#which is exactly what I mean about inventory

[theamazingannie]

Official prototypes for my friendship bracelets. Might change around the letter beads and a few of the colors due to inventory but overall I’m happy with the results

[peachdues]

THE SWEET FAR THING (TEASER)

Knight!Kyojuro x F!Royal!Reader

Kyojuro my beloved, it is your time to shine again.

Have a sneak peek from my Royal AU featuring one of mt favorite tropes — sworn protector/guard x royal.

Obviously this will be super NSFW, who do y’all think I am.

CW: suggestive/horny content ahead.

Scene context: angy Knight Rengoku slips into your chambers late at night following a failed coup attempt.

He’s angry and you know why — you’d directly disobeyed his orders and launched yourself headfirst into the chaos which erupted in the Great Hall.

His presence in your rooms is daunting; a dark anger ripples off him like waves of heat roll off stone in the summer, and yet he says not a word as he slowly stalks toward where you stand near the edge of your bed.

A predator stalking his prey.

Only when the tips of his boots meet the toes of your slippers, only when you feel the blustering heat rolling off his body and enveloping you within its suffocating warmth, does Sir Rengoku open his mouth.

“Where.” It is all he says, his voice low and rich. His eyes are twin pools of molten ore, but even now, you can see the rage simmering within their ochre depths.

“Where.” He repeats, though his tone is harsher.

“‘Where what, Sir Rengoku?” Your voice is as soft as the shadows cast around the walls of your chambers by the flames crackling merrily in your hearth.

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “Your wounds,” his face twists as though the very thought of any harm befalling you is offensive. “Where are they.”

It is not a question, but a demand; one that you know spells trouble if you should answer truthfully.

Trouble that piques your interest nonetheless; one that stokes a curiosity within you that you know is dangerous.

You pursue it anyways. “I am unharmed.”

The knight’s mouth curls into a snarl at the obviousness of your lie. “That is not what the healer claimed.”

“What good is the word of a healer against the crown?” Defiance rears its head within you, eager to both rise to his challenge and to see exactly how far you can push him. “Is my word not law?”

Rengoku scoffs as he steps closer, his leg slotting between your thighs and forcing you to lean back into tour bed frame for support. “It may be so,” he admits, though the fury in his eyes make no such concessions. “But empires built on baseless laws are inevitably doomed to fall.”

“Meaning?”

The Knight’s eyes flash. “Your words are horseshit and you know it.”

He’s right and but you’ll be damned before you admit it.

“You overstep,” the bite of your glare is belied by the way you’re forced to shift your weight awkwardly from foot to foot, as you try your best not to think about the burning press of his thigh between yours. “Now kindly remove yourself from my chambers.”

Rengoku makes no effort to move and his obstinacy thrills you.

Instead, his hands rise to the front tie of your dressing gown and begin tugging, slowly undoing the haphazard knot you’d fastened in your haste to make yourself decent.

Your fleeting moment of triumph is chased away by the breath which lodges in your throat.

“What are you doing?”

Your knight — your fiery, loyal, compassionate yet utterly insufferable knight — slides a single hand between the parted folds of your robe, coming to rest on the dip of your waist covered only by the thing fabric of your nightgown.

The weight of his palm feels like a brand against your skin. “Since you refuse to be forthright about the extent of your injuries,” Rengoku says, pushing the robe away from your shoulders. “I shall have to take inventory of them myself.”

Your dressing gown drops to the bed behind you before sliding to the floor to puddle around your feet. Wordlessly, Rengoku steps away just enough to kneel before you, though his eyes remain locked with yours.

You are wading into treacherous waters, and you know you are without any raft or life preserver which could keep you afloat.

“I shall scream,” you warn, though you do not mean it; not really. You intend only to give him an out, a means to come back to his senses before the blazing heat of his stare consumes you both. “I shall alert the rest of the palace guard.”

His fingers skim up the length of your shin, a phantom caress that is a mockery of how you truly wish for him to touch you.

“My duty is to guard the Crown and ensure no harm befalls it, your Majesty,” Rengoku’s breath follows the path carved by his hands up your legs. He pauses at the knee-length hemline of your nightgown, his chin resting against the slight bend in your leg.

It nearly frightens you how much you adore seeing him on his knees, peering up at you like you are the embodiment of salvation itself.

“So by all means, call forth the Guard,” the Knight’s fingers slowly push below the hem of your nightdress, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Call forth every living creature within the palace, for all I care. They will see only the Princess’s Knight, carrying out his sworn duties and managing her every need.”

Your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as Rengoku’s fingers tease higher and higher up your thigh. “And what are my needs, Sir Rengoku?”

Your flame-haired protector only hums. “To have your wounds tended to, for starters,” and it takes everything in you not to let your head fall back with a cry as Rengoku presses a single, chaste kiss just above your knee.

But the sweetness of the gesture is undercut by the darkness of his gaze. “And to be punished for directly defying the orders of your Guard.”

yes daddy punish me —

[theminecraftbee]

Wels hums as he walks through the shopping district. He doesn't need much, but with the recent release of Overlord, he wants to hear if any of the establishments are playing it. He doesn't expect it somewhere like the Permit Office--Grian's spent too much time and money getting a song that was as perfectly annoying to be put on hold to as possible--and if it is playing in the log shop, he will laugh. But music tends to spread around Hermitcraft fast, and sure, this isn't about anything specific, but who's gonna miss a good opportunity to dunk on Doc?

He hears the backing beats from a nearby shop and hums along with them, walking down the path--

--then turns a corner and leaps back.

"You," Wels hisses.

Hello. Awfully rude of you not to include me, you know, says the specter.

"No, there's absolutely no reason for you to be here. None at all!" Wels says, throwing his hands up. "The last time I saw you was--gosh, I don't even know. Season Seven?"

Yes, yes, and the only time you saw me, you aren't lying to yourself at all, the specter says agreeably. Come on. We both know I was haunting you for what little of Season Eight you bothered to be around for.

"If you were on Eight then you super shouldn't be here," Welsknight says. He shakes his head and looks up at the shop playing his song. Joel's? Huh. Wouldn't have thought he'd have a reason to make fun of Doc. Welsknight removes his shaking hand from his sword hilt again and starts walking.

On account of you leaving everyone there to die, yes, we're both aware, the specter says.

"Oh, screw you, you wouldn't have done any different, get new material," Wels says. "Also, you aren't real? You're like, all of my insecurities or whatever. You don't even have a real body right now, no one's made you one."

The specter shrugs. I mean, if I'm the worst parts of yourself, really, you're the one who needs better material. Abandoning all your friends to die and then abandoning them altogether--it's a wonder they let you stick around!

Wels rolls his eyes and forces his hand to stay out of his inventory. Wouldn't do to give away that still even gets him. He peaks at another shop. They're playing the song too, but it's ever-so-slightly out of sync, which is kind of terrible. As he does, Cleo waves at him. Their eyes sort of stutter right past Helsknight, which definitively tells him exactly how much body the specter even has to possess right now.

"I'm actually having a great time with my friends this season, so like, the whole 'abandonment' song and dance isn't going to work this time. Started the season with them and everything; hard to even go for 'they'll forget me at the first opportunity' or whatever."

The thing is, the more Wels says it, the more its true. None of the insecurities and pain points that the specter is echoing back at him are what he was actually thinking about. He's been like... fine? Sure, he's definitely still got repressed negative traits, but nothing like "Xisuma's evil twin brother playing around with his head" or "the moon crashing and killing everyone" or "too depressed and burnt out to get out of bed" or "sort of considering abandoning everyone because that's like, his thing" these days. None of the things that should bring the specter that had haunted him since Beef's cloning machine back to him without a body. But Wels is careful about clones outside of something like Vault Hunters, where they're explicitly under his control. He, like, doesn't even armor stand much. So that can't be this either; Helsknight clearly doesn't have a body to be messing with Wels yet!

...Helsknight doesn't even have a body or an actual insecurity to be poking at Wels with yet.

He stops. He puts his hands in his pockets, and turns around to face Helsknight. He is no longer shaking at all.

"Dude, why are you even here?" Wels asks.

I told you, it was rude to leave me out, Helsknight says.

"What," Wels says.

The final bars of Overlord play over the speakers. Welsknight hums and nods before it suddenly clicks.

"What," Wels says again.

Honestly, you're not normally this much of a moron. It was rude to leave me out. Rapping is also my thing.

"Dude," Wels says.

I could totally destroy Docm77 any day. I would obliterate the fool you call a "friend" in ways you cannot comprehend. You invoke a sacrificial goat? I know ways he'd never recover, gods he'd never be able to retrieve himself from. It would be laughable. And you left me out.

Wels stares at the demon from his nightmares.

"You're mad at me because you didn't get to be in my diss track," Wels says.

You let me be in the last one, Helsknight says.

"Dude," Wels says. "Dude, that's pathetic."

Helsknight sniffs. I'm your worst qualities. What does that say about you.

"I didn't even write this for this season," Wels says.

That makes it worse, Helsknight says.

"I don't even know where to start? For one--no, I still don't even know where to start," Wels says. "This is like, the lamest reason you could possibly have to come haunt me. Go away, I'm basking in my like, top 3 charting hit on the Hermitcraft server."

Top three? Pathetic. There are only three songs. You'd be the top song if you'd simply included my power, Helsknight says.

"I can't beat the streaming minutes Grian puts on that hold--look, uh, dude. You're, uh, a very scary representation of my fears and worst qualities and all. Appreciate that. Next time I need to do a diss track, I don't know, maybe I'll invite you? First you've got to stop appearing solely to make my life worse, though. Bring me a cookie or something. I don't know, whatever demons do."

I'm not a demon, I'm a Shadow. We're different, Helsknight says. ...I'll think about it.

When Wels turns the next corner, Helsknight has vanished again. Wels stops in the middle of the street, looks around, confirms the specter has vanished, and then bursts out laughing.

"What the Hels," he says, somehow feeling lighter and more bemused than before. That's a new feeling with his doppleganger. Then, he goes to visit Big Wood. While Doc definitely isn't playing the song of his own accord, Wels figures that Beef just might, and given the day he's having, that would feel like a kind of irony Wels isn't sure how to describe. Besides, he wants to see if Doc will notice if Wels sets the song on loop or something. What can he say--the man's reactions to being taunted are spectacular, and Wels loves seeing them. Call it a bad quality of his or something.

[carolmunson]

let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie. 

g’morning pretty  ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go. 

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture.  “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.” 

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it.  “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?”  “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.”  “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again. 

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :)  see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :) 

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning.  You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.”  “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you.  “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks.   “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.”  “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.”  He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed.  “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.”  “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.”  “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?” 

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.” 

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.” 

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?” 

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.” 

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable. 

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice. 

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face. 

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.” 

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?” 

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.” 

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?” 

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.” 

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return,  “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them. 

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again. 

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday. 

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.” 

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s  just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles. 

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him. 

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.” 

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.” 

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do. 

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.” 

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.” 

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.” 

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.” 

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.” 

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”   

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.” 

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?” 

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.” 

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card. 

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions. 

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?” 

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box. 

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you. 

“What can I get you?” he asks again. 

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take. 

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see. 

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.” 

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck. 

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically. 

“Another banger,” he exclaims. 

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise. 

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did. 

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines. 

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s. 

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it. 

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.” 

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is. 

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway. 

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.” 

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’” 

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target. 

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you. 

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.” 

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?”  “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.” 

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it. 

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?” 

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through. 

“We have all day, right?” you smirk. 

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?” 

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow. 

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.” 

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.” 

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?” 

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand. 

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.” 

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.” 

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels? 

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy? 

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?” 

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.” 

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly. 

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.” 

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever. 

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing. 

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.” 

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf. 

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?” 

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.” 

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze. 

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.” 

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.” 

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something. 

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be. 

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store. 

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.” 

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.” 

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it. 

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?” 

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.” 

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.” 

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.” 

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again. 

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.” 

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you. 

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention. 

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words. 

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?” 

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.” 

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?” 

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?” 

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.” 

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted  very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries.  “Easter candy?” he asks. 

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.” 

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?” 

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?” 

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.” 

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in. 

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile. 

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?” 

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully. 

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you. 

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease. 

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.” 

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point. 

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.” 

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console. 

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you? 

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’ 

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire. 

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?” 

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?” 

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.” 

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?” 

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.  

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. 

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back. 

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks. 

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.” 

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.” 

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.” 

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more. 

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.” 

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face. 

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts. 

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.  

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.” 

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’” 

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head. 

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.” 

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth. 

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.” 

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.” 

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.” 

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.” 

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage. 

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his. 

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green. 

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.” 

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly. 

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now. 

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?” 

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.” 

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.” 

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask. 

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest,  “You gettin’ sleepy?” 

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.” 

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.” 

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?” 

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do. 

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now? 

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped. 

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.” 

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no. 

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping. 

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard. 

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.” 

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again. 

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!” 

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.” 

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.” 

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile. 

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you. 

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.” 

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.” 

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.” 

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.” 

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception. 

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.” 

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch. 

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth.  it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you. 

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand. 

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy.   oh, so you miss me?  of course i do :) i miss you, too :) 

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?” 

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met. 

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.” 

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.” 

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?” 

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?” 

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.” 

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted. 

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks. 

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back. 

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.” 

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?” 

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.” 

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.” 

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them. 

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.” 

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds. 

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.”  “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.” 

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees. 

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks. 

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.”  “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.  

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage. 

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser. 

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps 

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark. 

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late?  grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.” 

yeah, show me :) 

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand. 

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it. 

jfc you know what you’re doing  whaaaaat? what do you mean?  ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean.  do you not like it?  i like it a little too much  you wanna see it from the back? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers. 

of course i do 

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru.  you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn?  lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it. 

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?” 

yeah? you’d take care of it?  only if you asked nicely :) 

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand. 

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please.  what a good boy. :) 

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.” 

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth? 

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first. 

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full  oh you wanna shut me up? is that it?  i don’t think it takes much. 

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off. 

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that? 

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat. 

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it  you sound very confident  because i am  is it big? 

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit. 

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it.  i know i can take it.  so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here.  so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that.  so you are jerking it in your bedroom?  the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good. 

🙈 stop  yeah? i can stop.  don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come?  cause i do have my fingers between my thighs 

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls. 

does it feel good, sweetheart?  it would feel better if you were doing it for me.  can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…” 

absolutely. 

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring. 

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does. 

“Hey there,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan. 

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again. 

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh. 

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm. 

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.” 

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax. 

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.” 

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead. 

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?” 

“Yeah,” you whine to him. 

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”  

“How?” you ask breathily. 

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.” 

“I’m not needy,” you protest. 

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.” 

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver. 

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?” 

“How long have you been doing it?” 

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly. 

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?” 

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you. 

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.” 

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over. 

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low. 

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?” 

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you. 

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm?  Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.” 

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down. 

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls. 

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.” 

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober. 

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully. 

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly. 

“Poor thing,” he offers. 

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.” 

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.” 

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters. 

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.” 

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.” 

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours. 

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned. 

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere. 

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go. 

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.” 

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.” 

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy. 

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment.  “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. 

“I missed you,” he says confidently. 

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group. 

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug. 

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over. 

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose. 

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.” 

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind. 

“Guess who it is,” she laughs. 

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand. 

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.” 

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts. 

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.” 

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face. 

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.” 

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.” 

“So you like her?” Eddie grins. 

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.” 

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort. 

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.” 

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs. 

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all. 

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses. 

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat. 

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt. 

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too.  He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it. 

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit – 

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse. 

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.” 

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines. 

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.” 

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time. 

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs. 

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair. 

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs. 

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks. 

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this. 

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going. 

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently. 

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room,  “You even know how to play?” 

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain. 

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.” 

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again. 

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not.  Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and  that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade. 

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.  

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest. 

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting. 

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin. 

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen. 

“Do I win a prize?” 

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.” 

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.”  He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again. 

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place. 

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.” 

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other. 

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.” 

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips. 

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands. 

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths. 

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.” 

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums. 

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp. 

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.  

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.” 

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can  — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.” 

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?” 

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar. 

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually – 

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves. 

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him. 

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.” 

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck. 

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind. 

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft. 

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time. 

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips. 

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle. 

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.” 

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.” 

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks. 

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel. 

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit. 

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead. 

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.” 

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout. 

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again. 

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him. 

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger. 

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue. 

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles. 

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.” 

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time? 

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.” 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.” 

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?” 

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…” 

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game. 

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish. 

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you. 

“Eddie…” 

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him. 

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.” 

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch. 

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back. 

“M’gonna cum…oh shit  — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak. 

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers. 

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”  

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead. 

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.” 

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate. 

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?” 

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.” 

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?” 

“Much better.”  

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks. 

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen. 

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face. 

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate. 

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –” 

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is. 

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?” 

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn. 

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping. 

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.” 

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?” 

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.” 

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed. 

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.” 

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.” 

Jingle. Click. Creak. 

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.” 

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen. 

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second. 

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.” 

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.”  Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.” 

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him. 

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit. 

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?” 

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much. 

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you. 

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Why do you think Diablo has disenged on it's core themes? (I mean I agree) I've always considered it to be a franchise with some insane wasted potential, but my perspective comes more from Diablo 3 and 4. Id be nice if you could expand on that.

I mean, my argument is that Diablo 1 was a dungeon crawler with a randomized loot mechanic that existed mostly to enable the roguelike random level generation that ensured replayability for the adventure. Players shouldn't be able to simply beeline it to the most powerful items in the game once they figure out exactly where they are, so randomization made each journey into the Tristram Cathedral a new process of discovery.

It's a game that, yes, wants to provide engaging gameplay, but just as much as the discovery of loot, it is driven by discovery of its world and story - multiple NPCs in the game exist that have no function or benefit to the player except as characters to interact with. You find lore tomes in the labyrinth which give you exposition about the world, but offer no tangible benefits. Shrines will randomize your stats, transform your potions, curse your items, randomly teleport you into a horde of monsters. The world is populated by objects, people and events that entice a player with curiosity to see what happens as much as they entice the player with the power fantasy of Making Number Go Up, and plenty of interactions have no hard gameplay benefit. "Sub dungeons" in the labyrinth, like the Halls of the Blind or Chamber of Bone, exist in part to give the player lootable rewards and monsters to fight, but also each of them have their own exposition, lore and worldbuilding (however limited by budget and technical limitations).

Diablo 2 realized that the skinner box thrill of randomized loot drops and number-go-up optimization was by far the most primally emotionally engaging part of Diablo 1's gameplay, and began the process of reorienting the franchise ENTIRELY to enable that specific pleasure. The loot system expands exponentially, crafting, gem slotting, etc all get introduced, and loot mechanics are given pride of place in terms of how the game engages the players. Shrines all provide knowable, specific benefits, every NPC is either a quest-giver or a merchant, there are HUNDREDS of randomized sub-dungeons on every map, and the vast majority of them have absolutely no narrative content whatsoever, they are merely slot machine arms for the player to pull, hoping for a chance of a jackpot loot drop.

Diablo 3 is the apotheosis of this process - a game which drops all pretense that the nature of your loot matters in favor of orienting every part of it around chasing the high of Getting A Bigger Number. You're a sorcerer running around with a greatsword? No problem! You cast all your spells as normal. So long as the greatsword has Bigger Numbers, anything works. Templar with a Wand? Equally viable! Damage numbers inflate into the millions, hordes of monsters swell with ever greater numbers, your spells and abilities clear entire screens in seconds, and everything in the game revolves around enabling the player's power fantasy.

In Diablo 1 you are an unimportant adventurer, the latest in a long line of unremarkable hopefuls, stepping alone into the bowels of a middle-of-nowhere village church, creeping slowly through its doors and hallways, fighting its monsters primarily one by one. Any group of ranged monsters can kill you in seconds, even in the late-game, and if you get surrounded, likely as not you are quite simply dead. It's tense, lonely, unglamorous and often desperate. Unwieldy inventory management puts constraints on your ability to heal and restore mana. You can only carry so many potions while leaving room for loot, and remember to leave room for your Town Portals and Identify scrolls, and for your all-important gold, which will clog your inventory almost totally by the end. Slay a unique monster and hope to god that the item it dropped wasn't cursed. Touch a shrine and you might lose 2 Strength points and suddenly be unable to equip your armor. When you kill Diablo, you find he is nothing but the possessed body of a young boy who was abducted and abused by a corrupt priest, an ugly and mundane tragedy leading to extraordinary suffering.

In Diablo 3 you are the most specialest most important incredible super-hero that has ever existed. You are a half-angel half-demon unstoppable killing machine, mowing down hordes of demons and corrupted angels like nothing, absolutely BATHING in infinite showers of ultra-powerful legendary loot, each more ultra-powerful and legendary than the last. You deal ten million damage with a single ability. You fight Ultra Diablo, the special super-powered SUPER SAIYING MEGA ULTRA super-powered extra special Prime Evil who is the most powerful evil bad guy who has ever existed and YOU are the only one in the whole universe who can beat him because you're SO special, yes you are! Identify shit by clicking on it! Cast town portal whenever you want! Enemies drop infinite health potions whenever you need them! Fuck it, you even KILL DEATH by the end because you are invincible and immortal and unstoppable and perfect. Fear has no hold on you, never in your life will you know uncertainty or doubt. AND it's your birthday! Buy a sword that is 3.2% better than your magic wand with real money in the auction house as a treat!

tl;dr Diablo 1 is an adventure game, Diablo 3 is Cookie Clicker.

[heleentje]

So there's a take that crops up every so often in the Breath of the Wild fandom, and it goes something like this:

Windblight Ganon is such a piece of cake! If Revali were as talented as he claimed to be, he wouldn't have been defeated by it, so clearly he's just an arrogant blowhard.

I disagree. Because while Windblight might have been relatively easy for the player to defeat, circumstances conspired against Revali in every possible way.

Strike 1: The Blight Ganons were tailor-made to defeat the Champions

While it's not stated outright, the Blights seem to be custom-made to put their respective opponents at the worst possible disadvantage. So while Link can avoid the whirlwinds on the ground, they would be very disruptive to Revali's Gale (something he's only been able to do consistently for a short while). Arrows, too, can easily get blown off course by the wind even when using a heavy bow (so can a Rito, who is presumably lighter than a Hylian).

If, on top of that, it was raining (implied by memories #16 and #17), then Revali's favoured bomb arrows would have been useless. Not a great recipe for a fight.

Strike 2: Rito don't see well in the dark

Botw is a game that doesn't tell you a lot upfront, but you can find a wealth of information in every little corner. Case in point, in Gerudo Town there's a Rito named Frita. And she has a very interesting tidbit to share if you talk to her at night.

[Image ID: A Rito named Frita in Gerudo Town says: "Us Rito... We haven't got the best night vision, to be honest."]

When the Calamity emerged, an unnatural darkness blanketed the land. A darkness that persists from its appearance all the way through Link and Zelda fleeing and their final stand at Fort Hateno, up until Zelda temporarily sealed the Calamity (memories #15, #16 and #17).

That’s without even mentioning the laser show Windblight Ganon puts on. Ever encountered a car with LED lights on a dark road? Now imagine how Revali felt.

Strike 3: Revali had to fly non-stop for hours to get to Medoh

After sinking some hours into playing botw, you probably get used to warping all across the map via the shrines. Going from Lurelin to Rito Village is a matter of seconds. And if the Sheikah had been able to unlock the Sheikah Slate fully in the past, that would have been a massive boon to the war effort.

Unfortunately, they didn't. Which means that, when Calamity Ganon emerged, all the Champions had to take the long road to their Divine Beasts.

Now what does that mean for Revali? We can hazard a pretty good guess, but we don't have to, because the art book tells us: Revali flew straight from Lanayru East Gate to Rito Village. It's hard to tell exactly how long that would have taken him, but I'm estimating that would be about 8-10 hours flying non-stop.

[Image ID: A map of Hyrule showing the presumed routes the Champions took to get to their Divine Beasts. Revali's is a straight line across Hyrule.]

Which means Revali (like the other Champions) was probably already exhausted by the time he got to Medoh.

Aaaaaand that's three strikes, he's out!

But if that's not enough for you yet, here's one more thing. Admittedly, this is less solidly canon than the previous parts, but it's conjecture that, in my opinion, is backed up by the Champions' Ballad DLC.

Strike 4: Revali lacked his best weapon and may have been injured

The artbook shows us another salient tidbit. Revali could have detoured if he wanted to, but he didn't: he flew in the straightest possible line across Hyrule Field.

Hyrule Field, better known as the center of the chaos at the time.

Can we really expect a Champion, especially a Champion who's so eager to prove himself, to not stop and at least try to help? And while trying to help, what might have happened to him?

When you fight the Blights in the illusory realm, you gain a set amount of equipment, implied to be what the Champions carried with them at the time. And with Revali, something's missing.

[Image ID: The bow inventory during the DLC fight against Windblight Ganon. It includes a Falcon Bow, Duplex Bow and Phrenic Bow.]

Where's the Great Eagle Bow?

Would Rito Champion Revali, greatest archer in known Rito history, really not be carrying his signature bow, when every other Champion carried their favoured weapon?

This, combined with his route straight across Hyrule Field, makes me suspect that he did engage the Guardians, lost his bow, and may even have gotten injured in the process.

So there you have it. Just about everything was against Revali in that fight. And while Link, and by extension the player, may have had an easy time of it, they went into it at full health and with all the advantages of the Sheikah Slate.

Meanwhile, Revali arrived at Vah Medoh after a frantic hours-long flight only to be thrown into a fight he didn't expect against an opponent tailor-made to counter his every move, while he was unable to see properly and lacked his best weapon. And he still managed to put up one hell of a fight.

[exeggcute]

in a similar vein to the stuff I was talking about recently with google (unknowingly?) selling invalid ad placements, here's an interesting post I saw on linkedin the other day about advertisers who think they're buying ad space on one domain but are really buying ad space on another:

so, for context: the woman behind this post was one of the creators of the sleeping giants campaign, which was a (pretty successful!) attempt to choke out right-wing "news" websites and other peddlers of misinformation by drying up their advertising revenue. she went on to found the check my ads institute, which does a lot of the same stuff and more; one of the recurring themes of check my ads' messaging is that advertisers often aren't aware that they're running ads on unsavory websites (and are therefore inadvertently funding those websites via their ad budgets, even though they genuinely want to avoid doing so)... in part because advertisers frequently aren't aware of where their ads are running, period.

in this post specifically, she's not talking about individual advertisers but about one of the companies that exists to connect advertisers (brands who want to buy ad space) and publishers (websites who sell ad space)—in this case, an ad platform called unruly, although they recently got absorbed into a bigger company called nexxen.

nexxen is an all-in-one ad platform that's both a DSP (demand-side platform, which helps advertisers buy ad placements) and an SSP (supply-side platform, which helps websites sell ad placements). they make money by taking a cut of each transaction.

what's happening here is that unruly/nexxen worked with a publisher called yorogon.com who was selling inventory (i.e., ad space) through nexxen's platform. so if you're an advertiser who wants to run ads somewhere, you can go to nexxen and buy inventory from their available sellers; in other words, ad space offered by yorogon.com is one of the "products" for sale on nexxen's markplace. (most of these transactions happen in split-second auctions, though... it's not like shopping on ebay.)

the problem is that this seller who nexxen authorized as "yorogon" wasn't actually running ads on yogoron.com or any of yorogon's nonexistent clients' websites... they were running those ads on fucking breitbart lol. basically the equivalent of a supermarket agreeing to sell some new cereal on behalf of the manufacturer, but the boxes are actually full of thumbtacks.

we can pretty safely assume that breitbart did this on purpose because they know that a lot of the big advertisers with fat wallets shy away from publishers like them—for a number of reasons—which means that they have to sell their inventory to smaller, shittier advertisers with less money to spend. otoh there's no reason to believe that nexxen was deliberately taking part in the charade; for one, the information that led to this discovery is public, so anyone who gave half a shit could've figured it out (including nexxen or any of their advertisers lol). not exactly some vast conspiracy when your extremely public records give away the mismatch. and for two, the whole "promising to run an ad in a certain location but actually running it in a different location" is a massive fucking no-no even if the "different location" isn't andew breitbart's personal wank cave. from that last link I just shared, scroll down a bit and you can find this:

note that the warning code isn't "you're buying ads on a shitty website that sucks," the warning is "you're buying ads on a website that isn't what it says it is." but there is a dedicated warning code! because back to the cereal metaphor from earlier, this is like—okay, even if the cereal box is full of actual cereal instead of thumbtacks, it's still a problem if you thought you were getting honey nut cheerios and then opened the box and it was full of apple jacks instead. (and god knows I would never willingly buy apple jacks.)

whatever you're selling, it has to be accurate: if you offer ad space on golflovers.com but you actually run the ad on golfenthusiasts.com, that's still a major issue and the advertisers you work with will rightfully jump on your ass about it... assuming they ever find out, lol.

what's really interesting to me, though, isn't so much that an ad platform was selling misrepresented ad inventory—because as far as I can tell, that happens all the time—but more that we only know about this particular instance because it involves breitbart. check my ads is specifically hellbent on throttling breitbart's ad revenue, which is why someone was even poking around in these seller lists in the first place. anyone else could have; the advertisers who unknowingly bought ad space on breitbart theoretically could have, and nexxen certainly should have.

but for all the ad quality and transparency standards in place, any parties involved in the advertising supply chain still have to take action and check their records to make sure they're following said standards. if they get complacent, bad actors absolutely can and will try to slip through their defenses. and what's especially embarrassing in this case is how many safety partners unruly/nexxen was working with who claim to mitigate this exact scenario... although one of them was doubleverify and they kinda suck lol

[aayakashii]

Based on one of Haru's voice lines, in which he implies he is barely eating properly ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡ took matters into my own hands and made the hardworking king eat a bit ( –֊ｰ)✧

I have no idea why I formatted it like this, but I guess I'll be rolling with it

“I ate a few of the snacks I gave to Peekaboo earlier today, so I'm fine!” Haru says with one of his thumbs up, disheveled hair and mud all over his clothes “I promise, I'm not hungry at all, haha!”

“Haru” you say, in a serious and deep tone “You can't keep neglecting your health like this, you know?”

“But I gotta feed all the animals first, dontcha think?” He says, chucking another fruit towards the angry and starving cockatrices that threatened to bite his fingers off if he took even a little bit longer to feed them .

“Well” you say, crossing your arms and quirking an eyebrow “If you fall ill again, then no one's gonna be feeding the animals, dontcha think?”

Haru gasped dramatically “Come on!! I just got sick last time because I got scratched, now check this out” he says, sticking out his arms and twirling on the spot “I am A-okay, no scratches to be seen at a-oof!”

As if on cue, Towa leaped from one of the tall boulders that surrounded the field, straight into Haru's arms, tightly hugging the Captain.

“Towa! I was just showing (y/n) that I have no bruises, it wasn't an invitation for a hug!” Haru gasped, as Towa rubbed his cheek on the top of his head, just like a cat.

You sighed, leaving the two Jabberwock students behind as you trudged back towards their dorm, tired and incredibly frustrated.

Seeing Haru overexert himself on a daily basis caused a pang in your heart. He barely received any help, and it’s not like you could be properly useful either, since each and every animal in this place could snap you in half with just one forceful push, or tear a limb away with just one bite.

So you had to do your best babysitting Peekaboo whenever he needed, lightening up the load the only way you could.

As you opened the door to the Jabberwock dorm, you made a beeline for the kitchen – Ren was out working at the diner, so it would be fine to take a peek at the state of things without prying eyes.

And… how predictable. There was nothing but animal food in the freezer. And in the pantry, and in the cabinets.

You sighed loudly. You kind of could understand Towa not eating – maybe he just… photosynthesized? – but Haru wasn’t as whimsical as your resident fairy boy that could (probably) live on bubbles, sunlight, and flowers. “He still needs to eat, damn it.” you muttered, closing the refrigerator’s door with a bit too much force.

With a strong resolve, you decide to jog your way to your own dorm.

Since you came to Darkwick Academy, the Chancellor had been extremely kind to you. Granted, the dorm WAS a rundown dusty cathedral in the beginning, but he still made his best to fix everything to keep you as safe and comfortable as possible.

Which means: the Chancellor had given you an entire kitchen and a small allowance that let you buy as much food as you needed since the cafeteria wasn’t open 24/7.

You aren’t exactly the best cook in the world, but you could still make your own snacks, if needed. Sho would probably yap endlessly about your lack of culinary ability if he saw you with all hands on deck, but what mattered was getting by.

Therefore, you got to work: separating lettuce, carrots, eggs and every other healthy thing you could find in your inventory, you prepared four well stuffed egg sandwiches: for Towa, Ren, yourself and, of course, Haru.

After packing the food and a bottle of juice, you strode back to the Jabberwock dorm.

After two sandwiches carefully placed in that barren, sad refrigerator, and a stroll back to the field, you found Haru feeding the Capybus with huge leaves as he cooed, admiring the huge animal anomaly.

“Hey, I’m back” you said, making your way back to his side

“Oh! Hello (y/n), where did you go all of a sudden? I’m about to finish giving her this food!”

Ignoring his question, you pointed at a tree a few meters away from the spot “Hm, when you finish, could you go over there? I need to talk to you, so I’ll sit there and wait”

Haru’s face drooped immediately “Eh, okay…? Is everything fine?! Are you upset with something?”

You waved dismissively as you walked towards the tree “Don’t worry, it's nothing! Just don’t keep me waiting too long!”

Haru finished his job quickly and jogged his way to the tree, sitting under the shadow beside you.

“Wh-what’s going on? What did you need to talk about?” he asked, fidgeting, a worried frown on his face.

“Hey, don’t worry, I told you it’s nothing horrible” you laughed “But I want you to do something for me, if possible”

“Oh!” His face immediately lit up. “What is it?”

You opened your bag and placed the toasty sandwich on his lap.

“I want you to eat properly for once”.

Haru blinked at the food, silent.

His prolonged silence made it your turn to fidget uncomfortably “Haru?”

“You made this?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded. “It’s nothing fancy, but I can’t let you waste away while you do everything in here. I can’t do much besides babysitting the little guys, so at least I want to help you in another way… Is this okay? Sorry if I’m crossing a boundary…”

“No, no” Haru shook his head and turned his gaze towards you, smiling softly “It’s… I really appreciate it. It's just – I’m not very used to something this thoughtful. This was a surprise – a good surprise, obviously.” He said, unwrapping his sandwich.

As the scent of food hit his nose, Haru’s stomach growled loudly. “Oh dear” he giggled, sheepishly scratching his head as a blush appeared on his face “I guess you might be starting to know me a little better than myself”.

You laughed as well, but clutched his arm right before he could actually touch the sandwich, holding a finger up “Wait, wait!”

Rummaging through your bag, you fetched a small bottle and sprayed his hands thoroughly “That’s alcohol. Please always clean your hands before eating” you said, solemnly “You might be a ghoul, but your tummy can ache as well”.

Haru stared at you blankly for a moment, then immediately started laughing loudly as he drenched his hands in alcohol.

“You know, people usually say I’m the mother of all these animals, but being on the receiving end does feel kinda good” he said, still laughing happily, making a blush creep up on your cheeks.

“It’s- it’s just hygiene, okay?” you pouted, cleaning your hands as well and grabbing your own sandwich.

“I know, I know” He said, still unable to control his smile “Well, then… Can we dig in?” Haru asked, holding the snack close to his face, mouth wide open as if he was waiting for your okay to take the first bite.

“Let's eat!” You said and Haru immediately chomped his sandwich, taking a big bite “I do hope it's edible enough…” you murmured, eyeing him carefully to gauge his reaction.

After that big bite, Haru let out a loud “Mmh!!” as he chewed, his cheeks puffed like a squirrel who put one too many acorns in their mouth.

“What?? Is it that bad? I'm sorry!”

He eagerly shook his head as he finished chewing, a small piece of chopped carrot still stuck on his chin “No no no, stop selling yourself short!! This tastes great!!”

You let out a sigh of relief and took your first bite, confirming that, indeed, you did a good job with the snacks.

After a few moments of silence as you two snacked together, Haru ate the last bit of his sandwich, letting out a sigh of pure satisfaction.

“Ahhh… that was so good! Thank you so much, honestly.”

“See? And you didn't even notice at all how hungry you were! Here, now drink this” You grabbed the juice bottle you prepared and opened the lid, tilting the container towards him “Drink it while it's still cold, it'll taste a lot better.”

“... You truly prepared all of this for me?” Haru asked, gazing at the bottle.

“Of course I did. I made sandwiches for Ren and Towa too so they wouldn't feel left out, but truthfully, I made it all for…” your voice trailed off as you looked at Haru.

He avoided your gaze, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

“Um. Yeah” you cleared your throat “I made it all for you. And I will do it more times to make sure you're eating properly! I don't want you to get sick ever again.”

Haru nodded silently. “I'm sorry for worrying you that day…” he mumbled into the now empty juice bottle.

You sighed heavily. “Hey. It's fine, Haru. Just remember there's a lot of people who always want to see you healthy and happy, okay? I'm one of them.”

He nodded once again, then immediately opened his arms out in a stretch, yawning loudly. He let his body fall heavy on the ground, with his head right beside you.

“I really am living in paradise, ain't I? Got this pretty place, cute animals and now even home cooked food…” he yawned again “I'm living the life… or maybe I already died and went to heaven…” he mumbled, almost incoherently.

“Geez Haru, don't say this type of thing!” You almost went for a playful smack on his head, but right as your hand was about to touch him, you noticed Haru had fallen asleep almost immediately after lying down.

Your eyes softened at the sight of his relaxed figure right next to you, and your fingers found their way to his hair, interlocking them with his soft red locks.

Unbeknownst to you, as you watched him sleep soundly and petted him gently, a pair of pink eyes observed you two from afar.

Towa munched on his own sandwich after picking out the egg and leaving only the greens. His eyes were set on the two of you, and he let out an amused giggle.

“Well, well... I wonder if this will become another love story.”

[ilexdiapason]

[@theminecraftbee inspired this fic! hermitcraft season 10's south neighbourhood becoming werewolves for the bit, ft. ren's propensity to take it seriously, and being the only one who does]

It was Stress who started it.

"C'mon, it'll be fun! I've never been a wolf before!"

"Werewolf," Ren corrects, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose tetchily. "And it's not fun. It's a chronic condition that needs constant management and can lead to some serious carnage if it's not properly cared for."

"Ah, who cares about a bit'a carnage? It's, like, week two. People die, they'll come back, no harm done. And you're tellin' me you don't see the appeal in a pair'a teeth like that?"

"Not - not really?"

Stress huffs, good-natured, tilting her head and baring her neck. "Think about it!"

"That's vampires," says Ren, "you're thinking of vampires who bite necks. Werewolves don't have a designated spot to bite. Because, like I said, it's not supposed to be fun. You're not supposed to want it."

She sighs loudly and uprights herself. "Alright. Figure something else out, then, shall I?"

"Do what you will," he tells her.

And then...

Well, it's a very unfortunate coincidence, is what it is.

He doesn't mean to get as wrapped up in his Ministerial Administrative duties as he does. There's a lot of paperwork that Xisuma cheerfully shrugged off on him when he realised Ren was assuming an admin position willingly - inventory checks and server code assessments and Right To Host permits that all need to be thoroughly combed through before they can be signed off on. It's not the most interesting job in the world, but Ren's been dying for a bit of busywork for a little while now. Strange how a life full of nothing but card games and deadly dungeons can leave you pining for the simpler days.

But the evening stretches on, and the letters start to swim before his eyes a little, and it's all too easy to just let himself rest on top of the pile of papers for a second before he gets back into things, gently lit by the glow of the full moon...

Ren wakes up, as he does more often than he'd care to admit, entirely naked.

He's in the street. Or what will be the street once the roadworks have gone underway, which is currently a patch of grass like all the other patches of grass around him. His office is maybe fifty blocks eastward, his trousers are nowhere to be seen, and the sunlight is altogether far too bright for him to take in much more than that.

Once he stumbles back to the office with naught but a pair of paws for cover, he finds his sunglasses and his shirt, and he can start putting the pieces together. Namely that his upper body is quite thoroughly splashed with blood, his claws are also caked in red, and the vial of wolfsbane he was meant to take last night is sitting unopened on the floor amid a pile of shredded paperwork.

So. Erm.

Some explaining to be done, then.

His clothes were shredded by his transformation, but of course he's got spares on hand for emergencies exactly like these ones. Shame about his periwinkle tie; it's going to need a cold wash, a hot wash, and a good bit of stitching to get it back in pristine condition. Unless he could convince Xisuma to do a rollback, but he doubts it at this early point in the season where so many people are working through the night to get themselves set up. Mending will have to suffice.

He also finds his comm lying in the wreckage. The chat history is... illuminating.

<Iskall85> is that ren i see outside?

<Xisuma> Looks like

<Iskall85> oh dear

<Iskall85> oh dear oh dear

<Iskall85> everybody keep your doors locked unless you want to become a werewolf

<StressMonster101> ...

<Iskall85> stress???

<StressMonster101> well i was finkin about it?

<Iskall85> you're insane

<Iskall85> go on then. girl's night

<StressMonster101> false! you coming?

<falsesymmetry> to get infected with lycanthropy?

<falsesymmetry> yeah, alright

<ZombieCleo> did i hear girls night?

<Iskall85> i take it back. we're ALL insane

<falsesymmetry> wait, this won't kill me, will it?

<Iskall85> yes??? what do you think turning into a werewolf is

<falsesymmetry> oh, better not risk it then

<Iskall85> only on the hermitcraft server

<hypnotizd> do NOT start without me

Ren blinks, and blinks again, and checks his claws, as though he might be able to tell which of his friends' blood is under them.

Girl's night. They're all transformed into hideous creatures of the night just like him because they thought it would be fun. And here he stands uncognizant of any of it.

He's gonna need to call another meeting.

(At sundown, though. Today is a writeoff for the vast majority of the neighbourhood. Worse than any hangover, trust me.)

[ayyy-pee]

Do Not Answer

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi - Part 2

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

Summary: You’d ended things with Suguru a while ago; when his execution was set after he’d slaughtered an entire village and when he’d tried to get you to join him in his endeavors of “cleansing the world”. He’d tried to convince you that this was for the greater good, to make the world a better place. But you weren’t one of his cult followers and you definitely weren’t a murderer. Despite this, Suguru had… a hard time letting go.

Warnings: Mean Suguru Getou, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Stalking, Manipulative Behavior, Jealous Behavior, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Breeding, Creampie, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Death Threats, Choking on cock, Profanity because duh I'm me

You’re lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. It’s late and the day has been way too long. After finishing up lectures with your students, you feel absolutely drained. Today’s lesson on cursed energy control wiped you out. All you can think about is finally being able to close your eyes and sleep, but for some reason your mind won’t let you. 

A chilly breeze sneaks through the cracks of the closed window at the foot of your bed.

It’s your second year as a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical School, though you used to be a student here as well. After graduation, you knew you wouldn’t be able to cut it in the real world and certain…events that took place shortly after your graduation also made you wary to leave. So you accepted a teaching position and moved into the teacher’s dorms.

You enjoyed your work as a teacher. The students depended on you to teach them the necessary skills for survival and you were happy to do so. They filled your life with purpose even if you felt a deep loneliness in the late hours of your room when the day came to an end.

Your phone vibrates, a text window appearing above the array of shirts you’re scrolling through as you fight your boredom with online shopping. 

W: What are you up to right now?

Ah, your current “relationship”, if you could call it that, probably wondering if he could come over. You’d been seeing him casually for a couple of months, nothing serious. You had met him on assignment in Yokosuka. He was a window who had stumbled upon a particularly nasty semi-grade 2 curse and had called the school to assist since windows only possessed enough cursed energy to see curses, but not enough to actually exorcize them. They dispatched you since Nanami had been on assignment elsewhere and the rest was history. 

He was a sweet guy, a little bland, but nice nonetheless. He treated you well, made you laugh sometimes and most importantly he wasn’t a mass murderer . He was simple - safe, probably as close to normal as you’d ever find in the world of jujutsu sorcery. It was exactly what you needed in your life after him . You push the thought to the back of your mind as you type out your response. 

You: Just doing some late night shopping. Might head to bed soon. You?

You were too tired to entertain a guest even if you couldn’t sleep. It was better to just put that out there before he asked to come over. Your phone vibrates again with another text as soon as you hit send. 

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1: hey

You swipe the message off your screen immediately. 

Nope. No way. 

You continue your scrolling through the shop's online inventory, occasionally responding to W’s text messages. You add a couple cute tops to your shopping cart and a pair of jeans which after a while of scrolling you decide you don’t like that much and remove them from your cart. Your phone buzzes in your hands.

W: I think I’m going to head to bed now, babe. I’ll text you in the morning. Goodnight.

You go to respond when your phone buzzes again.

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1: Are you up? Can I call you?

You swipe the text away. Another message follows.

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 2: I know you’re awake.

You roll your eyes. Persistent as ever. Entitled as ever. You should block him, you would block him, but you’ve made that mistake before. You’re a quick learner and it only took you blocking him the first time for him to get two new phones so he could blow you up from both. So you decided to just save both numbers under “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1” and “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 2”. You’re fairly certain that one of these days you’ll have to add a “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 3, 4 and 5” to your contacts.

You huff. Once again , you swipe the text from your screen, shooting W a quick goodnight text before you toss your phone onto your bedside table after setting it to do not disturb. You turn over in bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

The warmth of the blanket is calming, soothing against the contrasting cold of your room. The quiet howl of the wind blowing outside serves almost as a lullaby, your eyes getting heavier as you let the darkness finally consume you.

Click

The rush of the wind is louder now, and you’re positive the room temperature has dipped at least four degrees. You hear the same click that woke you again within a few seconds, the sound of the wind dying and then you feel his presence before his feet even touch the ground. You know exactly who it is.

You sit up, blinking the sleep from your eyes just in time to see Suguru Geto climbing down from your window. He lands gracefully on his feet, his long dark hair bouncing with the force of the landing. 

Always one to make an entrance. 

Tonight, he’s foregone his religious robes and dons a black long sleeve and those damn sexy harem pants he used to wear. You hate the way your body responds to seeing him, your heart racing when he flashes you that grin that used to make you melt beneath him - still , makes you want to melt beneath him.

Your ex-boyfriend, Suguru.

You stare at him, not saying a word. “Ignoring me now?” He asks simply, lifting his hand to toss his bangs out of the way.

“What gave it away?” You reply, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. “Me not responding to any of your messages? Me not answering your calls or me blocking you on every form of social media available? I’m always ignoring you, Suguru.” 

Suguru grins, you know he’s grinning because you can see his white teeth shine in the dark with his lazy smile. You haven’t spoken in months now - well you haven’t. Suguru, as always, never shuts up. He insists on calling you, texting you, letting his presence be known when you’re out and about by sending his curses your way. They never do anything to harm you. He almost lets them loose like friendly dogs off of a leash, their grotesque forms finding their way to you and nuzzling against your cheek, rubbing against your leg. You’d exorcize them, but you know what they mean to him so you leave them be.

You’d ended things with Suguru a while ago; when his execution was set after he’d slaughtered an entire village and when he’d tried to get you to join him in his endeavors of “cleansing the world”. He’d tried to convince you that this was for the greater good, to make the world a better place. But you weren’t one of his cult followers and you definitely weren’t a murderer. Despite this, Suguru had… a hard time letting go.

You sigh, rubbing your temple where you feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming on. “You shouldn’t be here, Suguru. You’re a wanted man. I should report you to the higher ups.”

Suguru’s hands come up with a shrug, his tongue poking out between his lips teasingly. “Yeah. But you won’t.”

And he’s right. You won’t say anything because you can’t bear the thought of him dying. 

Suguru leans casually against the windowsill, fixing you with a wistful smile. It only makes your heart beat faster, the way Suguru never bothers to conceal what he’s feeling. Ever.

“Why have you been ignoring me? I miss you.”

But Suguru is different from the Suguru you used to know. It doesn’t mean you don’t still care for him, but it means you have to be a bit more careful with your feelings for him now.

You hum as though you’re really giving this question some thought when the answer is so fucking obvious. “Oh, I don’t know, Suguru. Maybe because associating with you means a target on my back and if I’m being honest, I’m not really in the mood for Satoru to blow a Hollow Purple through my skull.”

Suguru mulls this over, his face only portraying boredom at the mention of his former best friend. “So what have you been up to lately?” 

He always changes the subject so easily when you make a good point, not caring that you’ve clearly told him you want nothing to do with him. You don’t answer, hoping he’ll get uncomfortable enough in the heavy silence to just…leave. He doesn’t. Which is just like Suguru. It’s aggravating, but endearing at the same time. You miss his stubbornness sometimes and this reminds you of your time together.

“Been having fun with your friend?” he asks suddenly, looking over his nails. 

You stiffen, but try not to give anything away. “What are you talking about?”

Suguru laughs loudly, making you stiffen even further if possible. He knows if anyone hears him here, finds him here, you’re both so fucked. Dead. Immediately dead. But he doesn’t care. He’d like to see someone try and come kill him and he’d especially love to rip the head off of whoever tries to come kill you. More than anything though, he wants to rip the head off of the guy he’s been watching you with for the last couple of months.

“Come on. We can be friends!” He lies. “Tell me about him. What’s he liiiike?” he asks in a sing-song voice, eyes closing as he smiles widely. You debate on telling him. Will he leave faster if you just tell him you’re seeing someone else? You go against your better judgment and tell him anyway.

You keep it short and sweet, not wanting to give too much detail about W. But of course, Suguru pries for more.

“Oh? How nice for you. A fellow sorcerer, then? What grade?”

Of course he wants to know. Because Suguru wants to be the top. The top sorcerer, the top curse user, the top man in your life whether you’re with him or not. 

“Not necessarily. He’s a window.” You tell him, and you’re not sure why the way Suguru’s brows shoot up and his eyes widen make you feel so fucking embarrassed.

Suguru blinks, then looks at you with pity, his bottom lip protruding in a pout. 

“A window ? You may as well be dating one of these plebeian monkeys roaming the streets!” He throws his head back dramatically, brows furrowed as he sighs loudly. You flinch, hoping he’ll just leave after telling you how much you’ve lowered the bar for yourself.

He says your name as if he’s trying to plead with you. “You may have made the biggest mistake of your life by leaving me,” he lays his hand against his chest, flipping his bangs out of his face again. “But I can't allow you to tie yourself to the dead weight of a window.”

You scoff. “You’re not allowing me to do anything, Suguru. I like him and I don’t care that he’s a window. He knows what he’s doing. He’s not dead weight.”

“And if a curse attacks him? What will he do? He’ll be helpless to defend himself. Unless you plan on being next to him every second of his life?”

He makes a good point, but something about the way Suguru asks this makes your skin crawl. 

“He’s been okay his whole life. He won’t be attacked or killed by a curse.” You bite back, trying to convince him…and maybe yourself a little bit.

“Hmm?” Suguru pouts again as he takes a step closer to your bed. “Are you sure ?”

You sit up straight, nodding your head, trying not to betray to him how nervous he’s making you by asking you this. You know now your association with W puts him at risk.

“You promise he’ll be okay?”

You hesitate for a brief second, but you nod again. 

“And what if I can promise he won’t be?” His lips spread in a grin as he takes yet another step closer to you. You take a deep breath, steadying your racing adrenaline.

“I sincerely hope you’re not threatening my boyfriend, Suguru.”

He stops in his tracks, his head cocking to the side in curiousity. “Boyfriend? You never mentioned you were that serious about him.”

You’re not, but Suguru doesn’t need to know that. W is an innocent bystander in this and Suguru’s jealousy shouldn’t lead to W’s untimely demise. You hope this little fib prompts Suguru to drop it, maybe move on with his life even though you’re secure enough in yourself to admit that would hurt.

In true Suguru fashion, he only takes this as competition…and you kind of like that. He closes the gap between himself and you, leaning forward until your noses are touching. You don’t move away, you never have. His antics may scare others, but he’s never scared you. It’s what he loves about you. You’re up to the challenge. You meet him blow for blow. It’s why he can’t let you go. It’s why he can’t fucking bear the thought of another man wrapping his arms around you, of you finding someone else.

“Do you love him?” His voice is quiet, serious. You don’t, you’re not even sure how much you like W, but Suguru is hovering over you with his domineering presence you love so much and he smells so good. You can feel his jealousy radiating off of him and honestly, it’s fucking sexy. It only makes you want to piss him off more, so you lie again.

“I think I do, actually,” you breathe out. And even in the dark, you can see the way Suguru’s nose crinkles in disgust, disappointment even.

“A common window. You’re in love with a window ,” he stresses the last word as his hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat, your body doing what it always does when Suguru’s involved – reacting. It’s the reason you don’t talk to or see him. You’re weak for him. You always have been.

“And what if I am?” You challenge him, raising your chin so that your lips are barely a breath apart. The slightest movement and your lips would be touching. Suguru’s grip tightens on the back of your neck and you resist the feeling of wanting to roll your eyes back in pleasure.

“If you are,” he says, pulling back slightly to ghost his lips over your face, down your neck and to your pulsepoint. “Maybe I’ll let you live a happy little life with him. You can go on being a Grade 1 sorcerer – exorcizing curses, protecting your feeble window lover, maybe even have weak little children with hardly any cursed energy that you’ll have to retire to protect.”

He’s really killing the mood here.

Until he bites down on your pulsepoint and you gasp into the cold air of your dorm room. The pain is immediately soothed by Suguru slowly dragging his tongue over the bruise and you can’t help the moan that rushes past your lips.

“ Or maybe I’ll just kill him .”

The threat goes straight to your core. You cross your legs underneath your blanket, the steady pulse in your center already starting to drive you insane.

Suguru is back to lapping at the wound on your neck as though he didn’t just say he would kill your lover…boyfriend… friend…what the fuck ever W is to you. 

“I’d never let you kill him,” you pant into his hair. You don’t touch him, not yet at least. Suguru has always liked it that way; him making you so desperate with his own touch until you can’t do anything but grip onto him.

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried. You’re strong,” he reaches for the blanket and peels it back, groaning when he feels you shiver as you’re exposed to the cool night air. “You’re not strong enough to stop me though. You’re not stupid enough to try either.”

He runs his nose back up your neck, along your jawline until he’s face to face with you again. His free hand comes up to glide through the valley of your breasts and he sighs longingly, like he’s been dreaming of touching you here for a long time. He has. 

Suguru has no qualms in admitting that he thinks of you always, watches you constantly. That he fucks his own hand to the thought of you whenever he has a free moment to himself. You never respond to him or acknowledge his presence and it makes him crazy. But he likes to think he knows you better than you know yourself. He knows you think of him too. You like that he chases you. Otherwise you’d have changed your number long ago. You’re still his. It doesn’t matter who you’re with. 

But Suguru also has no qualms in admitting the thought of someone touching what’s his, especially a lowly window, makes him irate. The hand on the back of your neck slides up to your hair where he grips it and tugs a little harder than he intended. Doesn’t matter. He gets the response he wanted when your lips part with a soft moan. He stares down at you, eyes half-lidded, pretty lips parted, chest rising and falling with quick breaths and he can’t wait to ruin you for your little window boyfriend. 

“Break up with him,” he commands and he snarls quietly when he sees that defiant smirk he loves spread across your face. 

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll kill him and then I’ll kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

You stare him down, not backing down from his challenge and Suguru groans, his hips coming forward to press against the mattress in search of friction. This little argument is making him so hard he’s starting to lose focus, but he wants you to agree to leave your stupid boyfriend before he goes any further. Not because he’ll feel bad for making a move while you’re in a relationship, but because he has bigger plans for the long-term and he needs you freed up for it.

He yanks your head back by your hair, grinning down at you while you return the same vicious smile. Fuck, he loves you. It’s fine if you won’t agree to leave the window. It’ll only make this more fun for him.

He bends down, his lips hovering over yours once again before he says, “I want you.”

You contemplate keeping up the ruse that you and W are dating, that you love him when in reality you’re so fucking bored out of your mind with him, with life, with everything. You won’t agree to break up with W, because you’re not really even dating him. Besides, this will make it more fun for you.

You hold Suguru’s gaze before telling him, “Just for tonight.” It’s a lie. You know if he shows up again you’ll give in, but it’s all he needs to hear before his lips are crashing into yours, taking everything you have to offer.

Your hands move into his hair and Suguru shivers under your touch, moaning when you open your mouth for his tongue to slide past your lips. Your tongues dance together, tasting each other the way you used to until you have to pull apart, gasping for air as you stare each other down.

You release Suguru’s hair and push him back to standing. Your fingers slide down his torso to the waistband of his pants. He watches you closely, tongue darting out absentmindedly to drag across his bottom lip. You slide your hand into the front of his pants, palming his cock through his briefs. His hips come forward to press into your hand, a quiet sigh escaping him as his hands come down to cup your face.

He bends down to give you a quick kiss.

“Let me fuck your mouth,” he says, still rutting into your palm.

You nod, sliding your other hand into his waistband and tugging his pants and briefs down at the same time. Suguru steps back briefly, grunting with displeasure at the loss of contact, to kick off his shoes and pull his pants all the way down. As he does this, you shift to lay on your stomach on the bed, watching the way his cock springs forth from his pants and smacks loud against his own stomach.

When Suguru comes back to the edge of your bed, he goes back to cupping your face with his hands. You take the time to admire his pretty dick illuminated in the moonlight. The tip is red, weeping pre-cum already. You bring your hand forward, gripping the shaft and squeezing. Suguru hisses, hips bucking forward into your hand. He softly places his own hand on the back of your head. You roll your tongue out and give his tip a gentle squeeze, letting the pre-cum drip slowly on to your tongue. You missed the taste of him. You can’t lie. 

You let your eyes roam up Suguru’s body until you make eye contact with those deep brown eyes. Suguru’s hand presses down on your head, coaxing you forward.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” Suguru groans above you. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You obey with no hesitation, letting your lips fall open. He slowly rolls his hips forward, his cock entering the warm cavern of your mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Suguru moans. You lift your hands, caressing his thighs and opening your throat as Suguru slides easily into your mouth until it touches your throat. You watch as he tilts his head back, sighing softly.

You love this feeling. You can kick the head off of a curse, snap someone’s neck with no problem. But it’s when you’re making Suguru Geto – Special Grade curse user, mass murderer, wanted fugitive – come undone before you that you feel the most powerful.

You hum when you feel Suguru’s cock touch the back of your throat, your pride swelling when you feel his legs shake at the sensation. He pushes your head down more with both hands now, his body coming forward to loom over you. He doesn’t move, just holds you there breathing harshly over your form as you hold his dick in the back of your throat.

“God, fucking shit ,” he groans through gritted teeth as he pushes you so far down your nose is buried in the soft hair that lies above the base of his cock. You feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but you make no move to wipe them away. Suguru likes that. He pulls out sharply with a loud gasp, taking one deep breath before he grabs the base of his length and plunges himself back into your mouth in one swift motion.

“You know how I feel about this mouth, baby,” he grunts, pulling out just to slam himself into your throat over and over and over. You moan around his dick, pulling a gasping breath from Suguru as he slams into your mouth relentlessly. 

“Look at me,” he moans out. “I wanna watch you while I fuck your throat until you cry.”

You peer up at him through your lashes and Suguru watches as the moonlight illuminates the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. This is his favorite look on you. You with your lips wrapped around his dick while he literally fucks your mouth until you’re crying. He has to bite the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t come down your throat when the tears finally fall, leaving a sparkling trail down your cheeks.

He wants to keep fucking your face like this, but if he’s being honest, he knows he won’t last long. He’s been holding out for this moment where he gets to have you again. He hasn’t been with anyone since you. He’s been waiting only for you . The thought of finally having you again makes his balls tighten and he pulls out of your mouth with a loud POP, motioning for you to get up.

“Take it off,” he demands, pointing to your clothes.

You waste no time, stripping yourself of your shirt, shorts and panties. Suguru crawls on to the bed, pushing you down onto your back as he climbs over you. He drinks in the sight of you beneath him, naked and as beautiful as he remembers before he dives down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, moaning loudly when he tastes the mixture of you and himself on your tongue.

His hand slides down between your bodies, past your chest, over one of your hardened nipples, down your stomach and further until Suguru’s fingers find the warm heat between your legs. He sighs into your mouth as his fingers spread your folds to find you soaking wet.

“Do you let window touch you like this?” He asks, sliding a finger over your clit. You whimper beneath him, watching as he smirks above you. He would guess not, but he likes making you squirm a little anyway.

He rubs lazy circles on the sensitive nub, bringing his face down to kiss on the now darkening bruise forming on your pulsepoint from his earlier bite.

“Has he made you come yet?” He murmurs into your neck, kissing and sucking as he makes his way back up to your mouth. He slots his lips against yours, swallowing your mewls when he flicks his fingers roughly over your clit before you can answer.

Suguru feels his cock throb listening to the sounds you make. It’s been so long since he’s heard them. He wants to hear more.

“Does he get to taste you?” Suguru asks, sliding his fingers up and down your folds before bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He turns his fingers in front of him and observes the way the moonlight makes your slick glisten against his skin. He parts his lips, slowly slipping his fingers into his mouth and sucking, eyes rolling back at the heady taste of you. You watch him with lust filled eyes, moaning at the action.

You haven’t answered a single question. Suguru won’t let you. The moment the question leaves his lips, he’s touching you, overstimulating you. Your body feels like it’s on fire beneath him.

“I fucking hope not, baby,” he says as he shifts his body to slide his hips between your thighs. You feel his length press against you and you whine, rolling your hips up to meet Suguru’s. He chuckles. Suguru bends down to kiss you again, whispering against your lips. “If he’s tasted you, I really will just kill him .”

You don’t have time to react as Suguru rears his hips back before thrusting straight into you. You cry out sharply, back arching until your sensitive nipples are pressed into Suguru’s chest. He dips down, taking one of the soft peaks into his mouth, rolling it expertly with his tongue. Your breathing is coming erratically now, but you know Suguru. He isn’t going to let up.

He gives you about three seconds to adjust to the way he absolutely fills your pussy before he’s moving, bottoming out on his second thrust. You wrap your legs around his waist, your hands flying up into his hair.

Suguru moves off of one nipple to move to the neglected one and takes it into his mouth. Your grip on his tresses tighten and he groans. The vibrations make your walls clamp down around him and he sucks harder on the sensitive bud until he decides he wants to kiss you. He lets go with another loud POP and kisses his way up the swell of your breasts, up your neck to your mouth where he swallows your cries as he fucks into you.

Suguru almost forgot how tight you were, how your pussy squeezes his cock for dear life every time he’s inside of you. He feels a tingle run up his spine at the familiar sensation and slows down just a bit so he doesn’t come yet.

He rolls his hips lazily into yours, nothing but the lewd squelching sounds of your bodies meeting and both yours and Suguru’s soft whimpers filling the air.

“I could live in your pussy forever,” he whispers, sliding his hand up to your throat and resting it there. He doesn’t squeeze, he never does but he knows you like the thrill of the idle threat.

You say nothing, eyes squeezed shut as you whine softly beneath him. 

“Let me have you forever, baby,” he begs.

You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed. It’s so easy to lose yourself in him, to give him all of you. He’ll consume you and in this moment, you’d let him.

“I can’t, Suguru.”

He cups your cheek in his hand as he continues his slow thrusts.

“I’ll take care of you. I swear.”

You know he’s close. He gets so needy when he is.

“I promise, baby,” he kisses your forehead, trailing kisses down the side of your face, your neck, back up to your lips. “You’ll never want for anything. I just need you with me. I miss you. I love you. Please .”

You can’t. You won’t. You’ve resisted him this whole time. You’ve fought the urge all this time. No contact, no communication.

And yet, Suguru still has your legs spread wide open as he buries himself to the hilt with each thrust.

The tears well up again. Because you know you’re done for. You were always done for when it came to him. 

At the sight of fresh tears rolling down your cheeks, Suguru bends down, kissing them away. He has his answer, but he’ll wait for you to say it. Right now, he just needs this moment with you.

His hips pick up speed, his hand coming down to grip your hip so tightly you’re sure you’ll have a bruise there tomorrow. He thrusts into you deeply, grunting in pleasure at the feel of you getting tighter around him. 

Suguru slides his hand around to your lower back, lifting your hips for a better angle as he slams into you. You cry out at the slight change in position, feeling him hitting deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“Suguru, please”, you whine, tugging his hair so his forehead comes down to meet yours. He groans at your breaths mingling as he pumps into you.

“Tell me what you want, baby. It’s yours. I’m yours. I’ll give you anything. Anything. Fucking anything –” He’s babbling now and you know he’s about to cum.

You let one hand slip from Suguru’s hair to slide down between your bodies. Your fingers find your clit and you rub in time with his thrusts. Suguru moans, eyes watching you play with yourself while he fucks into you.

“So fucking sexy. I never wanna leave this pussy. I swear. Fuck, baby. I love you. Come with me. Leave with me.”

The proposition startles you for all of two seconds before your orgasm shoots through you, a broken cry of his name ripping from your throat. 

Suguru slams his lips against yours, smothering your cries as he pumps into you harder, faster. He pants loudly before he buries his face in your neck when he feels his cock pulse hard inside you, a guttural groan emerging from deep within his chest as hot spurts of cum fill you up.

You’re both trying to catch your breath, holding each other’s sweaty forms tightly. You don’t know how long you hold each other for. You only know that you must have drifted off to sleep shortly after because when you wake up, the room is about four degrees colder again and Suguru is halfway out the window.

You shoot up in your bed calling out to him. He turns to face you, the same lazy grin from earlier back on his face.

“Yes?” He says, tilting his head to the side curiously.

Even in the throes of passion, you know Suguru only speaks his truth. He never hides his feelings. Not now. Not ever. He had wanted you to go with him before, but you weren’t a murderer and you had lived a life before Suguru Geto that you were sure you could go back to.

Now you’ve lived life without Suguru Geto and you weren’t sure you wanted to spend the rest of your life living it without him.

You watch him for a moment as he sits perched on your windowsill, his hair blowing in the wind. He looks exactly like the type of monster they warn you about when you’re studying to be a sorcerer. But he’s your monster and you know him well enough to know that you really would never want for anything. You sit for awhile, wondering if what the fuck you’re about to do is smart. It fucking isn’t. You know it isn’t. You’re essentially signing your own death warrant, but…you can’t let him go. Not like this. Not ever.

So you wordlessly slide out from under the blankets, slip your clothes and shoes on and follow Suguru out the window.

[artistsmellslikeunemployment]

Things that natla did do:

- Katara stealing a water pouch from a merchant shop at night

- zuko draws!

- include pieces from the books and comics (mother of faces, Kyoshi‘s personality,

- „water the most promising seed“

- Katara standing by and smirking as Sokka flounders trying to impress Suki but her not buying any of it

- Katara never letting anyone talk over her once diplomacy fails

- Bumi‘s armpit hair

- Zuko talking about Lu Ten

- Azula learning to use a blue flame and failing

- what can I say, the actors make the show very enjoyable 🤷🏼‍♀️

- Kuruk refusing to take possession over Aang‘s body/ Avatar state

- overall I think they drew info from the books about the other eras

- the sound of Iroh‘s firebending reminding of a dragon‘s growl

- Avatar Roku making fun of Avatar Kyoshi

- Zuko basically enthusing about Kyoshi‘s strength only to then get his ass kicked by her

- Suki (and mom) gushing over seeing their role model Kyoshi in action

- random woman with broom and Zuko letting her hit him

- Aang running away at the end, after the battle. He might not have run from his responsibility but he ran from the consequences

- „have you seen my flying bison?“ which is way better because even less believable

- Katara being bold enough to train her waterbending in the abandoned fire navy ship around Wolf Cove

- emphasis on Sokka‘s inventory skills and by elongation his bad ice dodging skills

- Zuko deciding to stay with/ look for Iroh instead of chasing Aang twice

- Lu Ten‘s theme playing every time Zuko and Iroh confess their love for each other

- Omashu‘s part of the earth kingdom being India coded

- Zuko so specifically being triggered by the word „compassion“ but not „empathy/ emphatic“ because he actually does believe in kindness and much like Azula is still trapped in the pressure of having to represent all his father believes

- Zuko looking disgusted all the time

- 41st division bowing to their prince

- I had fun watching it and most of it makes sense tbh.

What I don’t get (logic mistakes):

- Mai being too openly anti fire nation by saying she wouldn’t ever come back if given the chance

- Iroh finding the Blue Spirit‘s mask in Zuko‘s pile of clothes but maybe that’s not even a negative.

- no talk about the meaning of the necklace

- Gyatso Living in the Spirit World (doesn’t Aang have enough guides with all his previous lives?);

- that assassination attempt on Ozai and Azula infiltrating the plan? Was this meant to show Ozai‘s cruelty and Azula‘s strategic thinking??

- what was Bumi‘s point exactly?

- Yue being a spirit fox. Why? It added nothing.

- „i bet you taste like chicken“ no opossum chicken. just chicken.

- Kyoshi being the narrator

- Aang being able to communicate with his past lives only by visiting their shrines and not in the right order (usually the avatar has to contact every avatar before him in the order of their lifetimes before he can get through to the next)

- Aang being shamed and gaslight by everyone

- confusion over what happened to the villagers as well as Katara and Solla by mixing Hei Bai‘s and Ko‘s stories as well as the Fog of Lost Souls and creating a new loophole into the spirit world when people stand too close to Aang while he meditates? Also, Ko‘s „Magic“ with individuality and his reason for stealing faces when showing emotion is lost.

- with all due love, what was Suki‘s mother for?

- Wan Shi Tong randomly sitting at some wayside

- Why wouldn’t normal people understand Wan Shi Tong? How are they planning for Team Avatar to find out about the solar eclipse if not through Wan Shi Tong‘s library later?

- Iroh suspecting Ozai behind the apparent assassination of Zuko so openly in front of Zhao

- Iroh justifying his war crimes with „I was a soldier“??

- Iroh „sacrificing“ himself in Omashu when the earth kingdom forces were looking for the firebender even though they both would’ve gone undetected otherwise

- Iroh killing Zhao

- does Momo carry the spirits‘ life now?

- the fire nation inventing a solar system model to predict Zosin‘s Comet and potentially the eclipse as well

[spacedykez]

So You Want To Watch Lifesteal

It’s happened. You’ve been seeing your mutual/followed blog reblog posts about this SMP called “Lifesteal” that apparently has some sort of gay clown? You’re intruiged. Well, couldn’t hurt to check it out, right? Maybe the gays got to you. Maybe you’ve seen the crystal demon. Maybe you’ve just seen some sick art. Whatever it was, you’ve seen something that prompted you to go “huh. maybe i should check this thing out!”

Now you’re wondering- so how do I watch this thing? Where do I start? What’s it about? Never fear! You’re in exactly the right place! Here’s the post that will walk you through how to get started watching this Lifesteal SMP thing (and maybe joining in Tumblr’s collective brainrot).

What Is Lifesteal? Let’s start with the basics. Lifesteal is a Minecraft SMP- okay. Maybe not that basic. I’m sure you know the drill. So what’s the “thing” with Lifesteal, then? What’s it all about?

Lifesteal’s premise is that when you die, you lose a heart off of your permanant health bar. This one!

Now here’s the twist that makes it fun: when you kill another player, you get their heart. So if you’re both on ten hearts, and you kill someone else, their healthbar will drop to nine and yours will increase to eleven!

This is why you see so much heart imagery in fanart, and why if you see screenshots/watch videos, their health bars are rarely at ten hearts. Pretty simple, right? 

Yep, mostly. Some other things you should know about the life system are that players can choose to “withdraw” their hearts, which means they remove hearts from their health by choice. They appear as nether stars in a player’s inventory. This feature is typically used for trading hearts (although usually a little more... violent) and giving hearts to allies- hearts can be stored and thrown like normal items, and a player can use the item to add a heart to their health bar (the item will vanish from their inventory).

And of course once you reach zero hearts, you’re banned from the SMP. That’s it, it’s over. Unless someone chooses to revive you. That’s pretty rare though, so mostly 0 hearts = death! 

But in the cases where players are revived, it’s with the use of a special item that looks like a beacon, crafted with 4 nether stars, 4 hearts, and an elytra. Hearts in this case can function like nether stars- you can use 8 hearts and an elytra to craft the beacon. It’s very expensive, which is why it’s not used often.

Okay, great! So where do I start watching? So first, you’ll want to know that Lifesteal has four seasons so far- no! wait! don’t let that scare you off! please come back! Phew, okay. You’re still here? Alright! I was just about to tell you that you don’t have to watch them in order, don’t worry! You can start on Season One, but you really don’t need to. Most people start on Season 3 for The Gays™️ or Season Two for Clownpierce.

The most common recommendation you’ll see for new viewers is to watch Clownpierce and Branzy (yes, they’re the gays your dash won’t shut up about). Branzy doesn’t appear until Season 3, though, and he only has 6 Lifesteal episodes (find them here). Clown’s been here a bit longer, and you can find his videos here. Oh, and here’s the s3 branzypierce playlist.

What’s Branzypierce? Branzypierce, also known as Clownzy, is the ship name of BranzyCraft and Clownpierce. They’re the most popular ship here in the fandom, because it’s basically canon. I wish i was joking. Just. Click this.

But if you’re not interested in just Clown and Branzy, or you’ve already watched them and looking to find more people to watch, then keep on reading! There’s plenty more below. Before we get into it, if you want a list of s3 events and how to watch them, look no further than this post. And keep in mind, most Lifesteal videos are self-contained enough that you can watch them without prior knowledge! You almost don’t even have to watch anyone’s series in order from what I’ve found.

Starting us off, just. Ashswagg. Communism and God. I really can’t explain him to you just please go watch it. It’s only three videos I promise. 

Okay, okay, now go HERE to find more channel recommendations. I would link them below, but it’d just be copying the post. my personal advice: rekrap for escapes, clown for pvp, parrot for strategy, yeahjaron for minecraft farms, reddoons for capitalism, ashwag for communism/god, and branzy for the gays! have fun!

Side note: I would not reccommend you start with this, but if you want to here is all of S3 in order!

And oh, hey! Exclusive, just for you! Here’s a quick post with other fun duos besides Branzypierce!

What about Season 4?  You may have noticed that all the links led to S3 playlists. Good job! That’s because S4 has just started and there’s not much content. Before you get into S4, you should know there’s a new system implemented that limits the armor and tools players can get- info here. 

Now how to watch it? The s4 playlist, or go here! It’s got everything you need. There’s not much so far, though, so I wouldn’t try to watch it if you’re just looking to get into Lifesteal in general! Watch s3 to get content!

Do any of them stream? Yes! Not all of them do, but there are a good few Lifesteal streamers. First up, ItzSubz has Something going on over there, so go check that out. And Don Turnt streams Lifesteal fairly often. Not sure if any of the others stream regularly, but here’s the list of all their channels!

Alright, so where do I go for Tumblr content? Woo, you’ve been dragged in! You’ve checked out a couple videos! Now please, step right up to a list that is rapidly growing as Lifesteal skyrockets in popularity here on Tumblr!

Looking for incredible art? Our two main dedicated and amazing artists are @kishdoodles and @ghostpajamas​, who are probably responsible for dragging most of us here (/lh! thanks guys! you’re awesome!)

If you have questions or want to know more about Lifesteal, I’d reccommend Ghost and @branzypierce​, who I will never stop promoting as our resident experts. I’ve heard @rendogdomesticated​ also knows quite a bit, especially when it comes to Subz!

(a/n: please add onto this list! the four users i’ve linked are the blogs i know of who i see posting Lifesteal content and who know more in-depth information about Lifesteal. I will add more blogs to this list, and I’m very sorry if I missed anyone!)

That’s it, folks! I’m sure more information will be added to this post as is needed! Anything I should add? Let me know!

[stemmmm]

Stem's Thoughts on Harvest Moon 64

(that other title's too long so i'm cutting it down now)

Harvest Moon 64 opens on a scene of your character walking around the street, speaking to everyone in the village who’s come to the event. You quickly piece together that this event in question is actually your grandfather’s funeral, the same grandfather who’s farm you’re about to take over. This little scene beautifully sets up both the tone of the game, and immediately shows the player that this iteration is far more focused on the story and characters. HM64 tells a story about the lives of many people in a small, dying town. It is a story about life, and it is a story about death.

A short disclaimer before we dig in: I played this game before the idea to write these essays cropped up, and have not replayed it since then, so this will be mostly vibes. I will try to do my research to make sure I’m not straight up lying though. (Also all of the images in this one are from google because I don't have a means of getting images from my N64 other than photographing the tv screen and I'm not doing that.)

What’s new!

HM64, also called Harvest Moon 2 by HMGB2 and nothing else I’ve ever seen, is the direct sequel to HM SNES. It’s not a sequel in the usual way sequels are, where you’re continuing where you left off with the same character, but in that every main character is the descendant of their equivalent in the previous game. It’s not important to the story, in fact if you don’t already know this, you probably wouldn’t notice anything past some similarities. I played this game before I tried out SNES and it still took me a minute, plus having it directly pointed out to me to get it. Maybe I’m oblivious, who knows. 

Gameplay-wise, this iteration is home of a few series firsts: For one, your house can be upgraded to have a kitchen! You can't cook though, only collect recipes. You can also get a greenhouse where you can grow crops year-round. Sheep are introduced as barn animals that produce wool. You receive a fishing rod you can use whenever you want, but as far as I understand, the timing is nigh impossible unless you’re playing on a CRT (I am not, and never managed to catch a single fish). There’s a mine you can access in winter for something to do while you can’t grow crops (there are fall crops, but not winter) where you can find about two key items and garbage otherwise. Tool upgrades are no longer done by magic, but by leveling them up through use! Which I think is very neat and feels very natural, like you’ve just become more proficient with them as a farmer through practice. Characters can now come to visit you on the farm at random times, for either special story events or just to say hi! Your farmer can get sick from working too hard in bad weather, just like your animals, and there’s now medicine for that, just like your animals. And there’s inventory menus that I'll discuss at better length later.

What’s the same is… Most things in a basic sense. You’re on a farm with a dog, planting crops, raising livestock. You can make friends with folks in town by talking to them and giving them gifts. The livestock mechanics, as far as I could see and as far as I’ve been able to understand from online forums, are exactly the same as they were in SNES, the exception being there’s no wild beasts that can kill your animals but they’ll still get sick if they aren’t fenced overnight– and they’re not going to eat any grass unless they’re out overnight anyways.

As for your farm, you’re set up with the usual: a small house, a barn, coop, and fodder silo, a wood bin to store debris cleared off your farm, and a big messy field that you have to clean up before you can properly use it. It starts with three new additions though; a doghouse, a bowl that you can feed your dog with by putting edible items in there, and a mailbox that you’ll occasionally receive letters and notices in! They’re small additions, but very, very charming. The one thing that’s been removed is the toolshed, now replaced by a tiny toolbox by your house.

The world outside your farm is like an enhanced version of the SNES map. Imagine the town and forest now have one or two extra sections tacked onto them, one in the town for some extra housing, and a couple in the forest to let you explore the mountain more and get you deeper into the woods. The mountain still has a cave in it (this time with Harvest Sprites, who have been removed from your farm) and a summit you can climb to for certain events, but it has been upgraded with little wild animals that wander around and can be picked up and shown to people for a few friendship points, if they like the animal. (This applies to your dog too, there’s a well known exploit to max out Karen’s friendship in one day by repeatedly showing it to her in the bar where time is stopped.) The crossroads zone is also expanded by having three new areas you can travel to– the ranch that you buy animals at, a vineyard that’s more of a story-area, and a beach that mostly comes into play for a couple of summer festivals! 

On the visual side, this game is the series’ first venture into the new frontier of 3d graphics… kind of. The artstyle is made of isometric 3D models that are rendered into flat sprites and then projected onto the TV as if that’s not what’s happening. The game even lets you turn your farm around in 3D to face different directions, but it’s locked to only let you play in specific angles. Changing the direction made me forget where everything was and get lost on my own tiny farm, so I never touched that mechanic.

Due to the dramatic artstyle shift– not only being in 3D but also presented at a 45 degree angle, the game becomes a fair bit harder to play than either of its 2D predecessors. The controls are just a little clunky, and the bizarre shape of the N64 controller really doesn’t help. This makes the tedium of farming a little irritating to do, since it requires pretty precise inputs done over and over for every extra thing you’re trying to grow. Fortunately, you're not on the hook to ship everything before 5PM comes around like in SNES, so you get to move a little bit slower. The fickle farming experience also gets a little help from the new inventory menu that can be accessed anywhere and any time. It has multiple inventory slots for both tools and items, each type having a dedicated section so there’s no need to prioritize carrying tools versus turnips. Unfortunately, this actually ends up being a little more cumbersome than useful, as the menu takes a little longer than is comfortable to open and is pretty clunky to use. I mostly avoided it unless I was bringing gifts to people. But the addition of an inventory opens up the opportunity for something else which defines this entire game...

Key items– a set of unique, unsellable items –are most frequently found in random, secret places around the farm and town, and they give you a reason to scour every inch of the place. They can also be given to you by NPCs when you gain relationships with them, which is convenient because their entire purpose is to help you get even better relationships with each of them, and maybe even unlock little stories with characters. For example, there’s a music box you can dig up in your field that can be given to any of the girls for a decently sized relationship bump. There’s also an old weathervane in the shape of a chicken that you can find in the little mine. If you give it to Rick, he’ll tell you that it was a precious thing that belonged to his grandmother as a cute scene to deepen the town’s lore and connect it to the first game. Key items quickly become the most important and sought after things in the game because they act as a vessel to deliver that which the game is all about: stories.

Lots of people in a little town

The narrative premise is exceedingly simple: you need to fix up your grandfather’s ruined farm and make a new life for yourself in this town within a certain amount of time, just like its predecessors. Except, this game is a lot bigger than either of them, and it didn’t fill all the extra space with new things to grow on your farm. In my entry on the SNES game, I mentioned that the introspective style of writing turned the repetitive farming gameplay into something more like meditation on things going on in the town. This game takes that idea and runs with it! The town in this game may only be slightly bigger than it was before, but it has a lot more people in it, and every single one of them has a lot more to say, more to do, more festivals to go to, and more story events to take part in. There's even a new photo album that fills in with images for reaching special events or succeeding at certain festivals! Your given goal may be to successfully revitalize your farm, but that rapidly stops being the reason why you want to play. Farming is only a means to further the narrative of the town.

Story events are no longer a reward for reaching the highest heart level with a girl, but instead something that happens naturally in the world as you make better friends with people, or if you just happen to be in the right place at the right time. The world doesn’t only consist of you living it and things happening to you. Instead, you end up being a fly on the wall to other people’s conversations and life events, and you get to see how those events change the people around you. People will begin to say different things, go different places, live different lives without your input at all– often much better lives, as everyone in the town is pretty deeply troubled, whether they seem like it or not.

There’s an added depth, too. While the characters in this series have always been defined by their conflicts (in the first game, every big cutscene with each girl was exclusively about their major life conflicts), this game takes it further in multiple ways. Characters have conflicts with their families: you as the player have a conflict with your parents who can take you home if you fail to farm well, Lillia and Basil have conflict over their marriage and the fact that Basil leaves for half the year, and Karen’s family situation is…. A lot. Then, there are characters at conflict with things much more nebulous, like the Mayor who tells you that the town is going to die out but he can’t find any way to save it, or like the young boy Kent who wants to be a farmer just like you, but through a series of events is forced to learn that life isn’t so simple, people can’t just do whatever they would like, and it takes very hard work to get to do the things you dream of. And then there are conflicts that aren’t even necessarily conflicts unless they run into your long-term plans.

Instead of only having a bunch of girls in town who exist only as your prospective marriage candidates, there are also five boys in the town who will marry those girls instead of you, if given the chance. Like in SNES, there are 5 levels of hearts that the girls can have for you. Unlike SNES, each one of these hearts has a corresponding event you can have with the girl where there’s a chance of her liking you more afterwards, if you say the right things. In addition to that though, there are just as many events coming from the other side of the story, rival events that trigger if you happen to be good friends with the boys.

My favorite story by far is that of Harris the mailman who falls in love with the librarian, Maria, from just seeing her handwriting on the outside of all the letters that she would write. I frequently saw him in the bar at the end of the day and he would tell me the woes of his love, saying that he just needed to work up the courage to finally speak to her. Then one day, I happened to be outside of the library when he and Maria met face to face and she handed over a letter addressed to him. No longer did he sit in the bar forlorn every night, instead all he would do was excitedly tell me about Maria, and then when I visited the library, Maria would tell me about Harris!

While I’m on the subject of these characters, I think it’s worth going in a little more depth on who these people are past the grandchildren of the characters from the last game. See, you may be familiar with names like Karen and Kai and Gray, etc., etc. from a little recently remade game called Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town, which is a modern version of Friends of Mineral Town on the GameBoy Advance, which is a port of Back to Nature on the PlayStation. These are not those characters. At all. While the basic elements of these characters are intact– Popuri is cute and childish, Ann is a workaholic, Maria is shy and a little oblivious –nothing else is the same. They all work different jobs and marry different people than they are paired with in later entries, and in my humble opinion, it all works WAY better in this game, probably because of the fact that these characters were designed for this specific context!

As an example, Popuri’s exasperated mother, Lillia, runs the flower shop and Popuri was named by her father, Basil, who loves plants. She’s childish and sweet and loves flowers, but can also be a complete brat. She eventually marries Gray, Ann’s brother, who lives on the ranch run by his father, Doug, who struggles to understand his children. Gray is an angry young man who seems to have a particular dislike for you, but you don’t learn why until you discover he was a promising young jockey until he got a bad injury and had to give up the sport.

Am I gushing a bit and letting the game design part fall to the wayside? Sure probably, but I can only gush because the game does a brilliant job of making a cast of characters who, while simple on their own, have interconnected lives that come together to give every one of them so much more depth than they would have otherwise. It all builds a narrative, and while narrative design is definitely something different than game design on its own, this game is far more about the narrative so it’s impossible to not focus on.

The problems

The trouble with these events is that I nearly missed the chance to see that letter be exchanged. You have some control over the progression of the events, because you have to be decent friends with the boys in order for them to trigger at all, but unlike the girls who have a handy visual signal of how much they like you, the boys have no such thing, so you can’t really know if a new event is ready to fire off. There’s no way of knowing where or when they’ll happen either unless you look it up, and even then you have to get lucky because sometimes they just don’t trigger when you want them to. I had a lovely moment in my game where I managed to accidentally catch a cold from working too hard in the snow and lost a day to being bedridden, followed by the New Years celebration which takes a day away from you, then followed by Kai and Karen’s wedding– something that I had missed multiple events for and therefore had no idea was coming, which also took a day from me. After that three day chain of no work, I think I was extremely lucky my animals didn’t get sick and die. 

This chain of events led directly to me never speaking to Gray again, even though he was the boy I was most interested in, because I wanted to marry Popuri and there was too much risk of him getting to her before I could. The reason why I didn’t go into more detail about the relationship between those two when I was talking about them earlier is because I straight up don’t know it, I couldn’t risk giving them a chance to get together.

The thing is, even if I hadn’t forced Gray and Popuri’s cutscenes to stop, I still wouldn’t actually know what their relationship is like, because I have not beaten this game. I know what the ending entails and I can reasonably expect I probably would not have gotten an excellent one, but I’m sure it still would have been fine. I stopped playing the game entirely before I even managed to get married. Why? Because I couldn’t get any of Popuri’s heart events to trigger. I had her hearts maxed out and had a blue feather ready to go in my pocket, so I could turn on the game and marry her right away anytime I wanted to. But I wanted to trigger the little events, even if they’re just a couple seconds of some pixels talking to me on a screen. They’re cute. And it made me sad that I couldn’t see them for some imperceptible reason. So I stopped playing and didn’t pick the game back up.

I don’t remember how close I was to the end of the game, I know I was at least in year 2, but I don’t even remember how much longer the game is after that. Probably a good amount. I had definitely gotten most of the events you could get at this point, since multiple other characters had gotten married, and the farming wasn’t something I really enjoyed so I can’t say I wasn’t at least a little bored by this point, but I wasn’t frustrated with the general mechanics of the game. The days were long enough, but not too long, that I had just enough time to go anywhere I wanted and do what I needed before night came. I could still talk to characters and go to festivals and play minigames. But I didn’t want to, because the game wasn’t doing what it seemed like it was supposed to for some arbitrary reason and that frustrated me enough to make me stop. When the fun of a game is found more in experiencing special events rather than anything else, the player feels cheated out of their good time when those events are too hard to find or can be missed outright, and that’s exactly what I experienced.

Parting Thoughts

The ending, according to what I've read, is very similar to the SNES endings, in that you’ll get different results based on all of the different things you’ve done. Whether you’re married, how many crops you shipped, how many animals you have, how well liked you are by the town… I imagine it’s not quite the victory lap that SNES’s ending was with its little cutscenes, since apparently all you get are comments on how well you performed by various people in the town, but it still seems nice and rewarding! At least like more of a reward than whatever the hell GB1 was trying to do. It seems like a perfectly good ending that it would be nice to see myself someday.

Despite all my troubles with this game, I believe HM64 is still the best one out there– at least that I’ve played yet. The events are plentiful and the content is meaty. The repetitive day to day dialogue still has the simple breath of life that SNES did, that manages to make the most out of a small amount. Don’t get me wrong, this game came out in 1999, I’m giving it a lot of praise but the characters still repeat the same line to you every day, and they still freeze in place until you leave the room. It’s revolutionary, but this is comparing it to a game on the literal Super Nintendo. Absolutely pick up this game to try it out, but keep those expectations tempered. That said, I never picked up this game nor knew a thing about it until I was well into my 20’s, but the moment I started playing, it hit me with a wave of nostalgia as if I’d known this game my whole life. At least to me, the look and feel of the game were like coming home to a childhood I never had.

 Will I pick up this game again with the intent to beat it? Maybe! Hard to say for sure when I’m trying to play decades worth of games and write about them at a comprehensive level. What I do know is that this is exactly what I want more farming games to be. It’s a game that has thoughts about life, and about death, both good and bad. And I think this is the perfect context to share those thoughts.

[blog-of-hubris]

Jujutsu Kaisen 236: Heading South

This is probably the craziest chapter for the JJK community (rightfully so), and I have been on the fence about writing this up. It won't be super long, I hope… but there are a few things from the chapter I want to highlight.

So once you get past this cut, be prepared to see me bare all in my emotions and analysis for this amazing chapter Gege has given us!

P.S FORGIVE ME IF THIS META SUCKS! I AM OUT OF PRACTICE!!

The Afterlife

None of the jujutsu kaisen fandom is new to death. It is quite the opposite, actually. Characters that the fans love are put in life or death scenarios with no guarantee of them getting out. Even simple side characters that fans enjoy are subject to death, so pandering has never been Gege's thing. For me, the death of Gojo is emotionally hard because I love him, but his death isn't what moved me in this chapter… it was his experience in the afterlife.

The beginning of the chapter is us seeing Geto walking up to Gojo and Gojo reacting sourly. Of course this is him realizing he lost, but before I get into the words shared, I want to focus on the environment Gege gave us. We don't see adult Geto and Gojo, but the hidden inventory or teenage versions of them. I think everyone knows the reasoning behind this is because this is Gojo's “ideal time” of his life. His time as an adolescent with Geto by his side was when he was the happiest.

The fact Gojo form reverts to those days is so sad. To me, it reflects that Gojo never left the past. Everyone he encounters is from his time as a teenager, even showing us Ririka, her maid and even TOJI. (Toji appearing there was a fucking SHOCK to me… that's something else entirely to unpack for another time.) It is very sad seeing Gojo admit in many ways that he didn't feel truly happy after Geto's death. He became the strongest, and that even separated him from Geto, the person who would have given him satisfaction as a living being, not a jujutsu sorcerer. No matter how much he loved everyone, he knew that people could never understand him. But he felt that he could pour that feeling into Sukuna, since he is the only other being to be separated by others in that way.

On top of that, the dead group seem to be in an airport, symbolizing death and taking flight to a new land. This all makes sense when you think about the context of the chapter discussing heading north or south. The airport represents the flight into the next part of the soul's existence. I don't have too much to add on that specific theme, but I implore you to look up the symbolism for yourself.

A Curse Can Save People...

Is anyone else geeking with excitement over the fact that this chapter confirms the connection the living world has with the dead? Gojo literally asks Nanami how was his death, and we get Haibara explaining how he jumped in. This was the confirmation that what Gojo was seeing couldn't be a dream because how could he imagine receiving information that no one except Nanami would know.

This means a lot to me, because it deepens the level of meaning behind Nanami's death. In the moments of his death, he knew he was cursing Yuji, but that curse was exactly what Yuji needed to understand the gravity of his new life and choices he made. Specifically for Nanami, this was his final turning point. He chose to bet on the future instead of believing in the usual way of doing things. Haibara jumping in, was him reaching over from the other side, which implies (at least to me) that your loved ones are always watching even in death. I believe that is the “curse” that stays on jujutsu sorcerers, but also can be their saving grace in their last moments.

At the end of the day, the living cannot understand the dead, hence why Yaga said that all sorcerers die with regrets, but the truth is in those final moments only the dead can understand the curse placed upon them. It is the hindsight that creates an atmosphere of understanding, and only then will a person know if the choices they made truly made them happy. Even for Yaga specifically, him cursing Gakuganji was him reliving himself of burden and regret. “My Curse unto you” is literally a curse that saved Gakuganji from being a puppet of the higher ups. I love how Gege is perfectly tieing all the knots together!

Gojo was cursed by love (geto), and felt he was separated by everyone until his final moments, but those who knew him when he wasn't “the strongest” are those that are there to comfort him as he heads south. I love that Gojo was able to get this final moment with those that he loves, and I hope that this is where they are all experiencing their time. It makes me wonder if THIS is the place Kenjakub discussed (in between dreams and reality).

I will never forget you for as long as I live…

I won't explain the 4 dimensional slash that Sukuna used in this post, but if you would like me to do a more detailed explanation, just let me know in the comments!

What I want to talk about is Sukuna and how this fight impacted him. I think Gojo was wrong when he said his feelings didn't reach Sukuna. In fact, Sukuna saying he will never forget Gojo is him acknowledging that Gojo's feelings did reach him. The King of Curses has not acknowledged a single character in the way he acknowledged Gojo. Even with Jogo, he called him strong but the words “I will never forget you…” + a genuine smile is so powerful that it gave me chills. (Not to mention he is doing this in Megumi's body… it hurts me.)

I am proud of Gojo because he fought his hardest and got the acknowledgement he wanted, but I think this conclusion shows that Gojo was never as selfish as Sukuna. He was never as alone as Sukuna is, even with Uraume by his side, Sukuna still exuded a sense of loneliness that caused Yozoru to chase after him. Gojo still believes in the next generation, but he still represents the old generation. I personally don't think his death is necessary to symbolize the next generation stepping up, but when you think about it, many of the adult sorcerers we are introduced to (with relevance) have been killed off. This topic can divulge into what Gege is trying to do with progression of the Jujutsu world (giving gakuganji a change of heart and establishing him as a leader for the next generation, for example). I can see how Gojo's death is the literal nail in the coffin, ending the influence of the old generation… Leaving Shoko and Gakuganji to be there as support for the future.

I digress, the point I want to make here is that Gojo did the best he could do to show Sukuna "love" and I wonder what else Gege is going to do to continue that plot point. I also need to see how Megumi will tie into this, because I know his soul is going to play an important role in all of this, I just cannot pinpoint how exactly.

In Conclusion

I will most likely be doing a write-up for every chapter from here on out because I know this situation is going to get deeper. I will be watching Gege's movements closely and can't wait to see how it is all put together!!!

Will Megumi wake up? What is Kashimo's technique gonna be? How will Sukuna counter it? Will Yuta and Maki jump in? WILL MEGUMI WAKE UP??!?!?!?!

[minas-linkverse]

Ngl I was going to ask about Breath of the Wild but I’d thought you’d get a million of those asks lol. I was also torn between asking about Wind Waker, so whichever one you want to answer more is chill!!

haha yea I thought I'd get a million asks too! Somehow even now this remains the only botw ask, I guess people just figured it must've been sent already 😅

Now to actually share my thoughts on botw... Man I hope people don't get mad at me.

I did not like it!. The first play through I had was mildly exciting simply due to there being a whole unknown world to see, but after a while that gimmick wore off. I knew that if I made my way to the cool looking mountain or interesting abandoned building I'd just find a bokoblin and/or a chest with a gem. Whats the point of a gorgeous expansive world when all I find is the same...! 😫

Oh wow! A town with a whole new atmosphere and culture I sure wonder what I'll get up to h- Ok they have the same shops with slightly different items. Ok cool. There's like a few small quests for more inventory filler I don't really need. Cool cool.

I understand that the game is really fun for some people, they'll do quests just to get to play more of the game. They want all that extra stuff to upgrade armour and really get into the nitty gritty mechanics of the game... But I did not. It was not for me.

Also ouugh the puzzles...! My favourite part of Zelda games is the puzzle solving, but these were in no way satisfying and often more fun to just break. Why would I bother even trying to get into the devs heads when A) I could just break it and B) I have too many options to consider! I can't possibly get a clean eureka moment when everything from monster guts to just climbing could be the solution...! Where's the engaging simplicity of knowing exactly what you have and following the devs' clues to reach the solution!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaa--

I also disliked the story, all the interesting bits in it happened a 100 years ago and I feel like I arrived late with a starbucks. I also will not get over the weird ending cutscene!! After countless fascinating memories of Zelda having very complex emotions at Link... What do you mean you're just going to have a vaguely romantic "Do you still remember me?" YEAH I DO, I thought u disliked me! Which is a fascinating story direction I would've loved continued but OK! I guess we're ignoring that! Women cant be angry that makes them less cute and marketable, I guess!!!!

I... Sorry this is so ranty, I've been holding it in a long time. I think there's a lot to love in botw and I wish I wasn't so sour about it. Other people's love and excitement for it is wonderful and I hope they keep making the art they love. If its your first game in the series and got you into it, that's nothing to be ashamed about. I'm just a grumpy old man waving at cloud /ref.

Honestly I think botw could've been wonderful if it was a new IP. It feels all the Zelda stuff was sort of glued onto a concept that wasn't prepared to carry that mantle. It would've been better off with a new exciting world and cast of characters. It still wouldn't be a game I much care for, but the freedom that could've granted the developers would've been a treat to see.

It's worth adding that even though I dislike botw, I want to treat the characters of that game with respect and care in my comic. I may not love them in game but I can see the passion others have and I am committed to make something worth their time. Your special guys are safe with me. I have 0 desire to dunk on them, and instead wish to honour the love you all have. In a way I'm learning to love them myself through that.

[magicalmysteries777]

Lay-ons. Eddie Munson x Fem Reader oneshot.

Parings: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader.

Parts: One shot.

WC: 2366.

Read Time: 9 minutes and 27 seconds,

Summary: Popular fem reader with a secret crush on Eddie goes to buy drugs but ends up getting more than she paid for.

OR

You find out you have a praise kink when a drug deal takes an odd turn.

Rating: Explicit, 18+, minors DNI!!!

CW: mentions of drugs, swearing, fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk, praise kink, edging.

As you make your way toward the shabby trailer in front of you, you pause halfway and look around. Eddie’s trailer was exactly how you expected it to look. The surrounding grass was overgrown and dying, weeds were scattered about, and empty beer bottles were lying around on the porch. You let out a muffled chuckle to yourself and climb the rest of the steps before knocking on the front door. A few seconds pass by before the door swings open

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the Princess of Hawkins High herself. What can I do for you, darling?” Eddie asked, a smirk growing on his face.

“I spoke to Gareth earlier today about acquiring some… party supplies,” you admit.

“Come in,” he instructed, holding the door open wide.

“You live here alone?” you ask, looking around curiously. 

“Nah, my uncle lives here too. He works nights at The Plant. They’re his, by the way, if you were wondering,” he tells you, gesturing to the mug and hat collection hung on the wall.

“Impressive.”

“So… what 'supplies' are you after? I didn’t think that would be your scene.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Munson.”

Eddie lingered on his response for a moment before letting out a muffled chuckle. “Come on,” he instructs, beckoning for you to follow.

Eddie leads you into the bedroom at the back of the trailer and gestures toward the bed before turning his back to you and opening the closet, rooting through his belongings. You take this opportunity to look around. 

Even though you’ve gone your entire academic career in the same classes as Eddie, you’ve never actually spoken to him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, it was more along the lines of your ‘friends’ would never let you live it down if you did. You’ve been best friends with Chrissy Cunningham for as long as you can remember, which in turn means that you spend every single day with her and her boyfriend, Jason, along with the rest of the cheer squad and basketball team. Jason had made it his mission to make Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson’s time at Hawkins High as miserable as possible and would even further alienate Chrissy away from you if he ever caught you dead even looking at him. Despite this, Eddie had always piqued your curiosity. There was something about the way that Eddie was, and always had been, so unequivocally himself that had the ability to steal the attention of everyone within a three-meter distance of him.

This was your first real look into who Eddie actually was. Not the act of ‘unbothered, class clown’ that he put on at school. Clothes, magazines, cans, bottles, and bits of rubbish were scattered on every surface available along with the floor. Stacks of comics, books, and records were piled high in the corner of the room and on the shelves. He had many amps dotted around along with guitars; one acoustic and two electric, one of which was hung on the wall next to the mirror, pride of place. Every inch of the wall was covered with band posters and drawings. This was who he really was. Passionate and creative, albeit a little bit chaotic.

“Got you!” Eddie muttered, holding up a small metal box in front of him. You turn and look at Eddie properly for a moment. His long, curly hair disheveled. His large, brown eyes glimmering in the dim light. He was wearing a loose band t-shirt and black jeans, a chain dangling over his pocket. Each finger clutching the small box was adorned with large, silver rings.

“So, uh, what have you got?” you ask.

Eddie flops himself down onto the bed beside you, holding himself up with his elbow. He opens the box and asses his inventory before recalling the contents to you. “Weed, Special K, and a couple of tabs.”

“How much for the tabs and a half ounce?” 

“Thirty bucks.”

“Shit, I’ve only got twenty,” you mutter, counting the bills in your purse.

“Just the weed then?”

“Any chance I could owe you for the tabs?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t do lay-ons. Too busy to be chasing people up and far too pretty to be getting all bloodied up fighting them when they don’t pay,” he smirks.

“You really think I’m going to try and fight you over ten bucks?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“Of course not, but Carver might.”

“What’s Jason got to do with anything?”

“Aren’t you part of his and Chrissy’s little gang?” he chuckles.

“I’m friends with Chrissy, he’s just the baggage I put up with,” you admit out loud for the first time.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What?” 

“Guess the most ‘popular’ kids at school aren’t as perfect as they appear.”

“Don’t even get me started, the entire cheer squad is as fake and two-faced as you can get,” you admit without thinking. “Shit. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he smirks.

“Thanks. For the record,” you start, sitting up a little, “I don’t think you’re a freak. Jason’s just bitter that he has to follow his parent's plan while you… just do you.”

“What do you mean?”

“All Jason ever does is study and play basketball. You… well, you’ve got your club, your band… you don’t pretend to be someone you’re not.”

“You know about my band?” he asks, his large eyes locked on yours.

“I’ve seen you play,” you admit sheepishly. 

“Is this a prank or something?” he questions.

“I’m not lying. January twenty-first. There was a fight three songs in and you licked Gareth’s face during the encore.”

“Holy shit.”

“I told you there was a lot you didn’t know about me, Munson,” you smirk.

“Is that so?” he asks, eyes fixed on yours.

“Mhmm.”

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like,” Eddie admits after a few seconds.

“No?” you ask, eyes wandering to the faint smile on his lips.

“No…”

Your eyes wander back up to meet Eddies and linger there for a second. God, they were beautiful up close. Deep, dark brown but the reflection of the dim, yellow light made it look as if there were tiny gold flecks scattered within his irises. 

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Eddie asks softly.

“Perfect,” you whisper, eyes still locked on his. “Hey, um, I was thinking... if you don’t do lay-ons, perhaps there’s some other way I can make it up to you?”

Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, Eddie’s lips crash onto yours in the deepest, most breathtaking kiss you’ve ever experienced. His hands cup the side of your face, the cold metal on his fingers colliding with your hot, flushed face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispers, his lips still millimeters from yours, his forehead pressed against your own.

“Me either,” you reply, still a little breathless.

Eddie crashes his lips back onto yours and kisses you again, only this time it's sloppier; more hungry, and desperate. You kiss him back eagerly, savoring the moment in case it finishes just as suddenly as it began. You slide a hand into his hair and interlock his curls with your fingers, earning a gentle nibble on your bottom lip from Eddie. A small moan escapes your lips and you feel him smile before kissing you again. 

Without breaking from the kiss, you move your way over to Eddie before crawling into his lap, legs straddling him. His lips broke free from yours and began moving towards your collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as they went.

“You like that, huh?” Eddie whispers as you tilt your neck, exposing your skin for him. Your hands tighten around Eddie’s wild locks as he nips at the skin, causing you to grind your hips involuntarily. A smirk begins to grow across your face as you feel him begin to harden beneath you.

“So do you, apparently,” you tease.

“You have no fucking idea what I wanna do to you right now,” Eddie breathes heavily between sloppy kisses to your neck.

“What’s stopping you?” 

Eddie grabs your t-shirt and pulls it over your head leaving your black, lacy bra exposed. He pauses for a second, eyes wide at the mere sight of you this bare in front of him, before eagerly cupping your breasts in his hands and squeezing gently. Without meaning to, you grind against him again, the ache inside of you growing stronger. 

“So impatient,” Eddie whispers in your ear, rolling his hips so that his hard cock grinds against you. A quiet mewl escapes from your lips as your head lolls back. Eddie places his hands on your thighs, slowly sliding them up under your skirt and trailing his thumb over your waistband. You tighten your grip on his hair and pull him away from your chest, crashing your lips down onto his, craving to taste him again. You moan involuntarily into his mouth as he gently slides his thumb down onto your lace-covered clit, rubbing it softly in a circular motion. Eddie breaks from your kiss and pulls back, keeping his eyes locked with yours, smirking as he watches you try to stay quiet.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he asks cockily, his fingers gently tugging your thong over to the side. His thumb slides between your folds and back up to your clit, covering it in your wetness so that it glides with ease. 

Your hips buckle at every touch, kiss, and hot breath against your skin. You can feel the tension growing inside of you, getting stronger and stronger with every passing second. Eddie slips one of his fingers inside of you, his thumb still circling your clit, causing you to let out a loud moan at the extra stimulation. 

“There’s a good girl,” he whispers softly in your ear. “God, you look so fucking hot.”

“Fuck, Eddie,” you moan.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he smiled wickedly, placing a second finger inside of you. “Good girl.”

You pick the pace up, riding Eddie’s hand at your own tempo to help get you over the edge. Eddie matches your speed with his thumb and before you know it, it feels almost too good to bear.

“Oh, fuck. Eddie, I’m gonna c-” you begin before Eddie pulls his hand away from you.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not yet, you’re not. You’ll cum when I say you can cum, Princess,” he teases.

“Please, Eddie,” you pout.

“You look so pretty when you sit there begging for it,” he smirks, his thumb quickly gliding over your clit again, causing you to buckle onto him.

“Fuck. Please, Eddie. I need you,” you pant, fingers wrapped up in his curls again.

“Say it again.”

“I need you.”

Eddie wraps his arms around you and flips you onto the bed, hovering over you, the guitar pick dangling from his neck cold on your hot skin. You fiddle with his belt buckle for a few seconds before tugging it free and unbuttoning his jeans. Eddie takes your hands and pins them above your head, crashing his lips back down onto yours hungrily. 

“Please, Munson,” you pant.

“You’re so needy, aren’t you? Okay. Okay.” 

Eddie reaches into his bedside cabinet and pulls out a condom before removing it from its wrapper and placing it on his erect penis. He looks back up and catches you biting your lip at the mere sight of him.

“That’s hot,” he teases, diving towards you. “You ready?” 

“Mhmm,” you manage to whimper as he teases your opening with the tip of his cock.

“I need to hear your words, Princess.”

“Please, Eddie.”

You let out a loud moan as Eddie sinks into you as deep as he can go, pausing for a second while you adjust to his width. You didn’t have much experience when it came to guys, but so far, Eddie was the biggest you’d been with. It stung for a few seconds at first, but soon the sensation turned into pleasure as he thrust into you again and again.

“Look at you,” he cooed, grabbing your jaw and holding your face centimeters from his, his rings digging into your skin. “Taking that so well, aren’t you? Such a good girl for me.”

“Mhmm,” you whimper.

“What are you?” he asks, gripping tighter.

“A good girl,” you pant. He releases your jaw and grabs your hips, pulling you onto him with each forceful thrust, slamming into you harder and harder.

His thumb slides over your clit, dancing over it in fast circles, pushing you further to the edge. The tension inside of you beginning to grow again causing your moans to get louder.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie. I’m so close,” you whimper.

“Is that so?” he asks with a smirk.

“Mhmm.”

“You wanna cum?” he teases, whispering into your ear.

“Mhmm.”

“How badly?” 

“Fuck, Eddie. So bad.”

“Okay, Princess. Cum for me,” he instructs, picking up the pace.

A few thrusts later Eddie finds your sweet spot, nudging it at just the right angle that sends you to the peak of your climax in seconds. Back arched, your walls clench around him as your orgasm dies off.

“Holy shit,” you pant, “don’t stop.”

“Cum for me again, sweetheart,” he instructs, still hitting your spot, “you look so fucking pretty when you cum.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Oh, shit, Eddie. Eddie. Oh God, I’m gonna-” you cry out, your walls beginning to clench around him again.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? There you go,” he pants, thrusting harder and harder until he too begins letting out trails of curse words. “Fuck. Oh, Fuck. Gonna-”

You wrap your legs around Eddie, pulling him deep into you as you feel him tense repeatedly inside of you while he empties his load into the condom. He drops to his elbows, forehead resting against yours, panting. 

“You know what?” he begins, breathless, “you can take the tabs. I don’t care. Just promise me something?” 

“What?” you ask, tucking a wild curl behind his ear.

“The next time you come over for ‘party supplies’ just make sure you’re a few dollars short again, yeah?”