#moth to the flame campaign

[cactiired]

Renée, my beloved

[avelera]

thesis about the sea peoples you say? may i request an infodump about the sea peoples?

Heya!

So, basically in college (undergraduate) I got really obsessed with the questions around the Collapse of the Aegean Bronze Age, mostly because I wanted to set my big Magnum Opus historical fiction novel in that time, and the deeper I dug into the rabbit hole the more it appeared that no one, absolutely no one, actually knows why the civilizations around the Mediterranean all fell from a state of pretty sophisticated internationally-trading civilizations to literal Dark Ages (all except for Egypt which was substantially weakened and never really recovered), all at once around 1200-1100 BCE.

The Sea Peoples are the names of the only contemporary (Egyptian) account we have that names who might have been responsible if this collapse was due to an invasion. It's a popular theory because a viking-style invasion is a much sexier reason for a civilization to collapse so we all gather around it like moths to flame. But the thing is, there's a lot of contradictory evidence for and against and shading that hypothesis.

Suffice to say, literally no actually knows what happened and almost every answer comes up, "Some combination of these things, probably?"

But what makes the Collapse even more interesting from a modern perspective is that if there was a historical Trojan War (and I think there was) as fictionalized in the Iliad and the Odyssey (and Song of Achilles, for the Tumbrlistas), then it would have taken place within a generation of the entire civilization that launched the Trojan War crumbling to dust.

So like, if you're Telemachus, your dad Odysseus fights in the Trojan War, some even manage to get home, and then like... everything goes to shit. Catastrophically. And doesn't recover for 400 years.

Seriously, they lost the written word, like how to actually write things down and read them and it took 400 years to get it back. That's how fucked shit got during the Collapse of the Bronze Age.

So my thesis was asking: what if these two things were related? What if the Trojan War either led to the Collapse or it was part of the Collapse or it was a result of the Collapse? Because the timeline is so unknown and muddled that it really could be any of those and again, that's if the Trojan War isn't entirely fictional (which I don't think it is, but many academics disagree, it used to be a whole thing up until Schliemann dug it up, and many doubted it was ever a historical event even after that.)

Ok, so at the risk of writing 75 pages on this again, let me just say:

My conclusion (more of a hypothesis proposal ultimately since there are so many gaps in our knowledge) was that the Trojan War took place before the Collapse of the Bronze Age. But, it might have been launched in response to a wider breakdown in trades routes and resources, causing the Greeks to launch the campaign basically as a bid to replenish their own coffers because they were getting squeezed by what they didn't know was the first rumblings of a global domino effect.

Therefore, since taking out Troy didn't solve those larger trends and forces, they all went home and then got slammed by the REAL problem, which was all the people who had been displaced from further away by this rolling drought or invasion or whatever that was disrupting these delicate international trade routes.

But the Greeks might have been part of the Sea Peoples too! Our only record of the Sea Peoples is from the Egyptians in a highly propagandistic text which makes them sound like this big fearsome foe but that might have been because saying, "We slaughtered a bunch of desperate refugees at our border who were looking for shelter," didn't sound as cool. If the Greeks (or Achaeans or Ahhiyawa) got swept up in this slow-rolling collapse/displacement of people, then they absolutely could have been among those refugees who crashed against the shores of Egypt.

A lot of my evidence was based on looking at how Troy was sacked (it was stripped literally down the nails and there was a lot of evidence of a long-term siege, like what we read about in the Iliad) vs. how Mycenae (Agamemnon's city) or Pylos (King Nestor's city) was sacked, where they were burned and stuff was stolen but they weren't stripped, it looks more like a standard looting hit-and-run type thing. Which led me to believe that it was different turmoil that rocked Mycenae and Pylos than what led to the sacking of Troy, despite the fact these things happened within about 20 years of each other. (Helen being a made-up reason for a resource-driven war would only be the oldest trick in the book, as far as propaganda goes, after all.)

But really, the craziest detail I'll leave you with is: we just don't know! And then it gets weirder. Because the Hittites fell at the same time so the Hittites scholars say, "Nah, the Sea Peoples weren't Hittites, they were probably Greeks." And the GREEK scholars say, "It wasn't us, it was probably the Hittites or someone else. " and the EGYPTIAN scholars say, "Yeah it was someone north of Egypt, maybe the Hittites or the Greeks." and the LEVANT scholars say, "It wasn't from the Levant, we know what was going on there, it has to be from somewhere else."

Literally every single possible source of the Sea Peoples has the scholars who specialize in that location saying it's not them and it must be the guy next door.

It's maddening!

And then there's a big ol' gap around Bulgaria and the Black Sea because, oh yeah, the Soviet Union forbade archaeology in those areas to quash any local pride so those places that were behind the Iron Curtain are decades behind on scholarship that would allow them to say, "Oh hey, it was actually us! Yeah, the invaders came from Bulgaria and got pushed down by a famine." or something to that effect.

We also have some histories from the time saying that the Sons of Heracles returned not long after the Trojan War to lay Greece to waste! And it's really evocative and sounds like it fits what we've got of all these burned cities that happened right after Troy fell! Except that's in doubt now too!

The latest theory is that it was climate change that led to a massive drought. You can read about it in the latest and most popular book on the subject, 1177 BCE which I highly recommend because if it had existed when I wrote my thesis, I wouldn't have had to write it.

But I disagree with the conclusion! Or rather, I'm skeptical. Because very decade, the problems of the day have been hypothesized as being the cause of the Collapse. Like, in the 60s, there was a theory that maybe it was internal strife around a labor strike, like the French Revolution. And y'know when there's a world war, they think it's an invasion. And there was a theory that it was 'cuz of an earthquake (I think that one is nonsense, Mediterranean civilizations famously bounce back quickly from earthquakes.) And now that climate change is on our mind, I'm a little weary to see that it's the new theory because it feels way too much like we're just projecting our problems onto this giant question mark.

Was climate an aspect! I think so! I think it might have contributed to the break down in trade routes that made everyone in the Mediterranean really stressed out and hostile and warlike and led to a lot of displacement. I'm not sure if it's the only reason though and I think the book just kinda reiterates everyone else saying, "I think it was this but in the end, we just don't know, and it was probably a lot of things." which we've known for ages so it's just repeating all the same conclusions. *sigh*

... Like I said, I wrote my thesis on this so yeah, I could go on for a while lol.

[milky-aeons]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

౨ৎ  . . . he's always been cocky. It was that self-righteous bravado JEAN KIRSCHTEIN had which drew you towards him in the first place, like a moth to flame, too curious to look away. It was your own damn fault for getting burned.

warnings: swearing, sexual content, emotional dysregulation, reader is bad at feelings, Jean is no better, enemies to lovers, mdni, w.c 3.9k

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, at first.

A mindless curiosity. If you were being honest, what really piqued your initial interest in Jean Kirschtein was that ridiculous way he wore his hair.

At least, that was what you liked to tell yourself. On those nights where his golden eyes wouldn't leave your mind while you tossed and turned. Feeling your body heat, your skin stretching too taut across your bones, aching.

It had morphed into something more mind consuming, more tangible, at a speed and stealth you couldn't keep up with. You were always a woman who liked to have a decent reign on her emotions. In a world like this, where you had all been thrown into war and shattered beyond repair, it took only the strong to pick themselves back up and keep going. For so long, that had been your only objective. To keep moving. To never stop, to make it to the other side.

And here you were. The Rumbling had decimated over eighty-percent of the world's population, was the number plastered across every newspaper in Eldia. You had made it. There was no reason to push it all away now in favour of those survival instincts. And in its wake, all your thoughts left untouched, those feelings left unfelt, came roaring up to the surface with a one sure goal of swallowing you whole.

You were going insane.

The first time you had saw him since the War broke out, you almost did not recognise him. Standing there at a newspaper stall at such towering height. He rose above any other male around him.

When you were teenagers, you used to delight in the blush that raced across his cheeks when you teased him about his silly undercut, how it reminded you of the mane of a horse. He would splutter, like a wounded thing, and shout at you in a high, offended voice. You would laugh, and laugh, until his tanned skin coloured the same shade as the roses you collected in your basket.

Back then, you were just an ordinary towns girl, making fun of a trainee soldier because you thought them all the same. Stuck up, boorish, common things for a youth to entertain. You never knew about the frequent encounters you would soon find yourself with the soldier who graduated in the 104th's Top Ten. Who, despite everything he boasted, joined ranks with the Survey Corps and ventured where you could only hope to dream. Who would bump into you on quiet, serene nights as you returned from the flower fields, and offer you a suave smile.

"Never thought I'd see you again. You're still goin' round with those flowers in your basket, huh?"

"Indeed, I am. Would you like me to fashion you a flower crown? It would do well to hide that ridiculous haircut you seem to still wear."

The boat rocked against the lull of the waves. Your vase skidded across the wooden worktop, and you gasped, holding it in place.

You had become distracted, again.

Being one of the best florists within all three walls, and after taking up the family business as your father's prodigy, you were not surprised when a group of militants showed up at your studio a few days hence. Informing you of a campaign to visit the nation of Marley, and that your services would be of great use. Many ceremonies, they had said, a great many. We could use a florist's touch such as you.

And that was the day you saw him again. At the newspaper stand. His hair was longer, his eyes sharp and always cunning. From your workroom here on the boat destined for Marley, you were certain the smooth baritone of his voice had become one with the walls at this point, you seemed so fixated on it.

Insane. That man was driving you insane.

Huffing, you picked up a smooth satin ribbon from your sewing box and fashioned it around the bouquet you had taken longer than usual to put together. The first of many you had been asked to create for a cordial tea that was scheduled for when you first arrived there. Bittersweet, for truth, Calla Lily, to show justice, sharp pops of colour from Gladioli, for strength of their new nations. You sat back in your chair and regarded the arrangement.

It was the need to speak to the Commander about the debrief of events that sent you standing from your chair and meandering down the ships hallways in search of your company. It was not because the soft tongues of pollen from the lilies were just the same shade as his watchful, watchful eyes.

"Excuse me," You spoke after knocking on the door of the main cabin. Armin Arlert's cordial tone beckoned you inside.

All of the main players of Paradis' military were gathered around a small tea service; the Commander and his partner, Annie Leonhart, along with the strong presence of Reiner Braun, sitting at the round table. Armin smiled warmly at you when you introduced yourself into the room with a small bow.

He, was furiously fixing his long hair in the reflection of a wall mirror in the corner of your vision. You refused to look his way. Out of sheer stubbornness, you would not. To prove something to yourself, you would aptly ignore the soldier.

Yet you did notice how his comb suddenly froze in mid air when you entered the room.

"Miss [Name]," Armin greeted. "Can we help you with anything? Is everything to your liking?"

"Everything is just perfect, Commander." You said, smiling warmly. "I have come to tell you that I... have been within two minds about what flowers I should use for our opening ceremony. Would strength imply hostility to the already wounded Marley nation, if I were to use Galdioli?"

Armin tilted his head to the side, his golden hair sliding across his forehead. "Hm. No, I think it's good to be a bit bold, actually. I'll trust your judgement on it, [Name]."

You were surprised that you had asked such a convincing question, after coming to the cabin on a shaky basis. Feeling his eyes on you through the mirror, your cheeks pulled into a tight smile, and you were just about to thank the Commander, when—

"All this talk about flower crap, what ones to use, what ones to stick in your hair," Jean Kirschtein's voice piqued up, and you roiled at the way it slinked across your skin, how it called all your senses to high alert. He chuckled in a smooth timbre. "Really, [Name], you haven't changed a bit."

Stiffly, you slowly turned your posture until you could fully face the soldier in the corner of the room. He had gone back to his task of combing those auburn locks to sit neatly swept, his eyes not looking at you.

Connie Springer, who had previously been leaning out of the cabin window, turned to his comrade with an accusing face. "Says the guy who's been fixin' his damn hair the last hour. What are you even doin' that for, huh?"

In his reflection, you saw how Jean's lips stretched into a cheeky, heart-breaking smirk. It made the flutter of your pulse hum erratically, made every sharp remark you wanted to throw at him bottom out from your mind.

"Because," Jean boasted. "I gotta look good for all the Marley ladies we're gonna bump into, don't I?"

And just like that, your heartbeat stilled in your chest.

It hadn't occurred to you until then, how acutely tangible that feeling inside you had become for the golden-eyed soldier. When it had made that shift from curiously interested to all-encompassing, ravaging, when it had become a need of yours to have him in every way you could. And standing there in the doorway of that small cabin, on that boat destined for Marley, you had felt the weight drop deep against your shoulders.

You were in love with Jean Kirschtein.

It was a barrage of emotions, one coming in torrents after the other. Shock. Longing. A foolish, giddy elation. And then; anger. Brewing, boiling, furious anger.

You were in love with Jean Kirschtein.

"Miss [Name]?" Armin called you softly, his tone edged with concern. You blinked, coming back into the room, only to realise that every pair of eyes were gazing at you curiously. "Are you feeling okay?" He ebbed.

An impressive reign on your emotions you had, indeed. But these emotions were never there before — and you had realised that, all this time, this is what had been trying to rise up and swallow you down. Yet anger, you were familiar with anger, you could shield yourself with that and use it to escape, just like you have always done.

"Yes—Yes, I am quite alright," You smiled, but it was razor-sharp. Then, directing it at him, the man of all your desires, you said, "I have heard there are some interesting technologies in Marley, Kirschtein. One of them namely being the light camera. Perhaps, you should ask them to take a photo of your face, so you can stare at it as much as you want."

Jean's honey eyes went wide. Connie coughed, which turned into a deep throng of laughter that had him falling from the window and into a chair. Perhaps his comrades had joined in on the chortling too, but you did not stay long enough to find out. The moment the sharp words left your tongue, you had whirled around, shutting the cabin door behind you.

The scent of the Calla Lilies were sweet and cloying, and even as you cradled your face in your shielding hands, their pollen still found a way to reach you. Dizzying, half-maddening, just like your thoughts as they spun without mercy in your mind.

You loosed a breath and leaned up so your hands, still clasped, pressed against your mouth. You could feel each pound of your heart, as if it were a hummingbird trapped in its cage within your chest. Any moment now, you were sure it would burst free and fly far, far away. You wished it would. In fact, you wished you yourself could just burst into a thousand little pieces and soar through the cabin window and be scattered within the waves if it meant you did not have to feel like this.

Hot. Angry. Yet scared, upset, mortified at yourself and how you had exploded at him. He—Jean, he did not deserve such remarks. He did not deserve how you had taken your insecurities and made them into swords to fling back at him. Of course, you knew this, and that rational tender part of you wished to corner him in some private area of the ship and apologise. Another part warred with that thought, wishing to grab him by the lapels of his brown suit and shake him back and forth, screaming, furious that he was eliciting such feelings from you.

And yet, a smaller side of you, a dangerous, heated area of your heart also wanted to grab hold of his lapels, but only to rip and rend them from his body. Exposing his smooth, strong flesh that he held himself so proudly with underneath—

You stood up with the intention to pace around your room until you could will yourself to calm down.

That was when you heard the thundering footsteps outside.

They were quick. They were determined, rapping against the wooden floorboards that connected all corners of the ship. Startled, you felt every inch of you still, your senses on sudden high alert. They were close by. Were they coming from—?

The door to your work room suddenly flew open, the force of it strong enough to crack the door against the wall as it did so. And there he stood on the other side of it in all his maddening glory, his large hand outstretched from where he had impacted, his shoulders moving up and down with effort. Before you could even protest, Jean had invited himself into your quarters and slammed the door behind him.

His eyes, wild and stern, found you and locked you in place. Rudely, he jutted his finger in your direction and spat, "Just what the hell is your problem, huh?"

So taken aback at the sudden intrusion of the man you had just been agonising over now standing here, panting and furious in your bedroom — it had taken a second for your mind to really catch up. But when it did, your first reaction was obvious defence, causing you to straighten your spine and gawk at him.

"I beg your—!"

"Oh, don't fuck with me, [Name]. I think it's time we sat down and had this damn conversation." Jean snarled, the muscles in his cheek jumping as he spoke. "Ever since we were kids, you've had this weird hate against me, and I've never understood why. The hell have I ever done to you, hah?"

Heat was quick to rise up the column of your exposed neck and onto your cheeks. He was angry, you could see it in the way his eyes blazed, his broad shoulders bunched and tight. You mirrored him, your eyebrows knotting at what he had just said.

Hate him?

"Don't be dramatic, Kirschtein. I've never—!"

"Oh yeah?" He goaded, his expression mocking. "Bullshit. What was that back there, then? Or yesterday? Or at the newspaper stall before we left? Is that your weird sycophant way of being nice, or are we just living in a backwards world all of a sudden and I didn't get the memo?"

"We've always mocked each other, that doesn't mean I hate you—!"

"Well you damn well make it believable, sweetheart—"

"Will you please, just, calm down for a moment—"

"And you've been more prickly than usual, these days! Getting all riled up over things you usually don't, hell—you won't even fuckin' look at me anymore!"

"Well—that—that—!"

"If I've fucking done somethin' to ya, have a damn back bone and say it to me!"

"Jean—"

"And another thing—!"

"For the love of the Walls, it is because I am in love with you, you foolish man!"

The silence that cut into your argument was so deafening, you could almost hear it ringing in your ears.

Whatever angry words were about to leave Jean's open mouth died on his tongue. It almost looked as if they had been forced right back down his throat, he looked so strangled for air.

None of you dared say a thing. The only sounds that existed within the room was the echo of your laboured, angry breaths, mingling with the sudden inhale of air he took that expanded his chest. He moved his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. His dark brows knitted together. He opened his mouth again.

"What... did you just say?"

It was like a bucket of water had been decanted over your head, shocking you into realising what had passed from your lips. You stood there, dumbfounded, exposed, watching the emotions play across his face. The anger melting into shock, which bled into a distortedly humorous confusion.

He took a step forward, and asked again, "Oi, what was that last thing... you just said?"

"Nothing." You bared your teeth at him. "I said nothing. Get out."

He was eating up the small distance that existed between you two until he reduced it to that of a few steps. On his face there was an expression you couldn't decipher, could not sift through the emotions which held it together. Perhaps the uncertainty of it was what sent you retreating until your back hit the far wall of your bedroom. Perhaps it was the shattering of your defences, your walls you kept up so effortlessly, that fuelled the glare you threw his way when you craned up to see him.

When you saw something simmering in the eyes that haunted you in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, you thought — perhaps it was the realisation between the two of you, that the shift from fun to tangible had taken place long, long ago.

"Leave, Kirschtein." You whispered, but it came out hollow, broken.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning down so you shared breath. "Do you want me to?"

Every aspect of him invaded your senses, made it so frustratingly hard to think, to breathe. With him so close, barely millimetres from brushing your nose with his own as he levelled your faces, you could see the smatter of freckles on his high cheekbones. Could breathe in his scent of musk and sea breeze, quickening your breaths, your pulse. Your fingers clawed into the wood behind, restraining yourself from reaching out to him. Because you were afraid that if you did touch him, that you would never be able to stop.

He shifted to press his hand to the side of your head.

"Do you," Jean murmured, whispering so as only you could hear. "Want me to leave, [Name]?"

Instinct was roaring at you to press into him, crying for a release to an ache deep within your belly that curled low and heady.

Insane. He had already drove you insane.

"Damn you, Kirschtein." You hissed, before reaching up to fist your hands into his stupidly fixed hair and crashing your lips with his.

There was a moment of surprise on his part, as if he wasn't expecting you to be so bold. His lips remained frozen underneath your own, unyielding, a perfect statue of human discomposure. Jean, however, was a never a man who was slow to adapt to any situation, give it in the midst of battle or when the woman he has been pining after for years — who, he was convinced, hated his guts — had decided to smash their lips together.

And this sound escaped from the soldier. Akin to that of a wounded animal, a tortured soul, it rumbled down your throat and you swallowed it greedily. Jean's hand flew to cradle the side of your face, pushing back against your kiss, his fingers steepling into your hair and craning your neck back. Your shared kiss started off as something chaste and unsure — releasing each other before coming back for longer, scared to stop for too long lest they woke up and realised it was all a dream.

Jean grew impatient, he grew desperate for you. In one movement he had snaked his hand behind the small of your back and hoisted you against him — almost short-circuiting at the feel of your body pressed so close, like he had thought about so damn frequently. Every time you passed him, every time he watched the strong swish of your hips as you walked through the market on a sunny afternoon. He'd bite his lip, he'd put his fist in his mouth, anything to distract himself.

But this — right here, right now. This couldn't be real.

And yet, he wanted more. He needed more, he needed you.

A moan tore up your throat when he tilted your head just right to deepen the kiss, his large hand fitting to the back of your neck. You felt his tongue explore your mouth, eager and willing, so ravaged at tasting every part of you. It occured to you that you needed his tongue on other areas of your body. Between your breasts, your thighs, you needed to fist your hand in his hair and tell him where to go.

You let out a small shriek when he suddenly hooked two hands underneath your thighs and hoisted you up against the cabin wall.

The ship rocked as you clawed at one another, unravelling folds of clothing and facets of bravado until you were just two souls, two humans, who had survived it all and were allowed to live, without fearing that tomorrow could be the last. He had fisted the ribbons of your working dress in his hands and ripped them in one pull. You gasped when the air slid across your smooth skin, now exposed, hidden behind nothing but a camisole that peaked where your taut nipples were.

Suddenly, Jean paused. He stared at you as if he were seeing you again for the very first time.

"Fuck," He gasped, holding you tighter, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your sensitive thighs. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm—do you—?"

You grabbed the knot of his tie and pulled him back into you, kissing him with a wild, chaotic passion that caused him to unfold underneath your fingertips.

It was in that chaos that he held you up fluidly to his body and walked you over so he could splay you against the work table — where the lilies and gladioli and bittersweets lay. He had shoved them somewhere off to the side, muttering something about stupid damn flowers and how they were always in his way.

And you had laughed. In that way which Jean secretly adored, as it upturned your eyes and made them crease at the sides. Like little curving moons in the night sky.

He shucked off his suit pants in a flurry of clumsy movements, palming at your breasts hungrily as he did so. You were driving him half mad with how good you looked, you smelled — fresh daisies and honey, intoxicating him, making his head spin. He splayed his entire hand onto your stomach and asked;

"You sure?"

Something broke inside of you at his vulnerable expression, always the gentleman. You sucked you lip between your teeth and nodded your head, adding, "I believe I will go insane if I cannot have you."

"Well, that makes fuckin' two of us."

The first stroke of him inside you was incomprehensible.

The second ignited your nerve endings and made you bow up and off of the desk, pulling you taut like a bow string and releasing you when he pulled back. There was something harmonious in the ryhtmn you two found, Jean keeping a hand on your stomach while he pushed into you hard and fast. At one moment, he lifted your leg underneath the knee and spread you wider, groaning ferociously as he buried to the hilt.

He kept going until he had fractured your universe. Until the little spots in your vision were like constellations. He was placing tender kisses along your body when you came back down to him, so raptured by pleasure it was hard to move. You could feel the pulse of him still inside you and he too, rode his release.

He swept your hair from your shining forehead and placed a long, lingering kiss.

"I said," You panted, leaning up to nip at his bottom lip. Oh, but you will have him again, and again, and again, until you made no use of your legs and the boat docked on Marley. Perhaps you would not even leave this room. Perhaps they would have no flowers for their ceremonies, after all. "That I dislike your hair even more that way, I'll have you know."

Jean's honey coloured eyes — dazed with pleasure — flickered to you when you said those words. Then, he chuckled, and you felt it vibrate against your chest and deep within your heart — where he had been, all this time.

He leaned down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck and said, "I love you too, idiot."

[stranger-nightmare]

Eddie Munson ~ Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Angst = ❤︎

Fluff = ✿

Smut = ⚠︎ (minors DNI please)

Dark Themes = ☾

Personal Fave = ☆

Oneshots

The Stars at Lover’s Lake ✿⚠︎

For Later… ✿⚠︎

Concentrate ⚠︎

Payback ⚠︎

Rock the Night ⚠︎☆ (Steve x F!Reader x Eddie)

Save a Prayer ❤︎✿⚠︎☆

Younger ✿☆

Desperate ⚠︎☆

I’ll Make It Up To You ❤︎✿⚠︎☆ Part Two ❤︎✿⚠︎☆

Sick Bastard ⚠︎☾

Time After Time ❤︎✿⚠︎☆

Impatient ⚠︎ (mechanic!Eddie au)

Good Boy ✿⚠︎

Moth to a Flame ❤︎⚠︎︎ (Eddie x F!Reader x Steve) (coming soon)

Drabbles

Cool Guy Persona ❤︎✿

Who You Gonna Call? ❤︎✿

Running Down That Hill ❤︎✿

Tongue Twister ⚠︎

Campaign Planning ⚠︎

Cockbulge / Size Kink ⚠︎ (Kinktober 2022)

Headcanons

Dating Eddie Headcanons ❤︎✿⚠︎

Reacting to You Being on Your Period ✿

Watching a Scary Movie Together ✿

Being With an Inexperienced Reader ✿⚠︎

Having a Clingy Significant Other ✿

Having a Socially Anxious Partner ✿

Fucking You in a Sundress ⚠︎

A Few Thoughts on Vampire!Eddie ⚠︎☾

Sex Whilst You’re On Your Period ✿⚠︎

NSFW Alphabet ⚠︎

Modern!Eddie Playlist (spotify)

Audio Masterlist (18+ only)

Audio Masterlist 2 (18+ only)

dividers by @silkholland | consent / feedback banners by me

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Grumpy Eddie, Sunshine Reader

💖

Eddie couldn't help staring at you, anytime you were in his vicinity he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

This was no good. Eddie didn't need to be distracted and especially not by you. You were literal sunshine and Eddie couldn't help but notice you all the time.

There was always a smile on your face, you were always happy and smiling, upbeat.

Usually, Eddie found this type of shit annoying but with you he found it endearing.

Right now he was meant to be knee deep in a campaign but when he wasn't furiously scribbling down notes for it (weaving an intricate tale that would blow the Hellfire members minds) he was drawn to you.

Gareth sniggers as he catches Eddie's eye and is about to tease him for his obvious crush on you, not that Eddie had admitted it yet but it was common knowledge to everyone.

Everyone even Jason knew that Eddie was a goner for you, well all except Eddie himself. You were the only one wasn't on his list of the shit that was wrong with Hawkins.

You were the only one who could tease a smile out of Eddie when he was in a mood, who didn't have to fear the wrath of Eddie the Banished when you talked to him if he was grumpy.

Unbeknownst to everyone else you were the one who made Eddie's heart skip a beat and his day a little bit brighter. One word from you would quell his annoyances and calm the chaos of his mind.

One look from Eddie quietens whatever Gareth was about to say and then he hears you shriek and he almosts upends his chair thinking you were in trouble.

Eddie was no hero- as much as he portrayed in Hellfire that he was - but for you he would be.

He acesses the cafeteria for the threat to you and finds none, just you with a pout on your face, your lunch tray on the ground.

You tripped. Eddie's racing heart calms as he sits back down and your eyes meet his, there's a sheepish grin on your face.

That little smile pratically melts his usual cynical heart and he swears under his breath.

Fuck, you really were trouble, he's sure you'd be the death of him and that realisation is met with another one that he's very much in love with you.

...

[tinydeskwriter]

Request: Jack being obsessed with gf reader. Clingy, touchy, jealous, possessive, etc. Constantly has to have her around and gets cranky when she's not.

Mark The Territory

Jack was usually very touchy—almost clingy—, as a rule a part of his body always had to be connected with a part of hers, and it was just with her Y/n learned early in their relationship, he had never been like that with previous girlfriends, at least that's what his friends said, Urban, Jack’s best friend, even once joked that Jack suffered from an Y/n Obsession, which everyone thought was funny, except for Jack himself who blushed when even his girlfriend starts laughing. Whenever they are in the same room he is drawn to her vicinity like a moth to her irresistible flame. No one else even blinks anymore when he pulls her to sit on his lap in the middle of a conversation. Or the way he moves in two seconds if he sees a guy getting too close to Y/n.

They were one of those always touching, always together, teeth-rotting couple.

“Shit, dude.” Urban entered the hotel room. “Metta came out of here cursing you in German, what did you do?”

“He bit her head off, because his outfit isn't all-black and he and Y/n ain’t going to match.” Zack commented bored, while sitting in an armchair, scrolling through his phone. “And he’s grumpy because Y/n is going to meet him at the stadium for the game, and he misses her.” Bia made fun of his friend. “He’s suffering withdrawal.”

“Shut up.” Jack grumbled, finishing the buttons on his dark brown silk shirt.

Yes. He was in a bad mood over his girlfriend's absence.

They had already spent the entire afternoon apart as she had had a photo shoot for a lingerie campaign. And he'd been banned from attending by her manager—just because he'd threatened the photographer in the last photoshoot, it wasn't like the guy didn't deserve it —.

And to worsen his mood, Jack had seen on IG that two of Y/n's ex-boyfriends would be in the game.

He didn't really care about Colson, the guy was engaged and their relationship had ended peacefully, they kept as friends, Y/n even went shopping with Megan.

Jack's problem was the asshole who still DMed her as if he didn't know she was dating him. He didn't have any beef with Gerald till the rapper he collaborated with on the song 'Moana' made it clear he didn't respect his relationship with Y/n.

"C'mon idiots, I don't want to keep my girl waiting." Jack took his cell phone and wallet from the bedside table.

—#—

One of his hand was intertwined with hers over her knee, and the other was playing with his hair. From time to time he would attack her bare neck with his lips—completely aware that he would leave marks—his free hand gently holding her jaw in place, as if she were his prey.

Jack was also aware of the other rapper sitting across the court, apparently unable to take his eyes off his girlfriend.

“Just ignore.” He heard Y/n whisper in her ear, and turned to look at her.

“Hard when he can't stop looking this way.”

“You're the one who's going to take me home… or rather to our hotel room.” Y/n rested her chin on her boyfriend's shoulder. “While he's the guy who messed up all his relationships and he's going back to a big empty house.”

“How did you know….” He turned to face her in time to see her roll her eyes.

“Please Jack, give me some credit, I know you.” She said. “And since you arrived, all that's left is for you to piss on me to mark your territory.”

Jack blushes.

And then he heard Zack and Urban choke on their drink.

Assholes. That's what you get by listening to other people's conversation.

“I'm yours Jack, there's no reason for you to be jealous or feel insecure, Gerald, Colson, all the other guys are in the past, none of them made me feel the way you do.” Y/n kisses her boyfriend just as the kissing cam focused on the couple.

[truetalesteam]

Week 2 of our Season 3 Crowdfund!

Hello Everyone!

Here at True Tales of the Illuminati, we are humbled and excited to announce that with three weeks left in the campaign, we are almost halfway to our crowdfunding goal. That means that we’ve been able to release the second of our four crowdfunding minisodes, and we’re rounding the corner towards the third! You can listen to them, and to our first two seasons, on our podcast feed now.

That’s right, our marketing strategy for asking you help us make a third season is to make a mini-season and hold it hostage! Find another podcast that does that! (Okay Wooden Overcoats, sure. Fine, we ripped them off, so sue us, they’re our heroes. No you shut up)

If you haven't heard of us yet, we're an audio comedy about conspiracies gone disastrously wrong, fruitlessly spinning the wheels of history like a car in park when you floor the gas. Inspired by (and aspiring to be) BBC audio comedy like Cabin Pressure and Hitchhiker's Guide, with rapid-fire jokes in the vein of Archer, Community and 30 Rock, we're proud to have been Audioverse award finalists for our first two seasons.

Here are a few of the things we’re excited about in our third season:

New characters ripped from the real Enlightenment-era Illuminati! Watch Beck get drawn to this group of navel gazing nerds like a pannier-wearing moth to a flame! See Jackie fall under the influence of a mysterious new mentor figure! Listen to Ishmael swill coffee and make bon mots!

New Dal! Dared to find a hobby "besides murder," watch her harass and bully shop proprietors into giving her a personality a second dimension!

Five whole episodes with an explosive two-part finale that calls upon all of Ishmael's bravery, courage and brain cells!

Here’s where the funding is going to go:

Recording studio time rental! In the past we’ve recorded with our full cast all together at The Bridge Sound and Stage recording studio in Somerville, MA. Not only does that make our audio sound great, having our cast all together, able to bounce off of each other live as we record means we get our amazing cast chemistry bubbling away to make each joke land even harder.

Paying those amazing actors! Every one of our cast members is paid for their time and talent, and as we have a big cast and tend to pack character after character into a scene, that’s quite a large line item! Why do we keep writing scenes with 5 characters in them!

Sound design! We’re once again working with the phenomenal Beth Crane and Hedley Knight, who you may know from their show We Fix Space Junk. Beth and Hedley have an incredible ear for sound, and some of the finest comedy brains out there, and they use those gifts to make sure that when a character jumps through a pane of glass, that that is the funniest pane of glass that there is to jump through.

Administrative fees! Podcast and website hosting aren't free! Look, some of these are just going to be true, not fun.

Places where the funding does not go:

Our pockets - We make this show because we love making it, and because we want to make the funniest thing we can. Every penny we raise goes right into making this show better and making more of it. The only ROI we see is getting to put something we think is really good out into the world. Does this make us fools? Economically, yes! But spiritually? You decide! (Please say no we need a win so bad)

Local political contributions in New South Wales - (we’re only 80% on where it is)

Actual occult organizations - (We don't know how to join the illuminati, no matter how desperate or strange the marketing emails we get are)(we WOULD say this though, so keep trying!) PLEASE STOP ASKING US ABOUT THEM

Non-Fiction History Books About The Weirdest Shit We Can Find - We use the library, bitches. We didn't spend a cent on The Witch of Lime Street!

Intrigued? Generous? Cool? Please help us bring our next season to life over at truetalesteam.com/crowdfund

[hojiteaversion]

Mehmed/MC - Fic Recommendations

An asterisk (*) before the title indicates the fic is in Russian! (I read with a browser translator and it's fine! Sometimes some things sound funny and/or pronouns are translated wrong, but it's all understandable!)

All the fics are completed!

Collision by BorgiaBarbie

Laia struggles when the return of Mehmed complicates her already messy love life with Noe. Oh, and she has one week to restore a priceless painting. Can Laia somehow figure out who she is and what she wants before the sand in the hourglass runs out? Laia/Mehmed and Laia/Noe. Mess. Chaos. Jealousy. Angst. Set after the events of Dracula a Love Story Season 4 Episode 3. Chapters 9 & 10 are set 6 months later.

Hilarious? Check ✅ Great writing? Check ✅ Fluff, angst, humor, and smut?! Check ✅

Also, chapter 4 is what most people would call a religious experience. Please, please do yourself a favor and read it.

The Sultan’s request by nesrinslittleworld

Lale Hatun has a conversation with her Uncle when she visits him with the second portrait.

Really well-written short fic. Mehmed/MC is just implied, but I really enjoyed this look into Lale's conflicted feelings about him.

*The trap of excitement by Akulova Anastasia

After her joint incognito outing with Shehzade, Lale continued to avoid Mehmed, fearing her own feelings, and he, having chosen the path of her methodical conquest, found another safe way to get closer, which could not help but seduce the gambling nature of the Sultana: he promised to teach the game of chess, bypassing the prohibitions. The tactics turn out to be correct, but soon Mehmed sets off on a new campaign. On what note will they say goodbye to Lale, and will she agree to one small bet?

This fic has excellent Mehmed characterization, excellent chemistry and development between him and Lale, an amazing dance scene, and a top-notch epilogue. No spoilers, but there's a moment between the two in the smut scene that I find beautifully done and quite touching!

*Obsession by Akulova Anastasia

“Sorry… God, I don’t know what came over me,” I muttered in confusion and embarrassment, for some reason backing away and awkwardly knocking over the paints. Damn it, in this life we ​​have known each other for only a few days and we are not connected by anything except the memories of the reckless passion of young Lale, who probably did not end in anything good, another me, who has long fallen asleep. So why am I now torn by such unbearable thirst and longing? Why did I… kiss him?

Some beautiful and memorable moments between Laia and Mehmed in this one, especially in chapters 2 and 3. To further entice you, I will say one of these excellent moments involves a knife 🙏‍🙌

*Swallow and flame by linalisavv

“I need to run away from you like fire, but I’m flying towards you like a stupid, naive moth, hoping not to scorch my wings,” Lale said almost in a whisper. Her lips collided with the Shehzade’s, and the air around sparked.

This fic (set after 3x11) imagines how Lale and Mehmed could get together in the Ottoman Empire. I think it's very well-written! And while Vlad plays a minimal role here, I think it's fun that this fic is technically set in a Mehmed and Vlad route. Kudos for the sweet epilogue too!

*A fragile tulip in his hands by Seagull with cookies.

Her mind told her: “Get out, run. He is a cruel tyrant. Madman. He will destroy you." And my heart screamed: “It won’t hurt. Can not. His feelings are too strong."

Friends... This one made me insane. It had a lot of things that fit their canon dynamic so well! I want to let you experience it for yourselves, so I'll just say: drawings, teasing, understanding, breathplay (!!!), and falling in love. Please read it.

*On the edge of the abyss by Little_romantic

"I'm scared. I'm afraid it will hurt again…" "I will never hurt you." His whisper sounded so convincing, so soulful that goosebumps ran across my skin. She knew he believed it, but…

I have recommended this one before, and I will do it again! Each chapter is independent from the others. Guys, the sheer longing in these glimpses of them as Mehmed and Lale want, more than anything, to make them work even as they're scared because, you know, it's them... I think it's a beautiful work and it makes my heart just go out to them.

[irrelevantwriter]

Heart = Kiss

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Fluff, SFW

Warnings: Language, bullying, mentions of blood sacrifice, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, soft brown eyes (just an all around good time)

Word Count: 2718

Summary: As a member of Hellfire, you know Eddie. He isn’t really a risk taker. But he’s about to change all that. 

A/N: Eddie my beloved has taken over my life. And I have no ragerts. Hope you guys are down to clown because I have a series in the works. I seriously cannot be managed. Anyway, I love Eddie as a soft boy. I love him as a nervous, fidgety, snarky cinnamon roll so that’s what I’ve made him. So, enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

Disclaimer: Characters are of age in my fics.

**Check out my other Eddie fics here

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

“It’s just a delay. Not a cancellation,” Dustin explained, desperately seeking back up on the matter.

The group, including Wheeler, looked on helplessly, knowing the odds of Eddie pushing his campaign back were slim to none.

“You know Eddie’s never gonna go for it,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Yeah, but-,” Dustin started up again, only to be interrupted by Jason Carver and his herd of sheep. All of them wore the same letterman jacket. They looked like poster boys for the conforming youth of the USA.

It was creepy as shit.

“Well look who it is boys…the freaks.”

You rolled your eyes at his unoriginal greeting. The rest of your group did much the same, unimpressed with their tired forms of harassment. It must be slow in the entertainment department for them today.

Jason took the seat at the head of the lunch table. Eddie’s seat. The leader of your club wasn’t present yet. But he would be. And he wouldn’t be happy about the unexpected visit.

“What do you want?” Gareth sneered at the Ken doll replica currently sitting with them.

“Just wanna see what hellish and atrocious shit you freaks are up to today,” Jason said with a smirk, resting his elbows on the table as if he was making himself comfortable.

“What the hell is this?” Came Eddie’s voice from behind the group of basketball players, cutting to the front and seeing Jason sitting in his spot. He looked around at your faces and could see it wasn’t a pleasant interaction.

“Munson, nice of you to join us. We were just getting the inside scoop on what you and your band of freaks do.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, recognizing the game that was being played.

“Why don’t you boys head back to the locker rooms and jerk each other off or something?” Eddie threw back, not at all affected by Jason’s words.

“Only if she’ll come,” one of the basketball players pointed at you, eyes moving over your body in a way that made you recoil.

“Fuck off,” you bit back, flipping him off. You were pleased to see his eyes narrow and his jaw clench. You’d pissed him off.

“You heard the lady,” Eddie said, stepping between you and the pervert. “Fuck. Off.”

Jason stood suddenly and bypassed Eddie, getting into your personal space. You kept your cool. You weren’t afraid of them. You’d seen worse than these idiots. You’d been through worse. Anything they said or did would pale in comparison to the kind of life you’d already lived.

“Wouldn’t you rather be with us at the game tonight than slumming with these nerds?” He nodded to the table. Your friends. “We’ll even look past the unfortunate wardrobe.” His gaze roamed over your body, making a show of inspecting your outfit.

Everyone’s eyes were wide and waiting for what you had to say. You could see Eddie fidgeting. He didn’t like confrontation. But you’d seen him step in where it counted with Jason and his band of idiots.

You smiled, a big one so that everyone knew it was fake. You gestured with your index finger for Jason to move in closer. Like a moth to a flame, he did. Because at the end of the day he was a boy. And boys were weak when it came to girls. Freak or not.

You whispered, but it was still loud enough for the rest of the group to hear. “I prefer the virgin sacrifice we have planned for tonight. But you should come. You could be our honorary guest. I bet your blood is delicious.”

Jason reared back, a look of disgust on his face. Behind him, you could see Eddie smirking, hiding a laugh behind his ringed fingers. Around the table, snickers and puffs of muted laughter filled the tense silence.

“Fucking psycho,” Jason spit out, fear clearly passing over his features.

He was too easy.

You winked at him as he motioned for his sheep to follow, shoulder bumping Eddie along the way.

“Keep your freaks in check, Munson.”

Eddie only held his hands up, clearly tickled by the interaction. They left with nothing else left to say.

As soon as the group of guys were far enough away, the entire table erupted into laughter and excited chatter.

“Holy shit!”

“That was fucking amazing!”

“Did you see his face?”

You giggled, feeling sheepish about garnering so much attention. Eddie finally sat down and slow-clapped, his eyes taking you in with an expression you’d never seen before.

“All hail our princess of darkness,” Eddie teased, bowing towards you in a silly show of mock worship. The others joined.

“Fuck you,” you playfully retorted, shoving him.

“That was great.” He said, tone more serious.

You could see he wanted to say more, but he was cut off by Dustin.

“Eddie…my man…I have something to propose.”

************************************

You laughed as you gathered up your things, the night ending on a high note. Erica Sinclair had come through and defeated Eddie’s monster, shocking everyone. Including Eddie.

It was a celebratory occasion and you were looking forward to going to Curly’s for burgers and fries with the rest of the group. Turns out, everyone had plans. An unexpected surprise because usually no one had shit to do after campaign night.

“What’re you doing after?” Eddie asked, the room emptying as everyone dispersed.

You shrugged as you pulled your bag onto your shoulder. “Probably just grab some food and go home.”

“I’ll come with.”

You stopped walking and turned to look at Eddie, the both of you nearly colliding into each other. “But I thought you had plans?”

It was his turn to shrug. “It’s not important.”

That was all he offered. So you nodded and smiled, happy to have the company.

He opened the door for you with a flourish and insisted on driving to Curly’s. You acquiesced as long as you got to pick the music. He agreed. Albeit hesitantly. You both had nearly an identical taste in music, but sometimes you surprised each other.

You both were more alike than you’d initially realized. Your tastes in movies, shows, and music were alarmingly similar. You both enjoyed making the other laugh with stupid jokes and sarcasm. You often fought off the oppressive norms of high school by fighting back. You both projected tough exteriors, but beyond that there was softness. A real human with emotions that extended beyond being angry or comedic. There was sensitivity. And understanding. You liked to think it was why you both were so connected. Not because of the superficiality of your likenesses, but because of the hardships life had chosen to throw at you. That despite it all, here you were. Still rocking out.

The beginning notes of Ace of Spades by Motörhead filled the space and a look of satisfaction crossed Eddie’s face at your choice.

You watched out the window at the passing scenery, hearing him tap his fingers to the rhythm on his steering wheel. You thought about your time in Hellfire and how you’d finally found a place you belonged.

It hadn’t been easy in the beginning. Even though it was the 80s, many of the guys side-eyed you for being a girl interested in D&D. After you’d proven them wrong, it was still about you being a girl. Just in a different sense. Some of them didn’t know how to talk to you. They were intimidated.

You laughed to yourself when you thought about the time your mom accidentally shrunk your Hellfire shirt. It was normally a large fit on you. And you preferred it that way. But you’d gone to your D&D meetup that night with the shrunken shirt on. It was as if no one had realized you were anatomically a female until they saw your tits being hugged by the cotton. Even Eddie had seemed taken aback. It was a memory you could laugh about now though at the time you’d been embarrassed.

Eddie’s driving pulled you back into the present as he whipped into the parking lot of Curly’s Burgers. You sent a glare his way, but he only smirked in response.

“Every time I ride with you I swear it’s the last,” you huffed out, getting out of his van and meeting him at the door to the restaurant.

“A small risk,” he teased, opening the door for you.

Curly’s was basically abandoned. Everyone from the game had long since passed through. Eddie offered to pay so you found a table outside. It was off to the side, more secluded than the others.

You thought about Eddie’s sudden decision to join you. You guys were close, sure, but he’d never really jumped at the chance to hang out with you alone like that before. He was usually still a bit guarded around you. You chalked it up to being a girl in a mostly male setting. A majority of the group didn’t really know how to talk to the fairer sex. There was awkwardness abound. But the longer you were around, the easier it got. And soon you were just another one of the guys.

Except with Eddie.

He never really treated you like one of the guys. But he also wasn’t throwing himself at your feet. He had his moments though. He flirted in his own way. You’d been the target of that supposed flirting many times seeing as how you were the only girl in Hellfire. But you also saw the way he looked at some of the other girls at school. And you weren’t them.

In return, you’d thought about him in that sense plenty of times. Wanted him to want you in that way. But in the end you always convinced yourself that it was best he didn’t. For what reason, you weren’t entirely sure.

“Alright, double cheeseburger with everything, fries, and a chocolate milkshake. M’lady,” Eddie announced as he set the tray of food down on the table.

You both dug in, keeping casual conversation as you rehashed the night. Before long, the burgers and fries were picked apart. All that remained were the milkshakes.

“What you did today was very metal by the way,” Eddie said after a moment. When you stared at him in confusion, he continued. “With Jason. You were brave. And that’s metal as fuck.”

You laughed around your straw and shook your head. “I just did what I always do. Sometimes those assholes have to be reminded that not everyone worships them.”

He nodded, traces of his strawberry milkshake on his lips.

“You’re braver than me,” he confessed.

“That’s not true.”

“It is. You’re a take no prisoners kinda chick and I like that. I wish I was more like that,” he admitted, his eyes downcast to the many rings decorating his fingers.

You were speechless. You’d always thought of Eddie as someone who was brave. He was his authentic self in a place that didn’t like or really allow that. How much braver could someone be?

“You are brave, Eddie. Everyone thinks so. The guys…they look up to you. They practically worship you,” you affirmed, happy to see the corners of his mouth lift up.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You look up to me?” he dared to ask, voice hesitant, as if afraid of the answer.

You played with the straw in your cup, thinking about his question. You could tell he was trying to play it off as if he was joking, but behind those soft orbs you could see a desire to know.

You weren’t quite ready to bare your soul.

“In my own way,” you offered with a teasing smile.

He accepted your response with a hard knock of his knuckles against the table top, a boyish grin on his lips.

“I’ll take it.”

*********************************

You sighed as soon as Eddie put the van in park. You were back in the Hawkins High parking lot, your car just feet away. You were just about to reach for the door handle when Eddie stopped you.

“I-uh,” he stumbled over his words, suddenly looking nervous. You turned to face him, giving him your full attention. “I wanted to thank you for what you said earlier. About me being brave. It, uh…it meant a lot.”

He finally met your eyes, the sincerity in them evident. You forced yourself not to make a joke. Eddie was being vulnerable and the least you could do was respond in kind. No matter how uncomfortable his words made you. Or his gaze. Because the more he looked at you, the more you realized he was looking at you. You thought it’d been a fleeting thing, but his eyes were definitely zeroing in on your lips. Your hands began to sweat at the notion.

Surely he wasn’t thinking what you thought he was thinking?

Was he?

“Well, I meant it. So you’re welcome,” you responded lamely.

You weren’t sure what he wanted from you at that moment. He was being weird. And not his normal brand of weird. It was throwing you off, making you feel things that you’d long ago buried.

The silence stretched on, suddenly making the moment awkward. Eddie’s eyes still danced between your face and his hands, as if trying to decide something. His gaze lingered on your lips again. That was the last straw.

“Eddie, if you’re thinking about kissing me then you need to just do it now because the lon-,”

You were cut off by his lips. They enveloped yours. Warm and soft. It was clumsy at first as he tried to angle your chin while reaching across from the driver’s seat. But after a moment you both found an equilibrium.

Kissing Eddie was nothing like you’d thought it’d be. He was gentler than you’d anticipated. His hands shook, his touch tentative. You reached across and cupped his cheek, wordlessly telling him you wanted this. Wanted him.

It felt like hours, but only seconds had passed when you both pulled apart. Your chests were heaving as you both sucked in air, taking in the other person. Limbs were still entangled even though your lips no longer touched. He’d tasted like the strawberry shake he’d had, the flavor still lingering on your lips.

“That was…,”

“What was that?”

You both spoke up at the same time. You were trying to figure out what the hell just happened while Eddie wore a goofy smile on his face. You detached from him completely and waited, hoping he answered your question.

“I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to do that for awhile,” he confessed, the uncertainty not as prevalent.

“You have?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t wanna make shit weird with Hellfire and stuff. And I didn’t want you to think I was just interested because you were the only girl,” he hurriedly explained, hands moving with his words.

“You’re not?”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, seemingly exasperated by your inability to catch up.

“What made you decide? To kiss me?”

“I saw inside your campaign folder earlier.” He answered with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye.

“Okay…” you drew out, still not following.

“You had everyone’s names listed. And beside each one was an asterisk. Except for mine. It was a heart.”

You blinked, not believing what you were hearing. “You kissed me because of a heart?”

“No. I kissed you because I finally knew you wanted me to.”

His expression was nearly manic as he explained how he’d come to the conclusion that you liked him. It was just like Eddie to only make a move when he knew it would work in his favor. He wasn’t as big of a risk taker as people thought. But in this scenario, he was right on the money.

You laughed, unable to hide the range of emotions you now felt. Joy. Shock. Confusion. You were still in disbelief, but the heat that radiated off your lips said otherwise.

Eddie Munson kissed you.

Eddie Munson liked you.

“Hey, do me a favor…,” you started, laughter dying down as you began to lean over the center console.

“What?” he whispered, looking as I’d he’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him.

“Kiss me again.”

And he did.

[cactiired]

The idea of modern AU Renée being a climber has been plagueing my head for days so I will make it everyone else's problem now too

[feith-rikya]

All these characters are from an RPG campaign called; Gehenna's Gates, set in the world of Vampire The Masquerade. Feel free to ask any questions!

Danya Vetranov / Anselm Godwyn

The love between a carefree Ravnos and an old Stoic True Brujah can only be filled with misunderstandings. He will do anything to protect her, but what he calls protection she calls a cage, and what he calls recklessness she calls freedom. They don't speak the same language they never see eye to eye, and they are both too stubborn and too prideful to back down even for a moment.

But still Their love could have lasted eons, and they could have conquered cities together, even the Camarilla too, but... it didn't happen.

They remained friends, he even gave her his discipline, and risked his life many times for her. She would have gladly done the same, but Anselm is just too proud to let anyone, even her, help him.

In some way or another, they seem to hurt each other's each time they met. But they are still drawn to each other's like a moth to flame.

(Inspired by of @Roa2112 works)

[dasaddesrabbit]

So much angst happen yesterday, i wanted to draw happy things

We as players are in the Temple Arc aka River’s Character Arc of the campaign and I’m scared

Character belong to:

Moth (rip) (girl with circle glasses - @lavenderdiedforthetenthtime

Dectus (rip) ( goober with black hair and multiple glowing eyes with large hammer) & Ezra (guy with sunglasses) - @minosprimeenjoyer

River (Slime with Flame tongue sword and “church” flyers) - @goomythestrategist

Aster (goober with long bun hair and glasses & armor) - @just-sam-nothing-special

Pyrite (goober with curly hair) - @clodstyle

Tuss (motorcycle guy) - @pilentus

No, it wasn’t ⬇️

[fatfables]

What a Fat Shame!

A short poetic fat fable.

David Shame was by chance misnamed. By his moniker he was misframed. Shouldn't be blamed for his lack of shame, to others it was just a game. A shameful game for they thought he was to blame. How can you place the blame upon a Shame? If he’s not at fault for the weight he gains?

Young David Shame liked to play with trains, stay in his room, it was that plain. Never went out played sporty games, not with Jim and not with James. Never kicked a ball, never once, or again. Sat in playing computer games, eating chips, grew his ample frame.

Went to school in Fort Wayne. Where they tried to feed his brain. Make him clever, that was the aim. All his friends thought he was a shame, got in the way of his knowledge gains. Referred to his mouth as a drain, sucked in every single strain of available food that was his aim.

Sight of pizza set his eyes aflame. Constant hunger hard to explain. Burgers, fries, and milkshakes came. Everyday it was the same. Were his parents the ones to blame? Every day they called him names. Fatphobic names that caused him pain. Afterall, he was a blobby bain. Joined the young porkers hall of fame.

Teen David Shame accepts no blame. Feels only pride as his belly strains. Big as a house, Big as a train. Chugging forwards to constant gains. Attracted to fat like a moth to flames. Destined to reach the eating leagues post-season games. Getting fatter is not so lame when eating is your favourite game.

His appetite was not so tame, constant fast food deliveries came. Tons and tons of chicken chowmein. Every type of meat he would maim. Size of his stomach could not be contained.  Feet he would never soon see again. Yet still he felt no shame. Liked his size, liked his large frame. On Tumblr started to gain acclaim.

Felt more pride as his friends felt shame. Who was to blame for all his gains? Playing such a dangerous game. Arteries clogged and his feet felt pain. Diabetes was soon to came. Parent’s insurance he would claim. Oh my, oh my, they would exclaim. What a shame to have a son who gains!

Ass as wide as the Great Plains. Started college he did proclaim, “Freshman fifteen I will gain!” Only fifteen pounds it felt so tame. Only fifteen pounds would be a shame. May as well just maintain. Started on a new campaign, fresh challenge to obtain as much more fat as he could gain.

300 lbs was far too lame, 400 was a better game. A rolly-polly roll play game where the only roll was to be as fat as Shane. Or was it Shawn? The king of gains. The one he wanted to became. Ate chilli till his belly became inflamed. No more food could it contain. Downed a cartoon of full fat milk again.

Fat-ass, lard-ass, the names still came. College bros thought he was to blame. To taunt him was still their game. Shame him into losing, they did explain. Unaware of his need to gain. Bigger he grew, too big for a plane. Oversized luggage at the baggage reclaim. David Shame was not to blame. Just needed the dopamine from his brain.

Read more gainer stories for free at https://www.fatfables.com/

[bananaofswifts]

“Speak Now” wasn’t the album that made Taylor Swift a superstar. But it was the first one she made as a superstar.

Two years after she released “Fearless,” which sold more than 10 million copies and won the Grammy Award for album of the year, Swift returned in 2010 with her third studio LP, a dense and sprawling collection of songs about a life — a creative life, a professional life and a romantic life — lived squarely in the spotlight.

Now, amid the blockbuster Eras Tour she’ll bring to Inglewood’s SoFi Stadium next month for half a dozen nights, Swift, 33, has remade “Speak Now” as the latest installment in her plan to rerecord her first six albums.

Here are five takeaways from “Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)”:

1. SHE WROTE ’EM ALL Swift has long been proud of the fact that she wrote all 14 songs on “Speak Now” by herself, and that hasn’t changed in 2023. In an essay that accompanies the LP’s new edition, she writes that, having had her authorship questioned in the past, she “made a decision that would completely define this album: I decided I would write it entirely on my own. I figured, they couldn’t give all the credit to my cowriters if there weren’t any. But that posed a new challenge: It really had to be good. If it wasn’t, I would be proving my critics right.”

Some no doubt remained suspicious that a woman in her late teens had truly composed “Speak Now’s” songs. Yet revisiting the album makes clear she accomplished what she set out to do: Her best songs here represent a high point in her immense catalog, with an emotional and intellectual incisiveness she’s never surpassed.

“You made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter,” she sings in the strummy opener, “Mine” — an entire short story in a single lyric. “You held your head like a hero on a history-book page,” she sings in the stately closer, “Long Live” — an image about as vivid as words can convey.

2. SHE RETCONNED A SNIDE LYRIC Though she’s made a virtue of precisely replicating her old albums — the “Taylor’s Version” campaign began, don’t forget, as a way to devalue master recordings she doesn’t own — Swift makes a crucial change in her fresh take on “Better Than Revenge.”

The pop-punk song is a snide takedown of a girl who “steals” the narrator’s boyfriend — a framing that reflects Swift’s mindset at age 19 but that also reveals the institutionalized misogyny in which that mindset was shaped. “She’s not a saint and she’s not what you think / She’s an actress,” Swift sneers in the original. “She’s better known for the things that she does on the mattress.”

On the new “Speak Now,” she swaps out the second of those lines for a less problematic lyric: “He was a moth to the flame / She was holding the matches.” It’s easy to understand why, of course, particularly given the heat Swift faced this year for her evidently short-lived romance with the 1975’s Matty Healy, whose history of demeaning comments regarding women of color led many a Swiftie to question the singer’s professed commitment to a variety of progressive ideals.

But it’s also easy to find some trouble in this attempt by one of the world’s richest and most powerful artists to memory-hole an unflattering moment from her past. What might she retcon next?

3. ‘DEAR JOHN’ REMAINS FANTASTICALLY SAVAGE

A better strategy for recontextualizing old work might be the one Swift deployed during a concert last month in Minneapolis, where she introduced a performance of “Speak Now’s” “Dear John” by assuring her ultra-devoted fans that they don’t “need to defend me on the internet against someone you think I might have written a song about 14 billion years ago.”

Her comments were widely understood to refer to John Mayer, about whom Swift is thought to have written “Dear John,” in which she excoriates an ex for gaslighting a woman “too young to be messed with.” Onstage she insisted she no longer cares about what happened to her when she was 19, which is almost certainly untrue. (The whole point of the “Taylor’s Version” project — the whole point of Taylor Swift — is that the past is always alive.)

Yet by explicitly positioning “Dear John” as a totem of her youth, Swift gave herself a kind of moral leeway to present the song as is on the new “Speak Now.” And thank goodness for that: Thirteen years after the song’s original release, its exacting savagery — “I’m shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town” — is still a thrill to behold.

4. BANJOS! Swift wouldn’t score her first No. 1 single on Billboard’s Hot 100 until “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” from 2012’s “Red” — an album for which she consciously adopted the sleek programmed textures of the hitmaking pop producers Max Martin and Shellback.

Given where she’s gone since then, both aesthetically and commercially, it’s fascinating to remember how rooted in hand-played sounds the former country phenom still was on “Speak Now,” which piled on the strings and banjos and acoustic guitars in a year when the Hot 100 was dominated by the likes of Kesha’s “Tik Tok,” Usher’s “OMG,” Katy Perry’s “California Gurls” and Far East Movement’s “Like a G6.”

5. ‘TIMELESS’ LEADS THE OUTTAKES Like Swift’s remakes of “Fearless” and “Red” before it, “Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)” comes with a handful of newly recorded outtakes from her so-called vault. None quite rise to the level of what’s on the album itself, though each provides an intriguing look at where her head was as she was writing.

“Electric Touch” has chugging emo guitars provided in part by Fall Out Boy; “I Can See You” sounds like the Police, of all things. “Castles Crumbling” features Hayley Williams of Paramore (one of Swift’s opening acts on the Eras Tour) and, as produced by Swift and Jack Antonoff, suggests she was into cloistered indie folk years before “Folklore” and “Evermore.”

The best of the vault tracks is “Timeless,” a characteristically detailed fantasy in which the narrator, having come across a box of photos in an antique shop, imagines herself in a series of historical romances. (Fans have decided the tune was inspired by Swift’s grandmother Marjorie, whose name provided the title of a track on “Evermore.”) “Time breaks down your mind and body / Don’t you let it touch your soul,” she sings in the bridge — advice she’s clearly taken to heart.

[spottedenchants]

I wwill 100% take suggestions fire (ha) away!

AH OKAY!! (your lovely list in case anyone is curious for context! 👀👀)

Burn Your Life Down covered by Bleachers

Very staring-at-the-ceiling-wishing-for-either-sleep-or-death both in terms of lyrics and sound. Caleb burnt his life down once, so he knows he could do it again. But he won't. But- what if he does. If he doesn't pay attention, something will make the choice for him, and we all know how much he emphasizes and values his autonomy with regards to the atrocities he's willing and able to commit.

-

Forest Fire by Brighton

I like thinking about the conversations early Caleb might have with Bren. We know Caleb planned over the course of the whole campaign to bring his parents back, but did he ever think of other routes? Did he ever have moments when he could see the blazing, bloodied path from Bren to him and wish he could go back and grab Bren by the shoulders, timeline be damned, and cry into him everything he knows now so maybe he won't end up like Caleb? I dunno, but this song makes me think of that xD

-

The Burnin' by Nik Ammar

This one's a bit more early Caleb @ early Caleb than early Caleb @ Bren I think- something about Caleb taking blame, responsibility, fault for who he was and carrying it all into the present even after the cleric clears his mind. A bit mopier than his usual smoldering self-hatred but still :3

-

Ashes by Arrows to Athens

Graduation day! Or- with the journey there superimposed onto it, and all that superimposed onto Everything before that. There's one particular page in the comic (28 in the digital version), the montage as the drei are headed back to Blumenthal, that just really Hits with this song, so much so that I don't remember the context I originally added it for xD

-

Torches by The Oh Hellos

Just. Just pull up the lyrics- it's Scourger training verse one and Bren on the run verse two. This song feels like a threatening grin morphing into endangered smile.

(shoutout to @vagabondfirelily for this one!)

-

Home is a Fire by Death Cab for Cutie

The song's more about earthquakes and stuff but I think Caleb's story counts as pretty ground-shaking xD Really an emphasis on the impermanence of everything, buildings, people, safety. This song sounds like a nervous smile to me.

-

Hold Me Like a Fire by Reuben and the Dark

This makes me think of Caleb and his first experiences with the beacon. Hear me out- the choir Constantly repeating the contradictory chorus once Caleb has a twinge of a thought of possibility, Caleb seeing all of himself and all he could be, Caleb's parents living through him both in memory and narratively b/c he hasn't yet opened the proverbial cat box to see if they're still dead.

-

Fire Fire by Flyleaf

Wrote some thoughts here :D

(shoutout to @valakiir for this one!)

-

Bonus!

The Empire & the Sun by The Moth & The Flame

No fire in the title BUT it is in the band name AND one of the lines is literally "I'm a house on fire, and everyone is leaving (me)", so xD

I absolutely Must peddle this song for Caleb because it just fits soooo well with his self-hatred, his desperate desire to see the potential for change in others (and, by extension, himself), and the bone-deep bonds he forms despite himself

[maya-custodios-dionach]

Congratulations to @gothicwoes for their post on steddie having a gomez/morticia dynamic that I IMMEDIATELY shared in our horny-on-main 18+ steddie server, and sent me going on a tangent going INSANE over Vampire Steve Harrington. I hope the excerpts I put in here are coherent, aaaahhh. Hope you enjoy my rambling, yall. Beware, LONG POST AHEAD!!

THOUSAND YEAR OLD VAMPIRE STEVE AND HIS 28YO BOYFRIEND EDDIE, WHO KEEPS CAMPAIGNING TO BE TURNED

steves all angsty about it while eddie is busy about fantasizing the shit he'd do once he's turned

he loved being a bloodbag, dont get him wrong, being drained of blood is hot, BUT ITS TIME TO PUT A RING ON IT

EDDIE'S CLINGING TO THAT VAMPIRE ASS UNTIL THE HEAT DEATH OF THE UNIVERSE

eddie's vampire moodboard is just morticia, which fits bc vamp!steve already treats him like gomez treats morticia

i love love LOVE couples where one is goth and the other is prep/pastel but the soft bright one is the vampire, that shit's so good

also its bc i think people who love and/or dress like a vampire would be turned on by being turned into a bloodbag tbh

all this to say, when steve finally caves and turns eddie, 100 or so years later, they have the same comfy domestic yet still obsessed with each other dynamic that gomez and morticia have

eddie tries to act like some old wisened vamp but steve over here humbling him like-

Eddie, putting on a morticia air and scaring dustin and the Party, who broke into their indiana vacation home to investigate shit: 😈

Steve, too old for this crap and just wants to blend in so that he can keep working as a social worker or some other mundane job: Eddie, la mia vita, you're only 150

Eddie, pouting: I'm an ancient creature of DARKNESS, love!!! * unconsciously stomps foot *

Steve, amused and distantly reminded of his daddy kink at his lover acting childish: You're very scary, amore mio, but let's wait for 100-500 years before that happens 💕

[Some response of another person in the discord talking about how Steve would hate Eddie talking about being an ancient being bc Steve HATES being reminded how old he is.] Wait, oh no, oh that's so much worse for him. I dread the day my sister becomes an adult and we only have a 7 year diff, holy SHIT, Steve just wants to be a normal boring job haver dammit

Ooohhhh, WHAT IF STEVE'S OLD AGE FURTHUR FEEDS INTO HIS LONELINESS AND ABANDOMENT ISSUES?!

SEE, THIS IS WHY VAMPIRE STEVE IS SO GOOD

He's too noble for him NOT to greatly consider him, all the while Eddie is constantly flinging his willing adult body towards him

Bc yk, he cares about Eddie's well-being and personal growt-

Eddie: BUT BABY, I WANT TO STAY WITH YOU FOREVER

steve, flustered but worried:

UGH

Dndkzms I just have SO MANY FUCKING FEELINGS about vampire Steve saying Fuck It to his lonely vampire life and blending in with human society and falling so deeply in love with humanity and passion and LIFE

Sure his other vampire peers shun him bc of it, but he doesn't care about those stagnant sleazebags who only think of themselves

Steve sees humans give birth, give life, give passion, give kindness, give HOPE, enact change and its so fucking BEAUTIFUL

It's why he's so fucking angry at the injustices of the world, but damn, those humans' PERSEVERANCE in face of those injustices is so AWE-INSPIRING

ESP THE CHILDREN!!!

Steve is so FASCINATED by watching these little creatures GROW and CHANGE constantly, he delights in their energy, their creativity, their curiosity, their camaraderie with other another

So much so that Steve created an entire fake history in order to pass for human and gets a Masters in Psychology and Anthropology or something

That's why he's so drawn to Eddie, like a moth to flame

Eddie had been through so much in his life but with the care of his Uncle, his band and his best friend chrissy, Eddie manages to exude so much fucking LIFE, it's INSANE

He's unpredictable, he's spontaneous, he's theatrical and he's always making sure that the people around him who like him really comfortable and entertained. And seeing him around people younger than him??? How could Steve do anything but fall?