." He smiles at you, and turns on his heel to the TV room, leaving you staring at his retreating ass as he leaves. 
Maybe he's not going to mention it? 
The thought seems too good to be true. You turn to leave, back the way you came, but a strange force is pulling at your gut. Pretty soon you're standing in the door frame of the TV room, staring at Eddie's ass as he bends to look at the cable box.
Fuck, that perfect ass.
He must have changed from earlier. Maybe he'd had a shower? He certainly smelled good. Staring at his back you notice his hair looked damp. 
OK, so, ignore what happened. Eddie seemed to be. Act natural. Be a good host. 
"Eddie, do you want a beer?" 
He doesn't bother looking back, but you hear his deep voice say, "sure thing sweetheart." 
Making your way back to the kitchen, you grab a beer for him and one for yourself, to steady your nerves. 
Placing it on the coffee table, you let him know it's behind him, as you swig your own. 
"Could you come down here sweetheart? I need a hand." 
You fall to your knees beside him. 
"Show me your hands?" 
Confused, you hold your palms up. 
"Perfect, tiny hands. Here." And he grasps one, swallowing it up in his large palm. The skin on skin contact is a shock to your system. 
He pulls your arm gently. 
"There's a cable right there, can you reach that?" 
Sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, you extend your arm, reaching into the gap he couldn't quite hit. 
"Got it." 
"That's it. Good girl." You suck in a sudden breath at his words, warmth simmering in your core. Eddie doesn't seem to notice. 
He's adjusting some other cable, moving the network box to a better position as you stare at the veins in his neck. 
"So, did you finish?" 
"Huh?" Confusion floods your face as you scrunch your eyes at his words. 
"Earlier, when I walked in. Did you finish?" 
Your mouth hangs open. He mentioned it so nonchalantly, not even gaining eye contact. You're so shocked that you answer him without thinking about it. 
"N-no." 
"Shame." 
What sort of alternative reality is this? 
"OK, can you feel my hand? Give me that cable." 
You pass it to him wordlessly, fingers brushing his ever so slightly. 
"There. Should be fine now. Try the remote."
Turning the TV on, it does indeed work. You switch it off as Eddie sits back on his heels. 
"It just wasn't wired correctly. Easy mistake to make. So, you need a hand?" 
"Huh?" You sound out doltishly as he swigs his beer. 
"Seemed like you could do with some help earlier is all." 
Swallowing hard at his words, you feel your thighs clench and your heart race. 
"Eddie, what are you saying, exactly?" Words spilling out a lot calmer than you felt. 
"All I'm saying is, you looked like you could use some help. I reckon I could help you out. A lot more than a cushion, anyway." He says, a slow smile spreading over his face making your knees want to melt.
You stare and stare, momentarily lost for words. 
"Come on sweetheart, there's a reason why you were moaning my name. We need to get whatever this is out of our system. " 
You will your legs to move, to flee. They don't. They have their own agenda it seems, taking a shaky step towards him, and another. He's still kneeling on the floor, a slight smirk pulling at his face as if he has all the time in the world. 
Your knees do buckle then, under the weight of his words, as you mirror his position. There's a slight gap between you, but you're closer than you think you ever have been. The air between you seems to hum with desire, an electric current buzzing back and forth. 
Reaching out with hesitant fingers, you finally close the distance, resting your hand softly on his knee. 
"I'm- I'm sorry that I, erm, said your name, it's so damn embarrassing-" 
"Don't be sorry," he responds, his giant hand coming to rest over yours sending your pulse into overdrive, "that was the hottest thing I've ever seen." 
"Really?" You can't help the disbelief dripping all over your tone. 
"You're kidding right? I've been fuckin' hard for the last hour, I'm sure it's not healthy." 
You giggle into your hand at his confession and move to look down, but his hand is on your jaw then, pulling your chin up. 
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, you know. We can just forget all this and I'll leave." 
His stare is firm and sincere, but there's an undercurrent of need behind those eyes, one that's making the pulse between your legs hammer out a tattoo on your insides. 
Before it even registers in your head, you're the one pushing toward him, drawn in by that stare. Your lips are crushing against his when you realise you had taken the leap and kissed him. Eddie's hand presses into the small of your back, pushing you bodily against him, the other snaking into your hair. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss his tongue begins to slide against yours. Never had a kiss felt so good, so sordid. You wrap your arms around his middle to steady yourself as he explores your mouth greedily. 
A slam of a car door snaps you back to reality; pushing your body off him hurriedly you look around with wild eyes. 
"Hey, sweetheart, it's OK. It's not them, it's too early for that." 
You stop and listen, and realise he's right. 
"Sorry." 
"Hey, it's OK." He smiles, flooding your tummy with warmth. 
"You wanna go and get comfortable, sweets? We can, well, just this once."
You nod and stand up wordlessly, leading him to your bedroom. Your pace is slow and measured as you walk up the stairs, belying the running commentary in your head. 
Oh fuck, I can't believe this is happening. This is Mr Munson for fucks sake. Dad would absolutely freak. Oh fuck. 
As you're closing the door, he's kicking his shoes off and sitting up on your bed. His rough demeanour and chiselled physique look so out of place, juxtaposed by the sweet pink bedclothes. 
"Come here sweetheart, right here." He says, patting his lap. You move over to him, trying to work out exactly where he wants you. 
"Knees either side, come on baby, I know you know how to straddle." His smile is dipped in sin, biting his lower lip slightly and flashing his teeth. You take a shaky breath and mount him, your thin sleep shorts barely covering your expectant pussy. 
"Can you, um, take your jeans off?" You ask hesitantly, "I wanna feel you." 
"Whatever you want baby, I'm here to help." 
You sit awkwardly to one side as he wiggles his jeans off those perfect hips, giving you a teasing sliver of his lower abdomen to gawp at before he's gripping your hips forcefully and pushing your core down against his solid bulge. 
"Hmm, nearly perfect," he says, giving you an appraising look. 
"What's not right?" You feel your cheeks blush, waiting for him to point out some flaws you have. 
"Well, I'm sure when I walked in earlier with you in this position you were topless." 
An impossible amount of blood flushes your face, chest, neck. Eddie's thumbs trace calming circles into the flesh of your hips, catching the hem of your top and slipping just beneath. 
Lifting your top up hesitantly, you move your arms up and away, discarding the clothing on the floor of your room. 
Eddie's eyes are fixated on your nude breasts, letting out a slow breath. He holds your hips harder, fingers bruising into you. 
"There. Perfect. You are perfect sweetheart. Such a good girl for me." 
It's deeply pathetic, the noise that escapes your lips at his praise, but it serves to break the spell Eddie is under and forces him to look at your rosy cheeks and pouting lips. 
"Fuck, you like that sweetheart?" He asks, large hands clinging to your hips, starting to grind you back and forth. His breathing is laboured, as if he's trying to hold himself together.
"Yeah." You say back, voice small, hiding under his studious gaze. 
"Don't go all shy on me now baby. This good, yeah?" 
You nod, mewling at the sensation. He's rock hard, and just the feel of his solid dick rubbing back and forth, hitting your swollen clit with each pass has your head spinning. Just two layers, two layers of flimsy fabric lay between him and you. Between him entering you. 
"Talk to me sweetheart. What do you need?" 
His eyes are searching yours, so eager to make you happy. 
"Please, please play with my nipples." 
A rough hum rumbles from his throat, hands creeping up to your chest. 
"So polite. Whatever you need sweetheart." 
Taking over grinding over his member, you feel your skin thrumming, heat bubbling in your gut as his hands begin to trace over your curves. His thumbs graze the underside of your tits with confident movements. Expecting him to start pinching at your nipples, it takes you entirely by surprise when he leans forward and takes one in his mouth, sucking hard. 
Whimpering quietly, you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to be quiet. It's like Eddie can read your fucking mind. Unlatching from your nipple, he grabs your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to meet his. 
"I told you. Don't be shy. It's just you and me here. I want to hear you. Every whimper, every fucking moan. I'm committing this to memory, so make it a good one." 
A watery grin unfurls over your face, eyes tearing up unexpectedly. 
"OK Eddie." 
"Good fucking girl." 
"Oh God-"
Before you're done moaning at his words, his lips are immersing your nipple again, wet and warm and rough; as he pinches the other with hardened skin fingertips. A thick tongue darts out, flicking back and forth over the hardened nub. 
"Oh Eddie, oh fuck!" Your moans are loud and unashamed, your hips frantically humping over his turgid cock, clit swollen, nearing on sore.
His breath diffuses over the sensitive skin of your breast. 
"See that's it baby, I know, I know. Keep going, use me." 
Chasing your release your movements become almost violent, hands grasping onto his wavy locks and tugging hard. He groans at that, almost a growl. Teeth scraping your aching nipple, he unlatches with a wet pop and instead bites into the joining spot between your neck and shoulder harder than anyone had done before. The act was bordering on feral. An animalistic gesture, sucking on your flesh as if he was sucking the orgasm out of you. 
It was working. The low simmering in your gut had bubbled over, threatening to pull you under into the deep depths of pleasure. You let it, screaming out his name as you lost breath, quickly losing yourself in the gaping depths of your release. 
Slowing your frantic rocking movements, you finally slow to a halt.
"Feel better sweetheart?" 
You hum, fingers tracing over the muscles of his toned arms. Your pussy hasn't gotten the message however, clenching around nothing. Your walls are pulsing, wanting to clench onto something, anything. 
"Yeah I'm good." 
"Don't lie to me." 
Gasping at his hard words, you look into his eyes. 
"If you're done I'll leave-" 
"No!" You shout, gripping him harshly,
fingernails embedding into his skin. This can't be over, not yet.
"See?" He laughs, almost mocking you, "if you need more, say so. I want to help you. What do you need?"
"I-" fuck why is this so difficult? "I need, I need something inside me." 
"See? Was that so hard? You want my fingers baby? I'll make you come, as many times as you need." 
You nod enthusiastically, slipping off his lap. He turns you to the side suddenly so your legs are draped over his. Firm, smooth strokes rub up, up, up your thighs making you quiver. 
"Take these shorts off. I need to see that pretty pussy of yours." 
Wiggling out of them, they land on the floor in a heap. 
"Fuck. Spread your legs a little." 
It isn't in you not to comply. Your knees fall open, entirely exposed. 
"Well, look at you. Fucking perfect." A rough hand slots between your legs, two fingers rubbing the length of your pussy. 
Leaning back on your hands, your back arches into his touch, hips moving upwards to meet each stroke. 
"You really want this? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?" His movements are tantalising and slow. Your body begs for more, more. 
Nodding at him, you soon see it's not enough. 
"Use your words sweetheart." Fingers whisper across forbidden skin, circling around but never touching your clit. 
"Oh God please, please I need you, please fill me up!" All modesty forgotten.
"Fuck, yeah that's it, hmm" you feel his fingers swipe your wet lips, about to go deeper. Leaning forward, he angles his head towards your cunt, and spits, hard.
Holy fucking fuck. 
That act had you clenching all over again, rocking into nothing. 
"Oh she likes that! Dirty girl." 
He smiles his approval and gathers your combined wetness, two fingers diving deep inside you. It's aggressive and rough and entirely what you've been craving. 
"This what you wanted baby? My fingers filling you up? Fucking into your cunt?" 
His words are filthy, switching something inside your head you weren't aware of until just now.
"Yeah, fuck please, stretch me out, I fucking need you baby, please please please!" 
Your tiny hands are gripping onto him, desperately seeking him, digging into skin and flesh. 
"Oh you are so hot. Keep begging, I like it." His salacious grin pours over his features, fingers working you roughly, nestling into a spot inside that had your toes curling. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, as his other hand slaps harshly against your thigh. 
"I said beg." 
His ministrations start to slow. 
"No, don't stop! Please, oh fuck please, I need to fucking come Eddie!" Your eyes seeking his with a desperate gleam, toying with your features. 
"Yeah, that's it sweetheart, fuck," and his hand lands a hard smack against the side of your ass making you shriek. 
"You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" His fingers continue, setting a brutal pace, each stroke reaching your g spot pathetically easily.
"Yeah, oh yes, for you I am." 
A thick tongue runs up the side of your neck, pushing his fingers harder, deeper. 
"Oh Eddie I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, don't stop!" 
"Not stopping, not even if you paid me. Come for me sweetheart." 
Your hips betray you, rubbing against his fingers as hard as they can, desperately seeking your second release. 
They don't have long to look. Suddenly it bursts around you, popping in your head like a firecracker of feeling, pulsing out of you in waves. Your fingers wind into his hair once again as your orgasm floods your system, hands almost frightened of being swept away. 
You knew he was good with his hands but fuck, his words were something else. 
"Oh my God that was incredible." You stutter out, legs still trembling. 
"I aim to please. You good now baby?" His fingers whispering over your arm, catching your nerves, making quivers run over and over you. 
If I'm good, he's gonna leave, and that will be it. Fuck, just don't want it to be over. 
"No. I need you to fuck me. Just this once. Please. I- I need you to cum inside me."
"Shit sweetheart, you want my fuckin' cock? How could I refuse such a sweet good girl." 
Laying you down against your many pillows, he stands, ridding himself of his shirt and pants. 
Oh fuck, just look at his cock. 
It's swollen, throbbing against his slickened pubic hair, wetted by your own juices. Licking your lips impulsively, you spread your legs wide, wanting to guide his hips between yours.
"Fuck that's a pretty dick. So fucking big." 
He looks at you, quirking an eyebrow. 
Oh fuck you just said that out loud. 
"Yeah? You want it? You want me?" 
He's smiling, stroking at his throbbing length, making an emotion akin to jealousness bloom in your chest. 
"I need you Eddie." 
He climbs between your thighs again, letting another glob of spit fly from those perfect lips of his. 
"Oh!" You moan eagerly, writhing beneath him.
"You are perfect, aren't you? Fucking filthy and ready for me." The head of his swollen member nudges your soft opening. 
"I'm on birth control, please just fill me up." 
"Oh fuck you're gonna make me bust if you keep on like that." The words are admonishing, but he sounds impressed. 
His weight dips onto the mattress between your legs, making it sink dramatically. You grab his relatively narrow hips, your slender fingers forcing his body between yours. You need him inside you, now.
The fat, leaking head of his cock rubs against your intumescent lips. 
"Fuck me Eddie, I need you, please fuck me!" You blabber, fingers flexing hard against his hard muscles. 
The mushroom head of his turgid cock pushes against your sodden opening. It breaches you then, forcing its way into your soaking lips. 
Pushing harder and harder into your deepest depths, you whimper, walls quivering around his fat length. 
"Eddie, oh God Eddie!" Your moans are unrestrained and throaty, him rubbing against the spot that makes you wobble inside. 
"You wanna come again? So fucking greedy sweetheart." You expect those words to have bite to them, but he's grinning, forehead nearly touching yours as he hikes your legs around his middle. 
You hump at him recklessly, hips thrusting against his waist as hard as you can. 
 "Oh my fucking God, fuck!!" 
You release hard, wetness squirting over Eddie's imposing length as you moan hard and loud. 
"Hey honey, we're home!" 
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. 
Your eyes flick wildly to Eddie. It doesn't help that he seems amused, chuckling a silent laugh into your skin. 
"I've, I've gone to bed, see you in the morning!" You cry out desperately, hoping to heaven, or hell, that they listen. 
"Eddie fix the cable?" You hear your mom call out up the stairway. 
"Yeah he's, he's really good with his hands!" You shout back, Eddie's body shaking with silent laughter over you, the arms caging your head trembling with barely contained amusement. 
"Great news, night honey!" 
You grip Eddie's shoulders as hard as you can as you listen for the minute changes in air. There it is, mother and father both going to bed. 
"Fuck that was close." You huff, releasing your titanesque grip on his shoulders. 
"But I'm not done sweetheart." 
He thrusts hard and deep against you, his impressive member rubbing against that sweet spot yet again.
"Eddie, you can't, fuck-"
"Oh I can. You just need to shut up." He grins quietly, holding your body close to his. 
"Oh Eddie, oh-" 
"Shhh, fuck sweetheart, shut the fuck up." He whispers urgently into the skin of your neck. Your mouth forms a perfect 'o', wiggling against him ardently. 
He releases his cum into you with a hard, shuddering thrust, throbbing and throbbing out of him. It pumps inside you, pushing you to the edge of coming yet again.
Eddie knows. 
Grinning wickedly, he latches his teeth to your nipple again and sucks hard. Moments later you feel your release explode from your core, dampening your bed sheets in the process. 
Thrumming against him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you manage to coax your breathing to a normal level. 
"I hope that's everything you wanted sweetheart, 'cause it aint happening again." 
Before you can protest, Eddie is leaving the warmth between your thighs and aiming for the window, so no one suspects what just happened between you two. A few sure movements and he disappears, however reluctantly, into the night. Leaving you huffing, and panting, and wanting. 
@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiethefreakkmunson @munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiemunsonfuxks @eddiesprincess86 @corrodedhawkins @eddiethefreakkmunson @indouloureux @icallhimjoey
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radioactive-mouse · 2 months
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I get how tempting it is to just label flower husbands as “toxic” and move on, but god they can be SO much more nuanced than that, it makes me insane.
I think something that goes largely unexplored by the fanbase is c!scott’s obsession with composure. he’s clearly very proud of his ability to stay calm under pressure and be two steps ahead of everyone else— not that he’s afraid to rely on people, him and cleo very clearly have that unshakable trust between them, but i think that sometimes he gets so wrapped up in being steady, reliable scott, never hot-headed, never spiteful, or clumsy, or nervous.
and jimmy is a very real threat to that composure, more often than not.
and i think the way their relationship functions in 3rd life, while steady at the time, definitely set them up for complications down the road. scott, for as fiercely dedicated to his allies as he is, kind of tends to handle jimmy with kid gloves for the earlier parts of their relationship. he’s not very good at the death game, but that’s fine, he doesn’t need to be, scott will take care of it— he’ll get them set up with armor and potions and walls and jimmy can do… whatever it is he does when scott’s not around. mostly getting swindled, if he had to guess. but it’s fine, because scott can be steady, level headed, clever—
i do think most of scott’s ribbing about how he doesn’t know why he lets jimmy do anything when all he does is get scammed half the time is genuinely all in good fun, (jimmy is more than happy to play the fool most of the time, if only to bring a little bit of levity to things) it is super symptomatic of the way scott actually thinks about him. i don’t believe he thinks jimmy is actually stupid or anything, but i do think scott doesn’t quite trust him to get anything done. scott would never in a million years let himself lean on jimmy for any kind of support, because in scott’s mind jimmy’s job is to be bright and brash and only listen to that heart of his that’s too big for his body, too big for this game.
and i think too often we forget just how much losing jimmy destroyed scott in 3rd life. you ever think about how wrecked he must’ve been to place 10th despite being a consistent finalist in every other season? do you think about how all he has left is the burning, white-hot urge for revenge from the second jimmy’s body hit the ground?
i don’t think scott ever wants to feel like that again. i don’t think scott wants anyone to see him like that again. i think scott tries very hard to love jimmy from a safe distance where no one gets hurt. and i think that distance fucking kills jimmy, metaphorically speaking.
(also, tangentially related, i think there’s something to be said for how instantly tango goes “we only have a short time together, your curse will probably get us killed, and that’s fine.” and how jealous scott gets of that sentiment. as far as scott is concerned, tango and jimmy are of the same niche— they feel everything, loudly, even if it causes problems and even if it gets messy. and god that just makes his blood boil.)
i’m just so… entranced with the way scott carries himself with so much confidence and it’s not like he’s insecure, he really believes that, he’s a strong player and he knows that, but also revealing any emotion he deems to be “ugly” or “messy” makes him start to completely unravel. the driving force behind him is always love and loyalty and protectiveness over the people he cares about, but he’s juggling that with being dead set on never getting so close that losing them will completely ruin him.
anyway, this is getting away from me, but i think a lot of jimmy’s frustration with scott comes from the fact that he refuses to let their relationship go both ways, and i think by the time of the infamous “say i love you back” scene in limlife he’s just exhausted with throwing himself repeatedly against scott’s brick wall of perfectionism. that, and the whole Situation between them in double life, which i could honestly make it’s own post but good god i need to STOP typing or this will go on forever. forgive my completely disorganized ramblings i just have been trying to get all this down on paper FOREVER
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