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majestyeverlasting · 1 year

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Just Another Friday Night

This piece contains 18+ content and explores the idea of Eddie as a soft dom.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson's been your best friend since fifth grade. And on a night you think is going to pass just like any other, you realize you can't keep running from the way you feel.

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: I hath returned. So excited to finally have this one out for you guys! Hopefully the person who requested this many moons ago is still somewhere in my orbit.

As soon as Eddie feels the pad of your finger meet the skin of his cheek, his lips curl into a soft smile. It brings small lines to the corners of his eyes and reveals the glint of his teeth in the dim light. Concentration sparkles in your eyes like water does beneath the moon.

Both of you are seated on his messy bed. Him with his legs falling over the edge, and you angled towards him with your legs crossed. His breaths are steady, fingers lax from no longer strumming the strings of his guitar.

When you finally manage to collect the fallen eyelash from his cheek, you hold out your pointer finger for him to see. If you’d been focussed on the song he was playing rather than studying his face, you never would’ve noticed the tiny hair to begin with.

“M’kay.” His eyes flick back up to meet yours. “Now what?”

You raise your finger closer to his lips. “You’ve got a wish to make.”

If there was anyone deserving of one, it was him. It had been almost a year since he crawled out of the Upside Down by the skin of his teeth. Half alive. You remembered all the long nights you’d spent by his hospital bed as he recovered.

An air of weightlessness washes over both of you after Eddie blows it off your finger. As if somewhere far away, the course of time and happenings shifted in his favor.

“You can finish your song now. Sorry.” Smiling shyly, you tuck your hands into your lap and wiggle to get comfortable.

He smiles wider, but makes a quick work of tampering it back down.

When he begins playing, you make sure to focus this time, letting the music soak in and flow through you. The passion is palpable, along with the underlying sense of purpose that hangs off the tail end of each resonant note.

You’d been around to listen to him since the days he played off-tune chords with unsteady hands. As he sat playing now, hair curtained around his face, you knew he could easily captivate thousands if given the chance.

As the song winds to an end, he looks at you and his fingers slow as the notes dissolve between you. The only thing left for you to do is applaud. Your approval makes him feel like there’s electricity buzzing beneath his veins.

He absentmindedly strums a few quiet notes to keep his fingers busy, eyes remaining on you. “You’re the first person to hear it all the way through.”

“Really? I loved it.” Honesty drips like honey from your words.

He looks down to the fingerboard so you don’t see the faint flush of his cheeks. “Thanks. Lotta practice.”

When he stands to hang his guitar back on the wall, you watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his t-shirt. You don’t mean to look as hard as you do. There was something captivating about the way he moved. Some days, he couldn’t sit still, but there were also nights like this one where he seemed to have embodied the very essence of ease.

“So are you gonna add it to your setlist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making sure Sweetheart is mounted securely.

“Maybe after I’ve cleaned it up a bit,” he says. “The turnouts have been sick lately.” Gratitude glints in his eyes as they meet yours.

Playing in front of a crowd at The Hideout was incomparable to selling out a venue like The Garden. But Eddie swore the gratification felt the same. With each new show, it’d been getting harder to find you in the crowd because of how many people had finally started giving him and the boys a chance. He never thought that locating you amid a sea head-bobbing bodies would be a pleasure he ever had.

“Will I be getting a raise for spreading the word?” You tilt your head and bite back a smile.

He plays along as easily as breathing, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms. “You already eat my snacks, steal my jewelry, and make me drive you around,” he lists. “I don’t know what else there is to offer you, but it sure as hell won’t be Benjamin’s.”

You have the nerve to blink up at him like a fawn. “It’s not my fault you hardly tell me no.”

You make it easy to say yes a million times over. Again and again.

There’s nothing for him to quip back with, so he sighs and studies you for the umpteenth time that night. There’s something amused about the glimmer in his eyes, but a fondness there as well. You’re wearing soft pants and a baggy sweater, looking effortlessly beautiful in a way that only you can manage.

Guilt wastes no time prickling beneath his skin when you curl in on yourself a bit, self-conscious. You’ve never grown used to the way he makes you feel so seen. Part of you fears he can see right through to feelings you’ve been fighting to keep tucked away.

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his eternally disheveled hair.

“Maybe I should get better about that then,” he decides. “Start telling you no more often.” A lighthearted smile pulls at his lips.

You look over at his alarm clock so you don’t drown within the increasing warmth of his umber eyes. You’re not ready to fall even though that’s what it feels like you’ve been doing for so long.

He bites his lip in preparation for the weight of his next words, “I’ve been meaning to tell—“

“My folks are expecting me back by ten.” It’s the first thing you can think to say despite the fact that they hardly ever give you curfews. “I forgot to mention it sooner.”

“Oh.” He glances to his nightstand to scrutinize the red numbers glowing on the clock. Disappointment swells within him and makes him fidget. “How the hell is it almost ten already? Thing’s gotta be broken.”

He pats the top of the device as if the right time was suddenly going to appear. “You can’t say for ten more minutes?” You shake your head apologetically. “How ‘bout five?” Another head shake. “Fuck—a minute thirty?”

A laugh bubbles up your throat, making a helplessly gooey feeling melt down the walls of his chest.

All too soon, with no success in convincing you, he’s walking you out to your car.

The night’s chill nips at both of you without reprieve. You hug your arms and break into a jog to escape it faster, leaving Eddie slowly striding behind you in hopes of prolonging his last few moments with you.

He watches you hop inside your family’s old station wagon and give the engine stuttering life. The headlights are soon to follow, illuminating a cluster of jittery moths.

The feeling of his stare boring into the side of your face through the window makes you give into the urge to crank it down, handle squeaking faintly along with your movements.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He huffs out a chuckle. “Where am I supposed to look? Up?” He tips his head backwards, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “Hey, the stars are out.”

You peer through the windshield to see for yourself. Sure enough, countless of them shine like dull guardians miles and miles above lonesome Hawkins. They seem to span forever in every direction. The child in you looks for any surges of brightness or streaks that would indicate a shooting star.

“The view’s better out here.” There’s a persuasive lilt to his voice.

You don’t dare get out of the car. If you do, you wouldn’t make it home at all. It was getting too easy to be in his presence, like he was the bread and you were the butter that helplessly melted on top because you knew it’s where you belonged.

“I really gotta go, E.” You swallow the sadness that wants to color your words as you buckle your seatbelt and settle back into the seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground, and nods. You were always within arms reach, yet lightyears away.

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Copy that.”

A silence settles between you. The only sounds that prevail are the hum of your car engine, crickets, and muffled peels of laughter carrying from a few trailers down.

Every time, it was you who pulled away at the eleventh hour before the dawn of something new.

“Good night, Eddie.”

•••

The cash register snaps closed with a resonant clamber. A beat later, you’re reaching out to take your change from the middle-aged lady thoughtfully chewing a piece of pink bubblegum behind the counter. The two of you are the only souls in the store. Humming freezers and a quiet instrumental soundtrack fill the air.

She speaks up as you turn to leave, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

“Just tired.” You sheepishly raise the bag carrying the Melatonin you’d purchased.

Even God knew you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep on your own tonight. You’d lie awake thinking of all the reasons why you should’ve stayed.

You take the time to read her name tag then: Irene.

Her frown is sympathetic. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Warmth rushes to your cheeks. She then leans onto the counter and you feel compelled to take a step closer. “What’s his deal?” She studies your face for any hints before asking a different question,

“What’s your deal?”

You shrug lamely, and Irene tilts her head. You don’t owe her an answer, but you can’t help but feel as though you need to hear it for yourself.

“I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” She blows a bubble and it pops neatly without sticking to her lips. “But it’s up to you to decide if you wanna be scared forever.”

•••

Eddie’s staring up at the ceiling when a faint series of knocks sound at the front door. Instead of moving, he blows out another cloud of smoke and watches as it dissipates into a thin haze in the air. The breeze entering through the cracked window helps filter it out. It isn’t until the knocks get louder that he’s convinced his mind isn’t playing tricks on him.

What he’s not expecting is for you to be standing at the door.

“Hi,” you say softly.

He doesn’t dare question his luck. “H-Hey.” Eddie lowers the joint from between his lips and turns away from you to quickly exhale. “Tonight, uh, doesn’t count.”

He was supposed to be taking a break from smoking, and you’d promised to help keep him on track. But now, as he stood doing just that for the first time in two months, it wasn’t the joint that captured your attention. It was the reason why, the conflicted look in his eyes that the pungent haze failed to mask.

His next words get cut off with a cough, and he doesn’t bother trying to say them again.

You're met by warmth when he motions you inside. Guilt tries to convince you that you don’t deserve another chance, fear says you’re going to blow it.

“Eddie?” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m really sorry.”

The way he nods suggests he knew your curfew was fabricated from the start. “Don’t sweat it,” he lifts his shoulder. “I’m gonna go put this out.” He holds up the joint.

You trail him back to his bedroom, where your eyes roam idly over the posters covering the walls. Different things to say rise to the tip of your tongue, but none of them spill over.

Eddie turns towards you when he’s done.

“You didn’t have to lie.” Your shoulders sink as you meet his gaze, but he easily turns to humor, “You could’ve just told me you were tired of being cramped up in a trailer. I probably would’ve agreed.”

You can feel the ghost of a smile on your face, but you still mean your next words, “I feel like the worst person in the world.”

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe the fourth or fifth, but definitely not the worst.”

In spite of everything, both of you find it within yourselves to laugh. It feels good, mending.

You regain your composure before Eddie, and upon noticing he tries even harder to quell his amusement. It takes a few extra seconds because he’s high, but he finally manages to get himself under control.

He thinks before his next words, “I wasn’t expecting you to come back. You never do.” A lump forms in your throat as you toy with the hem of your sweater. “And all I can think about every time you leave is how I let you walk away without telling you how fucking much I enjoy you being around.”

You swallow. “I know you do.”

He shakes his head. “I like hanging out with the guys too—I’ll hang out with anybody if they’re cool.” You watch him with doe eyes as he speaks. “But you, you’re a whole different story. You drive me crazy in the best fucking way ever.” Those words hang thick in the air. “When I blew that eyelash of your finger, I wished—”

“Wait,” you hold out a careful hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Don’t tell me.” Part of you wants him to, but not at the expense of the wish not coming true.

That keeps him quiet for a few seconds. He’s still charged from his confession, electricity having taken the place of blood within his veins.

“You came back,” Eddie states instead. “Why?”

His eyes don’t leave you, and you take in his entirety for the first time since you’ve been back. Long hair, short sleeve Metallica shirt, faded pajama pants. He doesn’t have his chest puffed out or his chin turned up in that charming way he often does when he’s working a crowd or a group of friends.

He’s leveled. No guard up, no mask on, just Eddie.

The one who’s been by your side since fifth grade. Who could make your sides ache on the days when laughing was the last thing you thought you could do. Who got on your nerves almost every time you were together, but still managed to be one of your favorite people in the world.

“You know how you always say there’s no shame in running?” you ask, shifting your weight. You’d sat in on enough of his D&D campaigns to have heard that phrase uttered.

He nods.

“Well, we both know it’s also worth something when you have the guts to stay. So this is me choosing not to run anymore.” From your feelings or from him.

The room shrinks and grows one hundred degrees hotter when Eddie moves to stand closer to you. He reaches out to grasp your hand, calluses brushing your skin. The chunky metal rings adorning his fingers glint.

Your next breath stalls as he presses your palm flat against the left side of his chest. The quickened rhythm of his heart drums against it fiercely. A mix of vulnerability and courage are married in his eyes.

“Same,” you whisper, and his lips twitch upwards. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be just another Friday night.”

You let your hand fall from his chest.

A grin breaks across his face like dawn, more tender than it’s ever been. “I’m glad it’s not.”

Time slows as he cups your face, eyes flitting over every detail as if to memorize it all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers it like there’s nothing to question, like he's been waiting forever.

You don’t mean to smile as wide as you do. His heart skips a beat, maybe two. He’s done holding back from what he’s been wanting to do for so long.

Not another second passes before he presses his lips to yours.

They move with careful earnesty. Despite the fact that it feels like your entire body bursts into stardust, you kiss him back with an innate sense of knowing. You can feel the puffs of air from his nose fanning over your skin, the way his thumbs brush over your cheeks. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Even with the newness of it all, there’s an air of ease and familiarity that you lose yourself within. You don’t worry if you’re doing it right.

By the time he pushes you backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, he’s taken off your sweater and tossed it onto the floor, leaving your pale pink bra newly on display.

From your seated position, you watch him pull his own shirt over his head, further disheveling his hair. His milky skin hosts a myriad of dark tattoos and fading scars. Anticipation swirls in your core as he encourages you to lay on your back, propping himself overtop of you. He pecks the tip of your nose before slotting his lips over yours once again.

A surprised sound escapes you when his lips begin to plant a trail of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck, head tilting to give him more access. The moment your conscience catches up to reality, you push at his chest and he immediately pulls away.

“Too much?” He studies your face. You can’t bring yourself to say no because you don’t want it to end.

“I think I just need a second. Sorry.” Embarrassment clings to your words, but you muster a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this kinda thing.”

Eddie had experienced his share of sporadic flings, but his feelings never ran as deep as they do for you.

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “I may like pushing your buttons, but ‘m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, alright?”

In all your years of knowing him, he’d never given you reason to believe he’d ever discount your feelings. Or that he was even capable of doing so.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek. “Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?” He turns his head to kiss your palm. “Absolutely positive?” He dips down and playfully nips at your collarbone. “Cross your heart?”

You bite your lip to keep from giggling, but fail when he begins to move lower. He drinks in your laughter like it’s an elixir.

He continues a disorderly line of kisses down your stomach, and your mind is beyond hazy by the time he reaches the waistband of your jeans. You don’t utter any words of protest when he kneels to pop the button open. The subsequent sound of your zipper being pulled down might as well be thunder with how quiet the room has grown aside from it.

Your panties are the same pink as your bra, trimmed with thin lace that makes Eddie dizzy. Without waiting for him to ask, you lift your hips for him to pull down your pants. Once they’re on the floor, he runs his hands over both of your thighs, trying his best to memorize the feeling. You briefly close your eyes when his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of your underwear. Nerves bundle low in your stomach to the point where you feel like a live wire laying exposed before him.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he says like a scripture.

“Me?” you peer down at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, you. Who else?” He lifts the thin waistband of your panties and lets it snap back down to your skin. “I’m gonna take ‘em off.” He only makes the announcement to give you a chance to refute it.

Rather than doing so, you brace your feet so you can lift your hips for him once more.

You’ve known him for the better half of your life. If anyone, your trust can reside in him.

A string of awed expletives slip past his lips when there’s nothing left between him and your heat. To stop himself from staring, he turns his face into your thigh to suck a bruise into the plush skin. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you feel the tiny pinch that stings so good.

Your silence is perceived as permission to switch to the other leg to do the same. You can hear your heart in your ears, and regard it as a reminder that you’re alive and breathing during a moment you never thought would come.

You’re marked now, his.

He runs a gentle finger from your clit to your wet folds, and your own sensitivity surprises you when your thighs snap closed and trap his hand.

“Sorry,” you breathe, slowly blooming them open again. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, where fondness seems to radiate like imperceivable rays of light.

After pressing a kiss to the space just beneath your navel, he stands and climbs onto the bed with you. You sit up and look to him for further direction.

An easy smile spreads across his face as he settles with his back against the wall where a headboard should be.

“C’mere,” he stretches his legs out in front of himself.

You crawl to him and sit so that your back is pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. It isn’t until you shift that you feel his erection pressing into your rear.

You peek back at him with hot cheeks. “Sorry.”

Eddie drops a kiss to your shoulder. “You’ve apologized five hundred times tonight.” You shrink in on yourself because you know it’s true. “You’re not allowed to anymore, capeesh?”

You nod.

“Now prop your legs up, buttercup.” You can hear the smile in his voice that hopes you caught his rhyme.

You press your feet into his sheets and spread your knees into a V.

His pointer finger finds your clit without warning, applying just enough pressure to hitch your breath. You’ve touched yourself before, but had never taken the time to truly gain an understanding of the deeper pleasure there was to be felt.

Here Eddie was, showing you what you didn’t know about yourself.

He switches to rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb while his middle finger glides through the slickness of your folds, making you clench with want. You reach between your legs with the hope of helping, or perhaps egging things along, but Eddie tuts.

“Hands off or I’ll stop.” His tone is gentle and commanding all at once.

Even though you follow his instructions, he still withdraws his touch. A protest ends up dying in your throat when you feel his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down your goosebump-laden arms. It soon joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. You’ve never been so bare in front of another person.

“Jesus, look at you,” he murmurs. His large hands raise to cup your breasts, fingers experimentally pinching both of your pebbled nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips. Caught off guard when he grabs your hands and redirects them to your chest to take over for him. You tentatively pinch your nipples in the same way he’d done, sending minute shockwaves through your body.

“There you go,” he coos into your ear. A gasp falls past your lips when his hand dips back between your legs to ease the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. As he pushes it in further, your toes curl tighter.

But his touch disappears yet again, making an exasperated breath leave you as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder.

“Eddie,” it’s a whine. “Are you teasing me?”

“No. I forgot to take my rings off.” They clink as he drops them onto the nightstand. “But I think I will now since you just had to say something.” The charged promise of those words sends a chill down your spine.

You’re begging three minutes later. A melodic mix of weakened pleads, his name, and incoherent bargains that only make him smile.

He’s trapped you on the edge of a freefall. Your thighs ache from tensing, and the strong pulse of arousal between your legs consumes the entirety of your mind. His two middlemost fingers pump in and out of your entrance with no sense of urgency, curling into that spot within you that makes you want to shatter. Whenever he senses that you’re about to topple over the edge, he pauses to let a few seconds crawl by.

It’s scary how good he is at reading you. At holding the reins.

“I can’t anymore,” you breathlessly insist, pressing back into him. “Eddie, please.”

“Sure you can.” He suckles the spot beneath your ear. In your head, you scream at him in frustration but in reality you squeeze your eyes shut.

He doesn’t know who he’s teasing anymore. Listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm has him twitching and straining in his boxers.

Somewhere along the line, he remembers mercy.

As soon as the cord within you snaps, your back arches and your walls flutter helplessly around his fingers. Your orgasm crashes over you in strong heated waves, each one fizzling out in their own time, making you tremble.

When your breaths grow even again, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you as you watch, awed and silent. You place a hand on his thigh to ensure he stays close.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s body, the new air between you. It’s as if you’re waiting to be roused from a dream.

“I wanna keep making you feel good,” he eventually murmurs into your ear, smirking when you shiver. “Will you let me do that?”

The feeling of his erection pressing into your backside suddenly registers in your mind again, and you reach behind you to curiously palm the outline through his pajama pants. He feels it in his bones.

“You can do whatever you want,” you tell him.

Eddie grabs your waist and gently pushes you forward so you know to let him get up. You settle in the middle of the bed and pull your legs up to your chest in a halfhearted reclaim of modesty.

He stalks over to his dresser and scans the cluttered surface with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. You trace his back tattoos with your eyes. After pushing a few stray trinkets aside, he makes a sound of frustration.

“What's wrong?” you ask.

He continues looking. “Coulda sworn there was a condom lying around up here.”

After a beat, you crawl to the edge of his bed so you can peek into the drawer of his nightstand. There’s notebooks filled with song lyrics, old magazines, a Walkman, batteries, guitar picks. No square foils in sight.

“Can’t we still…” your words fade when he meets your gaze, but he gives you an encouraging nod. “You know. If we’re extra careful, right?” Your voice is just above a murmur by the time you stop speaking.

The innocence seeping from your gaze makes a helpless fool out of him.

The next thing you know, he’s pulling his pants and boxers down in one go, cock springing up towards his belly as you watch with owlish eyes. A dark tuft of hair curls at the base, and the head is a pretty shade of rose that’s beading pearlescent pre-cum. A prominent vein snakes along the underside.

You’re more than ready. It’s the lightning in a bottle type sureness that you can’t believe you’ve come to know so well. The second he starts moving towards the bed again, you reposition onto your back.

Though you don’t utter a single word, every unspoken thought from your mind seems to shape his smile. It’s not entirely proud, there’s a hint of softness to it. Something giddy residing just beneath the surface that takes the edge off the intensity of his gaze.

A comforting heat radiates from his body as he positions himself overtop of you.

He reaches between your legs to collect the tell tale sign of your arousal on his fingers, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nice and ready for me, huh?”

The tone of his voice makes you want to hide. You feel small and on top of the world at the same time. Eagerness is written all over your face. And in the way your chest rises with quicker breaths. How your fingers are curled into the sheets.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You’re glad he does because you’re certain all words would fail if you tried to speak.

All you can do is blink up at him, propping your legs on either side of him as he lines himself up at your entrance.

It’s overwhelming at first, incomparable to his fingers. But he takes it slow, watching your face the whole while. Before you know it, you’ve stretched to take the entirety of his length, and his eyes are glued to where you’re joined.

He bottoms out with a satisfied grunt, hair falling into his face. The fullness makes up for the dull ache. Especially as he begins to slowly pull out in preparation for another pump. A gasp escapes you the second time he eases back in, and your face scrunches with the new depth that comes with hooking your legs around the back of his thighs.

“If you wanna stop at any point just tell me, okay?” He tries his best to keep his voice steady.

“Okay,” you whisper shakily.

He finds a rhythm before long, cheeks flushed right along with his chest. He looks beautiful like this. Even his pleasured sighs and huffs rush straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Lemme hear you,” his voice comes out gruff. “Stop holding back.”

You swallow a moan. “‘M not.”

Unconvinced, Eddie rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your breath stutters on its way out. You don’t remember being this sensitive earlier, and a few more pinches have your mouth gaping open just as he expected.

His thrusts grow pointedly harder, forcing the fire building in your core to burn brighter.

“Oh, god—Eddie,” you finally choke out, gripping onto his biceps.

He swears he grows impossibly harder, orgasm creeping even closer from its place in the distance. You’re so soft, so warm, so wet, squeezing him in a maddening way. Your blunt fingernails move to dig into the back of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Say my name again.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, helplessly clenching around him. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” You sound dreamy. It rushes straight between his legs, and he can feel that familiar coil beginning to wear thin.

Hearing you say his name like that was going to do him in.

A sudden burst of confidence finds you. “You’re so deep—gonna make me come.”

His hips falter and something shifts in his eyes. He starts drawing circles over your clit.

“I wanna feel you fall apart around me,” he says, and you nod because you want that for him. “But not until I say, alright?”

Your stomach drops.

When you don’t answer, he slows to a torturous pace that makes your head spin. “Gotta answer me so I know we’re on the same page.”

“We always have been,” you half slur, drunk on him.

As Eddie looks down at you, he sees a large fraction of his world woven into the delicate furrow of your eyebrows, the way your eyelashes meet the very tops of your cheeks, the part of your cherry-tainted lips.

He lowers himself so that his chest is grazing yours as he continues thrusting, pubic bone dragging over your clit. The feeling of his warm breaths fanning into your ear makes you shudder, and when you arch up, you’re only met by more of his warmth, more of him. There is no escape, nowhere to run. Only accept.

“Wish I could, shit, wish I could bottle this feeling in a fucking jar and keep it forever,” he grits into your ear. “Never felt anything this good… five stars from me.” He’s fighting to hold himself together.

You miss half of those words because you’re on the verge of an ascension.

“Eddie,” you breathe, somewhat startled. “Eddie, please. Can I come? I’m so close.”

“How close?”

Your voice goes airy and high because he’s hitting just the right spot. “‘M right there.”

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Whining, you claw into his skin with the intent of making it sting, but it only makes his shoulders shake with a chuckle. “I’ll shut this whole show down if you wanna play that game—”

“So good!” you whimper, giving in. “You’re making me feel so good. Just… please.” You clench around him in hopes of earning an okay.

It almost makes him fold, come right on the spot, but he still forces out a, “Not yet, angel. I gotta practice telling you no, remember?”

His constant denial was only adding fuel to the fire of pleasure burning within you and he knew it.

By his next thrust, he could tell the beginnings of an unraveling had begun sweeping you under. Even though he sees it coming from a mile away, he nearly passes out himself when you let go.

Eyes closed, your walls flutter around him in a strong, rapid succession that carries on for a while. You’re being lifted somewhere higher than you’ve ever known. The world fades around the edges, and the distant sound of Eddie’s voice washes over you as your jaw slacks open.

There you go, that’s it. Couldn’t hold back any longer, huh?

Only when aftershocks begin to spark through you do you realize how deep your breaths have grown, and the new laxity of your limbs that makes you feel like you’ve become one with his bed, trembling weakly. A wonderful ache resides between your legs.

A gentle weight soon meets your lower stomach, and your eyes flutter open just enough to see. Eddie has pulled himself from within the warmth of you, and rested his slickened tip against your warm skin. You watch dazedly as he strokes himself a few good times before jolting and releasing onto your belly.

All you get is a glimpse of his blissed expression before he leans down to tuck his face into your neck. You lift a hand to his head and gently scratch at his scalp as you feel him begin to place soft kisses to your throat. You can still feel his cock against your belly, and you work your other hand between your bodies to wrap your delicate fingers around him.

His whole body shudders, and when you lightly circle your thumb around the tip your name breathlessly falls past his lips.

He grunts and makes you stop when you start to do the same lazy motion again, and you chuckle weakly.

“Oh, is that funny?” he asks, wrestling a smile. When you bite your lip and nod sweetly, he pushes himself up so he’s propped higher above you. “You wanna know what else is funny? I don’t think I ever gave you the green light to come.”

You blink up at him innocently. “I couldn’t help it.”

He begins tracing the underside of one of your breasts and you suck in a breath, gripping onto his wrist. He pulls from your hold, and that same hand trails down your body, over your ribs and down your sides. His fingers leave a tingly buzz in their wake. You try not to squirm too much because his spend is still on your stomach.

“I’m trying to decide if I should do something about it or be nice,” he says, ghosting a finger over your oversensitive clit.

When you whimper, his fingertips move to revisit one of the marks he left on the inside of your thighs, and the ticklish sensation makes your muscles tense as you huff out a tired laugh. He playfully quirks his brows at that reaction, but you can see the warmth in his eyes.

You smile when he leans down to give your lips a sweet peck. “I’ll be nice,'' he promises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

•••

When midnight comes, sleep has found neither of you. You’re both fighting it, trying to stay awake so you can continue sharing hushed stories, soft caresses, and smiles that warm you right along with the sheets covering your bodies.

Your eyes are the first to begin fluttering, and Eddie stops talking when he notices.

“No, keep going,” you murmur. “I’m listening.”

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says. You shake your head no, and he chuckles. “Yes. Go to sleep.”

Before you have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off. You press yourself closer to his body after he settles back beside you.

Neither of you say anything for a while, so you begin to assume he’s dozed off. When he speaks up again, his words are soft and honest, “This is what I wished for. A moment just like this.”

You mean to tell him that you think you’re in love.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

For more fics, see my pinned post!

To join my taglist, turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting

#eddie munson #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #4 stranger things fic

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donutdisturblivball · 11 months

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after rewatching nimona four times since its release (because yes, this movie is just that good), i caught a few little details that just make the whole experience so much better. so, incoming SPOILER ALERT, don’t read this if you haven’t watched the movie yet. speaking of, why the fuck haven’t you?? go watch the movie (and read the comic while you’re at it, some sites offer it for free), then come back and enjoy.

1. When the Squire gives Ballister his sword, he clearly realizes something’s wrong with it. He’s trained with it for so long that he knew that something was off just by holding it. This detail is something you wouldn’t pay much attention to when you first watch the film, but it’s there to make you realize something is a little off, especially when the Squire attempts to show him the video, but it also has plausible deniability so you could chalk it up to being something else (ie. the Squire wanting a picture with Ballister).

2. This sneaky line from this sneaky bitch.

3. Nimona tells us exactly how the movie ends. (Sorta. In a sense. The phoenix rises from the ashes and overthrows the government.)

4. You can see Nimona sneaking into the jail where Ballister is being kept.

5. Mini Ballister and Ambrosius! I think a few others have pointed this out before, but I only noticed it upon my second rewatch. (A little surprised younger Ambrosius didn’t have the Asian bob. That’s like a right of passage.)

6. Nimona’s train backstory versus her flashback.

7. During Nimona’s nightmare on the couch, she turns into a wolf, and then a cat. In her flashback, as the villagers attack her, she turns into a cat and then a wolf. It could be because having her turn into anything else would be too big for the couch, but if this is intentional, then it means Nimona was having a nightmare of that day.

8. This. Visually, the sparks are sorta similar, and in both instances, Ballister has lost something irreplaceable. I think this one might be a reach and may not be intentional, but my mind connected the two scenes and wouldn’t let go, so.

Honorable mention: the gay and trans flags above Ballister and Nimona respectively in that one scene. iykyk. I didn’t add it because 1. I think many other people have brought it up and 2. the mobile app is limiting me to 10 images. Anyway, I love this movie and its comic SO much and I’m so glad that it made it to our screens from the box of scrapped movies that could have been great if people (namely, executives) gave them a chance. There is so much love, care, and passion put into this movie, and you can really sense that this was made for its audience and its author, for its story and not only for the money it could make. This movie is metal as fuck, so GO STREAM IT!!

#nimona #nimona movie #nd stevenson #i love this movie sm this is my love letter to this movie #ballister and ambrosius r so fucking cute THIS is the queer rep i want #and nimona just.. she has my heart. my soul. I LOVE HER SM #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ive forced my brother my mom and five of my friends to watch this movie with me. it has been brilliant.

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zepskies · 4 months

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Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

AN: I just rewatched 9.08 and I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. 😂 But Dean and Suzy’s Casa Erotica-inspired tryst gave me an idea for this little one-shot in the Espresso-verse. I'll release this fun one ahead of "Show Me," since that one's more angsty hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 900

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Smuttish, implied "self-care."

This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“¿Eres un chico malo?”

You wrap the towel tighter around yourself as you get ready to leave the bathroom after a nice hot shower. But your brow quirks as a woman's lusty voice and Mariachi music reach your ears. It’s a familiar tune…

Oh my God, you think. You open the door with a quiet turn of the knob, so you can try to confirm your suspicions.

Sure enough, your boyfriend is laid out across his side of the bed. The blanket covers him up to the waist, and his laptop rests by his bent knees. The screen illuminates his face, alight with both amusement and pleasure. There’s no mistaking the languid strokes bobbing under the covers.

It’s not the first time you’ve caught Dean red-handed, as it were, but it’s the first time that actually makes you laugh.

“Babe, what’cha watching?” you ask.

Dean’s face falls quickly into mortification. He shuts his laptop, halting the sounds of feminine passion and maracas. His other hand slides out from under the covers and he sets the computer on his nightstand.

You bite your lip to stifle your grin. You pad over to his side of the bed, where he offers you a sheepish smile.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” you reply with a chuckle. You caress his stubbled cheek. “Don’t worry, Señor Smooth. I was just curious. Maybe I could’ve joined you.”

His brows raise at that. Pleasant surprise takes over his features, making his lips twitch. His hand finds your hip and squeezes lightly through your towel.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks. "Up for a little movie night?"

You smirk and look over at the old DVD case on the nightstand. As you suspected, it’s Casa Erotica: Special Features Edition. You only frown when you realize Suzy Lee is the “special feature,” all blonde and blue-eyed and pouty lips.

Your more narrowed gaze turns on Dean, who notices your shift in demeanor and tenses a little himself. You take his chin between your fingers.

“My only problem is that you’re jerking off to a girl you’ve actually had sex with!” you say incredulously, brows raised. Yes, you know their tryst was long before he even met you, let alone before you two started dating, but your point stands.

“And you’re doing it in our bed,” you add.

That realization finally hits Dean as well. He grimaces, giving you an apologetic look.

“Uh, yeah…sorry,” he says. At your silent expression of irritation, he becomes even more earnest. He wraps his hand around yours. “Really, I’m sorry.”

You're still mad, but he does look sincere and contrite. Eventually, your temper begins to cool. You let out a sigh and shake your head.

You know he’s new to this whole boyfriend thing. Still, you think this is just common sense.

You pick up the DVD case with a more critical eye.

“And you know what, Suzy’s hot and all, but don’t you think they could’ve found a Latina to play Carmelita?” you gripe.

At that, Dean's lips twitch at a grin. His hand ventures under your little towel, smoothing up one leg and squeezing your thick thigh.

“You anglin’ for the job, sweetheart?” he teases.

You snort in response. Your eyes meet his, and you have a hard time tapering your smile. His salacious grin is too much.

And yet, he may be on to something. Setting down the DVD, you tilt your head at him and move in closer. You hum in contemplation, letting your fingertips graze over Dean’s lips. They travel further, down his neck, circling over his anti-possession tattoo, and down his chest.

His green eyes lock on your hand, then on the rest of you as your knee meets the edge of the bed, by his hip.

You startle him a little when you tear the blanket away from his waist, exposing the rest of him to your gaze. But you don’t give him too long to be surprised before you climb aboard to straddle his bare thighs. You hold his face in your hands, and he grips your waist to stabilize you.

His eyes roam over the hint of cleavage greeting him between ample breasts and smooth, tan skin.

“You’re not like the other guys in town, are you?” you ask, in your best attempt at smooth and sultry.

Dean eats it up. His eyes widen and his mouth parts with soft surprise as he catches onto what you're doing, but it soon melts into excitement. He plays along with the script he knows by heart.

“No I’m not, pretty girl,” he answers. You let your hands drift down his body again, less grazing this time, and more purposeful, making tingles run over his skin. You lean in close, ghosting your lips over his, across his jawline.

“¿Eres un chico malo?” you ask. Your voice sounds like black velvet in his ears, making his cock twitch against the inside of your thigh. His hold on your hips tightens.

He swallows, and manages to reply. “Sí.”

You nip at his earlobe and tease the shell of his ear with your tongue.

“Mmm. Malo, pero hermoso,” you croon.

A shiver runs down Dean’s spine, and his eyes close. He utters a low groan when you begin to grind down on his lap, feeling the hard length of him between your legs. He murmurs your name.

You pull back just enough to see his face and sink your hand into his hair, gentle but firm. You give him a smile.

“Tonight, you can call me Carmelita.”

AN: 😂 I had fun with this lmao. Hope you enjoy!! ❤️‍🔥

Spanish Translations:

“¿Eres un chico malo?”

"Are you a bad boy?" - Taken right from the episode lol.

"Malo, pero hermoso.”

"Bad, but beautiful."

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is another two-parter, "Show Me":

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

▶️ Next Story: Show Me (Part 1)

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Bad Boy #Chico Malo #Midnight Espresso verse #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x latina!reader #dean winchester x plus sized!reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x poc!reader #poc!reader #latina!reader #supernatural fanfiction #zepskies writes

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sevenpoyo · 9 months

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some brooklyn slang ik for all the ppl who wanna write for miles and kilometers‼️

feel free to add more idk everything but i i am originally from there and visit a lot this stuff i hear a lot and if you wanna add slang to ur writing this is a good place to start, not all of these brooklyn or ny exclusive but that’s where a lot of american slang starts and u prolly heard some of it b4. imma list it ne ways

don’t use like 8 of these in one sentence bc it will sound weird and i can’t really cover ny puerto rican slang or any puerto rican slang really bc my grandad is a bum so if you know some add it

the city is manhattan, not the other 4 burroughs, just manhattan, cus that’s where everything’s at

to cut ass is to roast tf out of someone , to get your ass cut is get tf roasted out of you

wyling/wilding is being outta pocket, something being absurd or crazy

yeah nah means no and nah yeah means yeah idk why they gotta make it complicated just look at the second word

good looks is like good looking out

it’s bout to be winter and i’m bout to see mad christmas fics and shit but do y’all know the proper way to describe cold ny winters?

if it’s cold as hell, it’s brick outside, not regular cold, ny winter is like nipples so hard i see em thru the bra cold

ex; “how it’s so brick outside i walk to the store wit my hair wet and it deadass got icicles in it” “yeah it’s fr brick outside today” “i’m not walkin wit u in this brick ass weather for a bacon egg and cheese?” (actual convo between my sister and me last winter break)

fronting seem kinda easy to me but is like acting or pretending i can’t explain it with out an example

“why you fronting like you wouldn’t die if they text you asking u to go out with them” “you can stop fronting like you like cars it cool if you don’t” “don’t sit there fronting like u don’t wanna dance wit me”

being tight over something is just being upset or annoyed

rj is so smart they said “We say tight bc you kinda huddle close to yourself when you tense/stressed or angry” i had no idea i just be saying it i aint know it had a reason💀 it make sm sense now.

“who got you tight like that this early in the morning?” “my momma came home tight yesterday for no reason, she threw a boot at me!” “i’m so tight this damn shift change has me working all closers this week”

jack is like claiming someone or something

i talk old as hell idk what the youths be jacking nowadays

cop is basically to get, used to be mostly 4 drugs back in the day my dad said (he don’t know why im asking him this)

“just copped me some retro 3’s” “bout to cop me a few percs in a minute”

speaking of a minute, mostly for my non americans bc that’s who get confused the most when i say this one. depending on the context this can mean a actual minute, a short time or a real long

“i’ll be back in a minute” is short “i ain’t seen y’all in a minute” is long. idk how to explain the difference besides context

bop is a good song, pretty easy but i see ppl on tiktok use it wrong

bangs/banger goes hard is kinda like bob for music but i be using it for anything fr

“this push pop is banging yo”

mad can be used normal like angry but it also means a lot or really kinda like hella ig? i usually uses hella when i would say mad so ppl can understand me easier up here

dumb also mean very in the same way

ex; “my english teacher give out mad homework for no reason.” “she be giving me mad shit over the smallest stuff” “i just had some mad good wings so i’m cooling rn” “this shit is mad spicy u sure you want some?” ''This shit got me dumb tight'' “you don’t need no jacket it’s dumb hot out here”

smacked is like high as fuck idk how to elaborate ur just high

lit is drunk

“Yuuuur!'' A signal, a greeting usually used to catch the attention of someone or something very fun greeting and very hated by schools, it’s weird anywhere outside of ny kinda at least to me.

being hollywood means u get a little fame and think ur all that or just that u got a little fame and they’re jokingly hating

ex; “i saw u on the news the other day, “the prowlers return” u must be real proud of yourself huh hollywood?” “and here comes hollywood wit his trending tiktoks”

real talk is when ur about confess something or say something serious in a not real serious setting or convo

“real talk we play a lot but i love you, my life would be boring with out you around” “real talk i’d never do that to you foreal”

go together is like go out kinda, y’all kinda match behavior cus y’all a couple, this one need a sentence 2 i think. (THIS ONE IS OLD AS HELL ONLY USE IT IF UR TRYING TO RIZZ MOMMA RIO)

“he want ur number? he don’t know we we go together or sum?” “why she wanna act like we go together, ion even know her?” “don’t we go together?”

i can’t even explain it with a sentence y’all just gotta figure this one out 💀

A bodega/deli is a convenience store ik most know this from the movie but some ppl think it’s all stores or all spanish stores when it’s just a corner store

the owners of the deli closest to my granddad house is muslim. and so we keep track of all muslim holidays when he’s closed

an ock is the bodega man, miles knows the man’s name at the deli we see him visit, but at any other store he’d call the guy ock

dipping on someone is changing ur mind last minute, usually canceling plans

ex “we was supposed to go get outfits together but they dipped on me last minute”

staticky is like wanting to fight or still being pissed after a fight

static is beef or on sight energy

you good can really be anything but imma list ones i can think of

it can mean like are you ok? or don’t worry about it, or how are you, or stop, or do you got a issue? or do you want an issue? it’s all in the tone of how it’s said fr

'Word of my moms/dads I saw/ did/did not *insert topic*'' Honest term, no lying present in statement i feel like (my cousins be putting anything on they momma fr risking shit on her for no reason)

'hold it down'' handle buisness / take care of someone or something. can also be in refrence to criminal who handles ''buisness''

NOW EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO @rashadisback BC HE CARRIED ME ON THIS‼️

i hope this helps any writers that don’t live here!

#42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv

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transmutationisms · 2 months

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I don't necessarily disagree with your take on David Lynch but I feel like at least part of Twin Peaks is about deconstructing or questioning the myth of the idyllic small town, like everyone in Twin Peaks has a dark secret, most of the men were abusing or complicit in abusing a teenage girl, etc. and the Return to me is about showing that it's kind of fundamentally impossible to return to that glamorized nostalgic past. I could totally be missing something though.

wow ok this was my most controversial david lynch statement yet... so first of all i disagree that there's any tension between the kind of conservative nostalgia i see in lynch's work, and the idea that the past is impossible to return to. in fact i think that kind of lament is pretty central to quite a lot of reactionary rhetoric: it's that emotional appeal of, look what we've lost / damaged / destroyed forever. it doesn't need to be a coherent political platform because it's an appeal on the grounds of pathos.

anyway if i can just quote from my own post lol:

i simply cannot read the series in any way besides as being deeply conservative lol. this becomes especially clear to me in 'the return’, which is largely motivated by a narrative of the loss of american innocence (the double r subplot, the numerous instances of drugs and violence tearing nuclear families apart, the encroachment of electricity and processed snack foods and gambling, &c). but this viewpoint is seeded too throughout the first season-and-change of the original series, and fwwm; because what was laura palmer if not the series’s first use of rape as metonymous for what lynch sees as a broader process of social breakdown and irreversible change? i understand that some people try to read bob and laura as a critique of the family, in the sense that the violence comes through the father, but i don’t think this reading holds even in the original series and it certainly doesn’t after part 8 of 'the return’, in which bob is explicitly and directly invoked in reference to the bombing of hiroshima and nagasaki, here construed as an originary act of american evil.

i think in david lynch’s mind, the spiritual forces and influences in the show are literal and apolitical, and frequently he seems to mean to depict them more as sources of artistic inspiration than anything else ('twin peaks’ is in many ways a tv show about making a tv show, hence the double use of electricity throughout 'the return’ and fwwm, in particular). but i find this really irritating frankly, because it’s at best ignorant of the inherently political nature of the constructions of small-town americana, teenage innocence, violence as an act of moral corruption, and so forth—and also because, after the return, it’s simply impossible to deny that the show’s overarching narrative IS plugged in to political and historical lines of critique. like, i am not trying to 'force’ a reading that deals with us imperialism—lynch put the show on this discursive terrain explicitly and deliberately, through not just the bomb footage and the penderecki threnody but also the inversion of classic symbols of american 'greatness’ (the unlucky penny, the evil lincoln impersonator), culminating again in the violation of a young girl’s body by the forces of evil. what this all adds up to is the invocation of american empire as a kind of universal moral struggle, stripped of its historical specificity or even the barest pretense of material critique or commentary. if it sounds like i’m asking too much of network television… i mean, maybe i am, but again, these were deliberate choices lynch made and specific historical events he invoked on purpose, lol. see also the jacoby trump commentary in 'the return’ (cringe and yawn).

i’m not a lynch scholar but i do think there’s a tension throughout his work (what i’ve seen) between the desire to make art about what he sees as the purely spiritual process of making art (heavily informed by his own TM beliefs), and the conservative elements that creep in anyway, noticeable especially in his commentary on american history, corruption, modernity, &c. the idea of any pure, transcendent, apolitical spiritual dimension of human existence is itself, i would argue, at best a misguided conservative fantasy, and 'twin peaks’ ultimately shows these cracks more blatantly than some of his other work (say, 'inland empire’) because it tries to subordinate the material to the spiritual in a kind of fantastical historical parable. but, you can see this recurring tension throughout his filmography, eg, the loss of small-town innocence ('blue velvet’) and a kind of generalised modernity anxiety ('eraserhead’, though taken on its own this one would permit other readings depending on how you interpreted the role of german expressionism in it).

i don’t think lynch is an ideologue or even considers himself particularly political, but nevertheless his narratives do idealise a certain conservative vision of post-war america, mourn its loss, and wax nostalgic for its perceived ethos (& it’s not a coincidence lynch is/has been a reaganite, lol). anyway, i thought 'twin peaks’ had some really incredible moments of visual artistry (part 8 of 'the return’, for example!) and i found much of it frankly beautiful and compelling to watch. so, i don’t mean any of this to dismiss lynch as a filmmaker—he is, if nothing else, highly technically adept.

#twin peaks

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fleursfairies · 2 months

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im in a stranger things character music mood so here are some artists each character for sure likes

will: super obvious but the clash, the cure, david bowie, billy idol, the police, talking heads, etc. (i feel like this is a very basic answer but its the truth)

mike: he is so 90s so weezer, oasis, radiohead, etc (i already made a post abt this)

dustin: hall&oats, tears for fears, wham!, KISS, TOTO, a-ha, michael jackson, duran duran, baltimora

lucas: idky the first thing i thought of was bananarama but he would so love bananarama. beegees, michael jackson, earth wind & fire, jackson 5, stevie wonder, george michael, prince, idk

el: i dont think she really has time to listen to music but she would like popular 80s pop. like cyndi lauper, madonna, wham!, electric light orchestra, kim wilde, stacey q, the gogos, tiffany, soft cell, reo speedwagon, abba, bonnie tyler

max: kate bush obviously, blondie, duran duran, bon jovi, pixies, soft cell, tears for fears, rick springfield, no doubt, billy idol, pat benatar, tiffany, joan jett, etc

max and el are similar but el's is more 'listening to music for the first ever time' vibes while max is more lived in

jonathan: talking heads, the ramones, the clash, bowie, duran duran but only girls on film, the cramps, depeche mode, R.E.M., phil collins, the kinks, the animals, billy idol, the cure, the cars, blue oyster cult, jimi hendrix, styx, pixies, pink floyd, cheap trick, genesis, ozzy osbourne, foreigner, etc. i could go on and on. i think there would be a little more 60s and 70s in here too.

nancy: madonna, heart, reo speedwagon, billy joel, roxy music, cyndi lauper, joan jett, pat benatar, hall & oats, blondie, kim wilde, whitney houston, kate bush, tiffany, wham!, soft cell, bananarama, bonnie tyler, stacey q, lita ford, the bangles, cher, pet shop boys, john mellencamp, paula abdul, u2, olivia newton john, etc

steve: bon jovi, survivor, journey, boston, yes, DEVO, dead or alive, eddie money, kansas, foreigner, scorpions, warrant, etc. basically just basic (but good) bands that make him feel like a badass LMAO

robin: idk, just a slightly dorkier version of nancys playlist if that makes sense. i can envision it in my head i just cant execute it

joyce: heart, fleetwood mac, the mamas & the papas, journey, foreigner, boston, tom petty, toto, guns n roses, janis joplin, the rolling stones, jimi hendrix, blue oyster cult, ELO, led zeppelin, grateful dead, pink floyd, jefferson airplane

hopper: bad company, joe cocker, bob seger, eagles, the cars, jefferson starship, bob dylan, journey, styx, johnny cash, bruce springsteen

i could probably add so many more artists but it would probably go off the rails so i just gave u the basic ones

also i was looking at character playlists on spotify and most of them sucked (steve harrington is not listening to mitski) so heres some inspo for actual music they would listen to if you want to make a more accurate playlist

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karniss-bg3 · 4 months

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I would like to hear your thoughts about Larian giving Kar’niss female pedipalps?

Personally I feel like it was just another f you from Lolth

Alright so, this is a complicated and detail-heavy topic. For that reason I’ll be splitting this theory into two sections: Technical Aspects & Lore. There will be a TL;DR at the bottom.

Technical Aspects

Kar’niss is a complex model and I imagine the rigging on him was wild. To my understanding his walking animation was done by hand which makes sense. His torso could be motion captured but the arachnid portions needed to be moved in engine. The best time to witness the separation is if you play music for him as a bard. His torso will bob and sway the same as the rest of the NPCs but his legs stay perfectly stationary. I do get a kick out of the idea of the Larian devs trying to put a tiny motion capture suit on a spider but alas.

I bring this up because the pedipalps add an extra layer of complication that the devs didn’t really need. In fact the concept art for driders doesn’t include them at all which suggests they weren’t part of the original design. A lot changed from concept art to the final version it seems. He used to have extra arms, his legs were longer, and his facial features were more twisted. His skin was also darker but it was either changed because he is a Szarkai or because his skin tone blended too heavily with the color of the chitin.

This would align with a lot of the concept art from D&D. There are many examples of driders without pedipalps, both male and female.

All that said, when it comes to the technical aspects, I have a theory as to why the original and final designs were so vastly different: Time. Kar’niss is one of the more detailed models in the game and even the final version didn’t turn out perfect. If you look closely at where his torso attaches to the spider body you can see some model tearing when he turns at certain angels, as well as what I refer to as “tubing”. I’ve seen this in a few games and it’s where limbs or portions of a body thin out to an impossible degree and they look like a squeezed out tube of toothpaste. This could be due to improper skeleton models, broken seams or rigging but as I don’t work in the industry those are my best guesses.

When you have a strict budget and time limit sometimes a development team has to cut some fat. They didn’t have the time to add in the extra arms, super long limbs or highly detailed face model. Perhaps they looked at the final design and weren’t satisfied with the lack of monster features. Thus, the pedipalps were introduced. But since drider are canonically sexless they designed the palps in such a way that they were made for battle; hence the sharp barb present at the tip of each. They are located face level for most races which make them perfect eye gougers or maybe they use them to subdue prey. Palps are also used to “taste” in most spider species and he could likely use them to discern if prey is edible or not.

“Pedipalps contain sensitive chemical detectors and function as taste and smell organs, supplementing those on the legs”

As for why they are female in design the simplest answer I have is that it was an oversight. If they were already scrambling to finish the model then they were likely going for the path of least resistance. Male pedipalps would’ve required a bit more work and either they didn’t think that much about it or chose the easiest design to model. I know about the Kar’niss is trans theory and I’ll be touching on that in the next section.

Lore

Anyone who has followed me for a while knows I’ve discussed drider lore a lot here so I’ll try to be a bit more brief in this section. Drider are meant to be sexless as Lolth didn’t wish for them to reproduce and rise up against Her. If Larian’s design of the palps were with intent then I believe we’re looking at Jurassic Park situation here. Maybe Lolth’s manner of birth control was to make all spider bodies female regardless of the gender of the drow who is changed. It would also align with the Matriarchal society drow come from as well as Lolth choosing to make driders in “Her image”. So yes, a “fuck you” from Lolth would be accurate in this case. The issue I run into is that Kar’niss is the only drider model in-game and so I have nothing to compare him to. I don’t know if all driders in this universe look the same or if there would’ve been a difference between females and males. It leaves it all up to pure speculation, sad to say.

There is a theory that’s been around for a while now that Kar’niss is transgender. While I think it’s a perfectly fine theory I don’t necessarily agree with it. It’s not because I’d be against him being trans, it’s more that I can’t find enough evidence to support it. For starters if he is trans, is he a trans man or a trans woman? We’ve learned that Kar’niss is a female name according to drow naming conventions and of course his palps suggest a female body. The name can be explained as an act of defiance as it is stated that if a man takes on a womans name they are considered troublemakers. If he is a trans woman, why would he ever allow himself to be misgendered?

There are several NPCs that refer to him as “he” and Kar’niss never once barks at them. It’s not as if he’s shy and in fact he’s proven to have quite the temper. He no longer follows nor worships Lolth and he’s under the protection of the Absolute, a cult that allegedly loves and accepts him. Why hide himself as a trans woman under these conditions? Especially in a game that is very progressive in terms of character creation and pronoun usage.

If he is a trans man then the spider body becomes a moot point. Did he transition before the drider transformation or did Lolth change his sex but slap on the female spider body as a way to mock him? Is that why he was changed? I imagine in a drow society where being a woman is a big deal having one that wanted to become a male, a lesser, would be the talk of the Underdark. I’m sure it’s worse for men who want to be women as that could be seen as “rising above their station”. It’s hard to say as modern day gender identity isn’t really addressed in drow lore.

There is a trans woman in Baldur's Gate 3 that the player meets during Shadowheart’s storyline. It can be easy to miss as her past isn’t revealed unless Shadowheart consumes the noblestalk Tav picks up in the Underdark. This is an excerpt from Nocturne’s journal.

“I am Nocturne. I think as her. I see her when I look in the mirror. I can't remember the last time someone called me by the wrong name - Shadowheart has been swift to gently correct slips of the tongue, and even swifter in challenging those who'd use my forsworn name in malice. I'm lucky to have her as a friend. “

While it seems she had trouble in the beginning, those under Shar came to accept her in time as far as I can tell. With this we can at least say that Larian has no issues adding in trans characters but Kar’niss doesn’t receive this treatment. Another thing to note is that Nocturne is voiced by a trans woman, Abigail Thorn. Where as Kar’niss is voiced by, what I assume to be, a cisgender male. In my mind if Larian would take that much time and care for accuracy wouldn’t they do the same for Kar’niss?

With all of that said if people have the headcanon that Kar’niss is trans that is a-okay, I have no issues with that or any other character! It’s simply a theory I don’t personally subscribe to because the elements don’t line up well enough for me. But hey if they ever expand on his story and he is trans that’d be cool. I don’t know if there is a trans man elsewhere in-game so it’d be nice to see that representation there.

Phew, that was far longer than I anticipated but I hope I covered the topic well enough as it has been debated quite a bit in the fandom. Once again I want to express that I believe folks are allowed to write and draw these characters how they see fit. It’s fantasy fun folks, go wild and enjoy your faves as you desire.

TL;DR: I think the female pedipalps are a technical oversight and were only added in to give Kar’niss a more monstrous appearance or to round out his design. I don’t believe he is trans due to the lack of evidence to support the theory. If Lolth had any bearing on the spider body it was likely to prevent reproduction or in an effort to make driders in her image. Overall, the pedipalps are more up to interpretation than hard evidence.

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #bg3 #drider #karniss #baldurs gate 3 #answered #drow #drow lore #theorycrafting #spider anatomy #pedipalps #long post

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tevanbuckley · 16 days

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Sort of a vent post, sorry if my jumble doesnt make sense. I'm just annoyed at a lot of the BoB's right now.

BoBs scrambling to bully a showrunner into posting deleted scenes that didn't add to the plot of the episode and would've taken the spotlight EVEN MORE away from Chimney and Maddie is crazy to me.

They're the ones saying bucktommy shippers only want to see Buck kiss a man instead of caring about the actual story arc of the characters when they're obsessed over a couple of minutes of the characters being drunk and insist on invalidating Eddie's own queer journey in the process by demanding Buddie happening instantaneously because Buck is canon Bi. Like, give the characters time to BREATHE?

I hate how easy it is for ship wars start and how quickly things can get toxic in fandom spaces now. What ever happened to ship and let ship? I haven't really seen bucktommy blogs shit on buddie/BoBs or retaliate unless they get provoked into doing so by said BoBs. We dont want the drama. Let us live our lives in peace man.

do you know how out of pocket you have to behave for a showrunner to get on facebook to tell you to calm down? ppl are also making way too big a deal out of oliver talking about the karaoke scene in interviews, he wasn't teasing b*ddie, he hates karaoke irl so it was a difficult scene to film and made for a funny non-spoilery story.

personally i think it's unlikely at this point they'll do a queer eddie/b*ddie arc, not impossible and maybe marginally more likely now buck is queer, but i don't think they have any plans for it.

the problem with "ship and let ship" is the 911 fandom has never actually had to do that before, the opinions have been fairly homogeneous until now. so a significant portion of the fan base not just enjoying bucktommy, but looking at b*ddie scenes and going "yeah, sorry, i just don't see how this is romantic/setting up a romance," feels like a personal attack.

#911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #oliver stark #tevan #kinley #dia answers stuff #911 discourse

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hestiviea · 4 months

Text

swap au but i can't draw

I hate when they de-age Matthew just so he can be in knives role, I hate when swapaus just change the characters and their names instead of making an actual AU of what happens when the other character's events

to me, I don't want Scott to be the one skating around Ramona's headspace

I don't want Envy to be in gideons role or add two other characters to fill in the katayanagi twin's roles

I want AUS to be its own, not some kind of copy-and-paste from the source material

My swap AU is closer to the actual source

In my swap AU,

Ramona is still skating around Scott's head space but she is the one who gets obsessed instead of Scott, Scott works as a pizza delivery man

Scott in this AU is still an autistic nerd but is clueless about everything around him, he's just keeping a cool head in comparison to the source materials, he's still the bassist of Sex Bob-Omb but doesn't reveal that to Ramona yet cause he temporarily quit after Gideon became their producer

the seven evil exes are not Ramona's version of Scott's friends cause fuck that, instead the 'seven evil exes' are more just exes that are not evil and overly obsessed with Ramona cause Gideon ain't there to join forces with them

(In my head, Gideon is the reason why most of the league even took revenge on Ramona, since he was the one that said it, katayanagi twins just followed with it cause damn do they have it rough, despite not being evil, Lucas also went with it, todd is just angry that ramona has the audacity to leave after he punched the moon for her, Matthew and Roxy are the only ones that genuinely are sad and angry)

The League of Evil Exes are just the same 5 with Lynette for support, they are not in any of the OG league's roles, they're on their own

their name will be, Vv cause V is the Roman number 5, and v as in victims

knives are the first V but she's still 17, she keeps coming back to fight Ramona until finally realising it isn't worth it

Kim is the second, they met after a Sex Bob-Omb concert, they're not Clash of the Demon Heads in a sense by the way, they're much more different, Kim explains the whole thing to Ramona, and they fight for a bit while also talking as they fight, then they stop and just decided to go out for a drink

wallace is the third and doesn't actually fight with Ramona physically, rather using psychic powers thanks to his current boyfriend, but after the fight, they're still hesitant cause it turns out that Wallace was the one that made the Vv and Ramona is genuinely jealous of Wallace but they later just become buddies

next is Lisa, at first Ramona doesn't even know what to do with Lisa, originally Ramona thinks Lisa is just a friend who is getting too close for comfort with Scott, then boom, big reveal that Lisa is actually one of the exes, they start to fight, but it ended up alright

last is envy and Lynette, the reason for this is that I like to believe that Envy was the one that wanted to take revenge on Scott, but nobody truly wanted to fight other than knives, Lynette is there to help cause they have a much healthier relationship compared to the comics, also envy's reason is cause she's jealous over Scott and ramona after hearing the fact that todd is now living with ramona and Scott is dating her

but what happened to the seven evil exes you may ask

well

Matthew and the twins would probably be the only people that Ramona talks to daily, i like to think Matthew lives nearby and that the twins are not as rich as Gideon but still have enough to have a house up in Toronto

Lucas after another flop movie (blame it on the writers, Lucas did nothing wrong) gets broke and starts to live with Ramona at first, Lucas is kinda like Kim in terms of his relationship with Scott, hot take that maybe Scott and Lucas have a better bromance than Gideon and Lucas

todd would be Ramona's roommate, but unlike Wallace, he's this self-destructive asshole that made himself sympathetic after Envy dumped him and he had nowhere else to go other than to Ramona, which just causes Ramona to feel like she's once again with a prick like Gideon

Roxy comes by every week or so to talk with Ramona and clearly is still hang-up over ramona. also has the best wlw/mlm solidarity friendship with wallace

Gideon would still be a billionaire and he's Sex Bob-Omb producer, and at one point forces them to fight against Ramona by using the glow but they manage to break free and turn against Gideon

basically yes the same thing with the comics and the anime, but Ramona is the one being paranoid and self-conscious about things but trying to act like she's not affected by this, and Ramona is the one who has to fight with Scott exes plus confront herself

and everything is not in the same chronological order as the comics

this swap au focuses on ramona and her ex, while Ramona and Scott realise why Vv was even made in the first place

young Neil, Julie, and Stacey would be Ramona's friends before Ramona gets to know the others

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lolbotvr · 2 years

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maybe some stuff where bob is actually a full-on demon cause of the amulet? i just think it's a really cool theory!

I’m so glad I’m not the only one who thought of that

Demon!Bob x GN!Reader HCs

Warnings: murder/cannibalism implication, mostly just fluff/sfw hcs with some suggestive hints here and there

(^Tell me if I missed or if I should add/remove anything!)

I hope this is what you were looking for but if not please don’t be scared to correct me! Also sorry if it’s kinda short. But Tysm for the request! <3

(If you haven’t watched the “Spooky Month 5 - Tender Treats” Newgrounds ending, you should go watch it before reading ahead as this may not make much sense if you don’t.)

~~~

Remember that amulet Patty found in Bob’s chest?

Yea so uh

Bob has now transformed into a full-on demon now woohoo

I like to imagine when the transformation happened, you just thought he was obsessed with keeping his demon costume on for whatever reason

But when you asked for him to take it off because it’ll ‘get dirty’

He broke the news it wasn’t a flashy disguise anymore, but instead his real flesh

He couldn’t help but laugh at your astonished face when he told you

It probably took a while to get used to

But you grew to actually love this big demon boy

Being a demon gave him many upgrades

Wink wink

He has a fantastic grip, so his hugs are extra wonderful

His claws are real, so expect accidental scratches after cuddling/canoodling

Some may even be purposeful

His horns are great things to latch onto wink wink x2

It makes it slightly easier for him to hide from the police?

I mean they know his disguise but now at least he doesn’t have to suffer through it the whole time

He can just walk around being his normal self

Sorta

Bob most likely doesn’t hate this demon form, I mean he could be more happy about it, but it’s okay to say the least in his opinion

So make sure to give him many kisses to prove to him it doesn’t matter if he’s human or demon

It makes his obsession with you grow even more.

#bob velseb x reader #bob velseb #canon x y/n #spooky month #headcannons #halloween #fanfiction #fluff

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gatheredfates · 4 days

Text

It's been a little while since I've prompted my server! With Sea's Community Compendium not needing an update this week (unless...?), I thought it might be the perfect opportunity. ⭐

What is SEAFLOOR?

SEAFLOOR's purpose is two-pronged! The first focuses solely on my community projects including, but not limited to; Compendium support, question-drive updates, miscellaneous resources and other bits and bobs. We also have dedicated channels for user sourced/submitted content including:

Resources, prompts and commissions! Every time I see a commission post, gpose prompts or resources that I think will benefit the community at large (especially if it doesn't fit in the Compendium due to time constraints), I'll add it there.

An affirmations channel! Exactly what it says on the tin. You can link positive words and encouragement to people and they can look in the channel if they need a boost.

Fics, drabbles & asks! If you want to promote your writing/work, especially from my question drive, you can do that there.

There are also a few channels specific to the social role.

An events channel! I try to link any upcoming events I see on the dash, though event owners can promote their own specific venues if they want.

Character profiles for RP and writing!

GPosing, LFG and modding discussions. ✨

The second purpose is what's implied above — a social aspect! I struggle with a lot of one on one conversations, so this server lets me reach out to lots of people without the pressure of missing messages. You do not need to join the social aspect to have access to my projects. It is entirely optional and there for people who want to say hi or meet other people in the community. If you just want to be pinged when a question drive is open or I have updated the Compendium, you're more than welcome to utilise the server just for that.

However, because of my time constraints, I have a series of rules that must be adhered to in order for people to participate fully in SEAFLOOR. Though they're explored in more depth in the server, the main crux are below —

SEAFLOOR is adults-only, 21+. This is entirely because I don't have the time to moderate a server that is friendly towards minors and I generally don't allow them in my space. This is for my own comfort, sorry! You're still welcome to utilise my projects.

As this is a server for adults, I expect you to act like adults. This includes, but is not limited to; enacting your own media literacy in muting, blocking and disengaging with people/topics you don't like; doing your due diligence to protect yourself and others with proper content warnings, spoiler tagging and triggers; keeping to Discord's ToS and respecting people's boundaries and privacy. If I have to moderate, I will be harsh in implementation because I don't have the time for it. Like all my projects, if it becomes too much of a chore or detrimental for my mental health, I will delete it without hesitation. This might be a 'public' server, but it is still my server. I won't hesitate.

In sum: 'Be excellent to each other'. Treat others how you want to be treated, don't start discourse and sort your shit in private. Use your common sense and don't be creepy/weird.

If this sounds like something that might be up your alley, you can give the server a shot here! There's a lot of fun, supportive people and I really enjoy the little community that's been cultivated. I hope you will too!

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #ok now it's time to do content with pals

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tw33k-tucker · 2 months

Text

Doodle requests are open‼️

The series characters I can draw the best(In order) are:

South Park, Eddsworld, Creepypasta, n' SMG4

Just a some things about me(changes/updates so much)

Fictionkin of:

Tweek Tweak

Craig Tucker

Clyde Donovan

Kyle Broflovski

Kenny McCormick

Stan Marsh

Damien Thorn (South Park)

Eric Cartman

Tweek Tweak (Mirai Park)

Dipper Pines

Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls)

Hunter (TOH)

William Afton / SpringTrap n the rest of the versions of the suit{Pls trust me, I'm not insane anymore, I swear😭}

Michael Afton (FNAF)

Crying Child/Evan Afton (FNAF 4)

Bob

Mr Puzzles

SMG3 (SMG4)

Louise (Bob's Burgers)

Adam

Lucifer

Vox

Husk

Angel Dust (Hazbin hotel)

Sniper

Medic {Pls, istg I'm really, not insane anymore, I swear😭}

Scout (TF2)

Tord

Tom (Eddsworld)

Kevin (Spooky Month)

Selever (FNF)

Shadow (Sonic, but not sure which specific Sonic yet)

Mannequin_Mark

Gnarpy (Regretavator)

Caine

Jax (TADC)

Jeff T. Killer

BEN Drowned

And Ticci Toby (Creepypasta)

Questioning 3

Therian but not completely comfortable to reveal more then a few of my Theriotypes, those few are a Border Collie, Island Fox, Clouded leopard, Red Panda, Some kind of Shark, and an Opossum

He/Him (Trans FTM/Masc)

13 !! :D

Christan (but excepts any religion)

Favorite Animal is Guinea pigs

2nd favorite drink is coffee

Top 5 Favorite songs:

1st: Trees - McCafferty

2nd: The Red Means I Love You - Madds Buckley

3rd: Alien Boy - Oliver Tree

4th: Bad Habit - Steve Lacy

5th: Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus

(it was top 10 before, but I'm to lazy for that crap)

A few last random shit facts 'bout me

I am very scared of alarms(Like, fire alarms)

I have Trypophobia aka fear of holes(it's very bad)

I have a love hate relationship with insects

I'm AroAce and BI

Wolverine is my all-time favorite hero(I don't care that he's technically an anti-hero/also an X-Men, he's the best)

Black and Red are my favorite colors

HTTYD is my favorite movie series

I love Scooby Doo(Especially Mystery Incorporated)

I am a mix of Introverted and Extroverted

I swear I wanna cry when stuff I've been waiting for is altered(Don't ask, I have no idea why)

I have anxiety

I freak out VERY easily

Salamanders are so cool istg

I have sensitive ears so I hate loud noises(I think I'm just a wimp)

I was in a car crash when I was 8(Luckily me and my dad were fine)

I like Diary of a wimpy kid

I have an older brother that I fight with(Imagine Rodrick and Greg's rivalry)

Some noises also make me want to bawl my eyes out(Also don't ask why, I seriously don't know)

I will 'kill' you if you look in my sketchbook(I swear you do not wanna see it, like really, you do NOT)

I have social anxiety👍

I'm seriously fucked up in the brain

I have OCD and BPD

And I have a Spotify by the name Craig-F#cker 👍

And also i've decided to make tags because it is so annoying trying to find certain posts. So: the art tag is #Tw33k Draws the ask tag is #Tw33k Answers and then theres just the #Shitpost tag on the posts I post that have words or images that isn't art, I also don't add tags to like any of the stuff I reblog

And yeah, that's all I'm willing to tell

Also please don't hate me, I can't control who I am

Thanks for reading

Random Icons :D

Okay! One last thing, sense I have started the Zombie Park series, you can ask them questions about litterly ANYTHING some stuff they might not be allowed to answer at the moment like some stuff that'll happen in the future, but if you have any questions about the AU feel free to ask

#Intro #Fictionkin #Therian

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tigerwolfproductions · 1 year

Photo

You’re challenged by Bookworm Becky!

Superheroine Wordgirl wants to battle!

My “as close as I can get to Pokemon” style is back! ... and just as confused as before.

Ah, the official Pokemon style. It changes with every generation, has confusing shading techniques in some gens, and I just kinda had to go with “the best I could manage” again XP (pretty proud of Bob’s tail flame though! That was tricky to do).

Moving on from my artist woes, it’s Becky and Bob Botsford and their secret identities of Wordgirl and Captain Huggyface! Been on a Wordgirl kick recently and since it came directly after a Pokemon kick, well, my brain inevitably crossed the two over. My brain also decided that it was enough of a masochist to want to take another crack at Pokemon style(ish), so here we are! I think the lineart has improved for the most part for human characters; I definitely felt more confident making Becky/Wordgirl! I actually based her off Shauna from XY... Not sure what urged me to do so, but I guess it worked so I ain’t complaining, haha.

Posing was actually tricky. I was originally going to put Becky in a bit more of a cutesy pose, but actually decided against it. She’s Becky Botsford, mild mannered ten year old. I figured, why not make the contrast between her and the Wordgirl pose all the more apparent? Ya know, put all her energy into the bold super-identity! So that I did, though I will say hands pointing at the screen is not a fav of mine to do at the moment, lol

As for Bob, I honestly didn’t really think of many difference there’d be between him and a regular Monferno, but I did add a couple of extra hair tufts to the back of his head. They’re there to represent the front hair tufts he has in the show :3 And of course he’s gotta be eating something, so I looked around and found a berry that would work for him. Not that he’d discriminate against most other berries, but I wanted one that made sense in some way, so a Shuca berry it was! They halve the damage from a super-effective ground-type attack, and have a “spicy-sweet-smooth” flavor chart and with Monferno being a fire type, I figured that spicy part worked out.

Speaking of, it actually took a moment of my time to brainstorm through what Pokemon to make Bob. It had to be a monkey, but what kind? First, there was the point of what type to make him, so I watched a few Wordgirl episodes and happened across a fight between him and Leslie and basically slapped my forehead because a doi- Fighting type for his ability to do Karate! So with that narrowed down, I tried to go through my memories for what monkey Pokemon were fighting types. Passiman came first, but they’re a bit too big for Bob to be. The Mankey line doesn’t quite fit in with his body type or nature, so I had to forgo that too. Then I remembered the fire-fighting starter monkey that made an obvious fit: Monferno! Which also works out because of course a ten year old would have a starter Pokemon as a main partner, and Monferno also shares the blue and red that Captain Huggyface’s uniform has.

Becky/Wordgirl wasn’t too hard to redesign outside of doing it in (the as close as I can get to) Pokemon style. The hardest part of Becky was the skirt thanks to shading, but I think I managed something decent. Second place actually goes to her book bag though. That main button was harder to nail down than I thought it’d be... As for the charms, I thought they could be a cute nod to two main things about her- the secret identity and her love of unicorns, which I figured would translate into a love of Ponyta/Rapidash in the Pokemon universe. Especially the Galarian forms, haha.

On the Wordgirl side, there was a bit more I decided to add. Most of it was dedicated to making her uniform feel a little bit more Pokemon-y, so I added some extra details to the boots and gloves then added pouches to her belt. The goggles were technically a part of that too, but also just because I like the idea of her one day adding them to her uniform (maybe one too many times of getting random goop in her eyes would make her consider it lol). I definitely like the results- I think it makes her look a bit like she’s wearing some sort of space hero outfit :D

As for what exactly this AU would entail, I’d like to think it wouldn’t change much from the main show. Becky lives in a city somewhere in Unova, living her daily life as a regular trainer that goes to a quaint little school with her partner Pokemon, Bob the Monferno (that’s totally normal to have as a starter in Unova; please ignore the part where she should have a Unovian starter). But in her secret double life, she takes on the odd supervillains in her city as Wordgirl, alien superheroine with a perfect vocabulary! But I do imagine Captain Huggyface would get to do more with his moveset of Ember, Close Combat, Mach Punch, and Focus Energy, (Becky unfortunately slacks a little on Pokemon training) as well as an appetite that rivals a Snorlax.

... Wow I rambled about my process. Well, thanks to anyone who read through it all; y’all have a nice day/evening!

#artists on tumblr #art #digital art #wordgirl #wordgirl fanart #pokemon #pokemon fanart #monferno #pokemon monferno #crossover #cartoon #a tigerwolf production

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montrealmadison · 3 months

Note

congrats on hitting 400 followers and thank you for including us in the celebration! um ... I'm choosing zimbits and number 42 and as for general special requests, I would never say no to some hurt/comfort? (I think you have a good sense of the vibes I gravitate toward but you always do that particular trope so well.)

-doggernaut

my darling, i love writing hurt/comfort for you and you really could not have picked a better song. anything for you beyoncé!!

42. zimbits + hurt/comfort + All Night by Beyoncé for @doggernaut

I found the truth beneath your lies And true love never has to hide I’ll trade your broken wings for mine I’ve seen your scars and kissed your crime

Half-awake, the first thing out of Bitty’s mouth is, “We have gotta stop meeting like this.”

Jack’s answering laugh is wrong, comes from too high up. There’s light pouring in through the windows when Bitty blinks—weird, he could have sworn he closed the blinds last night—and when he rolls over, expecting to meet Jack’s face on the opposite pillow, he finds his hip instead.

Bitty’s head hurts, which could really be from anything: lack of sleep, unshed tears, the anticipation of a hangover. “Honey?”

Jack looks down and down at him. From this angle he’s a giant, all sharpness, features starkly out of sync with the glorious summer sunrise. “Morning.”

“Mmph.” The sheets are warm on Bitty’s bare back as he rolls over, yawning. “How long you been awake?”

The fact that Jack doesn't say anything is what finally shocks Bitty back to life.

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This summer has mostly been a dream, because not only does Bitty love living with Jack, he also loves that they're good at it. It's addictive to know that they're compatible this way too, makes the thought of the two of them as partners feel settled and real. He likes the way they work together in the kitchen. He likes the way Jack’s voice carries when he sings in the shower; likes knowing that Jack sings in the shower, period, Patsy Cline and Bob Dylan and once, memorably, Carrie Underwood. He likes snuggling up to watch a movie on the couch and dozing off with Jack’s hands in his hair. Most of all, he likes sharing their bed—sleeps so much better with Jack’s big, warm body beside his.

There are trade-offs to that, like the fact that he hasn’t spoken to his parents in two weeks. And the fact that he was barely able to enjoy their bed last night because he was pacing the living room rather than disturbing Jack's attempts at meaningful rest. And the fact that Jack is currently watching himself miss the same shot over and over and over again, breathing just this side of too heavy for Bitty’s liking.

It’s five-thirty in the morning on a day that might make or break them, and Bitty’s had enough.

"Jack," he says, some heft in it now. "How long?"

Jack scrubs his hands over his face, glances out the windows and then at the time on his phone. He’s obviously a little surprised to see the sun rising. “Since you went to bed.”

Bitty had finally crawled under the covers to a half-awake and very worried Jack at 2:15. The fact that he'd apparently slept right through Jack's ensuing three-hour self-flagellation session doesn't sit right in his chest at all.

“Okay—uh, okay." He frees a hand from the blankets with exaggerated care and sets it lightly on the top of Jack’s screen. "Well, first things first, sweetpea, this isn’t useful, it’s torture," he says. "Can I?”

He's expecting pushback, but apparently that's all he had to say to break the dam and make the tension drain from Jack’s shoulders. He nods, slow and unwilling. None of that, Bitty thinks. He shuts the laptop firmly, gets up on his elbow, ducks under Jack’s arm to nudge him softly in the ribs.

“Why don't you come down here,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “You’re real tall up there.”

Jack’s answering laugh sounds brittle, but he does curl down into Bitty's arms. Add that to the ever-growing list of things Bitty's been surprised by: Jack Zimmermann is the little spoon. Bitty pulls him in, watches the sun start to track above the buildings, and thinks about things that are unfair.

The road to hell is paved with a solid game plan. From the minute the Falcs made the conference finals, Jack has been in regular touch with George and the med staff. He's been seeing his therapist weekly. He's been talking to Bitty and his parents, and when they've lost he's been sad, but he hasn't withdrawn the way Bitty might have expected him to.

They've gone through so much together, all of it leading them here. They've negotiated sex and coming out to their friends and fought about who gets to pay for things. There's trust between them in a way that Bitty has never felt before. He'd felt so adult, keeping a secret as big as Jack Zimmermann to himself all school year; now Bitty has a much better sense of the commitment he signed up for. He's had to learn how to talk through a panic attack and which secrets are okay to keep and, most of all, what real love is: all-consuming, disgusting and vulnerable, terrifying in its intensity, and always, always worth it.

“We’re so close,” says Jack unprompted, muffled because he’s speaking into Bitty's collarbone. “I—Bits. We’re so close."

“You are."

It sounds so simple, but Bitty knows it’s not—knows how much is riding on this game, for Jack and for the Falcs and for so many others. He wants to be able to swallow Jack whole, to carve out a warm place inside him and keep Jack safe in it forever. It would be easier than trying to come up with the right thing to say to make this better.

"What if this is it?"

Jack's voice is tiny and terrified. Bitty feels like someone's reached into his chest and cracked his heart open with both hands.

"Say more," he prompts gently. "The end of the series?"

"The—just." Jack breathes out hard. "This is it. If we lose, it's all over. Everyone was right about me. Right?"

Oh, honey. "Jack," Bitty says. "No."

He can't say he doesn't understand the temptation to think that way. Tonight is everything Jack's been working towards for twenty-five years. Tonight's results will be writ large over Jack's entire career. But—

"Tell me if I'm hearing this right?"

Jack squeezes him tighter. "Okay."

"It's going to be the end of something, one way or another." Bitty threads his hands through Jack’s hair and gently works the tangles out of it, the way Jack’s done for him so many times. "And I know that's scary. But it's not the end."

There's going to be another game, ten games, eighty-two. The people who love Jack, love them both, aren't going anywhere. Once, Bitty believed that the force of his own will had to be enough to convince Jack of its righteousness. Now—well, Jack breathes, pushes up hungrily into Bitty's hands, and Bitty knows that sometimes love means a blind leap into someone else's hands, trusting them to be there when you fall.

"Is that what feels bad right now? That they're gonna—take it all away from you, if tonight doesn't go well?"

Another long breath. Jack's voice is low, low. "Doesn't make as much sense when you say it out loud."

"Well." Bitty shrugs. "That's anxiety, baby."

Jack grunts. "Sucks."

"Yeah," Bitty says, and suddenly they're laughing, all shaken up and nowhere to go. The tension's broken, though, and the line of Jack's shoulders doesn't feel as hard under Bitty's hands, so he allows himself to feel very tentatively pleased.

“No matter what,” he starts to say, and Jack stills again, listening. “No matter what, we are going to be there for you. Your team and your parents and all our friends and me, baby. We’re not going anywhere no matter what happens tonight.”

Bitty's not sure if he's satisfied with that, but Jack murmurs something that sounds like thanks, so. He'll take it for now.

When the sun has risen too far for them to ignore, Bitty coaxes Jack into the shower and spends a good twenty minutes puttering around the kitchen, meticulously assembling the best pregame PB&J ever concocted by man. It grounds him a little, helps him sink back into his body; things here are still real, are familiar in a way that means something. When Jack emerges from the bedroom around ten, suited up with a game face to match, Bitty's smile takes less effort than before.

“Hey, handsome.” He steps away from the counter and into the warm, willing circle of Jack’s arms. It's glorious when Jack smells expensive like this, new linen and Armani cologne, and Bitty breathes him in appreciatively.

“Hi,” Jack says, quiet but not as brittle as before. “What do you think? You like it?”

“The day I answer no to that question is the day I am dead in the ground.” Bitty twirls the end of Jack’s tie around one finger. “How you feelin’?”

Jack’s breath ruffles Bitty’s hair when he leans down to tuck his nose into it. “Still scared,” he says. “But, uh, good, I think. I don't know. Better than this morning? Thanks for getting me out of my head.”

For the first time, Bitty lets himself imagine what tonight might bring. The fridge is stocked with enough ingredients for at least twelve mourning pies and enough pasta to feed a small army of sad friends; coming home to that is a definite possibility, the only one Bitty has really let himself focus on. But there's a sparkling alternative, dripping in champagne and smothered in laughter, that Bitty knows for a fact Ransom has already made the playlist for. There's a world in which this all goes right. They just have to be brave enough to make it there.

“Things can be scary and good at the same time,” Bitty says into the perfect knot of Jack's tie.

He feels Jack smile; a tiny, hopeful thing. “You’re telling me.”

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #jack zimmermann #eric bittle #zimbits #my writing #efickegster 2024

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v-ternus · 9 months

Text

Just a little gift

ughhhhhh @p1nkcanoe -- you said go on, so go on I did

Sooooooo cumslut Swiss right. But then this also turned into puppy Swiss fucking Dew's boot???? This was supposed to be a silly little thing but it turned into a mess of 1800 words.

warning- Swiss says "didn't want that Dew." He doesn't mean the sex, he just means the *fake* cum. I swear its not meant to be non-con/dub-con. It'll make more sense when/if you read it. Below for your consumption

e n j o y :)

Swiss can't think of much. Between the drag of the tentacle against his prostate, the way suckers get caught on his puffy rim when he drops his hips, and having to watch Dew’s flushed cock in front of him, he’s going absolutely insane. His brain is free flowing out of his ears.

Dew had the bright idea for this after Swiss had been a bitch over lunch— ‘I need to fuck him up’ was all the reason he had given Sunny when he went to her, and she knew just what toy he would need. It was a lovely little thing— two tentacles, one green and one a deep blue, wrapped around each other to form a spiral shape that tapered towards the bulbous tip. Most importantly, they both agreed, was the tube threaded through its center and the pump attached to it.

A cumming dildo would’ve been enough for his plans, but a tentacle that could paint Swiss’ warm hole? He’s almost ashamed that he didnt think of this sooner.

“You want a taste?” Dew huffs, breath interrupted by the assault of his own hand over his leaking cock. Swiss nods his head wildly, keeping his eyes on the wet mess spread across Dew’s hips. He watches as Dew drags his hand up the shaft and eyes the bead of pre that wells up at the tip. The sight has him drooling. He wants to swirl his tongue around the head, run it along the tip so he can taste. He’d savor it, keep it on his tongue, wait for Dew to tell him to swallow. He wants so much, and Dew is content on giving him the minimum.

“I only make a mess of good puppies,” He runs his free hand through Swiss’ tight curls then cradles his cheek. The soft touch stills him, it makes him pause and fully seat himself around the wide base of the toy.

“I dont think you’ve been very well behaved today.”

Swiss whimpers, he doesnt know if it's because this is the first time Dew has truly touched him tonight, or if it's from the fear of the underlying threat in his words.

“-m sorry Dew. I’ll be good... better. Anything.” It's another set of promises to add to the mile long list, but just like the rest that he’s spewed all night, they fall on deaf ears. Dew taps Swiss' leg, a reminder to keep moving. He starts to bob his hips again and he swears he can feel each individual sucker drag against his walls, he hangs his head low.

“You really mean anything?” Swiss offers a grunt, not really capable of more with the way he’s moving himself against the ground. Dew hums and there's an odd tone to it that Swiss doesn't pick up on.

“Cum on it then, maybe I’ll let you lick me clean,” He roughly tugs on Swiss’ hair, jerking his head back, “And don't you dare fucking touch yourself.” A look of fear flashes over his face and it makes a twisted pride bloom in Dew's chest. Swiss’ face screws up tight.

“Can I touch you? Please?” Dew can see his reverence, how he wants to worship his cock. But Swiss has to learn that actions have consequences. Dew doesn't dignify his question with an answer. Instead, he removes his hand from Swiss' hair to join the other, squeezing along his whole length. He hopes it makes Swiss ache. Because it should be his hand touching Dew, it should be his hand feeling each twitch of his cock as he gets closer.

Dew rocks his hips into his tight grip, rubbing over the shiny head with his slicked up palm. He’s sensitive, has been ever since he worked his fingers into Swiss, but he’s got a show to put on. A groan bubbles up from his chest. He watches on like a hawk as Swiss spears himself on the foreign cock and rakes his eyes over each frantic move of his hips as he tries to push himself over the edge.

“You know I can't Dew, please,” Swiss looks worse somehow, more distressed.

"Im sure you can, It'll help you. It'll breed you." It. He's been talking about it like its alive ever since he pulled it out from under his pillows, like it's going to fill Swiss up on its own volition.

It really wants in Swiss, breath and let it in. It's going to pump you so full Spark, you'll swell.

The words practically made him vibrate at a frequency inaudible to man. They got him so riled up that his cock has been a painful shade of red this entire time, and Dew knows exactly how to make it worse.

Dew swings his leg around so that his foot rests between Swiss’ thighs and raises the toe until it presses into his heavy balls.

“What the fuck…” This wasn't part of the plan. He thinks it all might be too much, a small part of him wants Dew to stop. The last few brain cells he has scream at him that it hurts. But he wants Dew to paint him, so it’s worth it.

He'd suffer through hundreds of banishments just to feel his wet warmth drip down from his chin to his chest and dribble over his raw nipples. He wants the slow touches across his skin that uses to spread the mess around before feeding him his coated fingers. He loves the stickiness as it starts to cool. He needs to feel covered.

Dew shifts his foot and rests the sole against his shaft. Swiss pants as he finally rolls his hips into the rough texture. It almost hurts more than it helps, the ridges of the stiff rubber digging into him in the worst ways, but it's something at least. More than nothing.

“Look at you, rutting against my foot like a bitch in heat. I bet it feels good to a dumb pup like you.” Swiss is wound up tight but tries to distract himself by focusing on Dew, on the decadent noises he’s wringing out of himself and the filthy wet sounds between his dick and hands. Whatever relief he found is short lived when more wretched words leave Dew’s punishing mouth. Dew throws his head back on the couch and gasps.

“Beg. Be a good puppy and beg.” Swiss’ face blushes a darker shade of red. He shouldn't like it and it sure as hell shouldn't make him even harder than he already is, but the shame makes his dick kick against Dew’s boot.

“Please… on my face.” Dew glares at him. Say all of it.

“Please cum on my face... stripe my chest please, anything.” Dew calls him a desperate slut before returning his attention to his own cock. He blocks out how Swiss says he's close, blocks out how he keeps begging to taste him.

After a while, Dew gets sloppy. He loses his steady rhythm and reedy moans fall from his lips. His whole body is twitching and he’s dripping a constant stream of slick that’s soaking the couch. Swiss quivers but keeps himself moving through it all, he’s never without sensation. Raising himself up and relieving the press against his prostate just rocks his dick into firm rubber, its pleasure toeing the line with pain. He’s so close, but he’s never wanted to cum less. He wants Dew to use him. He needs to be wet. He doesn't want the toy.

“I think it’s getting close,” Tears pool in the corners of Swiss’ eyes. He watches as Dew’s knot starts to grow. “No Dew– please, not that” Dew reaches forward and parts Swiss’ swollen lips with his thumb, pressing down with it.

“Good pups don't speak.” Dew spits straight onto his tongue and presses his thumb in further until he gags. He pulls back his hand to wrap around his knot and squeezes. The other pays special attention to the spot underneath.

“I think it wants to get you nice and messy Spark, you want that?” Swiss finally lets the tears fall, shaking his head furiously, a litany of ‘no’s’ and ‘not that’ falling from his lips. Suddenly, everything is in slow motion. Frame by frame he watches a hand reach out for the pump resting on the couch. He watches each individual muscle in Dew tighten and his knuckles go white as he squeezes his knot one final time.

Thick ropes splatter against Dew’s smooth stomach, he coats the little hair he has there and Swiss winces with each pulse of his cock. What a waste. Should’ve been on me, in me. Anywhere else but there.

Dew mewls. It seems like it’ll never stop, some even reaches up to splash onto the slim bars through his nipples. Just as the last spurts of his cum start to dribble down his fist, he presses down on the pump and they both watch as the cum moves through the clear tubing.

Swiss waits for the cold to flood into him any moment, but it never comes. Instead, a warmth starts to fill him and the realization makes him heave. It's the same warmth as Dew's own cum. He'd know the heat from anywhere, like he knows the back of his own hand. Each spurt mimics Dew’s, each almost hotter than the last.

His orgasm is ripped from him. He sobs against Dew’s thigh, well and truly shakes as he cums over his boot. “--didnt want that Dew. Not that.” He works himself through it and keeps grinding onto the tentacle. Some of the cum drips out when he rocks up too high.

Dew, feeling even more mean now that Swiss has started crying, holds Swiss’ head up and drags his other hand up along his torso– through his mess of cum and slick. He holds the hand up to the light and spreads his fingers to show the sticky strings that connect them. Swiss cant help but shiver, a delusional part of him still thinks Dew will give him a taste.

He's wrecked and fighting for each breath. Mindlessly, his tongue lolls out of his slack jaw. Dew coos at him.

"I wish the rest of the pack could see how much of a cum slut you are. You think they know you pant and beg like a dumb puppy too?" He dips his hand back into his mess, circling one of his sensitive nipples.

"Please, you're wasting it Dew." He leans in to chase the offending hand, it just makes more of the cum drip out of him. He paws at Dew’s leg like its going to earn him any mercy.

"No, I'm not ," Dew brings the hand up to his mouth and licks each finger clean one by one. Swiss whines softly as he drags his tongue over every inch of skin. Anything to taste himself, Dew thinks, anything to take the opportunity away from Swiss.

Swiss is burning, lit up like a wildfire. It should be his fingers. Should be his mouth. He should have the heady taste of Dew on his tongue. Dew eyes the space between them, locking on to the wet spot under Swiss.

“Lick it up Swiss. It wants you to taste it.”

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