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#also because relevant:
scoobydoodean · 8 months
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tearlessrain · 1 month
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please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!
gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.
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SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:
diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.
non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.
the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.
now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.
if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.
if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.
this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.
it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.
but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.
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soliusss · 1 year
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Funniest thing I’ve seen on tiktok are those sigma male boys getting mad that American psycho was written by a gay man and going “well I like fight club better” buddy I’ve got some world ending devastating news for you
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elodieunderglass · 3 months
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Horror isekai where Perceiving the Weird Eldritch Thing gets you catapulted into a nightmare labyrinth of puzzle-solving.
I.e Those Who Perceive The Hunt of the Goblin King Must Partake In The Labyrinth and Can Only Be Freed If They Complete It In One Day and One Night. By Fae Law. For Reasons.
But the definition of “perception” clearly needs to be updated because some normal guy simply films the Hunt of the Goblin King Behind Arby’s, and puts it on Facebook -
No, not instagram or TikTok, it’s important that it be Facebook -
Because the rules are pretty clear, “the rules are the rules” as is carved ominously in elvish runes above the grim gate, and the Contract is Sealed. and so therefore the guy and 25 of their most random real-life acquaintances must run the gauntlet together. It’s Some Guy, their immediate neighbors, their first partner’s mom, their friends from hobby Facebook groups (oh this poor guy and their hobbies; the elderly birdwatchers from Facebook and the young up-and-coming drag king community), their random teen kid niece, college friends, a dog who also watched the video, a couple consisting of a woman who is the guy’s Facebook friend and showed her husband the video, and the husband doesn’t even know Some Guy, so he’s in the labyrinth and absolutely furious about being forced to be involved, and they proceed to break up over the course of the puzzle.
It’s important that the narrative keeps trying to be a sexy dark horror isekai! but within this the comedic reality of Catherine, 52, the guy’s horse-riding instructor, being passionately involved in escape-room-style puzzle solving and grappling with minor goblins. They are in fact speedrunning the gauntlet.
The Goblin King finally has to say: all right, actually, I only really set all this up to fuck with one (1) guy at a time, thanks for your willingness to participate, but I think all 25 of you can consider the gauntlet fully run.
And the group would be quite hurt by that. The rules are the rules. We have a contract, actually. Let Catherine cook.
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You ever have those moments where an idea just... won't leave your head?
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softpng · 2 years
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sometimes I think about that guy on amazon who reviewed pride and prejudice and did an entire angry, weirdly math focused rant about how awful darcy is and then ends it all with "I could carve a better man out of a banana"
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hajihiko · 2 months
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I had a dream the other night
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bet-on-me-13 · 3 months
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Reincarnation AU but it's not Danny
So! In basically every single Reincarnation AU I've seen, it's always Danny who gets reincarnated as a DC character. Sometimes it's Jazz, other times it's his Friends, but it never really strays from them. And I think we've been ignoring some people...
The Ancients! Danny is always reincarnated as a "Vacation" from his Ghost King Duties, so why not give the same courtesy to the other Ancients?
Specifically, Fright Knight.
Fright Knight has been a loyal servant and Knight of his Master for Millenia. Ever since he first formed as the Autumn Spirit, the Embodiment of Fear, the Fright Knight, he had declared his Servitude to the Ghost King, whomever it may be at the time. And he stayed in that position, through the passing of the Crown, through the Violent Coups, through every single Ghost King who had taken to the mantle. He was their Loyal Knight. Never Wavering. Never leaving their side.
Until Pariah Dark, but that situation was different. No previous King had even tried to take the human world before.
Thankfully, Pariah had only taken the Throne for a mere 5000 years, so he had not had to put up with him for long, and much of that time was with him stuck in his Coffin. That was the first time Fright Knight had ever left his Masters Side.
Then, that insolent Halfa he had met before came into the picture and Fright Knight had a new master.
King Phantom was...different.
Perhaps it was his remaining Humanity poking through? Or was it was the influence of the Human Realm that he still regularly visited? Or maybe he was simply just a Good Person, and there was no deeper meaning behind it?
Either way, Fright Knight noticed that he cared for his subjects in a far deeper manner than any previous king had. He had personal connections with as many Ghosts as he could, and often called the Ghosts he ruled his, Friends. It warmed his Long Frozen Core to see a King valuing his Subjects as much as he did.
He did not realize that the kindness Phantom extended to his people, also extended to himself.
One day, Phantom had been discussing his Human Life with some of his friends. Not his First Life, but his most recent Vacation. Over the Eons since he had taken the Throne, Phantom had been encouraged to take a Vacation every once in a while. It was not healthy for a Ghost to work non-stop like he did, especially for a Halfa.
It was not an uncommon practice in the Realms, many would take a break from the Endlessness of Death to embrace Life once more through Reincarnation. Although, many were too weak to retain their memories upon their second Forming. Mostly, it was Ancients or Kings who would use this as a Vacation, rather than a New Beginning.
There came a break in the conversation, and King Phantom turned his attention to his Knight. "Frighty, when was the last time you Reincarnated? Pandora did so recently, and it got me thinking."
"I have not taken leave of my post for thr Eons since my Forming, My Lord" Replied the Knight with Pride.
"What? You haven't taken a Break since you formed!? Frighty! That's not Healthy!" Exclaimed his King.
This lead to a whole conversation about how unhealthy his lifestyle was, which was another quirk of his Master. He cared for his Sunjects beyond their happiness.
"Fright Knight, as your King and as your Friend, I implore you to take a Vacation. It doesn't have to be forever, just a simple Human Lifespan, but please take a break, for your own Good."
And how could he refuse a request like that? One based in the kindness that his Majesty always showed his Subjects.
It took a few more years to finally iron out the plan for his Vacation, but what are a few years in the face of Eternity?
Finally, it came time to take his leave to the Mortal Realm, and to Life itself.
"Farewell, my Leige." Bowed Fright Knight, "I thank you for this opportunity."
"There's no need to thank me. Now go, and have fun, My Dark Knight."
...
That day, in Gotham General Hospital, a baby was born.
"What will you name him?" Asked the Doctor.
"I think I'll call him..." Began the need Mother, "...Bruce. Bruce Wayne."
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gloaming-sometimes · 6 months
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dear lesboy (and tbh any other nuanced identity) exclusionists who think your vein of thought is the majority in queer spaces id like to inform you that today at lunch with my (entirely queer) friend group the topic drifted to me being a butch lesbian and one friend goes "wait i thought you were a guy?" and i said "i am" and another friend interjected "dudes can be lesbians too" and that was that. no further probing about my identity, nohing about how im "invalidating transmen and lesbians", or whatever. everyone just accepted that thats how i identify and i dont owe an explanation for it and moved on. i promise u its not that deep 👍
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fictionadventurer · 1 month
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Maybe the problem with Christian fiction is that it's non-denominational. People are just "Christian", with no effort put into showing what practicing that religion looks like for them specifically. No indication that there are other Christians who could have different beliefs. No wrestling with differing ideas and the struggle of how one should live out their Christian faith. And that makes it unrealistic and unrelatable.
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harmonictechnicality · 8 months
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*no rest for the wicked*
my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨
Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now. 
A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:
Concert. Tickets.
That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?
Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.
“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.
Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”
“Translating to...?”
“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way. 
“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.
“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”
Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him. 
Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness. 
Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body. 
“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.
“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”
Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.
“You’re still doing that, huh?”
Eddie nods twice.
“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”
There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.
Eddie claps, total deadpan.
The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers. 
Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”
“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.
“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”
Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”
“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head. 
“Oh? That’s a good thing?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…
The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”
The light flickers even darker.
Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy. 
Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.
In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.
Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.
“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”
Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”
“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”
“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”
They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.
“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests. 
Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”
“So you’re saying length matters?”
“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”
Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time. 
And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.
Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.
“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.
Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”
“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.” 
As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.
“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”
“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking? 
Fucking mortifying.
Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”
“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”
Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.
“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier. 
Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”
Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too. 
Probably.
“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.
“No?”
“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”
Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere. 
He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.
He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible. 
“Tell me what?”
Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.
“Tell me what, Ed?”
“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:
‘That I’m crazy about you.’
Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in. 
Morning.
It’s morning.
“Shit.”
Eddie fell asleep.
Steve fell asleep.
“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:
10:24 a.m.
“Goddamnit!”
Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.
It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.
Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.
Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.
Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies. 
He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.
Fucking yay.
“Chris, please don’t try to-”
His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.
She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”
“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.
Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.
But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.
Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.
“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”
He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.” 
“Gay desperation?”
“No, you jackass. Come here!”
Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:
Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.
“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words. 
Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”
“Liar.”
“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”
Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”
“Positive.”
“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”
Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does). 
He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve. 
Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.
So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.
There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.
“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir. 
Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night. 
The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.
He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.
Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself. 
“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”
“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”
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isbergillustration · 2 months
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They're Hooking Up
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dyketennant · 9 months
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seeing good omens fans rallying together to make season 3 happen and maybe i'm just a jaded and bitter old man but. i really fucking hate that we live in a world where we as fans have to spend our free time on our knees begging billion-dollar corporations to allow the stories we love to get made. i hate that it's almost never assumed now that we will get more of the show we like, sometimes even when the next season is already in production, especially when the story even toes the line of any social boundary whatsoever. i hate that we have to live on edge, convinced that if the show we like isn't the #1 most popular show in the world, it will not succeed.
why does it have to be the most successful show ever made to be deserving of something? why is that responsibility and pressure put on fans, not on the people holding tv shows and movies over our heads like dogs waiting for a treat that may not ever come? why do artists have to hold their breath, knowing the money and resources are all there, but that maybe mr. zaslav is in a bad mood today and maybe he'll decide to casually dump your livelihood in the nearest dumpster, as if that's the norm?
and let me be clear, it's not our fault that we get so jittery and nervous when we don't get an instant confirmation of renewal. what i'm saying is, is anything ever going to be "enough" to grant any sense of security to artists, regardless of how well their art performs? will we ever feel safe to like media again?
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mistfallengw2 · 1 day
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Feel free to be more specific in comments/notes if you want! If you want to elaborate further, how do you organize them? By role, species, age, alphabetical order, vibes or something else?
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egophiliac · 8 months
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I love the idea of teenage Malleus hating his new baby brother Silver but slowly falling for him
words cannot express how much I adore that Mal's reaction to seeing a human baby for the first time was "the fuck is this. why does it look like that. gross." (then he immediately got stuck on babysitting duty and the rest is history)
I am SUCH a sucker for that trope of "non-humans being fascinated by normal human behavior", so between that and all the delicious angst going on I was eating VERY well. >:) Malleus being so impressed that two-year-old Silver can walk, because it took him twenty years to stand on two legs! Lilia barging in on the Zigvolts at 2 AM being like "he won't stop crying what do I do"! Lilia trying to feed Silver rats and Malleus being like "...please just stick with what the books say to feed it"! it is all so. chef's kiss.
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megabuild · 12 days
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Does anyone ever think about how everything 3rd life etho loved (his base his tree his pets) all got burnt like things being set on fire and burning down were such a big part of his 3l character that he started naming his videos after it and then he died on fire. And then ll happened and bdubs was like okay well let's make our base out of nether wood so it doesn't burn down ever because you deserve a place to be safe. And when they can't do that they make it out of snow. And they replant the dark oak tree and do their best to protect it even when scar threatens it again. And bdubs teaches him that axe hits disabled shields so he can protect himself. And then bdubs dies and etho forgets that axe hits disable shields and gets killed by one. And then in double life his house burns down and he dies in lava believing that bdubs betrayed him and sent him to burn again after protecting him for so long. Has anyone thought about this before? I didnt think so its okay. Walks away. Turns back around to say something. Decides against it and walks away again
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