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#how to make a blooming onion
skeletonpendeja · 6 days
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Shit I been cooking lately
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emmafrostyyy · 5 months
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y'all sleeping on Astarion/Lae'zel bc this moment is so...the way the flippant demeanor drops and he doesn't hesitate to call her out for sticking with her version of Cazador like their relationship is so underrated fr...
sitting down writing this bullshit like let me peel it like an onion a bit and elaborate why this pairing is fascinating to me
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It's really interesting how during the most cathartic, life-altering moment in Astarion's questline, the reactions of the other companions are more about the moral wrongness/guilt of sacrificing innocent lives. Lae'zel doesn't do that and instead relates to his hurt.
She knows what's he's feeling, the lack of control, the unfairness of being powerless for too long. This is a woman who just found out her entire life purpose was built on lies, discarded and hunted by her own people after outliving her usefulness, and groomed to basically die for an insane power-hungry lich queen. She knows all too well that power isn't always real freedom. Her first instinct is to empathize with Astarion to steer him away from his hate and resentment.
Astarion/Lae'zel is so interesting to me because they're such a classic "can we make each other worse or make a better person out of the other?".
They both have genuine appreciation for violence and respect each other's ruthlessness. Astarion was used as a weapon of seduction while Lae'zel was of warfare. Sex with people is meaningless and not real intimacy for them, and while both have little understanding/experience of interpersonal relationships beyond the physical, they still feel and love very deeply. They have no frame of reference for things like friendship and warmth, but they badly want all of that and more, even if they don't know it yet.
In-game they can sleep with each other, which is basically the foundation of the normal Tav/Astarion romance. Lae'zel saw him during combat and got horny, who knows. Astarion who's used to luring people with his charms, takes up Lae'zel's blunt offer because she's a strong hardened warrior that can provide protection and be a worthy ally, and he doesn't know how to say no. Navigating the complications between one who wants to be seen beyond as a sex object, and one who comes from a totally alien culture with no concept of love/family/connections and only sex is honestly really compelling to me. It's a transactional, mutually beneficial thing with no emotional expectations. Once you get past the skeevy rockiness of their early relationship, I really like the idea of them slowly seeing something past the exterior and realizing they may have harshly misjudged the other, an unspoken friendship blooms, and in comes the realization that they are essentially loners longing for kindness and a comforting touch in the most desperate of situations.
Lae'zel is prideful, direct, has no sense of courtship talk, and doesn't hold back her thoughts the slightest--she's not sweet/agreeable and what you see is really what you get, which I imagine would be disarming for Astarion who's used to vacuous flattery and has difficulty trusting others. But she's also insanely protective, passionate, loyal, and an initiator-- every romance scene is triggered by her first and she's always showing effort towards her relationships, which would mesh well with Astarion who does need someone to nudge him.
She doesn't purposely suppress her feelings, she's just simply at loss at how to express them sometimes due to her wildly different upbringing. She stops the sparring match you agree to and an easy vulnerability slips instantly out of her: "I don't want to hurt you. I want to protect you, and for you to protect me." and "Thus far I've taunted you, devoured you, battled you. Now I want more than anything to soothe you." are romantic as fuck and Astarion of all people really needs to hear that tbh.
Astarion is also someone who struggles with reinforcing his boundaries, and a key theme in Lae'zel's romance is that she encourages and wants you to challenge her and learn to stand your ground. It's not gentlest method, but hey, relationships are about having to make an effort to learn each other's language.
I think he also would take pleasure "educating her on the matters of Fay-run" (I believe there's a whole banter with him teasing her and teaching her pet names) and would get a kick out of coaxing Lae'zel out of her shell with her shyness at showing public affection, and making her blush. Also it simply would be fucking funny to see Astarion who's used to easy seduction, trying to pass a persuasion check just to get a smooch and generally having to work to earn regular kisses from Lae'zel lmfaooo
Lae'zel also initially struggles to see her chains as chains. When she learns about Vlaakith's betrayal, she copes instantly through denial and shuts it down. Astarion is NOT having it and calls her out, he knows her well enough to recognize that she would value blunt honesty above all.
I imagine he also despises her lack of self-preservation, the way her entire identity is tied to duty and being in service of others, and doesn't understand her desire to still help/liberate the people that want her dead and are hunting her down. He wants to make this duty-bound soldier realize that looking out for herself, and putting herself first may not be the worst thing in the world.
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They're so similar to each other but are also polar opposites in some ways that make a more equal, balanced romance I think. It's not a simple, one-sided, feel-good "she/he can fix her/him" fantasy because both of them have to earn each other's love, actually cut through the other's flaws, and actively motivate each other to be better versions of themselves.
They're not at all the other's ideal guiding hand. It's rough, jagged, and imperfect, but that's how healing goes. It's so far from being the healthiest relationship -- but even if their belief systems differ, their moral compass does often align. I imagine it's a slight relief for them to have a partner where there would be less shame and judgment when they expectedly, occasionally slip up and fall into their bad habits.
Also, man, the "You showed me the betweens and beyonds. Beyond war and peace, beyond passion and obsession, most importantly, you showed me freedom.", "First you were my wound, now you were my cure.", "But you saw something else in me - someone else I could be. Someone who could break the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago.." lines really hit hard when applied to them.
Of course, they can also make each other worse, feed into the other's negative traits that will bring out the worst part of themselves. It's this duality of their pairing that is very interesting to explore, the way it can steer in either direction because it's an intense, fraught relationship at its core.
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luveline · 8 months
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If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.
thank u for ur request! fem!reader
Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white. 
"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?" 
Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says. 
Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?" 
"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern. 
Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through. 
"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?" 
"Spencer!" 
Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?" 
"I miss you so much." 
Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?" 
Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks. 
"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!" 
"I can tell." 
"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin. 
Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation. 
"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.
Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated. 
He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic." 
"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.
"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?" 
"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too." 
"She's making toast or something." 
"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas." 
"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear." 
Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.
"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache." 
"It makes me miss you," you whine. 
He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?" 
"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to." 
"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's." 
"Exactly!" 
You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of. 
A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks. 
Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great." 
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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year
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This Ain’t A Scene, It’s A God Damn Arms Race
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Synopsis: Peter picks up on the fact that you have a thing for his arms
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“Which one of you blooming onions wants to arm wrestle a god and lose?” Thor asked as he cracked his knuckles before slamming his elbow down on the table. Everyone rolled their eyes with affection while and you Peter continued your game of cards.
“Oh come on. No one’s up for the challenge?” Thor asked and flexed his arm.
Peter noticed you flick your eyes up for just a second at Thors arms before smiling shyly to yourself. This sent an unexpected wave of jealousy down to Peters stomach. He knew nobody on the team was as big or as strong as Thor but seeing you look at him like that made Peter feel like he might have some competition for your attention. He knew it was probably silly to even think about, but part of him was worried Thor would win you over before Peter had a chance to tell you how he felt. Before he knew was he was doing, he was putting his hand of cards down.
“I’ll give it a go.” Peter said and went over to Thor.
“Really? You want to compete, spider boy?” Thor smirked and out his elbow back down on the table.
“Why not? You know, some spiders can lift up to 170 times their weight. And if you calibrate that for a human in accordance to my height and weight, I can lift up to 25,000 pounds. So I’m not as weak as I look.” Peter explained as he rolled up his sleeves.
“Kids right. I’ve seen him catch a bus.” Steve backed Peter up.
“Well I’ve seen him kick Buckys ass.” Sam added with a smirk.
“Shut up. I was having an off day.” Bucky grumbled.
“Have you ever had an on day?” Sam snorted.
“He was definitely on the night he killed my parents.” Tony said casually. Everyone fell into uncomfortable silence as Tony waited for someone to laugh at his joke.
“Anyways.” You said to break the silence. “Peters stronger than you guys give him credit for. I’d love to see him take on Thor.”
Peter smiled proudly to hear you back him up and gave Thor a look that said it was up to him.
“All right. Come here and grab the hand of the mighty Thor.” Thor said and held his hand out.
“Does he always talk like that?” Shang Chi whispered to Steve.
“It’s slowly been getting worse.” Steve whispered back.
Now that Peter knew he had your attention, he wasn’t gonna waste it. He rolled his sleeves back down and unzipped his sweatshirt.
“Oooo. Jackets coming off.” Tony clapped his hands. Underneath Peters sweatshirt was a flannel shirt, making Tony stop clapping.
“To reveal a slightly lighter jacket.” Tony continued. Peter then unbuttoned his flannel and threw it at you to catch. You caught it and held it to your chest as your face heated up.
“Ohhh. Now we’re talking.” Tony clapped his hands again now that Peter was just in a tight white T-shirt. You gulped at the sight of his arms, something you knew you’d never get used to no matter how many times you saw them. You watched with a hand over your mouth as Peter and Thor wrapped their opposite hands around each others and glared into each others eyes.
“You’re going down.” Peter warned.
“The only time I go down is on a-“ Thor was cut off by the sound of his hand hitting the table. Everyone was stunned to silence as they watched Peter win with ease. You raised your eyebrows in surprised and made eye contact with Peter, who winked at you.
“No fair. I wasn’t ready.” Thor scoffed.
“All right. Then let’s go again.” Peter shrugged and held his hand up again. They started to arm wrestle and it lasted longer this time as Thor was determined not to be shown up. Peter started to overpower Thor and was just about to win when Thor sent an electric wave through Peters body. Peters body went limp long enough for Thor to pin his hand and win.
As you watched this all unfold, you were sitting on the edge of your seat, jaw dropped and eyed glued to Peters bicep. Sam was the first to noticed your face and chuckled as he got the others attention to look at you. Once Thor won, you looked visibly disappointed that the gun show was over.
“As a surprise to no one, you lost.” Thor chuckled. “But you put up a good fight, my boy.”
“You too. Damn. What’s that smell?” Peter asked as he shook out his throbbing hand.
“Your burning flesh.” Thor said with a smile. “Anyone else want a go?”
“I think Y/n wants a turn.” Sam snickered, and everyone murmured in agreement.
“Oh yeah? You dare to wrestle the arm of a god, lady Y/n?” Thor asked and flexed his arm again.
“No, but she definitely wants to wrestle with Peter.” Sam said, making you finally tear your eyes away from Peters arms.
“Huh?” You and Peter asked at the same time.
“Yeah. I saw that too. She wants to wrestle Peter all right.” Tony added with a devious smile.
“Not an arm wrestle either.” Natasha added.
“Nope.” Sam agreed. “She wants to do the sweaty kind of wrestling.”
“Isn’t all wrestling the sweaty kind of wrestling?” Peter asked, still not sure what everyone was saying.
“Wow Y/n. I hope you’re proud of yourself for thinking such dirty thoughts about such an innocent boy.” Tony pretended to be offended as he wrapped an arm around Peters shoulders.
“What? I wasn’t.” You laughed nervously.
“What are you guys talking about?” Peter asked.
“We’re talking about how Y/n was just staring at your arms the way Bucky stares at spinach and artichoke dip.” Natasha said simply.
“Fucking love spinach and artichoke dip.” Bucky deadpanned.
“I was not staring at Peters arms.” You insisted and everyone rolled their eyes at you.
“Yes you were. The second that flannel came off, you were drooling.” Sam shrugged.
“It’s true. I saw drool.” Steve agree.
“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. I was not drooling.” You scoffed and wiped the remaining drool off your chin.
“Then why is there drool on the floor?” Steve asked and pointed to the floor where you had been sitting. Sure enough, there was a little puddle of drool on the ground.
“That’s pee.” You scoffed, instantly regretting it.
“You peed?” Sam asked with furrowed eyebrows.
“I did pee, yes.” You nodded reluctantly.
“On the floor?”
“Uh, yep. On the floor.” You confirmed and wished you had come up with a better lie.
“Let me get this straight. You’d rather let us believe you peed on the floor than admit you were staring at Peters arms?” Steve asked you.
“I guess so, yeah.” You sighed, disappointed in yourself.
“Well alright then.”
“I’m gotta go.” You said and quickly left the room. Peter stared at you as you went, wondering how much of what they had been saying was true. If you really were into his arms, it might be his way to finally get your relationship to the next level.
You ran into Peter an hour later in the kitchen and wanted to run and hide but he had already spotted you. You gave him an embarrassed smile and went over to him.
“Sorry about before. Sam and Bucky are so annoying sometimes.” You said with a roll of your eyes.
“Trust me, I know. They’re always teasing me about something or another. I’ve learned to tune it out.”
“I’ll have to try that.” You smiled softly at him, glad he wasn’t making things weird. Peter returned the smile and you felt the always tension melt away. It didn’t hurt that his arms were covered up again so you could actually talk to him without making a fool of yourself.
“By the way, you totally would’ve won if Thor didn’t cheat.” You told him.
“I don’t know. I’m strong but he’s a God.”
“Yeah, well, you’re like a mini god. The spider god.” You said with a teasing smile.
“So a god that no one but Wilbur would worship?” Peter humored you.
“Who’s Wilbur?”
“From Charlottes Web. Duh.” Peter scoffed.
“Oh. Right.” You playfully rolled your eyes but felt relieved you could move past the arm incident. Just then, Peter rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the sink, giving you a view of his veins and-
“Forearms.” You whispered to yourself as you started to drool again.
“Did you say something?” Peter asked as he turned the water off.
“Hm? Oh, no. I didn’t say anything.” You quickly lied and wiped your bottom lip.
“Oh. Okay.” Peter chuckled and pushed his sleeves down. Peter noticed the way your eyes stayed glued to his arms and he started to wonder if there was any truth to what the team was saying before. He decided to test his theory and see if you really did like his arms.
“You know what I was just thinking about? You and I never got to arm wrestle.”
“You want to?” You raised your eyebrows.
“Only if you’re up for it.” Peter shrugged.
“Okay.” You said immediately and shoved everything off the kitchen table. Peter chuckled and sat across from you before taking off his flannel.
“You ready?” He asked and held out his hand.
“Uh huh.” You sighed dreamily and slipped your hand into his. You were so focused on his arms that you forgot you were arm wrestling.
“Come on. You didn’t even try.” Peter laughed once he pinned your hand to the table.
“Hubbity bubbity.” You mumbled as you stared at his bicep.
“What was that?”
“Humina humina humina.” You whispered.
“Are you using real words?” Peter chuckled. You snapped out of your trance and quickly stood up.
“I have to go.” You said and ran out of the kitchen. Peter smiled proudly to himself and looked down to flex his muscles. Now that he knew you had a thing for his arms, he decided to have a little fun with it.
A few days later, you were getting ready for one of Tony’s famous parties and decided to wear heels. You walked out of your room to meet up with Peter and found yourself tripping on every crease in the carpet. You knocked on his door and he soon opened up wearing a tight button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You froze when you caught sight of his arms and quickly looked away before you lost focus.
“You look nice. You ready?” You asked him.
“Yep. Let’s go.” Peter put his hand on your back and started to lead you downstairs to the party.
“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna break a leg before we even get there.” You said as you tripped on the carpet once again.
“Here. Take my arm for support.” Peter offered and presented his arm.
“Take…your…arm?” You asked slowly as you stared at his arms.
“Why did you say it like that?” Peter chuckled but knew exactly why.
“No reason. Thanks.” You smiled and slipped a hand around Peters bicep to steady yourself. Even once you were downstairs at the party and didn’t need to hold onto Peter anymore, you didn’t let go of his arm. Peter smiled to himself and patted your hand, hoping you weren’t letting go anytime soon.
A couple days went by without any opportunities for Peter show off his arms in front of you. But when you padded into the kitchen while everyone else was watching a movie, he came up with something.
“Hey kiddo. We were just gonna watch a movie. Care or join us?” Tony asked from the couch.
“Sure.” You smiled and took a seat next to Peter. Peter looked over at you before clearing his throat to get your attention.
“Wanna share my blanket?” Peter offered and opened his blanket up.
“Thanks.” You smiled shyly and scooted closer to him so he could cover you with the blanket. He noticed you sitting up perfectly straight and nudged you a little.
“You can lean on me. I don’t mind.” He whispered to you.
“Are you sure?” You whispered back.
“Yeah. Go ahead.” He shrugged. As soon as you had his permission, you rested your face on his bicep and nuzzled against it.
“Are you comfortable?” He asked with a teasing smile.
“Extremely.” You sighed happily.
Riding off the high of the night before, Peter hit the training room for an early morning workout and sent you a text shortly after to inconspicuously lure you into the room.
“Do you know where Peter is? He texted me and asked for a bottle of water.” You asked Shang Chi as you grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator.
“I saw him in the training room a couple minutes ago.” He told you.
“K. Thanks.” You rolled the water bottle around in your hands and went to go find Peter.
“Hey, Pete. I brought your…” You trailed off and dropped the water bottle when you walked into the training room to see Peter shirtless, sweating, and doing pull-ups.
“Oh hey. Come on in.” He smiled at you without stopping his pull-ups.
“Heyyyyyyy Pete.” You smiled weakly and leaned against the door frame.
“-er. Peter.” You finished his name. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Just working out. It’s arms day.” He told you as he continued to pull himself up and down. Your eyes followed him as he pulled himself up and lowered himself back back.
“Is it?” You squeaked out.
“Yeah. I’m trying to grow my arms to look more like Thors.”
“Uh huh. That’s nice.” You nodded too many times without ever taking your eyes off his arms. Peter let go of the pull up bar and dropped to the floor so he could walk closer to you.
“I’ve been trying to gain muscle for a while now but I don’t think it’s working. Does it look like it’s working?” Peter asked as he flexed his arms for you to see. Your body stiffened and you felt your mouth starting to salivate.
“Oh this is definitely working.” You said in a low voice.
“What?” Peter played dumb.
“What?” You said and finally tore your eyes away from his arms long enough to look into his eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Peter asked innocently as he folded his arms, drawing more attention to them.
“Everything’s great. I gotta go. Thanks for the water.” You said and turned to leave.
“You’re the one who brought me water. And what’s the rush? I haven’t seen you all day. Come here.” Peter laughed as he caught your arm.
“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t want to hug me. I’m riddled with…riddles.” You struggled to come up with a lie and took a step away from him.
“Come on. Bring it in.” Peter said and opened his arms to you.
“If you insist.” You immediately folded and rushed into his arms. As soon as you felt his arms wrap around you, your knees felt weak and your heart beat out of your chest.
“Never let me go.” You sighed against his chest.
“What was that?”
“I said how did training go?” You quickly lied and pulled out of the hug.
“Pretty good. Soon enough, I’ll be able to beat Thor at our next arm wrestling match. But I’m definitely gaining strength. Watch this.” Peter smirked before picking up the water bottle before putting it between his bicep and squeezing it until the cap popped off. You jumped when the cap flew off and let out a little whimper.
“Cool huh?” Peter asked you.
“God I wish that was me.” You whispered.
“Did you say something?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Oh, okay. I think my biceps are definitely getting bigger. What do you think?” He asked and turned slightly so you could feel his bicep. Your eyes flickered between his arm and his face several times to see if he was serious.
“You want me to touch it?”
“Yeah. Just to see if it’s gotten bigger or firmer.”
“Okay. Let me see.” You smiled weakly and put a hand on his bicep. You felt like the biggest cliche in the entire world but you didn’t care. You knew if you left your hand there for any longer you’d never be able to take it off.
“Feels good.” You said lowly. “Feels big and…firm.”
“Really?” Peter asked hopefully.
“Like a perfectly pumped up bicycle tire.” You whispered as shivered went down your spine.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” You said and quickly withdrew your hand.
“Oh, weird. I thought I heard something. Anyway, I’m hoping to get them even bigger.” Peter said and flexed his arm again.
“Uh huh. Good plan. Gotta go. Bye!” You said and quickly ran out of the room.
“Oh. Okay. Bye!” Peter called after you.
You made it outside the training room but didn’t walk away. Instead. You took out your phone, pressured record, and slowly leaned into the doorway to film Peters workout.
“This is normal behavior.” You whispered to yourself as you watched him do push-ups through the recording.
“You’ve entered your Joe Goldberg era I see.” Shang Chi said from behind you, making you jump.
“Ah! What? I don’t even know who that is.” You said and quickly hide your phone.
“You haven’t seen You?”
“I looked in the mirror like ten minutes ago. Why? Do I have lipstick in my teeth?” You asked and rubbed your teeth.
“Not you you. The show You. It’s about a dude who stalks women and then kills them. But he’s also very likable and charming and I often root for him even though if he was real he’d probably hit me over the head with a rock and burry me behind a Starbucks.” Shang Chi explained.
“Huh?”
“Do I have to worry about you killing Peter?” He asked you with genuine concern.
“No. I’m just a normal teenage girl with a normal teenage crush.” You said simply.
“Aren’t you in your 20s?” He frowned.
“I have to go.” You said quickly and ran to your bedroom. You shut your door and sighed before pulling out your phone. You watched the video you had taken of Peter and grimaced.
“This was not very cool and mysterious romantic interest of me.” You sighed and deleted the video.
“Y/n? Can I come in?” Peter asked as he knocked on your door. You panicked as he started to open the door and stayed behind it instead of moving out of the way.
“Are you in here?” Peter called out, making you slid out from behind the door.
“Hey.” You said with an awkward smile.
“Hey. What were you doing back there?” Peter chuckled and shut your bedroom door. He had a shirt on this time, but it was a skin tight grey tank top that left little to the imagination.
“It’s a girl thing.” You said with a wave of your hand.
“Oh, okay.” He smiled. “Do you think we could talk about something?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“I feel like things have been a little….weird between us lately. Maybe not weird, but different? Have you felt that too?”
“Yeah. I know what you’re talking about. And I know what it is. It’s my fault.” You sighed and sat on your bed.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked and took a seat beside you. You picked at your nail polish to avoid making eye contact but were extremely aware of his arms brushing against yours.
“Ever since the arm wrestling match, I have made a personal self discover.” You said without looking at him.
“Which is?”
“That I wanna chew on your arms.”
“Come again?” Peter asked and leaned his ear towards you.
“Ugh. I’m such a freak.” You groaned and covered your face with your hands. “I have no right to objectify you like this. I just didn’t realize you were packing so much ammunition in your guns.”
“So this has been about my arms the whole time?” Peter played dumb.
“Yeah. I can’t stop staring at them no matter how hard I try. They’re like the most perfect pair of avocados. I just want to slice them open and eat the insides with a spoon.”
“You had me and then you lost me.”
“I’m sorry. I’m such a weirdo. I shouldn’t have been looking at you like that.” You said with a guilty frown. Peter felt bad for toying with you all this time and let out a sigh.
“It’s not your fault. I kinda figured you had a thing for my arms so I’ve been purposefully showing them off.” He admitted.
“You have? Why?”
“To get you to notice me.” He said without looking into your eyes.
“I always notice you.” You chuckled like it was obvious.
“You do?” He asked as a blushed spread across his face. You looked at Peter for a second before getting an idea.
“Do you want a rematch of our arm wrestle?” You asked and placed a pillow on your lap so you could balance your elbow on it.
“Now? I guess so.” Peter frowned in confusion but took your hand with his opposite one.
“You ready?”
“Ready.” Peter nodded. You started to press against each other hands and once Peter was fully distracted, you leaned across your hands and kissed him. Peters arm went limp as he kissed you back and brought his free hand to cup your face. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his as you both laughed shyly.
“Hey. I won.” You realized once you saw your hand was on top of Peters pinned hand.
“Nah.” He smiled. “I did.”
Tag List 🏷️
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sleepsentry · 2 months
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Fanart for chapter 1 of blooming onion by mangofreeze on ao3
I wasn't expecting to feel so emotional over the little dudes from pikmin, but here we are. ^^
Somehow, the more "mature" aspects of the fic didn't feel out of place, something about how it was written felt very "natural"?
It didn't draw attention to itself in the way other media often does when it comes to "adult" topics, which ironically makes them feel less mature. Idk it was refreshing. B^]
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bangaveragewhitewine · 5 months
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blood red bloom
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Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, established relationship) 
Halloween, 1992
“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to come up with a prank that will actually scare me, sweet thing.”
Eddie’s voice echoes in your head as you stare at the red inky star in your little leatherette diary.
A late period wasn’t quite what you had in mind, but here you are, sitting on your bedroom floor and staring at the mocking inky red star in your diary.
This Halloween was turning out to be pretty damn scary.
Word Count: 6.7k
Content / Warnings: Pregnancy scare - this is angst-heavy with some brief mentions of Eddie and reader's anxieties of being parents. Discussion of the future. Miscommunication. A fight that's not a fight but they kiss and make up anyway. Brief sex mentions. A reminder that this, and all my fics, are 18+!!!
Please feel free to skip this segment if it’s not your thing!!
Author's note: We couldn't let Halloween pass without an instalment of Happy Hours, could we? This was a toughy, it's been a rough and hectic few weeks, but I hope you enjoy reading the latest snippet! Proof-read by @specialagentmonkey, finished off in the taxis to / from the airports in Dublin and Boston!
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Since the first day with a chill in the air, the first fallen crunchy-crisp leaf, your boyfriend had been in Halloween mode. It was your second Halloween together, your first living together after you accepted Eddie’s cute proposal with his spare key in June. Even though he was messy and left the toilet seat up, you loved living with Eddie. 
You loved waking up with him every morning and falling asleep together every night. You loved going grocery shopping together, and you adored how he would sit in the bathroom to talk to you or read his book while you lounged in the bath or did your makeup.
Autumn and Halloween meant horror movies, decorating the apartment and planning your costumes together. Eddie was stupidly talented with carving pumpkins, and you roasted the flesh with thyme and sage and onions for a huge pot of soup that warmed your bellies for days. 
During your first year together, he had noticed how you scared easily - jumped a little or clutched your chest when he accidentally jumpscared you or purposefully snuck up to grab the squish of your hips with a monster-like growl. It always made him laugh, and his apology was always a kiss that quite often turned into something more.
You quickly learned that you could never get him back. 
Yeah, Eddie was jumpy but he possessed a sixth sense for whenever you were trying to scare him. 
When he had challenged you to scare him - to really scare him - you’re not sure that realising that your period was later-than-late was quite what he had in mind. 
A rare Friday night off, October 30th, had started with another failed attempt to spook him. He was almost condescendingly kind when he said ‘ooh, that was a good one!’ after you popped up from that cramped back seat of his Dodge. 
Once you clambered out of the car so Eddie could make it to work on time, he pulled you in for a kiss and cupped your face with such tenderness.
“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to come up with a prank that will actually scare me, sweet thing.” 
He kissed your pouty scowl away with his wicked smile and left you to enjoy your night off. 
His challenge to scare him echoed in your head as you stared at the last inky red star scribbled in your diary. The hardwood floor felt chilly beneath you as you knelt on the ground surrounded by lipstick and pens and detritus from your bag spilled around you.
Thirty-six. 
Your period was thirty-six days days late.
The little leatherette diary fell from your shaky hands. If you hadn’t already been on the ground, you are sure your knees would have buckled. 
Slumped against the side of the bed, you rested your racing head against the navy duvet - the blood-red blooming rose print seemed mocking as you tried to remember if you had definitely written your dates down correctly. Your periods were pretty regular, never more than two or three days out of sync if even that many. 
You hadn’t even thought about your period, or its lateness, until you spied the full box of Kotex next to Eddie’s shaving kit beneath the sink. As the bath filled with lavender bubbles and swirling steamy water, you had pondered on how you liked seeing your things side by side now that you lived together; your dresses hanging next to his nice shirts and jackets, toothbrushes sitting in the same holder, your perfumes and potions lined up and organised next to his new shampoo and conditioner replacing the horror that was 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner and body wash.
As you gave a pot of fresh-green facemask the sniff test, the box of period products had caught your eye. 
Eddie had picked them up for you during a particularly bad set of cramps, cramps so bad you had called out of work. He had arrived home with salty Lays and sweet creamy chocolate and the biggest pack of painkillers they would let him buy, and you had cried because it was so kind and thoughtful of him. But that had been well over a month ago… 
As the filling bath turned to white noise in your ears, you had flustered to the bedroom to check your diary. 
The thirty-six (almost thirty-seven) day lag made you feel like you were going to turn inside out. And not because you were cramping up this time. 
The bath was cold by the time you arrived back from a late expedition to the CVS five blocks away, armed with a share-bag of Reeses Peanutbutter Cups and a pink box that promised ‘quick and easy results!’ 
A year in and neither of you could keep your hands to yourselves. Moving in together had meant that you and Eddie had endless pockets of time together, and rooms and surfaces to officially christen as a cohabiting couple. Eddie’s car had seen some action when you took a road trip back to Hawkins to visit his Uncle a few weeks ago - the driver's seat, that cramped back seat, the bonnet… 
When Eddie arrived home from work just after 3 a.m., you still had not touched the test or had a wink of sleep. He crept in like your favourite cryptid and dropped a kiss on your head, trying with all his might not to wake you as you feigned sleep. He settled behind you and fell into a sprawling-limbed rest while you lay awake.
In those dark hours, lit only by the red glow of the clock, you imagined every scenario.
The thought of a little one with dark curly hair and big brown eyes makes your heart ache in a good way, especially when you think of this imaginary little person in Eddie’s arms. That ache twisted like a knife when you imagine him not wanting anything to do with that made-up little person, half him and half you. 
You were never set firmly for or against being a mother - of course you got broody sometimes when you saw a cute kid in the grocery store, but equally you had been more than happy to hand back your cousin’s screaming baby when his diaper leaked on you when you visited home back in the spring. 
And Eddie? Did he even want to be a Dad? 
He had a lot of tangled-up feelings there, held them in his chest like a pulled-tight tangle. That’s how he explained it when his own Dad had come up in conversation. He carried that sadness and hurt with him for almost two decades. 
Would he want you to get rid of it, or would he even want you if it was really happening? You tried to be rational, think about how he had promised to love you when you had silver hair and dentures one night when you were both high as kites. Maybe it might be okay, you could make it work… 
Sleep came and went, pockets of light dozing interrupted by your heart thrashing in your chest just when you managed to snatch some peace. 
As Eddie snored softly, peacefully asleep, you glared at the red-glowing clock, its analogue numbers mocking you until 5:55 blurred behind your eyes. Caged in by the weight of Eddie’s arm, with his hand on your tummy beneath your (his) sleep-shirt, you managed to drift again.
The pitiful pockets of snatched sleep make you feel irritable and wrung out the following day. With a steaming mug of strong coffee, you watched the sun peak through the broad silver-grey sky while Eddie slept on, snoring and unaware. 
You still couldn’t summon the courage to sneak the test from your bag and pee on the damn stick. In true Halloween style, it mocked you like Poe’s Tell Tale Heart all damn day from its stowing place in a bag under the bed. 
Eddie was unbearably sweet with you from the moment he woke to find you re-reading the same page of your book for at least the eighth try. 
It didn’t take long for him to figure out that you weren’t in good form - despite your joint excitement for Halloween - so he tried and tried to cheer you up; a late breakfast sneaking smiley kisses over egg and cheese and home fries. With a wide smile, he shared his ideas for a new drawing for a new batch of Corroded Coffin T-shirts for their gig before Thanksgiving with hot sauce staining his mouth until you wiped it away.
You kept getting distracted when he showed them to you and felt awful when you saw the flicker of hurt on his sweet handsome face. You rallied yourself and helped him pick two to show to the guys when they met to rehearse. 
You finally snatched some sleep, cuddled up on the sofa before you had to get ready for work. Eddie hated having to wake you; he was as gentle as he could be, rousing you with light kisses to your troubled brow and warm cheeks. 
“Hey, princess. Time to transform,” he whispered, his fingers itching with excitement to don the black velvet and silver chains draped on hangers in your room. 
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Hours later, you and Eddie walked into Jackie’s carrying a tense air between your joined hands. 
You were still the sexiest vampire couple Chicago had ever seen; Eddie in a halfway unbuttoned black shirt and slacks topped with a velvet blazer you had thrifted, silver chains shining on his chest and fake blood smeared like your lipstick on the side of his mouth. Your black velvet dress showed off your curves and made Eddie’s eyes pop out of his skull like a cartoon when he first saw you in it. The bloody puncture marks on your neck dripped onto your chest and cleavage, the perfect blend of gore and sex appeal. 
You felt shitty, had snapped at Eddie more times than you could remember while you tried and failed to make your makeup look not terrible. 
“You look hot as fuck, baby. Have I told you that?” Eddie squeezed your shoulders as he looked at your reflection in the small vanity he had bought for you when you moved in. He was sweet like that. 
“Mhm. Only ten or eleven times.” Tight smile, you met his warm gaze in the mirror. “Not as hot as you, Ed,” you say, pushing off the attention he doled out so genuinely and easily. 
The subtle dark shadows below his cheeks and smudged smoky beneath his eyes suit him, gothic and mysterious. You had spent more time on it than you had planned because he couldn’t stop talking and you had (quite seriously) threatened to stab him with your brushes on more than one occasion. Now you were pressed for time with your own makeup. Clock ticking, you were at least thankful that the shadows beneath your eyes didn’t need much more darkening up. 
“Nah, fuck off. You’re beyond belief. I can’t wait until after work already.” That glow in Eddie’s eyes that usually sparked hot want in your belly made you feel like prey. Sure, you were dressed as his recently-changed victim but you didn’t feel much like play-acting now, or sex for that matter. 
He kissed your head and breathed in your perfume - he loved how you changed it out for the seasons - and the Fall’s scent was rich and warm and sexy. 
“Feelin’ okay?” Eddie had asked when you went silent and spaced out again for a few moments, shoulders tensed. He missed your usually returned flirtation when you give as good as you get and then some. 
“For the hundredth time, Ed. I’m fine. Please just let me finish this, okay? Please. We’re gonna be late.” 
Since then it had been pretty much radio silence.  
Eddie stewed, not rising to your bad mood because he might say the wrong thing and make things worse. In the car, he had bit his tongue and held back the suggestion of a weekend away, the idea to book some time off around Thanksgiving and just go somewhere together, alone. He wasn’t sure he could take another unexplained sad sigh or an away-with-the-fairies gaze when you hadn’t even heard what he had said. 
So he said nothing and scared himself with his own spiralling ‘what if’.  
Instead of eking out the last few minutes before work with Eddie, sharing a cig and trading kisses like you usually do, you leave him to enjoy his cigarette without your dark cloud mood. 
“Hey. You’re forgetting something.” Eddie raises a brow at you. 
“Oh, thanks.” You hold your hand out for your bag he had carried from the car. 
You lean up and peck his cheek, swiping at the mark your dark lipstick left behind. 
It wasn’t the proper kiss he had been angling for, but it was better than nothing. 
“See you later?” he tries. 
“Yeah, if I can get away from the bar. It’s going to be mental busy…” Resisting the urge to rub your eyes and ruin your makeup, you offer a small smile. “Be good. Love you.” 
“Yeah, love you too.” 
Eddie watches you go, his heart hurting in a way it hasn’t since he finally mustered the courage to kiss you in that same dingy back alley. Yeah, you two had your little arguments over the last year, didn’t always agree and got in funny moods with each other, but this felt different. He didn’t like it one bit. 
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The bar is the fullest you have ever seen it, everyone decked out in their Halloween-best. Your arms ache from shaking cocktails, but the special menu you had curated is going down a treat. The pain is worth the tips and the compliments, the recommendations passed between high-top tables and clusters of costumed customers. 
The music is loud, the atmosphere sparky and fun, and yet it isn’t enough of a distraction, or enough to buoy you up when you’re feeling so low. Not the compliments on your costume, or the questions about whether you and the hottie bouncer were matching on purpose. You forced your smiles and laughs, genuine love for your vampire lord on the door made it easy to answer those probing questions. You tried to get out of your head and lose yourself in the best night of the year, but every time you would remember the last inky red star in your diary, the full box beneath the sink, the test you were scared to take. 
You weren’t necessarily avoiding Eddie, you had filled waters for him and Jeff and the new guy Trevor, but had barely had time to look for him in the crowd, never mind checking in on him. Your mood had transferred over to him, and your guy twisted tighter with extra added guilt. 
It was well after midnight before you took your break; the bar had been rammed with orders and while you could have slipped away, you threw yourself into work instead. 
The need to stretch out your legs and hips and crack your back for good measure became undeniable and you slip away with a glass of ice-and-lime heavy soda water for a breath of cold air. 
You’re mid-sip when Eddie pulls you into the small staff bathroom, spilling your water down your arm and onto the busted tiles. You yelp as the door clicks, pure fear until you realise it’s him
“What the- Eddie!”
Eddie’s gaze bores down on you, looking like a very pissed-off sexy vampire. 
“You fucker! Scared the shit outta me, Ed.” You shake chilled water from your arm as you glare at him. He was lucky not to have glass in that pretty, pissed-off face of his. 
“What the fuck is up your ass today?” he asks, arms folded. 
Your skin prickles all over, hairs stand on end. 
“You’re in a foul fuckin’ mood. What’s up? Did I do something?” Less accusatory now, he just looks hurt.
“Eddie, it’s fine.” You will your voice to stay steady as your stomach drops.  
“It’s not. You’ve barely spoke to me, every little thing I do has annoyed you.” “It’s not you…” 
That sounds way worse and you see him visibly wince. 
“Ed, it’s not your fault, baby. I’m sorry.”
He sighs, shoulders deflated. “Then talk to me. Please.”
“Ed…”
“Am I not making you happy? Is that it?”
“No! Jesus, Ed. Never! You make me so happy..”
“Then what?! Please just talk to me.” His voice breaks. 
“I… fuck.” You sigh, breathe deep. Your eyes strong as you speak, say it out loud, “My period is late.”
His brow creases, confused, before folding high under his bangs. Eddie’s eyes are wide, frantic. “Oh.” 
Silence settles, no more voices echoing on the tiles. 
“Yeah. Oh.” 
“Fuck… Are you..? Are we..?”
There’s a sweetness in how he asks, a scared look in his eyes that you recognise from the mirror. It makes your tummy twist and your heart ache. Why had you been so scared?
“I don’t know.” Your voice is cracked and broken. “I don’t know.”
His arms open out to you. You don’t need a second invitation. You practically fall into his arms, gripping him as tight as you can. 
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispers. Eddie’s heart hammers hard in his chest. “We’ll figure it out.” 
As he holds you close, his eyes cast upward to the grotty ceiling. He has no idea what he’s doing, but right now you need a hug so that’s what he will do. 
“I’m sorry.”
His big-ringed hands hold your face, looking into your tired eyes. “Why sorry? Pretty sure it takes two… if you’re. Y’know.”
You sniffle, nod. “I know. I don’t know if I am..” 
“You need to piss on a stick or somethin’, right?” 
You can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, despite the tears in your eyes. “Yeah. I do.” 
“Okay. Okay, you can do that. I’ll even hold the stick if you want me to.” He’s dead serious too, not just trying to make you smile. Though it is a bonus, and he melts into a little grin to match. “There’s my princess.” 
You cuddle back into him again, “Sorry I was a bitch all day.” 
“You know I don’t like that, baby.” He frowns and cups the back of your head, stroking gently with his thumb. “Knew there was something wrong though. Wish you could’ve just told me.”
“I…” Your voice gets caught in your throat, words lodged and stuck like they choke you. “I was scared.” 
Though your voice is muffled against Eddie’s jacket, he hears you and squeezes you tighter. His eyes squeeze shut too. 
“You don’t need to be scared on your own. I can take it, I’m a big boy,” he promises, repeating it so you know it’s true and real. “We’ll figure it all out.” 
His sweetness makes tears flood down your face, that dam holding back every conflicting emotion finally broken. And Eddie holds you. He simply holds you tight and safe and doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know either. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to kiss this better, doesn’t know what he wants or what you want either. All he knows is that you need him like he needs you. 
“Fuck, my makeup,” you sniffle, face creasing more when you realise you’re still mid-shift. 
“You’re gorgeous,” he promises, kissing your forehead. “Okay so, we’ll work our butts off for another few hours and then we can go home and swing by CVS?” 
“I already bought one. It’s at home.” You look down at your toe-to-toe boots before looking into Eddie’s eyes. “Bought one last night when I realised. Too chicken to take it.”
He nods, pinches your chin with sweet affection. “Okay. Well, drink your water so you can piss on that stick, yeah?” 
He’s smirking when you hide your face in his neck again, groaning in something like embarrassment. “I’d do it for you if I could. But I can’t, so drink up.”
Eddie lifts your glass from the sink ledge and tilts it to your lips. Despite the warmth of his arms and the stuffy little bathroom, the water makes you shiver as it cools you from inside out. 
Hand in hand, Eddie walks you to fix your makeup at your locker as he distracts you with a few of his little anecdotes from working the door. He catches your eye in the mirror in your locker as he tells you about a table of drinkers he heard raving about your cocktail menu. 
“Can you make me one later?” he asks, coming to rest his chin on your shoulder.
“Course,” you murmur, patting deep Merlot-red lipstick on your pouty mouth. 
“Can I get some of that?” He raises a brow in the mirror, and smiles, his teeth glinting, when you tilt your head back to press a peck against his mouth. 
A few kisses and the squeeze of his hands on your hips centres you again, helps the tension loosen in your shoulders. 
“We need more fake blood.”
“We definitely do. Want me to bite you a little more, my pet?” His voice is wickedly low against your lip; it makes you shiver. 
Sexy vampire couple had been an easy pick for you both. Eddie had got really into it when you arrived home with the press on fangs - a hookup from your friend who worked in theatre production and went costume shopping with you.
“You’ll get carried away again, Drac. I’ve gotta go back out in a sec.”
He squeezes your hips and behaves himself as you dab fake blood against the corner of his mouth, letting it drip down his chin, before adding more to your neck and chest. 
“Hot.”
“We are.” 
He hugs you from behind again, one hand on your tummy, so he doesn’t mess up the blood. “S’gonna be okay, I promise. We’ll figure shit out. I’m behind you no matter what. Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’d be fucking lost without you, Eddie.”
“Right back at you, sweet stuff.” 
A well-aimed kiss saves any blood transferring onto your face before Eddie walks you back to the bar. “If you need a sec, just take it. Don’t worry, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Love you.”
“Love you more.” 
He smiles and steals a final kiss before patting your velvet-clad behind as you step right back into taking orders. 
You don’t see the moment he takes, ducking into the back again to process what was going on. You pour cold beers as he sinks against the wall, breathing deeply so he doesn’t spiral into panic.
He doesn't know how to be a Dad, didn’t have a map or footprints to follow. Wayne was a great substitute, but Eddie was nine years old and grown beyond his years by the time he stepped up to try and fill the gaps made by his no-good brother. 
Ringed fingers push and scrape against his scalp, tugging hard enough to bring him back to earth. The pain anchors him, reminds him to breathe again. 
He doesn’t know what to do, how to feel, how to be what you need. But he does know one thing. 
Running away isn’t an option, not when he has you. 
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It’s almost 4 a.m. before you can leave with Eddie. It’s almost 4 a.m. and he keeps you tucked safe and warm beneath his arm as you walk toward his car. You can see your breath bleed into vapour in the now-November air. 
You feel like you have been run over by a semi-truck as you fold yourself into your seat. Everything hurts and yet you’re somehow wired and wide awake, even on the pitiful amount of sleep you managed last night. 
Tired eyes stare into the streetlight above the car until you see spots. Brought back into orbit by the squeeze of Eddie’s hand over your fishnets, you share a tight smile with him. 
“Okay?”
“Ish. Tired. Need to pee.”
You had been holding it in. No more excuses, or avoiding the inevitable. 
You help Eddie click off the little fangs on his already pointy canines and do the same with your own, tucking them into their boxes and into your bag. Shiny gold plastic medals sit on your chests, your prizes for the best costumes among the Jackie’s crew. 
He turns the key, squeezes again before hooking his arm works the headrest to reverse out of his spot. 
You’re both carrying the weight of the unknown. It doesn’t feel any lighter. Not when you have caught Eddie chewing his black-polished nails and the skin around them, seen him zoning out and pretending he was fine. 
Until you know more, have an answer, you can be not okay together, hand in hand in the darkness. 
Once you’re on the road, he squeezes your hand and keeps a hold of it as music from the radio fills the silence. 
“You hungry?” Your voice is the first to breach the fragile peace. 
“Kinda. You want fries?” 
“Not really but if you do, it’s my turn.”
He smiles, slight and soft, and squeezes your hand. “There’s some spaghetti left. I’ll heat that up.” 
You squeeze back, it’s enough to say ‘okay’ as he sails through green lights and empty streets toward your cosy little apartment. 
The walk from the car to the lift to your door, apartment number 8 with its handcrafted Halloween wreath, feels like wading through syrup. 
Eddie doesn’t let go of your hand from the moment he helps you out of the car; not when you press the button for the lift, or when he fights with the sticky lock that you have been meaning to call maintenance about. It locks easier from the inside, the bolt slides in easily to double-lock it safely. 
Eddie takes your jacket to hang side by side with his own, matching leathers that make you smile through the pressure at the back of your eyes. 
“I wanna clean my face and then do it,” you murmur, fiddling with the strap of your bag. 
“Okay. We can do that. Clean faces and pyjamas.” Eddie nods, a held-in breath puffing his chest up with false confidence. 
He eats cold spaghetti from a Tupperware container by the fridge as you strip out of your clothes and change into fuzzy leopard bottoms and a holey She-Ra t-shirt once the fake blood is swiped from your chest. 
The pink and white box from under the bed comes with you to the bathroom. 
Eddie joins you at the mirror with oily rich red spaghetti sauce slicing through the fake blood around his mouth. You clean your face as he strips down to boxers and pulls on his soft sleep hoodie that definitely has a concoction of questionable stains; toothpaste and your sleep-drool for sure. 
Red and black stained makeup wipes and cotton pads fill the bathroom bin and Eddie lets you comb and scrunchie his hair as you ignore the pressing need to pee for a few more moments of normality. He closes his eyes as you rub cleanser into his face as you had your own, gentle touches and swipes of wet-warm cotton until he’s shiny-clean and human-looking again. 
With a layer of moisturiser on, there are no more distractions. The boxed test can no longer be ignored. 
“Will I go?”
“You can come back in after I pee. We have to wait like..” you check the box for an answer, “Ten minutes.” 
Eddie nods, leaning down to kiss you once. “You don’t need me to hold the stick or anything?” 
“I have to pee in a little cup-thing and drop it onto the stick. Chemistry shit,” you shrug, cheeks warm. 
“Oh yeah, rules me out then.” He drops one more kiss to your lips before awkwardly taking his leave. 
You feel less alone when you know he’s lingering close by. 
Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s picked up stress-tidying from you until the bathroom door creaks open and you find him crouched amongst a clutter of unorganised tapes. 
“Can you time ten minutes on your watch? Or the egg timer?” you ask, hanging against the doorframe.  
The tapes are shoved back into a nonsensical stack - not organised by artist or chronology as he had planned to do - and Eddie scurries to grab his old Casio watch before joining you in the bathroom again. 
He slightly panics when he sees you sitting on the floor, but crouches to join you with cracking ankles. 
“Old man ankles,” you tease, leaning your head on his shoulder. 
“Mmhm, getting more like Wayne every day,” he murmurs back, dropping his hand in your lap for you to hold. 
Cradled between your palms, you lift it to kiss the side of his thumb. 
“Wayne is great. Just keep your hair. Please.” “Deal.”
Silence settles across the room and you watched the way Eddie’s socked feet bounce nervously. 
“Eddie?”  “Yeah?”  “What are we going to do?” 
He turns his head and presses a kiss to your hair, bumping the side of his face against your wobbly scrunchied bun. 
His voice is quiet. “We don’t know yet.”
“I know that. But it… I’ve been going crazy thinking, Ed. I know you have too.” You squeeze his hand. “Would you want me to get rid of it?” 
That idea plucks something painful in his chest. The knot of tangled emotions feels heavier than ever. 
“No. Only if that’s what you really wanted. I’m not gonna make you do anything, especially not anything you don’t want to do.” His murmured words are warm on your head and your heart. 
“I feel like I’m being pulled apart. Like… I’m just so confused about what to do, Eddie..” His arms wrap around you, hugging you close. 
“That’s okay. That’s okay,” he promises. 
After a few beats of silence, you feel like you can breathe deep enough to say the words that have been rattling around your head. “I… I do want kids. Some day. With you.”
He nods, agreeing before going quiet again. He thinks, tries to choose his words carefully. 
“If that day is like.. nine months away, is that okay with you?” he asks. 
“That’s the scary bit.”  “Yeah.” 
“I don’t know if I’m ready to be a Mom yet. What if I do it wrong?”
Eddie gives you a sad smile. “That’s how I feel too.”
Your foreheads rest together, eyes closed. 
“What if I’m never ready? What if I always feel like this?” you continue, leaning your cheek against Eddie’s steady palm. “I’m so happy with you, Eddie. What if this changes us, fucks us up?”
Dry lips press against your forehead, his thumbs swipe your cheek soothingly as you admit the fears that he has been holding too.
You hug him again, squeeze Eddie hard. 
“My mom and dad had me by our age.” Eddie’s voice is a whisper against your cheek. “And… it went so wrong, that I’m scared I can’t do it right.” 
You squeeze him tight, brushing loose hairs back from his face as his truth spills, unwound from that knot in his chest.
“I just wanna… I want to do it right. For us. For a baby. I want them to feel so fucking loved and happy. I’m so fucking scared, but… I know what to not do. I don’t want to be like him.”
Your heart breaks for that hurt little boy. You had seen him in photo albums and yearbooks, seen him with your own eyes when Eddie had bad days. He’s with you now, looking lost under the shitty bathroom light.
“You won’t be like him. You’re not him, Ed.”
“What if I am? And I just don’t know it?” There’s a frantic smashed-broken edge to his voice.
You crawl onto his lap, a knee on either side of his thighs so you can hold him properly, see his face. Swiping the beaded tears on his black lower lashes, you return that kiss to his forehead. 
“You are not your Dad. You just said it, you know what not to do yeah? That’s so important, baby.” You stroke his cheeks with your thumbs. 
He nods, wiping his face with his sleeve. His fingers drop to press against his chest like he is massaging the knot to free up his words. “I don’t want to let you down either.”
“You never have, Ed. Never ever.” 
His head rests back against the bath as you hold each other. Both scared, but it feels less utterly impossible and all-consuming. 
“I think… maybe, it’s good that we’re kinda scared. Because it means we care.” Eddie looks up at you, smooths his hand up your side. 
“And babies are kinda scary.” “Oh yeah. Absolutely terrifying.” “Cute though.” “Oh, for sure. That one in the park last week, with the bobble hat..?” “Cute as fuck.”
You share a smiling little kiss before he brings you back for another long holding hug. 
It’s easy to get lost in your head, trying to add up your very minimal savings with the cost of a baby, a bigger apartment.
You had both agreed that while you liked your jobs, you didn’t want to be there forever. Eddie wanted to get some more experience with music technology, maybe take a few courses and start teaching guitar lessons again to make extra cash on the side. 
It’s early morning now; your routine is all over the place with your late shifts and sleepy afternoons.
After a few moments of silence, Eddie speaks again, bringing you both back from the meandering paths in your minds. 
“I’m gonna marry you, y’know.”
You smile, knowing that you both wanted that happy ending. “Yeah? You gonna make me Mrs Munson?”
“Yeah, for sure. Knew that since the day I met you, baby.” He rolls his eyes, playful and pink-cheeked to distract from how raw he still feels. 
The swell in your chest makes you sob-laugh. 
“You gonna say yes?” he asks, just in case. “When I ask, I mean. This isn’t me asking, by the way. That’ll be way more romantic.”
“Okay.” You roll your eyes at him. “When you ask me, yeah. I’ll say yes.” 
“Okay. Cool.” “Cool.” 
Another smiling kiss, noses bumping each other’s cheek as you imagine your future together.
You have this feeling in your gut that this man holding you, letting you hold him, will be a great Dad someday. Eddie thinks you will be a great Mom; with you by his side, he feels like he can do anything.
“Ed?” you murmur against his lip. “They have to look like you or I’m gonna be pissed. Whenever that is.”
“Nah, get outta here. Poor kid.” He pokes gently at your ribs with wiggling fingers, stops you from squirming away with another hug. 
“Been thinking about a little baby with curly hair and brown eyes,” you admit quietly, mumbling against his neck.
“You been spending too much time in those photo albums with Wayne.” 
“It was one afternoon. Your Mom had hundreds of photos of you, Ed. It’s sweet that he kept them, and started his own albums.” 
Your fingers fiddle with the drawstrings on his hoodie as Eddie loses himself down that same path of practicality, lit by glowing reminders that he has to grow up someday soon. 
“I’m gonna get those fliers for guitar lessons printed next week. Get some cash together. I have some amps I could sell…” 
“Ed, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know but.. we can’t have loose wires and heavy shit around with a baby, baby.” 
He smiles at the word-play and your heart swells with how much you adore him. 
When your lips meet again, the tinny ring of the timer beeps on Eddie’s watch, eating up the distracted peace you had both found. 
“Want me to check?” he asks, seeing the shining fear reflected back at him when he looks into your eyes. 
“Yes please.” 
You slip off his lap and stand, holding out your hands to help Eddie up before you perch on the side of the bath. 
“One line is negative, two is positive,” you say, the pink example lines from the back of the box etched into your mind's eye. 
“Okay.”
Eddie takes a deep breath. Pauses to cup your face and kiss you before going any further. 
“I love you.” His eyes are sparkling, the set of his mouth more serious.
“Love you.” 
“This doesn’t change that, okay? S’a fact.”
You nod and steal one more kiss before letting him go to the counter. 
Eddie picks up the stick, checks under the light. You watch his face, see the shadow of conflicted confusion. You know then that it’s negative. 
“One line,” he whispers, looking up at you. 
You nod, coming over to stand with him. You see the one line, solitary and stark. 
“Okay,” you whisper, tucking yourself under Eddie’s arm. 
You can’t decide if it’s relief or loss you feel; either way, it pushes you over the edge of the precipice you have been teetering on all day and you sob. 
Eddie’s hands smooth over your back in soothing strokes, up and down, as your tears soak into his hoodie. He’s not sure what to say, not quite sure how he feels. Burning pressure pushes at his eyes as he lets his cheek rest against your head. 
“I don’t know how I feel,” you manage in a small voice after a few moments. 
Eddie swipes your tears, the dripping snot too, and thinks you look beautiful. One day, he knows you will shed happy tears caused by two pink lines and he will kiss their salty joy away with a smile. 
“We don’t need to have an answer. I think we got carried away thinkin’ huh?” 
You feel bone tired, wrung out. “Yeah.”
“Let’s sleep on it.”
There’s a lingering question about your late period that you can’t fathom yet, maybe the test was a dud? Maybe your iron is low, your hormones are off. But at almost five a.m. on that chilly Sunday morning, it can wait until Monday. 
You had felt every single emotion since the evening before when you realised and now that you have an answer to the question that had terrified you, thrilled you too in some small way, you felt like a popped balloon. 
“I’m really tired.” Your voice sounds pathetic in your ears and it makes you grimace, feeling mad at yourself for getting so worked up.
“I know, baby. Let’s go to bed, okay? I’ve got you.” Eddie whispers his promise against your temple and bends his knees to lift you up. 
“Ed…” you start to complain but you’re too tired to fight, so you wrap your legs around him and hold on. 
“Shh, let me.” 
Eddie is so gentle, it makes your heart hurt. He lays you down and makes sure you are cosy, leaves ever so briefly to get some water and flick off the bathroom light before joining you in bed. 
With the lights off, you seek each other out, hold each other close. 
You feel utterly consumed by that confusing feeling, the sad relief.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sweetheart.”
“No, I... I got us all wound up and now I feel so stupid.” 
Eddie is a steady and sure anchor as your body shakes in the dark. 
“You’re not stupid.” He holds you, whispering your name a little firmer to try and bring you back to him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Please, don’t beat yourself up.” 
He sows kisses along your hairline as he makes his heartfelt promises. “I meant what I said. I want the future with you, all of it.”
You just nod, promise him that you want him too, forever. Slowly the tears subside, leaving you feeling beyond exhausted.
Eddie fights sleepfulness to make sure you’re okay, already at peace with the fact that you had so much ahead to look forward, to plan. 
He thinks of the antique shop windows, packed with trinkets and curios and glittering gems that you’re drawn to, like a magpie, every time you have a free afternoon to wander in the city without worry. You’re easily sidetracked by their beautiful mystery, and Eddie loves watching your awe. 
He thinks of a shiny sparkle on your finger, a little ceremony or a flight to Vegas for the hell of it, and of tiny hands to hold and teach. 
He thinks it will be okay. 
Lulled to sleep by Eddie’s stroking hands, the warmth of all of his adoration he wraps you up in, you feel peaceful and calm, and not at all scared. 
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Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 
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lululandd · 11 months
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hints;
pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader
word count: 885
warning: and theyre housemates ᵒᵐᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ’ʳᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉᵐᵃᵗᵉˢ
note: very loosely based on real life events
summary: maybe you get a guess or two on what his job is
You knew the carnival would be in town this time or year, but wouldn’t have guessed in the slightest that your housemate would be interested in it. He brought it up during game night, where you would play a video game in the living room and he would watch. ‘Fun’ was the word he used to describe the carnival, followed with the notion that he would love a blooming onion and some dippin’ dots.
So you two went. He dressed in all black except for his bleached denim—which you laughed at bcause it looked like cumstains the first time before you helped him bleach it a second time— and you in your bright coloured shirt and overalls.
Simon got his blooming onions immediately after arriving and pointed out prizes that caught his attention as you two walked. You finished what little was left of it while he got his dessert.
“You gonna keep starin’ or you gonna play?” He nudged as he noticed you slowed down to look at a game.
It was one of those shooting games where there are cheap snacks propped up on a shelf and a couple of mascots strewn around for extra points. The overly friendly attendant waved you two closer and explained that you can get two of ANY of the big prizes on display, if you can shoot all fifteen of the little mascots in a row. There were big plushes of different animals, and unbeknownst to you Simon saw the sparkle in your eyes as you look up at them.
It was 50 cents for a try, and you gave him a dollar for the both of you. Simon wanted to wait until he’s finished with his dippin’ dots and opted to watch you for a little bit before he plays. The attendant grinned and wishes you luck as he puts a wooden rifle and a little bowl of corks in front of you without giving instructions on how to use them as he’s already helping someone else.
“Put ‘em at the end- Yeah there. Then yo- No. You cock em first. Yes, cock.” Simon laughed a little, “That handle— Wai’ a minute, I’ve seen you play shooters at home. You already bloody know how.”
“Well doing it in a video game and in real life is different, innit?” You emphasised to make fun of his accent a little.
He went quiet and pointed at the handle that needed to be pulled back. You can see him smile behind his facemask despite the silence. When it clicked, you readied up the rifle as best you know how, aimed, and pressed the trigger.
You hit nothing.
“Not as easy in real life, innit?” He mocked back.
When you were down to the last cork, Simon had long finished his ice cream and asked if he could try shooting before it was his turn. He seemed to weigh the gun, moving it back and forth in his hands before barking at the attendant, “I need to do em in one go, yeah?”
“Yes sirree!”
And with that you feel a difference in your roommate’s stance immediately. He seemed to stand up straighter, suddenly appear bigger somehow, and in a blink of an eye he got the rifle into position and hit a snack that was on the far edge of the shelf.
Oh.
He looks like he does this regularly.
He picked up his share of corks and picked the mascots off one by one, starting from the ones at the edge and working his way to the middle. Several people stood around you two and cheered each time Simon got a successful hit. The attendant cheered with them, probably happy about the prospects of more players.
You cheered and clapped the loudest as he shot down the last remaining mascot, and the attendant yelled at you two to pick your prize.
“You pick one, Simon!” You said to him as he looked at you.
He deliberately chose a rather misshapen shark—a discount blåhaj—and you chose an alpaca. You hugged them both as you walked around the place some more.
“See anything else you want?” He asked. “Can win all of ‘em for you.”
You laughed at him incredulously, “As long as they’re gun related games or just any?”
The slow head turn he did towards you was borderline predatory, and if he wasn’t your housemate for a couple of years it would have stunned you.
You shrunk a little, “Sorry, right. My bad.”
Back at the car, as he hit what seemed to be the hundreth red light, he spoke, “You get two yes or no questions on my job and thats it.”
Luckily you didn’t get whiplash, and he avoided looking your way as you stared at him, mind racing to figure out whether he was kidding or if he was serious.
Weighing your questions as they race around in your mind, it wasn’t when you get to the front door that you ask him, “Sniper?”
“Not really.”
You looked back at him as you walked in, “Wait what does that mean?”
“Dunno. You got one question left though.”
“That’s cheating, Simon!”
He took off his mask and you see him smirking all the way until he disappears into his room with his shark.
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aveegrex · 2 years
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ONE PIECE DATING HEADCANNONS
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Monster trio + Smoker and Crocodile gn!reader, SFW cw: mentions of murder, mentions of blood (all metaphoric), PDA, jealousy
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Sanji Vinsmoke:
At first he’s really incredulous, still shocked his feelings are mutual. So instead of his usual over the top antics, you get a smitten clumsy boyfriend who stumbles upon everything he does and says. 
“Bonjour appétit", “In this dress you look like a swamp, eh-... A SWAN! I MEANT A SWAN!!” - yeah, he’s a mess at first
In fact, he’s so anxious and nervous that the Strawhats suspect someone might have kidnapped him and they are sharing the deck with an imposter, because for a few weeks he undercooks, oversalts and burns every meal. You decide to step up and put an end to that chaos, sitting him down for a long reassuring talk. 
When he gets used to his new status as a taken man, it’s like watching a flower bloom: he’s confident, attentive, his strength grown tenfold. 
Expect a lot of touching. Kisses, hugs, cuddles: his head on your knees when you chat with Nami on the deck, his fingers interlaced with yours as you indulge in reading, his legs intertwined with yours as you both doze off at night. This boy has been touch starved for years and you’re the one to make up for all that hunger with. 
You’ll definitely be waking up to fresh flowers every morning, even in case the ship has been cruising for days without a speck of land in sight. Don’t ask him how he does that. There are secrets only to be shared between a gentleman and his fridge. 
He’ll be super inquisitive about EVERY detail of your daily routine. This precious baby needs to know everything, from the ways you do your hair to your toothpaste preferences and favorite islands in all the seas.
If you have dietary restrictions for whatever reason, throw those at him without hesitation. It’s no disadvantage, but a challenge to him. Lactose intolerance? Hell yeah, prepare your nipples, oats and almonds. Vegetarian? Eat up your steaming veggie stew. No garlic and onions? Fuck those, vampires are hot! 
Never misses a single important date or event. I personally hc him as someone who has a tiny notebook in his pocket at all times, so everything that matters is written down, ingrained in both his brain and paper. 
Zoro is grateful for your existence since now his quarrels with the cook die down way faster and cost him way less bruises and nerves than before. And he gets to nap longer. 
Which leads to an unexpected outcome: on yours and Sanji’s dates and outings you never get interrupted because the mosshead is secretly guarding your calamity from afar, keeping all possible troubles at bay. 
On a sadder note: I believe Sanji is a rather self-conscious guy around those he loves and values the most. So it’s hard for him to stand his ground and state his boundaries, since he’s scared of being “too much trouble for you” or “scaring you away”. You gotta be patient and weave the truth out of him. It does get better the longer you are together, but at first you should be on guard for the little tell-tales of his discomfort. 
His jealousy is not obvious, but it is there. It stems from the same fear of losing you, so you gotta be the one to initiate the talk in this regard too. Since his adoration and love are pure, and his respect to you is immense, it doesn’t take much explanation convincing that when you’re making Zoro laugh or talking to some other man you still love him and him only. 
His flirtiness towards other people dies down a lot when you start dating. He doesn’t turn into a stone-cold robot, of course, still treating women gallantly, but his heart eyes are for you only now. 
Most thoughtful gifts ever. He has a special compartment in his brain dedicated to information about you, and his imagination never runs empty on how to make you smile and kiss him in excitement. 
Overall score: absolute husband material. Even though he does have flaws, he’s open to growth and listens carefully when you express your discontent with something. 
Please treat this baby with patience and care, and don’t abuse his love. He deserves the world. 
Roronoa Zoro: 
It might seem like Mr Bushido doesn’t undergo any behavioral changes when you two start dating. It might seem so. He does though. 
He’s now more careful with his words, which only you, Nami and Usopp pick up on at first. He’s well aware he can be brash and rough around the edges, so even though he’s simply trying his best to be better for you, he perceives being more attentive to other people’s feelings as a way to train this new trait. Wrong route - correct destination. Whatever works, works. 
Since you prefer to take your naps on the actual bed and not just shove your body in the corner on the deck, he now does the same thing. Zoro is happy since he gets to sleep with you. You’re happy since he’s treating his body with more care. Chopper is happy since Zoro doesn’t get colds and sore back anymore. Win-win-win situation. 
Trains even more. He views himself as your main protector, and although he knows you can stand your ground just fine, he would never forgive himself if something happened to you. 
Might forget important dates and details, but does make up for that. It’s not for the lack of attention, but more so of his usual unawareness of temporal and geographical context.  
Absolute shit at giving gifts though. He’s not very materialistic, opting for asceticism in his belongings, and he subconsciously transfers the same thought process onto other people. If you need something, it’s better for you to get the thing yourself. If it’s not a necessity, why even buy it? 
Eventually (with Nami’s help, Sanji’s patience ran thin here) gets the concept of cute little nothings like flowers, candy and trinkets, but still opts for things of use. Lost a hairband - he’ll buy you the prettiest one. Need a clothing article - let’s go shopping. Your weapon broke down? He’s already at the blacksmith’s with the remains. 
He’s not a very touchy person, and absolutely not into PDA. All the signs of affection are happening in private, please and thank you. 
Being a pirate with a huge bounty over his head, he’s careful not to show his infatuation with you, since he doesn’t want his enemies to use you as a way to get to him. 
But being a loner, he surprises you with propositions to do things together all the time. Training, eating, hunting, picking up food and utilities for the trip - you name it. You’re doing it together. 
Even the crew doesn’t know you’re dating for the first couple of months. Luffy was just looking for Zoro once and barged in on two of you making out, quick to announce his discovery in his booming voice. Saving Luffy’s ass from drowning became Usopp’s responsibility for the next few weeks, your boyfriend just watching the captain sink with bloody revenge in his eyes. 
His jealousy is more of a “protect the territory” type. He sees outsiders as danger, and is quick to assume the worst intentions. Deep-rooted issue which he dutifully works on with your help. 
He spent most of his life alone, relying on no one and needing no one. Joining a crew was a huge step for him, and opening the deepest bottoms of his heart and soul to you is even bigger. He’ll be cautious, awkward at times, rough around the edges, but if he ever hurts you he’ll make it his life mission to make up for that and to never repeat the same mistake again. 
In the world where he’s not bound to any land, floating in chase of his dream around, you’re his little anchor that reminds him how precious here and now can be. 
Captain Smoker:
Absolutely horrified at the thought of doing something wrong and letting you get too close at first. 
Does eventually find great comfort in you, making it his priority to be as open about his feelings and hesitations as possible. 
Not very much into PDA, he has a reputation to uphold and begs you to understand that the “White chase Smoker” should stay a bloodhound with a foaming mouth to every single pirate out there. Bloodhounds don’t hold hands with beautiful angels like you. Please. PLEASE. 
Allows the crew to see how he kisses you hello and goodbye. Those fuckers should treat you like royalty and serve you tea the second you’re around. If anyone dares to look at you the wrong way, he’ll growl and bark till they piss their pants. 
Luffy knows about you. 
When in private, melts under your touch and looks at you with bloodpuppy eyes. He worships the ground you walk on, kisses your hands when you’re in his lap, nuzzles his face into your neck. The setting of his job is rough and brutal, cold and has no space for intimacy and love. Smoker gets every ounce of those he can from you. 
Let him vent to you about the higher-ups. There might be a lot of swearing, but after he’s done for the day, he’ll hug you tight and mumble sweet nothings into your chest. 
Might easily miss the important dates due to his line of work. Buys you a small snailphone and calls you the second he’s free to talk if he’s away on the job. If someone dares to disturb the call, they risk getting murdered, dried into thin paper and used as a filler for his cigars. 
The one to call you his husband or his wife the week after you start dating. 
Tashigi is now getting her degree as a marriage counselor by the way. Make sure to remind him to cut her a little slack from time to time, the poor girl was not expecting this when submitting her job application. 
He struggles with loving words or elaborate gifts and surprises, but when those happen, they stun you for life. 
To your surprise, not a jealous type. He’s confident in his partner and knows that you both value trust and loyalty in a relationship. Even if someone advances you romantically, Smoker won’t interfere, just watching from afar amused as you kindly reject. 
Sir Crocodile:
Big thick daddy 3000 gives no shit about someone finding out he has a significant other. He’s a fucking warlord, wealthy and powerful man, and it’s his whole damn right to parade you and show you off to everyone around. You’re his prized possession, his love, his one and only. 
In fact, he shows you off so openly many people find it straight up obscene and indecent. He has you on his lap in all his meetings, his huge hand resting on your hip or even on your ass. When he wants to highlight how little he thinks of his collocutors, he’ll purposefully feed you berries and fruit from his hand, not even looking at the person speaking, but listening intently. He does it so openly that it’s them who get flustered and embarrassed. 
Huge sugar daddy energy. He earned his wealth, he can allow himself to splurge on whatever it is you want. Clothes? He’ll have a separate warehouse built for your wardrobe. Jewelry? Baroque works get overtime to find the rarest pieces. You want to visit some new restaurant? It’s closed for other customers for the whole evening. And don’t even think of getting out of bed with him if you want to eat something, just snap your fingers and everything will be brought to you on a silver platter. 
If he misses an important date, no he doesn’t. He’ll only care about remembering your birthday though, other things like anniversaries and whatnot being moved around to fit his schedule. Sorry not sorry. 
Takes you with him on every trip. His big ass ship is a fortress, and is fit to accommodate any of your needs and desires. 
Does like venting into your neck about his day, please listen to him mumble and whine, it’s a rare sight. 
Is very rare to get vulnerable with you, but when he does you know it’s his earnest feelings and emotions being shown to you. Make sure to cup his face and look him in the eyes when he’s in that state, and he’ll go above and beyond to never lose you. 
The realization that he loves you dawns on him when he takes off his hook before joining you in bed. He never cared for such consideration before, but with you he just does it on autopilot. He then later extends the “no weapon” rule to any situations where he’s in your presence. 
It’s hard to make him jealous though. Like really really hard. What did you think, he’s a mature weathered man with a bottomless bank account, confident in himself and in your infatuation with him. So no, whatever advances someone might try on you won’t ever make his heart sting. 
Overall, being in a relationship with Sir Crocodile gives you a very clear sense of stability and security. He’s a lifetime partner. You two are mates for life. 
Monkey D. Luffy: 
He hasn’t changed a bit since you started dating. Well, of course some habits come and go, some new rules and skills are learnt, but overall Luffy stays the same old Luffy. 
He just announced it to the Strawhats one morning, casually chewing on Sanji’s artwork. “We’re together now. We love each other. Is Zoro still asleep?”. And that was it. You do in fact feel like you’ve always dated, because it feels only natural to have him wrapped around you at night, to have him holding your hand, to have him kissing you in the night. 
Spends a little more time with you, but since he always liked your company, it doesn’t feel like a change. Although again, if he’s off to do something stupid, he forgets about everyone, including you. That is something to work on, and he’s trying. 
Absolutely no jealousy. Like none, what’s that? When you’re chatting away with someone and Nami asks if he’s jealous, Luffy’s like “Huh? Why? We’re together, remember? ”. 
Doesn’t understand what PDA is because if he feels like kissing you, he’ll do that right away. What do you mean there are people around? They probably kiss too from time to time. 
Might easily say something stupid and hurt you. Needs a lot of explanation on why that was hurtful, but even if he fails to get it, he knows that “if it hurts it’s no go”. So just tell him it was not a nice thing to say and he won’t do that again. Baby’s clueless to social subtones. 
Also might easily forget the important date. Again, he’s really not aware of his surroundings, and that includes date, time, location. The guy fell asleep when chasing Crocodile and has thrown Zoro off the ship accidentally more times than anyone can count. He just is not aware. So in this regard, please tell him right in the morning that it’s actually your birthday or anniversary, and he’ll bring you the most unexpected and heartfelt present ever. 
Have beef jerky on you at all times and you’ll be best at finding him when he’s lost. 
Relationship with Luffy is a journey, an adventure, You’re in for a good time and you live today. Tomorrows mostly don’t exist. Carpe diem. 
He loves you with all his heart and soul. If something happens to you, the world is over. Everyone’s fucked. Villain Luffy arc ensues. 
MDNI, reblogs and comments are welcome, wish everyone finds their love
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© 2022 AVEEGREX, all rights reserved. reposting and copying my works without my consent is forbidden.
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aiweirdness · 8 months
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Baby Onesie Designs
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Galaxies on Ice
A reader wrote in a while ago with a suggestion: they were about to have a baby and wondered if I could use AI to come up with some new ideas for baby onesies. I can't find the letter any more, and I don't remember how long ago it was. But I finally figured out how to make it work! Reader, if your kid has already outgrown the onesie section, I believe these can be sized up to toddler.
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Dandelion Underwater
Two things made this work:
I used BLOOM rather than chatgpt or the other largest language models. The big language models are too good at copying existing designs from their training data.
I asked it to generate its list as if it was a page on AiWeirdness.com
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Fart Whale
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Ketchup metaphors
In my opinion, the most interesting creative use of large language models is to generate text that's nothing like a human would have written. If your AI is just going to lift human creative output virtually verbatim, you're not only shortchanging the humans you could have hired to write similar things, but also plagiarizing the original humans from the training data. In that sense, BLOOM, with its less-perfect retrieval of human output, is better at this task than GPT-4.
It is creepy to me however that the only reason this method gets BLOOM to generate weird designs is because I spent years seeding internet training data with lists of weird AI-generated text.
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Pumpkins on Mars
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Onions in Snow
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Meatball launch controls
Turn them into real life cursed artifacts and put them on a small child who doesn't know what they're wearing
More (and rejected designs) at aiweirdness.com
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insane-brit · 8 months
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Royalty (Ch. 4)
Muzan Kibutsuji x Soulmate!Fem!reader
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Chapter Links: Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three
Next scheduled Royalty update (Ch 5.): I’m not on hiatus for this story or any others, however, my semester has started so updates will be slower and I cannot give a true update schedule at this time. Thank you for your patience.
Tags/Warnings: Dark, dark story/themes, enemies to lovers, semi slow burn, Muzan, talk of death, mention of gore, insulting/degrading words and names, anger/hatred, planning/scheming, light teasing (not the NSFW kind), dialogue, dialogue heavy.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: 2.4K
Steam wafted from the pile of white jasmine rice. Generating a warmth that relaxed her muscles and coaxed an exhale from the depths of her chest. Gingerly gripping the sides of the ceramic bowl, she pulled it towards her form. The plushness of the cerulean cushion cradled her bruised knees. 
“I hope you like Karē Raisu. It’s the first thing I thought of to make you.” 
She looked up at the older woman standing in the doorway. A tired smile graced her wizened face as she looked over (F/N). 
“I do. Thank you, Mrs. Aoki.” She whispered and grabbed the spoon next to the bowl. 
The clinks of the metal hitting the ceramic resounded in the otherwise quiet room as she mixed the darkened spiced roux with the rice. Thick cuts of beef with onions, carrots, and potatoes raised a potent aroma that made her stomach growl. Aoki beamed and the wrinkles around her mouth became more prominent. 
“I’m glad.” she meandered her way to sit across from (F/N). Setting her bowl down before slowly lowering her body onto a cushion. (F/N) studied Aoki, noticing the dark blemishes that almost looked akin to welts blooming across her arms, sun-kissed patches dotting her face, the droopiness of her skin as it weighed from aging, and the slight tremble of her hands. 
She sucked in a breath as the corner of her mouth ticked a ghost of a smile before settling back into a line. “Thank you for helping me. I am in your debt.” 
Aoki hummed as her shaking hands grasped her spoon. “Nonsense, I was merely passing through and heard your distress,” she blew gently on the pile of rice and broth. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you were a dying animal.” (F/N) choked on her rice. Feeling it lodge itself in her throat as she coughed and flushed from embarrassment. Thumb grazing the corner of her mouth as she covered the lower half of her face.
“I apologize.” 
“No need. You were quite shaken, and I couldn’t leave you there,” Aoki sighed. “How are your bandages? Not causing any trouble?” 
(F/N) looked down at the carefully wrapped dressings. Her hands were covered in the cream-colored woven fabric. “They feel great,” she reached over and gently grazed the wrapping on her elbow. “What did you use?” 
“A salve I got from a nice young woman in Asakusa. I wish I could’ve acquired more things, but the young man accompanying her seemed less than pleased for me to be near her,” Aoki looked down at her bowl dejected. “But I’m happy this finally came in handy.” 
A benign smile crossed (F/N)’s lips as she set her spoon down. Today’s events weighed heavily on her mind, and it seemed her body was just now catching up. Fatigue settled into her bones and her eyes burned. The pads of her fingers rubbed the feeling away as she raised her head to look around. 
Aoki’s Minka was simple but pleasant. From the moment she helped her and Seiichi, paranoia, and all, to the front door of her home she was a delight. The lanterns adorning the rooms gave off a hue of glittering gold and sparks of amber. Exactly like most fixtures in people’s homes, but Aoki’s was much more inviting. It reminded (F/N) of flames licking at chopped timber; a sentiment to the nights her and the other Hashira would gather and reminisce, and the musty, earthy smell of pages being turned; memories of when her grandmother would read her old fairytales. 
The older woman even had bundles of wisteria hanging here and there in rooms. A few shrubs of the woody vine clung to her home and (F/N) wondered if she knew of demons. If she did, Aoki didn’t mention it to her. Nor look at her with any difference as she took the haori off her shoulders and set her katana off to the side before inspecting her wounds. In a way, she was grateful to not be looked upon in awe and bombarded with questions. She didn’t have the energy to answer or feel deserving of such a gaze. 
The rustling of fabric and slight grunt had her snapping her neck towards Aoki. The woman was standing with her empty bowl and picking up the miscellaneous things scattered on the table. (F/N) reached her arm out to aid her, but Aoki held a hand up, effectively halting her extended arm that was about to grasp a ceramic teapot. 
“I can do it dear. You’re my guest.” 
(F/N) furrowed her brows and her tongue ran over her dry lips as she spoke. “I insist. Please let me help you. You’ve done so much for me already.” 
Aoki shook her head and arched her brow. A teasing look in her eye. “I don’t think so. If you move an inch from your spot, I’ll make sure that crow of yours never hears the end of it.” 
The younger woman gawked at Aoki before a small snort sounded from her nose. (F/N)’s body shook as she tried to contain her laughter. The back of her hand rested over a smile that cracked over her face. The older woman teetered between scowling at the girl and joining in on her amusement. 
In the end, she hummed and chuckled to herself before staggering away to another room. “I’m being serious.” 
(F/N) took a deep breath trying to reel in her merriment. When Aoki was tending to her, Seiichi busied himself by stealing pieces of jewelry and even coins from the older woman. Flaunting them around and hopping away when either of them would try and snatch the items from his beak. She could still hear the older woman berating the bird in her mind, and she swore from the look on Aoki’s face that she was ready to wring his neck. 
“I hope you know how to play.” Aoki hobbled back into the room with a bag in her frail hands. She handed the cloth over to (F/N). The Hashira opened and poured its contents onto the table. Eyes widening a fraction seeing it was Men’uchi. 
“Of course, I do,” she said staring at the engraved clay pieces. “It’s been a long time.” The kind gestures from the older woman had allowed (F/N) to momentarily forget everything. She felt warm and something akin to safe here. 
“Then I suppose we should change that,” Aoki began separating the pieces before pausing. “Right, here.” She reached into her pocket before placing something on the table. It clinked when it touched the wood, and she slid it over to the young woman. (F/N) trailed her hand before seeing a thin gold pin poke out. The metal curved up like vines wrapping around a pale sea foam-colored gemstone, jade. An even thinner gold chain dangled from the stone and branched off into mismatched lengths. A cerise-colored bead held the trains at the branching point and at the end of each, a milky glass teardrop hung. 
Her mouth parted and she held up her hands as if afraid to touch the ornamental hairpin. “Why are you giving me this? I can't take it. It’s too much.” 
Aoki made no move to take it back and hummed. “Well, I’m not taking no for an answer. I promise it's fine so don’t question or fight me on this.” 
(F/N) gingerly picked up the delicate item and ran her fingers over the smooth metal. “Thank you.” 
“Of course,” the older woman continued to separate the pieces. “Oh, and please share it with that crow. Maybe he’ll stop taking my stuff.” 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Muzan stood on the tatami flooring. His body hunched over his desk as his nails pierced into the wood grain. The vastness of the Infinity Castle caused echoes and creaks to magnify and drone. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his elbows. His eyes were sharp and shrewd as he glowered at the line laying in pristine condition across his workspace. Books were thrown open and some pages torn; shredded to ribbons. 
The surroundings felt suffocating. Desolation whispered sweet nothings in the expanse, and a looming presence stood stoic and ominous not far away from Kibutsuji. His aura felt heavy and stifling. As if zapping any energy or spirit from one’s body.  
“To think, after all this time,” Muzan said straightening up his posture and turning to face the man behind him. 
Kokushibo did not waver. His fist circled the hilt of his blade and the other rested at his side. All six eyes that resembled carefully soldered stained glass bored into his master's slitted claret ones. 
“It is… strange.” He drawled. His eyes flickered from Muzan’s to his wrist. A very thin thread, only visible in certain angles of light, shone and connected his lord to someone far off. It glittered like a spider’s silk. Spindly and thin; stronger than steel but looking as if it could break with the slightest tug. 
Muzan’s face remained constant upon looking at Uppermoon One. Though, the warmth that fury carried crept along his collar. “You can see it?” 
“Yes,” Kokushibo shifted slightly. The fabric of his purple-and-black kimono ruffled against his hakama. “I suspect…it is the lifeblood’s doing.” 
The progenitor’s brows dipped downwards but an inch. Festering anger bubbled like molten lava. The ambrosia: rich velvety fluid that ran through his core, that had Oni’s imploring their master for more, was what granted them the sight of what he despised. Slipping a pen ornamentally engraved from his pocket, he clicked it open. The tip scratched the smooth paper in the book he now clutched. His apprehensiveness showed faintly from the bone-breaking grip he had around the cool metal. 
It made perfect sense. His creations were an extension of himself. Remade into cutthroat violent things with the weight of his ichor circulating in their undying bloodstream. They were him, but also themselves. 
“How does it appear to you?” Muzan hissed through his teeth. 
Six eyes and their cracked black pupils focused studiously on the filament. “Like… a phantom. Clear and… barely visible.” 
The sound of ripping reverberated through the endless wooden rooms as Muzan’s pen tore through the paper. His knuckles were white, and his jaw clenched. This did not bode well for him; however, a trace of possibility crossed his mind. If the upper ranks, who pulsed with his vitality, could barely bear witness to the tie, then maybe beings less fortunate to receive generous amounts of his blood could not at all. It was a stretch, but one that seemed likely. 
This thought eased Muzan’s pride. He would not be perceived to have a weakness of any sort. His Kizuki knew better than to assume such foolishness, but others he could not be so sure of. Muzan would be damned if some sly little vermin thought they could exploit something the progenitor had no control over appearing. Much less presume that he cared for the woman connected to him. 
“The woman… was a Hashira, was she not?” Kokushibo queried. 
“Yes, but I doubt her abilities considering the cowardice she expressed,” the book slammed shut with a loud crack. “She must not be very valued.” 
Kokushibo’s voice thrummed in his throat. “Valuable or not… she poses a threat. Or… an opportunity.”  
Muzan’s lip curled back into a snarl and his eyes narrowed. He was not blind. The desire to sever the bond even if it was in vain, and the ire that overcame him when he saw the mockery that was the slayer consumed him, but he remained conscious of the possibilities. If that spineless woman were to open her mouth, it could be detrimental to everything he’s worked towards. 
“That Hashira can lead the corps to us. Ubuyashki will make sure of that.” he bared his teeth. 
“Even so… if he were to be eliminated… they will tuck their tails between their legs and run to the hand that feeds them. Without him, they are nothing.”  Kokushibo uttered lowly.
His subordinates’ words weighed heavy on Muzan’s mind. Ubuyashki was skilled in eluding even his most capable forces, however, the slayers had a weak spot for him. It was clear in the way they held themselves, and it was no secret how deep their loyalty ran. He could see it on their faces and when they would speak. Granted, it was rare that Muzan ever came across a swordsman that would divulge anything regarding their master, but in his over one thousand years of existence it has happened, and once was all it took. 
They were soft at their core, and regardless of whether he located Ubuyashki’s estate and sunk his claws in his tender flesh, tasting the coppery substance on his tongue, or dangled an empty threat over their heads they would scramble and wail to his side. 
“You propose a possibility that none of you have been able to achieve. Yet, your strategy pervades you Kokushibo.” 
The man in question tilted his head down slightly in acknowledgment. 
“Misleading the Kisatsutai into thinking their lord is in danger would divert their attention to him and not locating us but preventing the woman from speaking would sever the chances completely,” Muzan took a few steps towards Uppermoon One. His posture was rigid. “In turn, the wretch could provide an advantage.” 
Kokushibo studied his lord’s stature. The abhor was formidable and bled through his skin. He had seen Muzan’s wrath many times but the moment he had disclosed what the Uppermoon had understood upon being summoned, he had never felt animosity such as this. It was explicit as to why, and he would feel the same if he was bound to a mere mortal. 
“What are your orders?” he asked easing the grip on his blade. 
“Follow the thread. Find the slayer and do what you must to ensure her silence, but don’t kill her,” Muzan growled. “Don’t disappoint me.” 
“I will not… is there a reason why I can’t end her life?” 
“Don’t be daft,” Muzan seethed. “You know why, and I will not leave it to chance.” 
Kokushibo mulled over Muzan’s response before it clicked. “I’ll see it done, my lord.” He lowered his head in respect before his aura faded. His presence no longer there to cast a baleful weight. 
Muzan curled a finger under his tie and pulled, loosening the silk. He had the notion to take care of this matter himself, but he was not about to risk revealing himself more than he already had. The boy with the Hanafuda earrings and now the Hashira woman was enough to pose a risk. His hair flitted over his jaw as he ruined the tomes sitting on the umber shelves before moving to tear into the desk with his nails. The timber screeched in agony as long marks were formed on the unblemished surface. 
Taglist: @shellseys @athalahild @stxrrielle @lulu-83 @nianre @sincerely-aaronette @horror4themasses @warringwarrioridiot @vilshoenheitishot @woozzz @kathleen7i
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run2seob · 4 months
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icky peeves about winter? (soft thoughts edition)
cooking in winter
soobin would never join you in the kitchen when cooking in the winter because of the amount of time he had to wipe his nose. cutting onions already bothered him but stinging eyes and runny noses? that's already worse than cooking on its own. whenever you jog up to him and wipe his nose or use your sleeve to wipe his eyes, he blames it on the onions for crying.
"i-it's the onions!" ★ "then why are you sobbing?"
freezing gyms/stores
taehyun would (secretly) look up to your rants about how cold the gym floor is. you had become his gym buddy just a few weeks ago, around when summer transitioned to fall. even so, you could never get used to the intensity of the workouts. whenever you exhaust yourself, sitting on the floor, the cold concrete always shocked you enough to jump up. and of course, ramble on how the heater should be used at least once a year.
"we pay enough for a membership can't they use that money for a better cause? like, i don't know, a heater?!" ★
dry hands
hyuka would always use winter as an excuse to hold your hand. you found kai in the ramyeon section looking for jin ramyeon. though, you hated jin ramyeon in the winter. (or anytime, really.) instead, you thought shin ramyeon was superior, the spice good to balance the cold. so, when two people argue in the middle of a convenience store and get kicked out, what is there to do besides walk side by side awkwardly?
"why're you holding my hand?" ★ "it's too cold to leave it there, no?"
not being able to type
beomgyu would wear mittens every winter. it had gotten to a point where you tease him for it, having fun picking at the additional layer of clothing. what you weren't aware of was his own conflict with the same mittens. if he kept them on, he couldn't text you. if he took them off, his hands would be so cold that he couldn't text you. it was a lose-lose situation, and soon he had to start using voice audio messages just to spam you of his day.
"[..] -and if anything is wrong. Flame on the audit detector arose that is what I'm browsing" ★ "😭😭...?"
the birds migrate
yeonjun would secretly love the bird's songs. whenever he woke up to you in summer with sweat causing your bangs to stick to your forehead, he swore to his heart he wouldn't hurt you. though, winter was something else. the blooming flowers that appeared in his imagination never got to appear, and the cartoony background music hadn't either. the land becomes devoid of the birds' song in the bitter season, and he's grown to hate it. instead, he hums a little christmas song to fill in the silence, making you smile even in your dreams.
"what're you singing?" ★ "go back to sleep, love."
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lemonlyman-dotcom · 4 days
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Thank you for the tags @honeybee-taskforce @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut & @sznofthesticks 💕
From Chapter Three of Eid Fic, aka love in a series of bursts & inches. Coming on Wednesday! Read the first two chapters here!
“It’s official. Eid is my favorite holiday.” TK says, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and reclining as much as he can with Marjan’s feet in his lap. He rests a hand on his belly. “Better than Thanksgiving.”
“So much better than a dusty old Turkey,” Paul’s voice of agreement floats up from the floor, where he’s sprawled out in a food coma of his own. “TK, I can’t believe you ate all those spicy onions.”
Carlos kept telling him to stop, but he couldn’t help going back for a third helping. “They were so good.”
“Uh huh, tell me that when you’ve got indigestion tonight.” Carlos teases as he sets a plate of ma'amoul on the table, making sure they’re well clear of TK’s feet, and takes a seat in a chair on the other side of the coffee table.
“Worth it,” he says, pulling a laugh out of Marjan. Like Carlos won’t be rubbing his belly all night if that happens. TK squints pensively at the ma'amoul, butter cookies filled with fig and pistachio, trying to determine if he can possibly fit any more food in his stomach.
“You gotta teach us how to make those too Marj,” Paul says of the onions in question. “They’d pair really well with my jerk chicken.”
“Only if you share the jerk chicken recipe,” Marjan shoots back. Sparking an idea in the back of TK’s brain.
Tagging @vineofroses @chicgeekgirl89 @whatsintheboxmh @ladytessa74 @alrightbuckaroo @welcometololaland @paperstorm @strandnreyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @orchidscript @bonheur-cafe @fallout-mars @your-catfish-friend @inkweedandlizards @kiwichaeng @carlos-tk @literateowl @freneticfloetry @guardian-angle22 @my-little-tilly @tinyluminaryzombie @basilsunrise @louis-ii-reyes-strand @herefortarlos @apothecarose @rmd-writes @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @reyesstrand @itsrandomnobody7 @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @iboatedhere @never-blooms @ambiguouspenny @noxsoulmate @detective-giggles @decafdino and OPEN TAG 🏷️
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sunshinejinx · 5 months
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i finished watching buffy for the first time this week and it’s been a wild ride but something i feel genuinely surprised about is this idea that ppl have where spike falls into the dark, brooding, bad guy turned good trope. comparing him to the likes of draco, kylo ren, etc. it makes me rlly???? bc am i delusional? from season 2 onwards, spike always felt very funny to me; silly, goofy, light hearted. i mean he has a whole backstory about being a momma’s boy/terrible poet. effulgent!!! blooming onion lover?? a loser and malewife first for dru and later for buffy. even peak “evil” spike doesn’t want to go along w dru/angelus’ plan bc he likes this world too much!! n that’s long before he even has a soul! has moments where he can barely look buffy in the eye, gets tongue tied, “why haven’t you killed the slayer yet” good question adam!! maybe bc he loves the slayer!! get’s chained to a tub and let’s buffy feed him blood out of a ‘kiss the librarian’ mug. “great pumpkin’s on in 20” & can’t forget about passions!! asking joyce for the lil marshmallows for his hot cocoa while he tells her all about how dru broke his fragile little heart 😭 and and when he gets turned into a vampire so of course immediately his first thought is to travel the world w his lover + can’t forget about his mommy like !!! hello!!! are we watching the same show like he’s just a freaky little loser who luvs a girl bc duh who tf wouldn’t love buffy, she’s literally everything and he knows it too!
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e-r0da · 6 months
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A Strong Sorcerer
AN: First work so please let me know what you think! Don't really know where this came from tbh, just wanted to try my hand at writing :) Might make a part two if the inspo strikes!
Word Count: ~1.5k
CW: Mention of severe injury. Fluff hinting at a potential Yuuta x reader pairing.
----------------------------------------------------
You were never going to be the strongest sorcerer.
Perhaps that’s not what the doctor said, but it’s what you understood.
Your fingers trailed your face softly, inching above your cheekbones and around the bridge of your nose, mapping out the bandages that hid what came of your first solo assignment. 
Perhaps this is how it feels, you thought. To prove yourself.
It wasn’t your mission, at least not originally. But as a newly enrolled second-grade with an untested talent for handling shikigami, the sorcerer commission was curious enough to sub you in for Megumi, who was busy enough. So you took the mission. You just wanted to be of use.  
But no one anticipated a special-grade curse to be there to greet you.
Curious, you tried touching your right eye. A searing bolt of pain wormed its way into your brain as your hand jolted from your face, white stars blooming in your mind’s eye. Fuck. You felt a bit sick to your stomach, trying your best to calm your breathing and bite back a yelp.
You forced yourself to think logistically.
You would never be the strongest. Fine. This was never about that, anyway.
Would the commission even name you a grade-one after this? Maybe. It was undeniable that you had potential. And even if they never did, well. That wouldn’t be what stopped you.
Most importantly, could you still do it?
Could you still kill that curse?
You sat silently. You didn’t know how to answer the question that mattered most.
Without your sight, how much longer would it take to do what was needed?
*
“We’re here. Hold still for a minute, I’ll grab your stuff first and help you in.”
“Thanks.”
You felt Megumi’s hand leave your shoulder, his warmth slipping behind you quietly, presumably down the hall where a duffel of your equipment and medical supplies had been set down at the dorm’s entrance.
He felt bad, you knew that. But you wish he hadn’t. Megumi didn’t need another burden to shoulder.
The sound of wood creaking distracted you. It sounded like it came from your upper left. Huh. He moved fast.
“Megumi, I should have it from here so you don’t ne—”
“Wait-no Rika I didn’t mean—!”
“YUUTA YOU LIAR!”
You couldn’t help but feel your eyebrows shoot up as the floor shook beneath you. You searched for a wall to keep you balanced. Wait...Rika?
“Please it’s really okay—”
“BUT YOU TOLD THEM NO ONIONS!!” The floor shook again. 
Oh yeah, yup. Yuuta was definitely back.
The corner of your mouth twitched as you piped up. “Did he at least get the ranch, Rika?”
“-oh my god...”
“—YUUTA WHERE IS THE RANCH??!?”
You heard Megumi quietly step to your left, a small sigh leaving him. “No ranch? Now that’s just wrong, man.”
Turning your head in the direction of his voice, you murmured an agreement.
A door creaked open, followed by the soft sound of Yuuta scratching the back of his head timidly. Even without your sight, you’d watched him do it enough in the past to picture it now with ease.
“...Hey.”
You began to smile at the sound of his voice. But then the air was squeezed from you in one fell swoop.
“EEEE!”
You clambered an arm around Rika’s bear-hugging form, trying to simultaneously give her a welcome-back pat and expand your lungs.
“I missed you too, girlie.” You breathed out.
“Rika, she’s injured.” Bless your heart, Megumi.
You were dropped quickly. 
Megumi quietly grabbed your shoulder once again before you could stumble.
“NOOOO! NOOO! I’M SORRY!!”
You laughed. “I’m fine, Rika. You did nothing wrong.”
You heard the special-grade curse whimper. 
“I MISSED ONEE-CHAN...” Sometimes, Rika reminds you of a baby sister. 
It was easy to forget what the small girl had become at times like this. You wondered a bit if soon it would be even easier, now that you couldn’t actually see her anymore.
“We both missed you.” Your head whipped around. 
Yuuta. It made your chest warm up a bit, knowing he sounded the same as ever.
“How are you feeling?” 
“Hungry, if I’m being honest.”
“WE GOT NUGGETS!!! YUUTA! YUUTA THE NUGGETS!!!”
You let out an excited gasp. “With—”
“—with honey mustard, yes. I’m on it!” Rika let out a satisfied hum as Yuuta went to find your nuggets.
“YUUTA WENT BACK FOR THE MUSTARD. HE WAS SO COOL!!”
“Wooow! How did he forget his ranch then?”
Yuuta let out a strangled sigh from inside his room.
And...did Megumi just snort? 
*
Licking the last of the honey mustard from the counter of your mouth, you took in the silence that filled the hall, jokes of the past hour or so fading into the walls. Megumi had left to help with a mission, but Yuuta was still here, sitting beside you, and now that he was sans Rika he was awfully quiet. 
You missed being able to read people’s faces.
He breaks the silence. 
“We should have been there.”
Ah. You grasp at the floor around you for a napkin before wiping your hands and face clean. It buys you a few seconds to conjure something logical to say.
“At least it's dead. It can’t hurt anyone else.”
“It hurt you, though.” Oof. Okay, we’re being direct today.
��…No use crying over spilt milk, Yuuta.”
“This feels more serious than spilt milk, y/n.”
Man. 
“Don’t worry about me.”
“…”
This kind of silence–awkward silence–between you two felt foreign. You usually found peace in his company, even when it was silent. And even when things went wrong, you were usually the one trying to convince Yuuta to seek out help–whether it be in the form of medicine, company, or a break. Having someone fuss over you so persistently instead made you itchy all over. 
You wanted it to stop.
“...Yuuta.”
“Yeah?”
“Can I…” for a brief moment, you thought you wanted to ask him for a hug. 
“Can I have your onions?” That was equally as bad.
“...oh. Yeah, lemme put them on your plate.”
“Thanks.”
The silence now was worse than before, with the only thing filling it being your obnoxious crunching and the smell of raw onion (why oh why did you do this to yourself) making things even more acidic feeling, if possible.
He tries again, softer this time, if that was even possible.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” 
For some reason his words get the onions lodged in your throat.
You get up quickly mid-retch, trying to escape the fucking onions–and Yuuta’s aura of pity.
He pats your back firmly at some point (while apologizing because he seems to think that this counts as hitting you??) and it dislodges the vegetable, much to your relief. 
“This is all my fault.” Jesus christ.
“Ohmygod Yuuta please–”
“I really told them no onions this time, though.” Oh. Oh.
You let loose a cackle, at the absurdity of it all. And soon enough, Yuuta follows suit, hand still lingering on your back. Suddenly it feels like how things usually are between you two. Easy.
You breathe in deeply, taking a moment to recover from your laughing/choking fit before remembering what it is he said that got you in this state in the first place.
“I know I can talk to you, Yuuta. You’re probably the only person I would talk to...like that.”
The honesty in your voice somewhat surprises even you, making you a bit embarrassed. From the way his hand grips your shirt slightly, you would say the vulnerability shocked him too.
“–But! For now, can you take me back to my room?” you scratched the base of your skull. “I could really use a nap after all that yummy stuff.”
His chuckle is delicate, understanding. “I’d be happy to.” 
You don’t quite hear him move until you feel his warm breath fanning your neck, his hand softly holding your arm. 
“And...”
“Yeah?” Your cheeks feel hot.
“Whether I worry about you or not is up to me.”
At that you were quiet, brows scrunched together as your heart felt just a bit more heavy with every passing moment you spent together.
Yuuta was one of the few people who could still make you…uncomfortable. But not because he was mean. Never because he was mean. People like that had long since stopped bothering you. Rather, he reminded you of your mother’s hand in your hair, calming you between sobs. He reminded you of the freely-given ‘I love you’s’ of your baby sister. He reminded you of the only people you buried. Of tenderness.
He was probably the best friend you had ever made. It was just a shame that you had a death wish.
After a few moments of hobbling around together, he places your hand at the door knob of your room. 
“Here we are.”
You try to be honest. To warn him, inadvertently, as you step from your shared space in the hall to the one that was just your own.
“I still plan on fighting, you know.”
He doesn’t even miss a beat.
“Then I’ll help you train.”
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Welcome Spring Rituals🌺🌼🌿🍃
Spring is a time of rebirth and rejuvenation: the bees are back, flowers are blooming, and plants and animals are no longer dormant and hibernating. Throw away the old and make room for the new during this season.
Here are some ways to welcome the season of Spring. Many of these are quick or easy, great for beginner witches, those on a budget and witches in hiding!
• Cleanse while you clean: Do a deep clean of your home or space. Use lemon, white vinegar, rosemary - something potent and cleansing. Wash your pillowcase, blanket and bed sheets. After your space is clean, open the windows and light a candle/incense or use room spray to freshen the area. You can also banish stale energies while doing this. *Please exercise caution while using cleaners*
• Throw out the old: Donate, sell, give away, recycle and dispose of that which you no longer need. A fresh, clean space creates a clear mind.
• Garden: Plant herbs, flowers, and plants native to your area. Don’t have a lot of space or know-how? Next time you go to the grocery store grab cilantro, basil, green onion (or look into other easy options) and chop off the bottom of the stems at an angle, place in a cup of tap water indoors by a window that gets plenty of sun. Such plants can easily survive in water and after they grow roots place them in a small cup or bowl of soil. If you can’t buy soil go outside and grab some if it’s organic and safe (untouched by unsafe pesticides and fertilizers). Some things can grow by being planted whole or sliced (ginger) or by extracting seeds (tomato) so take your time and do research before you spend unnecessarily.
• Save the Bees: Learn about flowering plants in your area that attract bees. Buy some seeds and plant away! You can also look into flowering plants which attract butterflies and hummingbirds if you wish. If you cannot buy seeds you can learn how to remove them from the insides of some flowers and plant them.
• Flower power: If you live in an area with many flowering plants, go out and admire their beauty. Envision how they’ve survived year after year, how the balance of rain and sun allows them to flourish, and how they’re part of a delicate, beautiful, natural system. If you have your own garden, pluck some flowers if you wish and make a beautiful bouquet to decorate your space with.
• Crystal cleanse: Renew your crystals by cleansing and recharging them. Gather rain water or use moonlight (or a preferred method) to pamper them a bit! Go a step further: clean and cleanse your altar and witchy tools.
• Mindfulness: Spring is a wonderful time to meditate more - light some incense, use meditation tools such as a tuning fork or chimes. Listen to guided meditations. This is also a great time to journal more and sort through your thoughts. Leave behind old, stale energies of the previous year to allow newer, better things to take that place.
• Burn the past: Write a letter (to yourself) about past grief, regrets, and failures. Burn this letter and bid farewell to the feelings and emotions attached to it. After, you may write and keep a separate letter full of goals, wishes and aspirations to last you until next Spring or longer.
• Kitchen witchery: Cook and/or bake and imbue the foods you make with positive things such as peace, good health, and prosperity. Look into recipes specifically meant for spring and utilize produce which is commonly used during springtime. Add color to your food through the use of different veggies, fruits, spices, herbs, etc.
• Expand your craft: Ever tried sun magic? Wind magic? Used sound in your craft? Learn how to make sigils, try a new spell, make a spell jar, research and aspect of witchcraft you don’t know much about. Educate yourself on cultural appropriation, respecting closed traditions, how people around the world welcome springtime, the history of witchcraft both in the east and west.
• Expand your skills: Try something new! Take an art or cooking class, buy a cookbook, learn to crochet or sew, consider hobbies that are practical and exciting. Invite new skills and interests into your life. Study plant identification, learn how to garden on YouTube, learn how to identify stars… whatever may interest you, be open to it. Look for online tutorials, videos, free apps, library books, and people to aid you.
• Create: Spring brings vibrant colors and we can find so many ways to honor this. Draw, color, doodle, write, sing and dance. Paint a birdhouse, or some stones. Decorate your Grimoire or Book of Shadows. Add color to your life.
• Glamify: When you have free time, try on different clothes, makeup, hairstyles, and jewelry. Mess around, have fun with it, and see which combinations make you feel best. Glamours are such a subtle way to practice your craft. Wear colors that make you happy whether it’s clothes, accessories, hair or nail polish!
• Rest: Stop. Slow down, breathe mindfully. Turn off or silence devices, log off social media. Take a substantial break from screens. Take a nap. Have a soothing cup of tea. Stare at the sky. Spring is a time of growth and growth requires rest.
•Pampered and polished: Massage yourself from head to toe with lotion or body oil. Take your time and go in slow circular motions. Don’t neglect your scalp, face, neck, shoulders or feet. Visualize leaving old pains and worries in the past.
Do something extra for yourself, whether this means added rest, an at-home facial, deep condition for your hair, maybe you need a good back scratch or to stretch out, or a cooling or heating pad (frozen veggies or warm dishcloth can be used) over your eyes or a sore area. Listen to your body and tend to yourself when possible.
Take a steamy shower or bath. Toss flower petals, herb sprigs or citrus slices into your bath. After, indulge in a lotion, perfume, or body oil you enjoy. Wash away the energies of the past and the remnants of winter. Surround yourself with what makes you happy and feel good.
• Say thank you: Thank special people, loved ones, and pets. Take a while to think about those who uplift you, support you, make you laugh, and listen to you. Show gratitude towards others. You may also thank the universe, nature, and God or deities you worship however you see fit, whether this means time spent in nature, prayer or offerings.
• Share your bounty: Cook and bake for your loved ones, give them something from your garden such as flowers, herbs, veggies etc. This can also be as simple as giving someone a genuine compliment. Have a “one dish” party with friends/family in which everyone pitches in. Come together and teach people something or learn something new. Plant a garden with your friends/family/community. Share your resources but do not dim your own flame to keep others lit. Take time for yourself, too.
🌊sea star witch🌟
These are mere suggestions and we tend to know what suits us best. I understand not everyone has the time, energy, spoons, resources or funds for all or half of these activities.
If you’re stumped, burned out and exhausted (like I am) don’t feel pressured to try all or most of the above. Slow down and tend to yourself.
Sit back and enjoy the beautiful spring skies, listen to the birds, watch the flowers grow, watch clouds pass by over head. Appreciating spring can be as simple as this!
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somethingrad8 · 4 months
Text
JJK crack
Rating/Warning: None SFW
You had all decided to go out to a local bar together to get some drinks and food. It had been a hard week of training and a few short missions which had made everyone tired and ready for a break. Gojo had ‘graciously’ decided to let you all have a night and following morning off, sighting that you had technically all been working hard and as long as you all behaved out he saw no reason you couldn’t unwind.
And the night HAD been going well. Nobara, Maki and yourself had enjoyed getting dolled up for a change, though Maki initially dragged her feet. And since there was a cosplay convention going on in the town Panda was able to join you all as well. Why he decided to dress as Po was something Megumi wouldn’t understand. You and Yuji got some good laughs from it though. And Yuji and Toge even managed to swipe a bit of booze from Gojo’s hidden stash in his office. It was only enough for a light buzz for everyone but still a treat.
It only started to go down hill later in the night. The place you had all gone to was getting more and more crowded. Yuji, Toge, Megumi and Panda were all in a back booth waiting for you, Nobara and Maki to finish getting everyone a refill on drinks and another blooming onion, which Yuji was overjoyed that they had.
“My my what pretty little ladies we have here tonight,” some creepy guy and his two friends came up behind you cutting off an easy escape.
“Drop dead,” Maki replied.
“Damn,” He put his hands on his chest. “No need to be so heartless, love. We just wanted to offer you sexy things some company.”
“I’d rather die alone,” Nobara rolled her eyes. “Get lost. Try it on someone else.”
“We’ll come on now,” He began to get agitated. “You three can’t be looking that fine and not expect some attention.”
“We did,” you nodded. “Just hopped it’d be from someone better looking than you three.”
“Now listen here-“ He grabbed your forearm and that’s when it all went down hill. The four boys became looming shadows over them. “Who the hell are you guys?”
“We’re their friends,” Yuji sneered.
“And if you know what’s good for you,” Panda added. “You’ll let go of Y/N right now.”
He pulled you closer, and the damn heels Nobara convinced you to wear let him, putting everyone even more on edge. “Like hell am i gonna listen to a furry. Besides, I think this one was just saying how she wanted to come home with me tonight, right sweat heart?”
“Eat shit,” you snapped trying to pull yourself free.
“That’s it, you have till-“ Megumi began, only to be cut off my Toge who was stepping forward.
He pulled his scarf down to his chin, making you all clamp your hands over your ears, as he put a hand on the shower of the guy holding you. He leaned in and whispered in his ear. You couldn’t hear but you read his lips as he told the man to “Shit your pants now.”
You were quickly let go as he went sprinting out the bar, holding his ass and screaming, his friends following him.
Everyone watched them go, lowing their hands as Toge pulled up his scarf. “Uh, thanks.” You smiled at him.
He shrugged, looking away with a blush, “Salmon.”
“Let me get you a drink, any you want,” you warped your arms around his pulling him to the bar. “As a thank you to soothe your throat.”
Maybe the night didn’t go so bad after all.
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