#also there's a movie I'm talking about in here somewhere

[cellarspider]

2/30: Prometheus attempts to establish themes

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Several minutes into Prometheus, we have had no dialog, and we are going to wish that it stayed that way.

This is by little fault of the actors themselves. They all put in solid work. Many of the problems come from the writing, and others from the mismatch between their characterization what we’d call “informed traits”: What the movie tells us we should know about these characters. 

Elizabeth Shaw and Charlie Holloway are archaeologists. We see them with a dig team on the Isle of Skye, where they have just discovered their latest piece of evidence towards a radical theory. They have noticed something astounding that nobody else has dared to consider: evidence of alien contact with Earth, recorded in the art of disparate cultures from around the world. We, the audience, already know that they’re right. 

And we, the audience, know that the History Channel has had kooks on it for ages, ranting about Ancient Aliens. We’ve all seen the meme guy.

Okay. Let's try to meet this movie where it wants to be, thematically. These are its first two scenes, it's still establishing its direction, and nothing openly egregious has happened yet. We will ignore nitpicky stuff, like the fact that this previously undiscovered dig site is right next to a well-known tourist spot on Skye with 400 reviews on Google Maps.

This movie is establishing an existential premise for its themes. It implies aliens had some hand in shaping not just our culture, but our evolution. The questions it invites at this time are equally existential: why would they do that? What was their purpose here? What was their purpose for us? Why did they stop contacting Earth?

Whether life has a purpose is one of the core debates of philosophy and religion. This movie is beginning with the premise that terrestrial life does have a purpose, implied by the deliberate sacrifice of a thinking being to shape it. This supposition could create a more focused exploration of one possibility, within its narrative space.

I think it fails to deliver on this. The writing specifically fails to deliver on this, which will become apparent once we have more dialog. But there is also an issue with the framing of this premise, which the movie ultimately does not manage to avoid. An issue of cultural context.

Because this is where I, as somebody with a background in history, start to brace. The idea of extraterrestrials visiting ancient peoples is a discredited mid-20th century theory, which stems from ignorance of the historical record, and assumption of ignorance and incapability of ancient peoples to achieve great things, particularly outside of the cultures placed in the prized pedigree of European civilization. 

Such theorists look at the Great Pyramid of Giza and scoff at the idea that it could have been made without outside help, completely unaware of the century of more experimental pyramid-building that had preceded it, and the fact that we have written records that help us chart the progress of Egyptian mathematics for six hundred years prior to its construction.

They point to the Ramayana–likely written down around the same time that the Ancient Greeks were getting along just fine without aliens–and they say that the flying castles and chariots described in the text must’ve been aliens, who were mistaken for gods, and technological achievements such as rust-resistant iron must have been alien-made. Never mind that the period had a lively scholarly culture that was incorporating ideas from their Greek and Egyptian counterparts, and the people of the Indus Valley built well-planned metropolises with the world’s first known urban sanitation systems three thousand years before that.

They think the Moai of Rapanui, some of which were being erected while Shakespeare was writing his plays, were erected with the help of aliens. The actual answer, as usual, seems to be much more interesting: the Moai walked there:.

This is what ideas of ancient aliens are culturally tied to. You throw this into a movie, and even with the foreknowledge that they’re going to be proven right, I start out skeptical of these people from moment one. I was less likely to give them the benefit of the doubt, and less able to suspend my disbelief around them specifically. This will not get easier as we go.

Which is unfortunate, because most of the next scene is back to being phenomenal, and managed to bounce me back into going along with their premise.

...A side note as we close this out: Getting way too deep into the weeds here, but the art style of the cave paintings is worth mentioning. It appears to be a mashup of two famous cave’s painting styles: The animals are near-replicas of those famously seen in Chauvet (35,000 years old), and the humans and attendant dots are somewhat similar to Lascaux (17,000 years old), both caves in France. Here's an excellent little video from Tom Scott about the former, and the way that you can go see the cave paintings without endangering the site itself. There's a similar museum for Lascaux, shown below!

I say the human figures are somewhat similar to Lascaux, but I can’t find a match for the style anywhere. The closest I can find is from Tassili n’Ajjer in Algeria (6000 BC) or the Cave of Beasts in the Gilf Kebir mountains in Egypt (5000+ BC). This is because depictions of humanoid figures in european cave art are rare–ranging from a single bird-head figure in Lascaux, to the possible hoax at La Marche. 

This produces an interesting implication, if we take the movie’s premise at face value. If humanoid figures were avoided as subjects for cave art for thousands of years, their inclusion here is especially significant. Perhaps indicating that the alien visitors instructed that some visual representation of this scene to be made, or did so themselves. Thus, it is slotted in amongst the pre-existing animal art, creating a culture clash.

…However, cave lions never made it as far north as Skye. Their known northern range tapped out at about London. While it’s certainly possible that people could’ve traveled that far during this period, local animals tend to be the focus of cave paintings. So we’re getting the visual sense that a French stone age painter was doing a residency at Skye. Amusing, but odd.

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Citations for alt text ramblings:

1. https://www.isleofskye.com/skye-guide/top-ten-skye-walks/old-man-of-storr

2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chariots_of_the_Gods%3F

3. https://www.usinflationcalculator.com/

4. https://kdp.amazon.com/en_US/royalty-calculator

5. https://search.worldcat.org/title/7625265

[bacchuschucklefuck]

just wanted to let you know that your art changed something in my brain chemistry. i love how you design the bad kids, especially riz. it makes me love him even more 😭😭

thank u! fantasy high as a series banks a lot on heightening and exaggerations, and trying to work with that general sensibility while translating the designs into something I have fun drawing has been nice to do :]

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[incorrectbatfam]

In 2024, I ruined everyone's year with this post talking about the batfam's ages if they were living in the same year as us. Well, get ready to have 2025 ruined too.

Depending on how old you see Damian, he could be anywhere from 9 (like in WFA) to 15 (like in the mainline comics). I'm gonna go in the middle and say he's around 12. That means he is a Gen Alpha iPad baby born in 2013, the same year we saw Catching Fire and the Doge puppy.

NOTE: in my previous post, Damian was 10 years old and born in 2014, but I've since amended it since his age is depicted as all over the place. If you want to go with 10-year-old Damian today, he would've been born in 2015, the same year Undertale came out.

If we assume Duke is around 16, then that means he is the youngest Gen Z batfam member born in 2009, the same age as songs like Boom Boom Pow and Party In The USA.

Since Tim will always be 17 against his will, in 2025 it means he would've been born in 2008, the same year Obama was elected and Breaking Bad first aired.

Steph is a little older than Tim, so let's say she's 18. That means she was born in 2007, so along with obvious stuff like the iPhone, she would be as old as Bully Maguire and Rickrolling.

Harper is a little older than Steph but they went to college together at one point, so I'll pin her age at around 21. That means she was born in 2004, when Shrek 2 was the movie of the year.

Cass and Jason were born just months apart and are written to be in their early 20s, and I used 23 in the last post so I'll do that here. That means they were born in 2002, making them the first post-9/11 batkids and the same age as the book Eragon.

Dick and Barbara are both approximately 27, so they would've been born in 1998, the same year Destiny's Child, Coldplay, and System of a Down made their first debuts.

Helena (and I think Bette too, not sure) is a little older than both Dick and Barbara, so I'm gonna put her down as around 28. That makes her the oldest Gen Z batfamily member born in 1997, the same year as the movie Titanic.

Luke is somewhere between Helena and Kate but I can't find any specifics, so I'm going with 30. That means he is the youngest millennial batfam born in 1995, when Internet Explorer and the USB were first released.

Kate is approximately a decade younger than Bruce, making her around 35. In 2025, that means she would've been born in 1990, when Home Alone was released and Yugoslavia began to break up.

Selina's age is a little iffy because different sources give different age gaps between her and Bruce, but she's younger than him and older than Kate, so I'll go with 40. Being born in 1985 means she's currently the same age as celebrities like Bruno Mars and Lana Del Rey.

Bruce is around 45, so being born in 1980 means he is the very last of Gen X and as old as The Empire Strikes Back. It also means he would've been in middle school when Nirvana went mainstream in 1991 with Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Alfred's age is ambiguously old, but I used 75 in my last post. That means he would've been the only Baby Boomer batfam born in 1950, the same year that the TV remote and credit card were invented. He would've enlisted in 1968, at the start of the Troubles.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: their language of love💗

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

A/N: Orders are always open for you!

💗💗💗

Cho Hyun Ju

The language of love is words.

She always says nice words about love to you. He calls you cute nicknames, but the most important nickname: "baby". If you are at a distance, she writes you a lot of messages or sends you various funny pictures to cheer you up.

Also, she is always ready to support you, even when you don't need much support, she will still do it.

- Baby, you're the best for me, you'll succeed!

- Hyunnie, I decided to put together a children's puzzle. - you say with a smile.

You will never hear an insult or a bad word from her. She won't allow it. Of course, you also always tell her about love and support her, it is also very important for her.

Kang Sae Byeok

The language of love is time.

She is not a very romantic person and it is difficult for her to express her love in words. But she found a way to fix it. It's important for her to be with you and spend time together. That's why she devotes all her free time to you.

You go for walks, chat a lot or even travel. You also take her younger brother with you, who also loves you very much.

- The weather is terrible outside, I wanted to go for a walk with you so much. - You say sadly when you see that it's raining outside.

- It's not a problem, the three of us can watch a movie or play board games. We'll spend the whole evening together anyway. - she calmly answers, you gladly agree with her offer.

Sae Byeok recently realized that she can't be alone for a long time, she needs you to be next to her for complete peace of mind.

Thanos (Su Bong)

The language of love - gifts.

You couldn't even have imagined that your boyfriend would love to give you gifts. After all, at first he seemed to be a person who would talk all kinds of phrases to you. And then he was able to learn what you love and almost every day brings you flowers, sweets, cute things. Although you began to notice that he does it as well, so that you forget about the bad things he managed to do.

- You took drugs again. - you said with disappointment, when he return home at night, although he was drunk, but at least he did not get lost somewhere.

- Senorita, I didn't come home empty-handed! Here! - and takes out a little Teddy Bear from the back, of course you liked it. He knows your weaknesses.

- Oh, God, thank you, but let's stop with these club parties, otherwise no gift will save you! - you say with a slight anger when you start helping him undress.

Kang Dae Ho

The language of love - help.

Your boyfriend will always be ready to help you, even if you don't really need help.

- Honey, what are you doing? - he asks, entering the kitchen.

- I'm cooking dinner for us.

- Let me help you! After all, you cook meat, and I'm a man, I'll deal with him quickly! - he answers, standing next to you, you can't refuse him, so you agree to his help.

In general, your boyfriend will be ready to carry you in his arms, the main thing is that you feel good and always love each other.

Nam Gyu

The language of love is physical contact.

Oh, what a tactile person he is. You noticed it right away when on the first date he tried to touch you somehow. He even apologized to you, because he thought you might be uncomfortable, but you made it clear that everything was fine and you were just not used to it.

Your boyfriend will always find a way to touch or hug you, anytime, anywhere.

- Nam Gyu, we haven't seen each other for only a few hours, and you hug me like I left you for a week. - you said when you came home after shopping and he came at you with hugs, very tight hugs.

- I'm sorry, I can't help myself, I have a very strong tactile hunger. - he said laughing, but you were satisfied with everything.

💗💗💗

[strandedtoodeep]

Poolverine fics rec' ✨

Yes, FINALLY.

So, basically what the title said: some poolverine's fics recommendation because i have 150+ bookmarks and sharing is caring so let's go!

I'll put title, link, tag the author (if they are on tumblr), numbers of words & chapters and probably silly summary or thoughts

I'll be adding some in the future with a red exclamation❗

The ones without smut have a bunny emoji 🐰

My faves are on top

If you have some recs i'm happy to take them thank you 🤲

Faves

Come Hell or High Water by @farmhandler 84k, 11 ch. || love when a fic take mental health seriously and talk about it in a way that feel so right? (bonus the smut is *chef's kiss*

Promise Me We'll Be Back In Time by @back4destiel 108k, 17 ch. || 50 First Dates was one of my favorite movie when i was a preteen (yeah) so this fic fill me with nostalgia and happiness

where soul meets body by @edgebug 33k, 3 ch. || one of my first poolverine's fic and it sets the bar so HIGH (and tbh i cried so much reading it, it's concerning)

silence is what i do best (but still i hear it all) by @cainroses 25k, 3 ch. || feral! logan is very dear to me and the character's voices in it?? absolutely delightful (beware the smut is very good but spicy)

Until you get sick of me, honestly by @3koboldsinahoodie 151k, 27ch. (on going) || i love it so much i want to forget it and discovers it again, the peak of two idiots in love it's beautiful

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) by @wickedscribbles 16k, 4 ch. || love some genderplay, bottom and protective logan, my dear, i love it but most importantly the writings is scrumptious

The Void by @rovingotter 115k, 23 ch. || i'm still trying to process what i feel with this fic, please please read this blindly and i assure you, you'll never be the same

The Soundtrack by @greatsnakestintin 43k, 15 ch. (on going) || love a good road trip fic, love music so it's absolutely perfect for me! and the plot is so?? fascinating???

Kaleidoscope by Space_wanderer 79k, 14 ch. || CHAPPELL ROAN REFERENCE! when Logan is such a idiot Wade need to go get him AGAIN in his universe

Don't you want me to run? by @decaying-lover 89k, 26 ch. (on going) || if you love angst, this fic will serve you ANGST! love their dynamics, the tension, their voices, everything

❗Maximum Effort by ArtemisFAYZ012 168k, 33 ch. || OMG the plot?? the spicy spices?? the intimacy between Logan and Wade (AND Logan who falls so HARD for Wade)

On going

Somewhere I belong by @terrasilvershade 24k, 6ch. || another girls dad AU but this one, my god!!! the feels?? it's so interesting to see Logan being envious and it's writing so well

❗Do I Wanna Know by @slut-arc 13k, 5ch. || a 5+1 fic! It's cute and fluffy but also with sparkles of angst, and the ice skating scene??? didn't leave my mind for days ugh

Baby(girl) Don't Hurt Me by @peargreen-jellybean 16k, series with 4 works || 4 fics and i love them all! some good poolverine pining & domestic bliss + men in lingeries (my weakness)

❗Under Your Skin, Over the Moon by RatFlavored 5k, 2 ch. || first Soulmate AU i read for Poolverine and i love it??? So much??? think this trope is underrated ngl, and it's well written!

In Another Life by @flash-bastardd 32k, 10 ch. || x-men origins but better! (bc it's gay) i have some feelings with this movie but this fic healed me and i love it!

❗don't i give you what you need by @wickedscribbles 5k, 2 ch. || i cannot not put the new work of Wicked here, it's so good and the heartbreak??? the angst??? my heart bleed so much for them

call me when you’re ready to be real by @maroonmused 23k, 9 ch. || "and they were roommates" ofc like it's not absolutely obvious for EVERYONE except themself; a very good domestic bliss!

❗Echoes Through the Timeline by @piplover 64k, series with 4 works || i loved so many works in this series, specially the first and last one, break my heart and heal my soul

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by @fictionfeast 59k, 4 ch. || this fic feels like a fever dream, but a OH SO GOOD and well writing fever dream! (ngl as a french person Craig List scares me)

❗🐰 unhappy man syndrome by @gossippool 19k, 5 ch. || don't know if i'll recover from this fic, ever, but i'm so invested and it's pure whump all over (HUG FOR EVERYONE YALL)

❗Got My Mind Set On You by @buttsforabettertomorrow 23k, 4 ch. || Logan try so hard to be good and accepting in this one i love him so much lmao (and it confuses Wade so it's a double win)

🐰 Christmas in Canada by @thatoneartyishperson 7k, 3 ch. || listen, Halloween is still my favorite holidays but Poolverine AU Hallmark Christmas Movies ? URGH i'm here for it!!

❗back to the old house by @nico-di-angelol 71k, 8ch. || it's so interesting that i'm MAD at myself for not reading this earlier, yep it's THAT good! beware chap. 7 will break your heart

Synergy and Entropy by @artemis-pendragon 46k, 19 ch. || i was so sure that i'd put this fic here but no??? anyways, the hurt and angst in this fic are so astronomically good, so beware

❗🐰 Mr. Forgettable by @eliemo 40k, 7 ch. || okaaayy listen, this one make me cry every time i read it, idk how to explain why it feel so personal to me but it'll move you

🐰 make me into something sweet by @mothgardens 30k, 8 ch. || AU poolverine WITH MUSICAL CLASS? it's... it's beautiful! particularly love the dynamic between Logan and Wade in this one

❗knee deep in this thing called life by @secondbreakfastwizard 86k, 13 ch. || i'm so OBSESSED with this fic, autistic Logan is so dear to me (maybe bc i relate a lot) and these two are so stupidly in love

Complete

🐰 the dollhouse by @kanashikute 4k, OS || love the fluffiness in this fic, love how Logan accept to love, be loved and doesn't left Wade behind UGH they're so cute in this one!!!

❗Pavlov’s Dog by @panties-on-boys 18k, 11 ch. || this is the kind of fiction that obsesses me so much, and i don't even like perfume; it's the most smutty slow burn ever hehe

Girl Dads by @starburstsobsessions 40k, 16 ch. || AU poolverine's fic are fire and this one, THIS ONE, omg! this fic makes my dream (aka seeing dilf! logan) a reality

🐰 Glass Shards by greaserbabes 9k, 2 ch. || always love when Logan and Wade are SO STUPIDLY in love; ngl the scene with the glass shards make me cry every time

You Should Feel My Nature Too by sterlingstars 10k, OS || so uh, i love stripper! Wade okay? it's not really that with this one but it's as good AND wholesome (and spicy too) so yeah

🐰 The Folly Of Playing Gay Chicken Too Hard (Phrasing) by GayLord3000 3k, OS || the domestic fic where Wade is the stupid one, being so stupid in fact it's nearly cost him his relationship with Logan whoops

Love shot by lillygoeson 28k, 6ch. || another bartender! Logan one, but AU no powers AND with a good "twist" in the middle; this fic is so bittersweet and good oml

Don't Want To Be A Fool For You by @cuntylogan 96k, 5 ch. || bartender! Logan who try to fight his addiction (and slowly fall in love) has a special place in my heart, you go boy

❗🐰 This Old House by @twentyghosts 30k, 16 ch. || AU with patient! Wade and handyman! Logan, they fall in love, it's full of angst, fluff, hurt, and with a very cute ending

look at you by @weedwilson 3k, OS || yes it's shameless smut and mirror sex, my beloved... and I LOVE when Logan worshipping Wade this much bc he deserves it

❗🐰 Is It Casual Now? by @twilightkitkat 6k, OS || love this bc i have so many feelings about how the X-Men have treated Logan, i love seeing him stand up for himself **sob**

It's Just Chemistry by @farmhandler 37k, 5 ch. || in the same universe of Come Hell or High Water, there is so... so much angst but it's very good angst!!! still love this specific dynamic

🐰 We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do) by @nikaandtea 8k, OS || HOZIER REFERENCE! i'm still so happy when a fic talk about chronic pain combined with domestic bliss i'm totally sold

Night Terrors by educatedwish 50k, 13 ch. || love how Logan is written is this fic, how PTSD messed with his feelings in a serious way... my heart melt every time i read it

❗🐰 Relationship Advice by fir_forest 1k, OS || no but the idea of a fic like a relationship advice post on reddit??? i love this!! short, but sweet and very funny hehe

second nature to me now by @edgebug 36k, OS || a investigation in a gay club??? with my two idiots in love?? and with old gay Logan? i giggled so hard reading this, i LOVE IT

🐰 It Feels Like Home by @twentyghosts 10k, 6 ch. || one of my favorite trope is the 5+1 and this one... my god, right in the feels! so much fluffiness, coziness, it warm my heart

a loaded gun, can't contain this anymore (i'm all yours, i've got no control) by @obihoebikenobi 6k, OS || i have nothing to say other than read the tag hehe! but yeah love the concept, the smut is spicy (always like some focus on the claws)

🐰 stuck by the glue (oh and you) by prngslvr 3k, OS || a good rewriting of (some scenes) from DP&W, and one of my first fluff and non-smut fic that i read after watching the movie!

Let Me Get Back to You by RatFlavored 14k, 2 ch. || pls i want to read more fics with phone sex in it (i know it's specific) but in the meantime, this one is SO good (and full of feels too)

❗Heat of the Moment by @finelydressedspacemen 11k, 4 ch. || non traditional a/b/o my beloved!!! and it's always a little bit satisfying to see Scott mentioned (hehehe the drama)

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by signifier 10k, OS || i have a thing for time loop and this kind of fuckery, it's short but good and i love the title it make me chuckles

🐰 Take Me Through the Darkness to the Break of the Day by The_Colour_Yellow 17k, 10 ch. || a very good fic around hanahaki disease with my two favorites idiots??? sign me in! even with so much hurt and angst UGH

Oh, God, I Think I'm Fallin' by @slut-arc 15k, 5 ch. || the return of domestic poolverine and YES I KNOW but it's my weakness... and Logan is so emotionally constipated it's concerning

🐰 Little Reflection by @wickedscribbles 11k, 5ch. || poolverine + cute cat + Logan suffering from anxiety and i'm sold! because ofc Logan is a true and pure cat (and dog) dad

❗i bet we’d have really good come right on me, i mean camaraderie by @notesappwitch 31k, 2 ch. || bodyswap trope, love the character's voice bc it's so on point, very funny, a lot of emotions and the spicy scenes are perfect

the bucket list by @kanashikute 33k, 4 ch. || read this one, please, really, it's so bittersweet BUT i promise there's a good ending (and i cried so much while reading it)

🐰 he’s the headlights, I’m the deer by NatalieK 7k, OS || it's interesting to see Logan's losing his healing factor for once instead of Wade! and seeing Wade taking care of him, my heart

when you get a taste, can you tell me what's my flavor? by @slut-for-a-good-latte 5k, OS || one of my favorite thing with poolverine is psychic/quantum thingy bond because of the Time Ripper and this one DELIVERS!!

🐰 holding out for a hero by @splinnters 6k, 3 ch. || once again, i have a soft spot for Logan trusting Wade so much he called him when something is wrong and this, THIS is good

❗it's all in my head but i want nonfiction by @obihoebikenobi 21k, 3 ch. || Wade pinning x Logan perfectly happy in his relationship with his boyfriend who doesn't know he's his boyfriend it's perfect

🐰 I've got some color back (he thinks so too) by @mid13s 3k, OS || just a short fic with non-sexual intimacy because these two need comfort, hugs and a lot of affection (and the Hozier reference is chef's kiss)

who are you, really? by @edgebug 45k, 4 ch. || the sequel of where soul meets body and it's also an absolutely masterpiece! and still trying to process my feelings for this fic

[tthoroughfare]

garden daisy (part 2) // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: ellie makes a new friend, and you feel all weird about it.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: modern!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.6k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

okay so i feel like the way i've organized this series is kind of confusing as it started as a random blurb... technically part one is this blurb however the real story starts in the xmas fic! the blurb just kind of exists floating around somewhere before the events of that and sets up the dynamic. call it part 0.5 i guess. also i'm so sorry if ur name is haley it was genuinely the first name i thought of hahaha

after christmas, once you’re all settled back into life at college, ellie gets a new job. it’s just a few shifts a week at a music store, but she seems to be enjoying it. you’re happy for her; it’s nice to see her getting out of the apartment more, doing something that allows her to be in her element.

but then she starts mentioning a girl she works with. like, a lot.

“dude, look at what haley sent me today, i was dying.”

“haley had, like, the coolest shirt on at work.”

“oh my god, so i found out haley likes comics, too.”

at first, it doesn’t really bother you. then, it’s a case of you trying not to let it bother you. why even should it? she’s allowed to make new friends; her life doesn’t revolve around you.

still, you don’t like the way your chest starts to twist every time she gets mentioned, every time you see ellie smiling at her phone. you can hear them on facetime frequently through the thin walls of your apartment, and you more often than not end up shoving your headphones in to drown it out.

they start spending time together outside of work, too. she mentions that they’re going to see an exhibit together on a shared day off, and it takes everything for you to look up from your laptop, give her a tight smile and utter, “cool.”

you can tell she’s a bit dispirited by your reaction, like she’s debating saying something. she leaves it, though, just nodding once and pursing her lips before walking away. you kick yourself for it immediately — wishing you’d tried harder to appear enthusiastic for her. you’re worried it could be the seed of a wedge being driven.

it’s not like she’s completely neglected your friendship. you live together. you see her every day. she still gently knocks at your ajar door, poking her head around and asking if you want to watch a movie with her. you make dinner together on friday nights, something you’d done since you moved out of the dorms and got a semi-decent place.

you’re just so used to it being the two of you. sure, you both have other friends, but you’re best friends. you can’t help but feel a little uneasy all of a sudden someone new is making their way up the ladder, ellie not having quite as much time for you anymore.

at least, that’s what you tell yourself the reason is. you know the real one.

you eventually meet the esteemed haley when she comes over to hang out, and to your petty dismay she well and truly lives up to the boasting. you’ve seen pictures of her (as in, you found her on instagram and stalked her at two in the morning), but she’s even prettier in person. she’s sweet, too, giving you a hug and saying how great it is to finally meet you. ellie talks about you all the time, apparently.

the evening’s spent with the tv on, a few drinks sipped. you’re on one side of the couch, ellie on the other, new friend in the middle. you hate how genuinely likeable she is; she goes out of her way to speak to you, asking you questions about yourself and chatting jovially when you find common ground. she’s cool, smart, witty — it’s impossible not to compare yourself, and feel subpar. like old news.

and you wish you weren’t, but you’re reading into every little thing. the way the two of them easily bounce off of each other’s jokes, the way you can see even where you’re from how ellie’s eyes light up when she looks at her. deciding three’s a crowd and you’re just hurting your own feelings, you call it pretty early.

when you stand after finishing your drink and announce that you’re going to bed, you note the way that ellie’s face drops. “oh… really?”

you scrunch your nose, trying to sound untroubled. “yeah, i’m kinda tired, so…”

“m’kay,” she replies, chewing slightly at the inside of her cheek. she knows you better than that. since you first met, you’ve never been ‘kinda tired’ by nine.

after a pause and a quick look back and forth between the two of you, haley gives you a smile, reiterating her earlier statement. “well, it was so nice to meet you, anyway.”

you return it, nodding. your eyes flit to ellie for a split-second. “yeah, you too. see you both later.”

with that, you place your glass in the sink across the room and head off down the hall.

you change and get ready for bed, although the plan was never to sleep. you’re nestled under a blanket, lights dim and a candle burning as you keep your eyes trained on the bullshit stream of youtube videos you’d put on. you’re not really paying attention, mind well and truly elsewhere; simultaneously feeling sorry for yourself, and like the most petty, mean person in the world.

you feel pathetic for wishing ellie’s new friend wasn’t so easy to get along with. she came off as a nice person, and not in a sickly, fabricated way. you could understand how she’d easily tugged ellie out of her shell. a part of yourself had been secretly hoping she was irritating, or bitchy, or weird towards you — you just wanted something to latch onto, something to validate all the uncomfortable emotions that had been swirling ever since she became prominent.

but there was nothing. now all you’re left with is a weird bitterness towards a perfectly normal, sweet girl, her only crime being fetching up a childish possessiveness within you.

you don’t even understand why you’re like this over her in particular; ellie was always an introvert, but it wasn’t like she was a complete recluse. she’d had a serious girlfriend in high school, seen a couple of girls your first year of college, and you don’t remember feeling anywhere near how you are right now. you just guessed you didn’t have as much understanding of how you looked at her back then, combined with the domesticity of now having your own real place luring you into a warped way of thinking.

you hear haley leave around an hour and a half after you’d taken yourself to bed, followed by ellie shuffling around the kitchen space. the tap runs and there are a few clinks as she washes then places the three glasses to dry, hitting the lights off. her room’s further down the hall from yours, and she hesitates as she’s making her way there.

a few light taps sound from the other side of the door. “you asleep?”

“… no,” you call out softly, watching as it cracks open and ellie picks her way in. wordlessly, she plops herself onto the bed next to you, arm behind her head. you shift away a little, offering her more room.

“what’re you watching?”

“uh…” grabbing the remote, you pause the video for a beat so the title shows. you’re not even sure; you’d just selected the first you saw, then let the rest autoplay. “… ‘six most disturbing forest encounters caught on camera’.”

she chuckles. “spooky.”

“eh… they’re all fake.” you look up at her, smiling a little.

“could’ve fooled me.”

“i’m sure,” you laugh lightly, feeling the need to turn away when she goes to meet your eyes.

it’s quiet for a while, but you can sense she wants to say something. it’s not like one of the times she waltzes into your room simply to hang out, sit at the side of one another peacefully.

“you okay?” she eventually asks gently, turning her head to regard you. you don’t meet it.

“yeah, i’m fine.”

“you sure? ‘cause… i don’t know. you seem a little…”

“i’m all good.” glancing up, you offer an unconvincing, flickery smile. “don’t worry.”

“… okay.”

you can tell it offers no comfort, but she doesn’t push it. just settles further into the bed, scratching at her chin.

her eyes dart from the tv screen to the wall, then back to you. “haley’s cool, right? guessed you guys would get along.”

“yeah, she seems nice.”

she’s really not being subtle; but then again, neither are you. you’d been perfectly friendly while you were all together, but the way you’d disappeared coupled with your increasingly half-hearted responses whenever she was brought up pointed elsewhere.

“seriously, what’s up?” she turns onto her side to face you, resting her head on her arm. “i don’t like this.”

you roll your eyes, sighing as you turn, mirroring her. “it’s stupid.”

“what’s stupid?”

your mind flashes with a million ways you can get an overview of your feelings out, without having to tell her the root cause. “i don’t know, i’m just… like, used to it being… y’know, me and you.”

she pulls a face, letting out a fond scoff and furrowing her brow. “what do you mean?”

a tiny groan sounds from your throat, fingertips rubbing at your eye. “i’m just being stupid. fuckin’ embarrassing.”

laughing quietly again, she narrows her eyes a little. “what, are you, like… jealous?”

“no, i just… i don’t know. ignore me.” you’re trying to ignore the way you can feel your cheeks heat up when she says that word. you’d known all along that’s what you were, but being confronted with it is a whole other sensation entirely.

she doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps a small smirk on her face and looks down. “that is stupid.”

“right. thanks.”

“no, like…” subconsciously shuffling closer, her leg brushes yours. she quickly moves it. “dude, i can have other friends, but no-one’s gonna be you.”

you blink, thrown by her sincerity. you’d half-expected her to poke a little fun, call you a dumbass. she continues, your eyes meeting hers as she settles her head into the palm of her hand. “you’re always gonna be my best friend.”

yeah, i know, you think. that’s the problem.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Revenge, a Dish Served Colder than Snow || Young!Coriolanus Snow x Reader

GIF by @kvtnisseverdeen and divider by @firefly-graphics

A/n: I'd just like to say that this is not book or movie accurate whatsoever. Finnick is not even alive yet when Coriolanus was in his early 20s. I just really wanted to include him in this because he's hot and I love him. Also, lets just imagine he has been gone long enough that the next hunger games was about to happen.

Warnings: choking, swearing if there are others lmk

Wc:

P.t 1 P.t 2

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Previous

“Go fuck yourself Coriolanus,” You sneer at him as you turn around but was stopped when his hand takes a hold of your arm. “The fuck did you just say to me?” He scrunches his eyebrows, fury in his blue eyes. You shake off his grip, staring at him square on. “I said, to go fuck yourself. Or, if you find her, go fuck Lucy Gray!” You rage, spinning around and walking out of the bathroom.

Coryo stands there in utter disbelief at what had just happened moments earlier. The image of you causing a scene infront of everybody and that tribute from district 4, his hands roaming around your body shamelessly. He felt pure rage coursing through his veins as he slams his fist against the wall.

~

Coriolanus watched with curious eyes once he saw you enter the room. He hadn't seen you for a couple weeks after that day he came back and moaned out Lucy Gray's name while fucking you. Even under that masquerade mask, Snow could tell it was you.

His eyebrow quirks up when he notices a man by your side. "Who is that?" He points to the mysterious man beside you as Livia looks over to where he was pointing. A chuckle leaves her lips, "Jealous, snow?" She swirls the alcohol in her flute before taking a sip.

"That right there beside your dear y/n is none other than Finnick Odair," Livia wets her lips. "A tribute. From district 4," She continues as Coriolanus' eyes follow the two of you, Finnick's hand resting far too low on your back for his liking.

"What is a fucking tribute doing with her then?" He scoffs, leaning forward on his seat. "Has your time as peacekeeper in district 12 forgotten how much power Y/n has?" She looks at him as if he was an idiot. "She just vouched for him, convinced her daddy to let him stay with her." Liv shrugs.

Coriolanus lets out a scoff, "Are you jealous of a district boy? He is pretty handsome don't you think. A strong competitor for sure," She says before standing up and leaving Snow in his thoughts. A few minutes later, he gets up from where he was sitting and manoeuvres his body across the crowd of elitist members and other wealthy people of Panem.

"What are you doing here with him?" Snow pops a grape into his mouth as you pause your actions and look to him by your side. Of course he was going to be here. "And why do you care? Coriolanus?" You chastise, "Do not. Call me that," He mutters at you, a stern expression on his face as you smirk.

"Well, if you must know. I took a liking to the tribute and let's just say, gotten quite comfortable with each other," A smile makes it to your lips as you could see Snow visibly annoyed. "He's a fucking tribute-" "Oh isn't that rich coming from you, Snow?" You let out a laugh as you face him. "That's exactly what I thought when I questioned your intentions with Lucy-" "Y/n, don't" "And there you were. Moaning her fucking name while inside me!"

You harshly say as a couple people around pause to look at you both. Coriolanus could tell you had drunk a bit more than you could handle. "Y/n, let's talk somewhere else," He takes your hands, ready to pull you away. You yank his grip off of you.

"No! I'm not done!" Snow runs a hand down his face at your loud outburst. "I never knew that you could stoop so fucking low you know. First it was cheating so that your precious tribute would win, and then you go chase her in her district and-" You couldn't finish your sentence as Coriolanus lurches towards him, hand gripping the base of your neck as your look at him in horror.

He squeezes it enough to make you shut up and gasp slightly for air. The people around you gasp at what had just happened. "Shut the fuck up. Shut your mouth before I do something I will regret," He spat, his hand squeezing as he shakes you."Get off of her!" Finnick shouts, pulling Snow away from you as you hold onto him, your hand touching your neck.

You then push Finnick away before doing something that further fueled the fire inside Coriolanus. You bowed. Just like her. Exactly like how Lucy Gray bowed at the reaping ceremony. A few stifled laughs could be heard throughout the room as Coriolanus looks horrified. He gulps, loosening his tie as you smirk at him

Coriolanus quickly leaves the room, breathing heavily as he runs his hands through his hair. He didn’t know what took over him. But he saw red the second you mentioned Lucy Gray. He swore he never intended to harm you. But he couldn’t help it.

His pent up emotions from the past couple of weeks needing diffusing. And you were pretty darn good at pushing specific buttons within him. Coriolanus caught glimpse of your figure entering the bathroom, he follows you whilst looking around, making sure no one was around.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, tears brimming your eyes as you study your neck, already bruising from his iron like grip. You were horrified, shocked, and most of all hurt, by Coriolanus. He never once touched you with such violence and he always reassured you that he would never hurt you and here you were. Crying in the bathroom stalls.

Even after the events that occurred when he came back, you couldn’t stop thinking about Coryo. You just couldn’t help yourself. He was your first everything. You lean your hands on the counter as you drop your head, tears cascading down your cheeks.

Coriolanus immediately heard your cries the minute he’s close to the bathroom door. He pauses. Leans his ear against the door and lets out sigh before entering. His entrance caught you by surprise as you stumble back upon seeing his tall figure.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you.” He says, sadness and guilt laced in his tone as he looks at you in sympathy, his eyes flickering your neck where he caused damage. You refused to meet his eyes as you turn your head to the side.

“But you should know better than to publicly humiliate me infront of everyone-“ A loud scoff emits your lips as you turn to him. “Go fuck yourself Coriolanus,” You sneer at him as you turn around but was stopped when his hand takes a hold of your arm. “The fuck did you just say to me?” He scrunches his eyebrows, fury in his blue eyes. You shake off his grip, staring at him square on. “I said, to go fuck yourself. Or, if you find her, go fuck Lucy Gray!” You rage, spinning around and walking out of the bathroom.

Coryo stands there in utter disbelief at what had just happened moments earlier. The image of you causing a scene infront of everybody and that tribute from district 4, his hands roaming around your body shamelessly. He felt pure rage coursing through his veins as he slams his fist against the wall.

Before you walk through the door, you stop and turn to face him. His expression angry, his hands were bawled up into fists, the wall beside him had a whole where he punctured it with his hand. “Don’t ever try talking to me again, Coriolanus. I mean it. Or I’ll do something you’ll regret.” You conclude before turning back around and walking away.

Coriolanus Snow knew without a doubt that you were capable of so many things that would hurt him, and his reputation. And he did not need further damage. So he listened. Regret seeped into him every single day as he left you alone. He would always watch you from afar though, he loved you, there was no denying.

What occurred that day with Lucy Gray was a mistake, a mistake he wished he could take back more than anything.

Taglist: @valenftcrush @ghostlycrystobalove @esquivelbianca @duds31 @threeinchminimum @shadowsepiphany @novacaneformybrain @crazylokonugget @unclecrunkle @darkqweenn @marihoneywk @beckinator7 @stelleduarte @1950schick @celineandtulips

[bluepeachstudios]

So. Cass' Apocalyptic Series by @somerandomdudelmao just ended.

I have many emotions none of which I can properly convey through words or anything. CAS itself has been a continuing beacon of creative light that's been lovely to see progress, and has inspired me through so many things, and I could go on about it but I cannot get into it without crying so I won't, I hope the sentiment comes across.

Cass did fanart of Ghost in the Shell HERE. It was like. I dunno. The third or fourth drawing of GitS I'd gotten from someone else? And the fact that Cass of all people had done it was like, wild to me at the time. I was still kind of reeling from the fact that people even liked my work at all? But Cass said it was good and I was like "oh damn must be good then" and kept writing. She also did THIS animation of Ghost which I still cry at whenever I watch it it's fine.

THEN THE PEEPAW POLLS HAPPENED. OH LORD. I made so many friends. I met so many people through that. I've never. In my life had this many people I could just talk to at any time. I never knew what to say either so I ended up just hanging out and getting dragged wherever the wind took me. It got me into doing polls in general!

Ghost made it to the FINAL ROUND??? Still confused about that. Then Uncle Tello won and Cass did a comic and I wrote something and I cried when I read the comic and I was still kind of processing so I ended up drawing something as well.

Then the next time GitS and CAS met was at the TMNT AU competition. It happened. Like almost DIRECTLY after Uncle Tello died in CAS so I was processing again and I do that through Ghost apparently so I drew a lil comic and wrote a lil somethin.

And then they never met again! But I like to think that some version of Ghost somewhere got to see the end.

GitS Part 2 has been kinda hard for me to write. I had to take a big break from it due to health stuff, and getting back into writing it wasn't as easy as before. And even after Part 2 is over, I still have the movie to do. My interest in TMNT is never going away, even after GitS I have other projects I want to finish, and that I've wanted to work on while writing GitS, but. y'know.

I'm determined to finish it. Drawing an x on my wrist. I really want to give Ghost the ending I've been imagining. And Cass has been someone really cool to look up to while I've been working on that.

So. Yeah. If Cass can get to the good ending, maybe I can do it too.

Love you Cass. Thanks for everything!

[childrenofcain-if]

After knowing that C and MC were in the same high school, I'm rooting even more for them. I'm also guessing C's confusing feelings for us in their route is them liking us since school? That's so freaking cute 🥰🥺

Can I ask for a scenario where they have a group project with other people and one of them gets very flirty with MC? Will C let that slide, I wonder 🫤

the diner sat on the corner of a street that tried its hardest to look charming but failed, the neon sign buzzing faintly against the rain-streaked window.

it was one of those places that seemed plucked from a movie set: vinyl booths, chrome napkin dispensers, and a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t worked since the last century. the smell of grease hung heavy in the atmosphere, mixing with the faint sweetness of syrup from the breakfast specials they served all day.

you sat in the booth, tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook, watching the door with mild dread. when C walked in, you knew the meeting was about to get infinitely more complicated.

C spotted you immediately, their sharp chalcedony green eyes narrowing like they’d been assigned a particularly irritating math problem. they weren’t dressed for the rain, but their aldervale prep blazer was immaculate, not a drop of water on it, as though the universe had conspired to shield them from the rain outside. although, you guessed it was most probably because of the black umbrella that they were carrying.

C slid into the booth across from you without a word, placing a pristine leather notebook on the table. their pen—silver, of course—clicked once. twice. a quick rhythm that made your teeth itch.

“you’re late,” you said.

“i’m exactly on time,” C replied, their voice clipped like the word ‘time’ had too many syllables and they were doing you a favor by saying it quickly.

your two other group members—darcy and lowe—arrived moments later, looking both nervous and excited, as though they’d stumbled into the VIP lounge of a club they didn’t belong to.

darcy, her backpack practically bursting with highlighters, was vibrating with energy. lowe looked more like they’d been dragged here against their will, though their eyes lit up when they spotted the milkshake menu.

you exchanged pleasantries, ordered drinks, and got down to business.

the topic was seattle, your city, and you were supposed to collectively dissect and analyze for the sake of some interdisciplinary project that combined geography, economics, and, for reasons you still didn’t understand, poetry.

“seattle,” you began, flipping open your notebook, “has many layers to it. you have the tech billionaires building spaceships on one side and grunge bands writing songs about the end of the world on the other. i think we should focus on how those contradictions make it unique.”

“that’s pretty reductive,” C cut in, not bothering to look up from their notebook. “seattle’s economy is primarily driven by tech, aviation, and trade. if we’re going to present a meaningful analysis, we should focus on its economic impact on washington state as a whole.”

darcy and lowe exchanged nervous glances. you clenched your jaw.

“not everything has to be about numbers, lacroix,” you said. “people care about stories, not spreadsheets. we can talk about the economy, sure, but we should start with what makes the city feel alive. the art, the culture—”

“and completely ignore the practical context?” C’s gaze lifted then, their expression somewhere between exasperation and boredom. “that’s like writing about a chess game and leaving out the strategy. completely pointless.”

“it’s not exactly pointless if it makes people care,” you shot back.

the argument spiraled from there, gaining momentum like a runaway train. darcy and lowe sat frozen, their eyes darting between you like spectators at a particularly intense boxing match.

“maybe we should, uh, toss a coin?” darcy offered weakly, her voice barely audible over your bickering.

C smirked, pulling a coin from their pocket as though they’d been waiting for this moment to occur this whole time. you selected tails and they flipped it, caught it, and slapped it onto the back of their hand.

“heads,” they announced, triumphant.

you groaned. “of course.”

“don’t be a sore loser, starkid,” C said, their tone practically dripping with smugness. “we’ll just have to do it my way this time.”

“fine,” you muttered, slumping back against the booth.

the tension eased slightly as the waitress arrived with your food—burgers, fries, and milkshakes that lowe declared were ‘the best in the neighbourhood’ despite never having tried any others.

you talked about school, about the upcoming math test and the cafeteria food which had reduced in quality after some new kitchen staff got employed. darcy was surprisingly funny, and lowe had a good bank of knowledge on obscure sports trivia.

C, however, remained quiet. they ate slowly, like each bite was a boring task to be completed. their posture was rigid, their eyes rarely leaving their plate.

it wasn’t until the conversation turned to favorite places in washington that you noticed something shift. darcy was talking about summers spent hiking in olympic national park, her voice full of nostalgia. lowe mentioned a family road trip to mount rainier.

“so, lacroix,” you said, turning towards the grumpy brunette. “penny for your thoughts?”

they blinked, clearly startled that you’d addressed them directly. “i... i’ve never been to any of those places.”

the table fell silent. even darcy looked surprised.

“seriously?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

they shrugged, their gaze fixed on the condensation dripping down the water glass. “i haven’t lived in washington as long as you all have. besides, i’m not exactly the adventurous type. i just… don’t see the point of, you know, wandering around aimlessly. it’s not like the city’s going anywhere.”

darcy, being the idealist she was, tried to lift the mood. “well, maybe you should visit some of those places one day! olympic’s amazing—especially the hoh rainforest.”

C didn’t respond. they just nodded, their lips pressed into a thin line.

for a moment, you felt something almost like sympathy. C, the untouchable perfectionist, didn’t seem know how to belong in places like this—in diners that smelled like burnt coffee, in conversations that meandered without purpose. they were as out of place here as a chessboard at a football game.

you then frowned, something tugging at the edges of your chest. you remembered hearing something once—maybe in passing, maybe during some rare moment of C opening up in class—that their parents had divorced when they were ten. that they’d moved to seattle from rochester, new york, with their mother, who worked long hours and didn’t have time for much else.

you didn’t know why you said it. maybe it was the way their voice had dipped, the way their composure seemed dulled. but the words came anyway. “maybe we could all go somewhere. for the project, i mean.”

C’s head snapped up, their green eyes narrowing like they were trying to decipher a riddle. for a moment, you thought they were going to say something cruel—an insult that’d have you getting angry again. but then their gaze softened, just a fraction.

“why?” they asked, the word almost inaudible.

you shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “i don’t know. it might help. plus, you can’t live like a hermit forever while you’re at washington.”

they stared at you for what felt like a long time, their expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, they nodded. wordlessly, awkwardly.

you thought you saw something flicker across their face then—something like a smile, small and fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it came.

for the rest of the meeting, C avoided your gaze. and as you all filed out of the diner, the rain starting up again in soft patters against the window, you found yourself wondering why you’d even offered.

but the truth was, you already knew. sometimes, your heart reached out before your brain could catch up. and for reasons you didn’t fully understand at the moment, it had reached for them.

the day began under a gauzy layer of mist that hung low over seattle. the clouds seemed reluctant to rise and the air carried a faint, damp chill.

lowe’s BMW 5 smelled faintly of peppermint gum and an air freshener that promised ‘ocean breeze’ but delivered something closer to what you’d find at a more eccentric section of bath & body works.

you sat on the passenger seat, your elbow resting against the door, the window cracked open to let in the air. darcy and C were in the backseat, the former preoccupied with her camera, snapping pictures of the dashboard, the sky, and the brunette beside her, who looked like they were already regretting agreeing to this trip.

the car wove its way through the city, past coffee shops with hand-painted signs and streets lined with rain-slicked trees.

lowe, ever the conversationalist, started talking about the destination—a landmark tucked away in one of seattle’s greener corners. but at some point, the conversation shifted, becoming less about the destination and more about you.

“y’know,” lowe said, their voice taking on a teasing lilt as they glanced at you, “i’m really happy we’re doing this. i was always curious about how it’d be to hang out with you outside of school”

you blinked, caught off guard. “um, thanks? that’s nice of you to say.” you gave them a polite smile, the kind you might offer a friendly cashier.

C, sitting stiffly in the backseat, was less amused. they had been glaring at the back of lowe’s head for the past ten minutes, their jaw tight, their arms crossed. every tap of lowe’s fingers, every casual joke, seemed to grate on them like nails on a chalkboard.

darcy, oblivious, was busy snapping pictures with her camera, capturing the rain-slick streets and the way the trees blurred as the car sped past. she hummed under her breath, the shutter clicking steadily, her energy so light and cheerful it was almost its own soundtrack.

finally, C, who had been silent up until now, shifted in their seat with a sharp huff.

“lowe,” they spoke up, their tone clipped, “maybe focus on the road instead of hitting on that idiot right in front of us.”

you squawked in indignation at being called an ‘idiot,’ not exactly getting what else they were implying.

meanwhile, lowe startled, their hands tightening on the steering wheel. “what? i wasn’t—” they caught C’s glare in the rearview mirror and quickly relented. “right. sorry. road. eyes on the road.”

you glanced back at C, confused by the sudden shift in the mood. their jaw was tight, their arms crossed over their chest, and they avoided your gaze entirely. you thought about asking what their problem was but decided against it. the day was too early, and you didn’t want to start bickering already.

the destination turned out to be kerry park. you stepped out of the car and stretched, looking around with a grin. your group followed suit and, after taking your backpacks, trudged up the steep streets of queen anne.

the park was small, unassuming—just a sliver of land carved into the hill, a place where the city stretched out beneath you like a quilt stitched together by architects, lovers of symmetry, and disarray alike.

from here, seattle wasn’t a city so much as a panorama, framed by the wide arms of the sound and the occasional, fleeting glimpses of mount rainier, pale and insubstantial like the ghost of a mountain in the distance.

the rain hadn’t yet started, though the air smelled of wet concrete and petrichor, gave you an indication that it wouldn’t hold off for long.

darcy had already pulled her camera out, its strap slung around her neck as she wandered a few feet ahead, her voice rising and falling as she described the perfect angles for her shots. lowe was by your side, gesturing dramatically at the view as if they were a tour guide instead of a co-conspirator.

C, who had followed at a distance and was now leaning against a nearby rail, their arms crossed and their face set in a scowl.

“lacroix,” you called over your shoulder, your tone light, inviting. “you should come and look around with us. it’s cool.”

they raised an eyebrow, their expression unimpressed. “thrilling, i’m sure.”

lowe shot them a weird look but said nothing, their attention soon snapping to follow darcy on her photoshoots.

you turned fully to face C. “you don’t have to be so grumpy, you know.”

“i’m not grumpy,” they snapped grumpily.

you sighed, letting it go for now. instead, you wandered over to the railing where they stood, resting your elbows on the cool metal as you gazed out at the view.

“this place means a lot to me,” you began, glancing at C. they didn’t respond, but they didn’t walk away either, so you took that as permission to continue.

“when i was little, my dad used to bring me here. we’d spend hours looking at the birds. he had this old, beat-up field guide he carried everywhere. i still remember the smell of it—old paper and leather. he’d flip through it so fast, trying to identify every bird we saw. i think he liked the challenge of it.”

C’s features softened, almost imperceptibly, as they listened.

“there was this one time,” you said, your voice growing warm with the memory, “we saw a bald eagle perched on one of the trees. it was so close, you could see the feathers on its chest ruffling in the wind. my dad was so excited, he nearly dropped his binoculars in a muddy puddle.”

you laughed. C smiled. it was not their usual arrogant smirk, but something too genuine to be described without it being an understatement.

even darcy noticed as she was snapping pictures of passers-by under the railing where you and C were leaning against.

from behind her camera, she whispered, “i think i just saw a miracle,” before snapping a picture.

in the photo, you were looking up at the sky, your face alight with wonder. and beside you, C was looking at you—not the sky, not the birds, but you. their expression was so unguarded, so tender, it made darcy pause, her finger hovering over the shutter button.

“and it’s not just the view or the birds,” you continued, your voice picking up momentum as you spoke. “there’s this whole history to it. did you know the park was named after albert sperry kerry? he was this big real estate guy in the early 1900s. probably bulldozed a lot of land to make a fortune. but this place? this tiny slice of the city? he gave it back. said he wanted people to have a place to breathe, to see things differently.”

you glanced over at C, expecting the usual sardonic remark, but they were watching you with an expression you didn’t expect—soft, almost eager, like they could never get tired of you talking about things like these.

“i guess i just like thinking about that,” you said, your voice trailing off as you turned back to the horizon. “how even someone who takes and takes can give something so beautiful.”

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. then, quietly, C said, “you really are a nerd, aren’t you?”

you laughed, the sound bright and unexpected, and while you didn’t have C laughing alongside you, you had a distinct feeling that they were too distracted by a certain someone to do so.

lunch was a quiet affair. you all sat on a damp wooden bench overlooking the trees. you plopped down beside C without a second thought, your shoulder brushing theirs as you unwrapped your sandwich.

C stiffened, their gaze flicking to you in surprise.

“you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, already halfway through your first bite.

they shook their head, though they looked puzzled, as if trying to understand why you’d willingly sit next to them when lowe was right there, still buzzing with laughter after a joke darcy shared with them.

“thanks for listening to me earlier,” you said softly.

C cleared their throat, their voice rough when they replied, “no problem.”

you still gave them a smile despite their (apparent) surly mood before turning back to your sandwich.

C looked down at their own food, their expression unreadable, but there was a faint hint of pink dusting the tip of their ears.

maybe, C concluded, the whole practical aspects of the project could take a backseat for now. it seemed like they didn’t mind focusing on the people of the city after all—or maybe it was just this infuriatingly intelligent seattle native that they couldn’t stop smiling for.

you wondered if the extreme makeover crew ever came to take darcy’s house as an inspiration for a lot of their renovations. it was a gleaming two-storey in a neighborhood where the lawns were manicured to within an inch of their lives and the houses all had names like “birchwood” or “côte d’azur.”

her parents were insanely successful real estate agents and it showed in every detail, from the perfectly symmetrical hydrangeas flanking the front door to the wrought-iron chandelier hanging in the entryway.

her room was a microcosm of the house itself: spacious and spotless. honestly, it made you want to take your shoes off just to avoid dirtying the carpet.

the walls were painted a muted teal, lined with shelves holding an army of books and a smattering of knick-knacks from trips abroad. there was a citrus-like scent around, and her plush white comforter made her bed look like a stratocumulus cloud.

you all sat cross-legged on her floor, laptops and papers spread out in a semi-circle as you planned out your presentation. ‘soren’ by beabadoobee was playing from darcy’s bluetooth speaker and the conversation was punctuated with bursts of laughter—mostly lowe’s loud, carefree chuckles and darcy’s softer, chiming giggles.

C, true to form, sat slightly apart, their long legs folded under them, their expression guarded but not unkind. they were listening more than talking, as always, their gaze darting between everyone like they were trying to keep up without wanting to look too interested.

“okay, but what if we start with the history of seattle, like the gold rush and all that, and then connect it to how the city evolved into this tech hub?” you suggested, glancing at C for approval.

the green-eyed brunette nodded once, their expression unreadable. “that works. it gives us a narrative to build on.”

lowe sidled up to you with an encouraging smile. “you’re always full of good ideas. i swear we’re going to ace this project at this rate.”

you laughed lightly, not catching the undertone. “it’s a group effort, lowe.”

“yeah, lowe,” darcy said, rolling her eyes in an annoyed manner from her spot near the window. “you’re really laying it on thick.”

you tried to smile it off but you couldn’t help but notice that she seemed almost... angry at lowe about something. the latter, on the other hand, was not meeting her eyes at all.

as if that wasn’t weird enough, you caught C stiffening out of the corner of your eye, their fingers tightening around their pen.

the awkwardness simmered quietly for a while, manifesting only in the way C’s responses grew shorter, their gaze darting less toward the group and more toward the window, where the rain streaked against the glass.

it wasn’t until lowe leaned closer to you, their voice dropping just enough to feel pointed, that the tension finally broke. “y’know, if you ever want to grab coffee or something after all this, i know a great place near pike place. it’s got this cozy corner that’d be perfect for—”

“i’m getting some water,” C announced abruptly, standing so quickly their chair scraped loudly against the floor.

the room fell silent for a beat as C walked away, their footsteps echoing down the hall. darcy glanced at you, then at lowe, and then back at you.

“you should go talk to them,” she said softly.

“what?” you asked, surprised.

“just... go,” she urged, nodding toward the door. “i think they need to hear from you.”

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between the door and the others. but there was something in the way darcy looked at you, a quiet insistence that made you realise the urgency she was feeling. besides, with the way she turned her attention to lowe with a scathing glare, you did not want to get in between whatever they had going on.

so you stood, mumbling something about being right back, and headed for the kitchen.

you found C by the sink, their back to you, their hands braced against the counter. the faucet was running, though the glass they were holding was still empty.

“hey,” you said tentatively, stepping into the room.

they didn’t turn around. “what do you want?”

“i just... wanted to check on you,” you said, your voice faltering. “you looked kind of... i don’t know, upset?”

C finally turned, their chalcedony green gaze indecipherable and cagey. “i’m fine. you can go back to lowe now. you two were having such a great time.”

their tone was harsh, and it made you blink in surprise.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, genuinely confused.

C rolled their eyes, the motion exaggerated, almost theatrical. “don’t play dumb. it was obvious you two were flirting.”

you sighed, caught between disbelief and frustration. “we weren’t flirting. that’s probably just how lowe is. they were just being friendly.”

C let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound more of a bark. “you’re an absolute dunderhead if you believe that. lowe wasn’t just flirting for fun—they meant it.”

you felt heat rising to your face, your irritation bubbling over. “okay, first of all, stop insulting me. and second, would you please stop ruining everything with your assumptions.”

C flinched, just barely, but it was enough to make you pause. their voice dropped, colder now. “maybe i should’ve asked the teacher to switch groups. if my presence bothers you that much—”

“maybe you should have,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “then maybe we wouldn’t have to deal with you being a burden all the time.”

for a moment, the kitchen was deathly silent except for the faint patter of rain against the window. C’s face twisted, not with anger but with something closer to hurt, and you immediately regretted what you’d said.

“okay,” they said quietly, their voice flat. “i’ll let myself out then.”

before you could say anything, before you could take it back, they were already walking up to the front door and reaching for their umbrella, their movements mechanical as they stepped toward the door. the rain outside had picked up, a relentless downpour that blurred the edges of the world.

you wanted to say something, to fix the fracture you’d caused, but the words wouldn’t come out on time.

C stepped into the rain without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind them. you stood frozen, the echo of their retreating footsteps mingling with the sound of the storm.

your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides as you stared at the front door. you wanted to curse. to rewind the last five minutes and unsay every single word.

you ran a hand through your hair, muttering something unintelligible under your breath as you paced. your foot caught on the corner of the coffee table, and in your aggravation, you stumbled forward, knocking over the pile of photographs darcy had laid out so carefully.

“great,” you muttered, crouching down to gather the scattered pictures.

they were glossy and vibrant, capturing moments from your trip to kerry park just two days ago. you hadn’t paid much attention to them before, but now, as you picked up photo after photo, a pattern began to emerge.

in nearly every image, C was looking at you.

your fingers froze on a picture where their smile was so open, so completely unlike their usual self, that it felt almost like intruding on a scene you weren’t supposed to see. their dimples were unmistakable, softening the sharpness of their features in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

in another photo, they were standing slightly behind you, their chalcedony green eyes focused entirely on you as you pointed out something in the distance, completely oblivious to their adoring attention.

for a moment, you just sat there on the floor, staring at the pictures, the edges of the glossy paper dampening under your trembling fingers. then, as if pulled by an invisible string, you stood.

darcy had made her way to the living room and said something as you made for the door, but her words were lost to the roaring in your ears.

the rain hit you like a wall as you stepped outside, cold and relentless, soaking through your clothes in seconds. but you didn’t care. your feet moved on instinct, splashing through puddles as you ran down the street. it was a foolish thing to do, running in a storm like this, but every step felt like it was carrying you closer to something you couldn’t name but desperately needed to reach.

you didn’t know which way C went exactly, but you had a feeling.

and then, through the curtain of rain, you saw them.

C was standing under their umbrella, their posture stiff as they glanced down the street. the soft glow of their phone screen illuminated their face, but they weren’t scrolling or texting. they were waiting for an uber, probably. or maybe just waiting for the storm to pass.

you skidded to a stop, breathless and drenched. when they turned and spotted you, their eyes widened incredulously like you’d just teleported there.

“what the hell are you doing?” they demanded, their voice rising over the rain as they speed-walked up to you, umbrella in hand. they immediately held it over both of you, shielding you from the worst of the downpour. “have you finally lost your mind? you’re going to catch a cold!”

you were out of breath, your chest heaving as the water dripped from your lashes, but you didn’t care. “i’m sorry.”

C blinked, their mouth opening slightly as if they were going to argue, but you kept going. “i’m sorry for what i said. i didn’t mean it. you’re not a burden, C. i’ve never ever thought of you like that. the truth is—”

your words caught in your throat, the weight of them almost too much. but you forced them out. “the truth is, i’ve had a great time doing this project with you. i really didn’t mean any of it—about switching groups, about ruining things, you being a burden. i’m glad we got paired together, even if you drive me completely insane sometimes.”

“are you done?” they asked gruffly, though their tone lacked its usual edge.

you nodded sheepishly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

they sighed, lowering their gaze for a moment before meeting yours again. “i had a great time too. you... you made me see the city in a way i never had before. you made me appreciate it. i...” they sighed, “i was being too stubborn and i shouldn’t have given you a hard time with everything. and... i don’t mind your company, even if you’re way too dense sometimes to see what’s in front of you the whole time.”

the sincerity in their voice made your breath catch. right now, all you could do was stare at them and bask in the warmth they made you feel.

you admired the way their dark brown hair curled slightly at the edges, damp and clinging to their skin. the way the rain caught in their lashes, making their chalcedony green eyes glow as though a thousand hues were shifting like sunlight through sea glass. the way their fair skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, the sharpness of their cheekbones, the curve of their lips, soft and slightly parted.

they shifted under your gaze, their cheeks suddenly flushing pink.

“what?” they snapped. “why are you ogling me?”

but you didn’t answer. at least not with words.

before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward, leaning in until your lips brushed against theirs in a kiss that felt as inevitable as the rain falling around you.

C froze, their eyes wide in shock and disbelief before they pulled back, their fingers flying to their lips.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurted out, the heat rising to your face as you realized what you’d just done. your heart was sinking in absolute shame. “i—”

but before you could finish, C let the umbrella drop to the ground with a soft clatter. rain cascaded over both of you as they grabbed your face with trembling hands as they surged forward, their lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

the world seemed to fall away in that moment, leaving only the two of you, your hands tangling in the fabric of their rain-soaked sweater as their fingers threaded themselves in your wet hair. it was cold, sure, but their kiss was warm, searing, as if it had been waiting to catch sparks all along.

your clothes were drenched and your hair was practically plastered to your face, but it didn’t matter. nothing else mattered.

it wasn’t until the honk of a car horn shattered the moment that you finally broke apart, both of you panting as you turned to see the waiting uber that C had previously booked.

C’s face turned crimson as they also turned to look at the car, their expression mortified and exasperated at the same time.

“putain,” they muttered under their breath before grabbing your arm and their umbrella. they then shut it quickly and tugged you toward the vehicle.

the uber driver, to his credit, said nothing as you both slid into the backseat, though the faint twitch of his lips and the knowing look he gave you two in the rearview mirror didn’t go unnoticed.

“could this day get any more embarrassing?” C asked as they crossed their arms over their chest, staring determinedly out the window.

“uh huh,” you mumbled, still in a daze from what just happened.

“that was my first kiss, you know,” C muttered.

you turned to them, still not registering their words. “you’re so gorgeous.”

C scowled, their blush deepening. “shut up, you dolt. you’re not even listening to me.”

but when their hand crept over to cover yours, you couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread across your face.

[munsster]

rockstar standards

A/N: PLS PLS PLS DROP SUGGESTIONS FOR HOCKEY STEVE/EDDIE im having a total brainfart but i need to break into the hockey au game bc i love it 😻 (gif creds: @cuntyarmand)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, 90s AU

Summary: Corroded Coffin starts to gain some traction, and you can't help feeling stranded. 1.5k words

Warnings: minor angst/hurt comfort, fluff, pining, pet names (bug, sweetheart, sweets, baby), jealousy, undressed cuddling,

You watch him parade around the stage every Friday night. Sometimes he's playing the home stage, other times he books random amphitheaters and dive bars. But today, he's drenched in purple light on the outskirts of Chicago. It's by far the biggest venue Corroded Coffin has played. You sit by the pop up bar, but bodies are packed like sardines in this place. It's hot and loud, but it's worth it to see him so elated.

Even through his streaky eyeliner, you can tell he's adoring the attention of the pit. You can see their red fingernails and shiny tank tops and free flowing hair. You never thought Eddie would be the kinda thing you were attracted to. You also know he's not the kinda guy to be attracted to something like you. You know guys like Eddie usually go for the Pam Andersons and Courtney Loves. The Party girls. Not the ones who have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than watch a romcom alone.

That Sunday, Eddie pulls onto your street. It's late and he has a ringing headache. He couldn't think of anything better to do after touching down in Hawkins again. You'd headed home the night before, and it made his gut wrench knowing he wouldn't get to see you the rest of the weekend.

Your door creaks open, and he's smiling on the other side. He's already leaning against your doorway with the bouquet he bought earlier from the woman selling them on the corner.

"Missed you, bug," he huffs, "Can I come in?"

You step aside without another word, and he hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack like always. Something feels off when he sits on the couch to find you're on the complete opposite side from him. Usually, you're not shy about cuddling up beside him to watch a movie or share snacks or just talk.

He frowns and scoots closer, leaning in to grab at your ankle playfully. You kick his hand away, brow set hard above your lethal glare.

"Sweetheart," he huffs, tilting his head in confusion, "What's going on? Where's my cuddlebug?"

"I dunno, somewhere in Hollywood?"

His eyes nearly pop out of his head at that. You're his favorite girl and you know that. So why're you grilling him now.

"Tell me what's goin' on. What did I miss?"

And you look serious, too. This isn't some running joke he missed out on while he was away. He's not sure who bruised your confidence, but he's sure he'd like to have a few words with them. He hates the way your lip wobbles and your eyes avoid him cause it gives you away. That's how he knows you're heartbroken.

"Eddie," you whine, swiping a hasty tear from your cheek. "I just don't know why you keep me around when you could have any of those girls at your bon vivant gigs."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean, bug?" He barks it out on accident, sitting back on his haunches with a scowl. "I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm gettin’ rid of you."

"Eddie, please... you're gonna make it big and get shipped off to Tinseltown, and I'll still be here, teddy. Probably being someone's lonely, suburban housewife. It's what I'm made for, and that's not what you want."

"You're wrong."

"And maybe you should go," you whisper, choking back a sob and standing from the couch.

"No, sweets, you're wrong," he says, standing and striding over to you, "You've got me wrong, and you've got you wrong."

You cross your arms over your chest and finally look him in the eye.

"'S that so?"

"Yeah," he tuts. And he has the most charming, most dastardly smile you've ever seen, flashing his canines like a gentle killer. "'Cause I'm gonna take you with me."

"Teddy."

"Nope, I'm takin' you with me wherever I go, and there's nothin' you can say to change my mind. Even if you hate my music forever, fine, I'll fix you up in a nice five star anywhere we go. You can sit and watch all the movies you like. You'll be nobody's housewife, baby, 'cause I'm keepin' you."

You roll your eyes, batting away tears when he grabs your hand to pull you back to the couch.

"And what if I said that's not what I want?" you suggest, testing his rockstar resolve with your big, wet eyes and stubborn quips.

"Then I'll give you somethin' else. Anything else. But you're mine no matter what." If only you knew how proud it made him to call you his girl. To know you support him even if you don't love his genre.  "Now, would you come closer? You're killin' me."

You obey with a frigid pout, letting him drape your thighs over his and brush his ring clad paws over your cheeks, down your neck.

"But what about your groupies and the pretty girls at the bars or in the front row?"

"What about 'em?" he says, just barely shaking his head, "I'll have somethin' way better waiting for me."

You chuckle. "You're crazy."

He cocks a brow. "Old news."

When he notices how close you've gotten, he smiles. Your manicured nails graze over his chest with the only light washing over you from the dimly lit kitchen. He can't resist his palm curling behind your neck, pulling you close for a sweet kiss.

"Where d'you keep your vases?" he mumbles, remembering the tulips resting on the little table.

"Kitchen. Above the fridge," you say with your fingers already slotting between his to pull him towards the warm light. He loves you like this: sickly sweet and tender, holding him all gentle in your hot pulse. You go to reach for a painted ceramic vase, but he wraps his arm around you and turns you away.

"Ah ah ah, drop it, sweetheart. That’s my job," he says against your temple, holding the lip of the vase and patting your ass. He takes the bouquet from your grasp and sets both on the counter by the sink. You hand him a pair of scissors and he carefully snips the stems jagged, filling the vase with water.

His stomach flips when you wrap your arms around his waist and clasp your hands at his belt. He sets the prepared arrangement aside and turns in your embrace.

"All done," he says wickedly, palming your face with his wet hands. You jump back with a squeal, pelting a dish rag at this chest.

"Use a towel, you slob!"

He chuckles and wipes his hands on his shirt, tossing the towel over his shoulder and leering at you like he's starved.

"Come here," he mumbles. You go a little shy under his gaze, dropping your head and shuffling towards his presence. He catches you by the hips, dipping down to catch your mouth in a prying kiss. You grin against him and he groans, tugging you tight against his body.

"Always love how soft you are, baby. Surprises me every time." He shakes his wild mane and purses his lips for you to kiss this time.

"Where d'you want the flowers?" he says.

"Bedroom?"

His eyes light up involuntarily, and he grabs the vase, bounding off towards your room gleefully. You jog to catch up with him, and when you enter the threshold, he's expertly positioning the vase next to a stack of books on your dresser.

"Much cleaner than mine," he says, gesturing around the room, "You keep it nice in here."

You shrug. "Could be cleaner."

"You can never see mine," he teases, knowing full well you already have. He slings his arms low on your hips, adoring you in the blue light of dusk. "Can I undress you?"

You bow your head and whisper, "teddy..."

"Not like that. Just wanna hold you."

You kiss his slanted mouth sweetly, nodding.

He reaches for the edge of your soft cotton dress, pulling it up and over your head. He whistles low upon seeing your undergarments, whipping his shirt off and onto the floor somwhere. You giggle, helping him with his belt buckle. He traces your temple with his lips leaving kisses along the way. He steps out of his jeans and lets you lead him around the bed.

His curls sprawl out against your pillows, and he welcomes you into his side with a lazy smile. Your reach to touch his waist and softly feel over the scar below his ribs.

"Little tender, bug," he hisses. You bat your eyes up at him scared, pulling your hand away.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No, please," he whispers, cradling your wrist, his eyes locked with yours. He draws the hair away from your neck, replacing it with his fingers to dance down along your spine. You’re warmer than he’s ever felt before and thankful for it. His hands are cold, but he doesn’t have to worry about it for very long when you bring each fingertip to your lips for a kiss.

“You’re my girl, alright? Always,” he whispers and you nod, “always.”

masterlist

[bubblegumgothglados]

Aftercare should generally involve the opposite of the things a scene involved, it should balance the "negative" physical and psychological impact of the scene.

This is a fairly neat summation and simplification of a very complex and nuanced topic. But it's a good place to start if you're new and don't quite understand the concept of aftercare or if you're experienced and trying a new type of play. It's a simple framework to build upon as you learn more about your individual needs and the needs of your play partner(s).

So what are the physical and psychological impacts of a scene. (Do note we're specifically talking about those impacts we don't want to last past the end of a scene, puppies don't want to be told they're not puppies as aftercare)

I'm not going to separate these because what effects you psychologically is also going to effect you physically and vice versa. These things are not separate.

A good example on the more psychological side might be degradation which damages a submissive's self worth, self image, ego, etc. To balance this aftercare should focus on affirmation and rebuilding /healing those things. Similarly fear play damages a submissive's sense of safety/ wellbeing, aftercare for which should involve being made to feel safe, comfortable with their dominant, and st ease.

Having said that, a good example of this balance on the more physical side is replacing lost energy. Basically no matter what type if play you're engaging in you will burn a lot of energy, so to balance that you should replace that energy. I write about this in much more detail HERE.

Getting a little more complicated; sub drop. Coming 'down' from a submissive headspace, especially one that includes pain play, can be very unpleasant. The neurotransmitters released during a scene fade away, this feels something like the crash after an adrenaline spike, and can leave a submissive feeling lethargic, empty, sad, etc. To balance this aftercare should involve things the submissive enjoys to bring those neurotransmitter levels back up a little and alleviate some of the withdrawal symptoms. This can include but shouldn't be limited to; cuddles, kisses, warm snugly things like blankets and stuffies, their favourite snacks, their favourite movie or TV show, etc

"Top drop" is less a neurological thing and more of a social thing. Although the top headspace also includes it's own share of neurotransmitters which also drop off it's almost always to a much lesser extent. The most common major effect of top drop is guilt; hurting someone you care about is something deeply ingrained as bad and even if they like it, even if they're begging for it, it can still effect you really deeply. Aftercare for this should involve affirmation that the bottom isn't hurt beyond what they want to be, that they still care about and trust their dom, etc.

This is an infinitely nuanced topic, I could write until the character limit and still not cover all the ways that aftercare could go. But I have to draw a line in the sand somewhere so let me make one final point. Don't worry too much about getting this perfectly right the first few times, you'll figure out what you need and what your play partner(s) need. The most important part is the "care" half of "aftercare" show them you're willing yo put in the effort to make sure they're OK and you can't go to wrong

[yesimwriting]

thinking about bsf!logan, who thinks the title is ridiculous. best friends are for little kids trying to justify who they invite to their birthday parties, not for anyone like him. but there's something about the way you say it, voice measured as your attention shifts between him and the nail of your thumb as you picks at your nail beds.

there's a shyness to the silence that follows that does't suit you. it means something to you, he realizes, and that--that might mean something to him.

you, who seems to have the world at your fingertips because no one ever manages to say no to you. you, who is never missing from movie nights or impromptu training sessions or anything because you're the first person invited. you, who everyone is so fond of sometimes logan can feel their communal warmth burning him out of your life, like some beast that's only vulnerability is light.

it's a reality he's been aware of from the very beginning. it's part of the reason he promised himself that he'd never take anything you didn't offer him willingly. and here you are, giving him something.

so he accepts it with a teasing, "i'm the best you could do?" that's a lot gruffer than it needs to be. you beam regardless, sitting up a little straighter as you tuck your knuckles beneath your chin.

you mumble something about having limited options, the answer a little flatter than you usually are. it is late, and you are the type to push against your own tiredness to make sure someone's awake to greet your friends when they get back from a mission you weren't needed for.

with a sigh, he looks back to his nearly empty beer bottle. "isn't it late for you to be up?"

you're immediately protesting, swearing that you're fine and that you just want to talk to him. the lack of tact in your reaction only proves his point further, but instead of pushing it, he downs the last of his beer. your eyes narrow. the openness of your skepticism is another indicator of the drowsiness you're ignoring.

logan sighs, pushing himself to stand so that he doesn't have to look at you as he says this next part, "c'mon." it's flat in its stiffness, maybe even a little awkward. he keeps his gaze focused on what's directly in front of him. "if you want to be 12, you should have a sleepover."

there's a beat of silence, of hesitation, and then you're moving to stand. you remain there for a second, silent and still. regret burrows itself somewhere between his lungs and ribcage.

then, you scoff, the sound light and familiar. "having a best friend isn't that 12-year-old."

a part of him is glad that his back is still to you. "i know, bub, you're completely grown up."

you let out a breath that might be a laugh, or a yawn, or some odd combination of both, as you step forward. "don't make fun of me when i'm too tired to defend myself."

once you're by his side, he begins to walk away from the kitchen table. "i thought you were fine."

you turn your head enough to glare at him. "don't start."

without thinking, he reaches forward, placing a hand on your shoulder as a reminder that he can. "i'd never."

----

a/n take this concept/drabble hybrid while i work through both writer's block and an overwhelming amount of homework <3 also if u liked this pls feel free to send me asks with thoughts for this concept, i love secretly-pining-best-friend trope :)

[cheeseceli]

Late wait

Pairing: idol!Lee Know × Gn!reader (established relationship)

Genre: fluff, domesticity, drabble

Request: Lee know with a "waiting for us" kinda vibe. Just being together in their own place with lots of domestic fluff. Dancing whenever, seeing movies whenever...

Warnings: mentions of food, Minho is an idol, the cats and the boys are here as well, reader and him live together

A/n: I simply love to write domestic moments | daily click

Minho finds it funny how the most beautiful things in life are always the simplest.

Coming from someone whose life is full of luxuries, he could understand why someone would be skeptical about his statement, but he couldn't be more truthful than that.

He already saw thousands of different people, dressed in fancy suits and drank expensive wine. The places he already went to were sometimes covered in gold, and if not, they'd have a red carpet and sculptures everywhere. He's not going to lie and say these things are bad, or that he despises them. On the contrary, actually. However, when you live a life of "too much", you learn how to appreciate what is simple.

His cats stepping on his face to wake him up. All the times he went somewhere random to camp. Seungmin's burnt barbecue and Felix' brownies. You. All the things that made his life easy.

As much as he loves all those things, maybe he should highlight you a little bit more. It's only fair, since you are the one who plays the major role in making him feel alive.

When Minho thinks about you, he thinks about how he loves to wake up early before some morning schedule and see how you're sleeping peacefully next to him. You always ask him to wake you up before he goes, but he never finds the strength in himself to disrupt your dreams. You have a whole collection of little notes he put next to the bed, apologising for not saying bye, but promising to bring food whenever he's back.

He also remembers dance nights. As he is a professional dancer and an idol, he thought he wouldn't want to move a single muscle the moment he gets home. However, whenever he comes home to you singing some random song on the radio, it's impossible to not hold your hand and start swaying according to the rhythm. You don't know how to dance. When he's with you, he suddenly forgets how to as well. In the end, it's just two fools in love, dancing how your heart tells you to.

Movie nights where none of you had luck picking what to watch, so you'd just sleep mid the boring show. Cooking homemade dinner and noticing you ran out of all the ingredients, so you have to run to the market. Visiting his parents every Sunday. Staying in the entire weekend with the cats because that's so much better than going out.

There are dozens of little moments like those that Minho could talk about. None of them was particularly special - they were all things that happened every day. Maybe that was the magic of it. Living was easy with those moments, with you.

Now he was coming back home. The day was full of different events. Tiring, extravagant, but nice. He was smiling. But now he only wanted to come home to you. He knew you were staying up late so you could welcome him and ask him how the day was. And as much as you've waited, he'd hug you with his entire being and never let go.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: kiss me (more)

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143 @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan (those I couldn't tag are in bold)

Dividers by @adornedwithlight | images 1, 2 and 3

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

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buff guy

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ʚ Part 4 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, fluffy date

❥ A/N: better call me butter bc i am on a roll!! Here's part 4!!

He picks you up again on Saturday, same car, casual clothes.

"You look nice," he says when you open the door.

"Thank you," you reply, staring at his biceps. "Your shirt is really tight." He looks down, then back at you.

"Do you not like it?" You scoff.

"I mean..." You press your lips together, smoothing out your lip gloss. "You're... very buff and very attractive... Anyone would love to stare at you in that shirt."

"You think I'm attractive?" You gulp, holding your purse close.

"I... I thought you knew that. I mean... I'm sure everyone finds you attractive."

"The only one I care about is you."

Your cheeks burn, and he holds his hand out for you.

"Shall we?"

You chose a horror movie, but now that you're halfway through the movie, you're not sure why.

There's quite a lot of suspense in this movie, too much in fact. Every time the main character turns a corner, you tense in your seat. You're so scared you can barely eat your popcorn.

"Are you okay?" he whispers gently, leaning close to you. You nod, but realize he can't see you in the dark.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just wondering when the jumpscares will happen." You hear him chuckle quietly.

And then, right on cue, there's a jumpscare. You jolt, hand reaching out, grabbing something solid to ground yourself. Once the scene is over and you're finally able to breathe, you realize what you're holding onto.

"I-I'm sorry," you whisper, beginning to pull away, but he grabs your hand, keeping it on his bicep.

"It's fine. I'm here." His hand is so big against yours, so warm, safe. It's insane how big his arm is. Is he flexing?

You keep your thoughts to yourself, trying to focus in on the movie, but the heat coming from his body is remarkable. You swallow hard, taking a leap of faith and resting your head against his shoulder. He tenses, but relaxes. You stay like that the rest of the movie.

"That ending was so predictable," you complain as you leave the theater. "I mean, the ghost is destroyed by the forces of good? That's so cheesy."

"You have a lot of opinions about the movie." You slow, looking back at him.

"Sorry, I—"

"Please." He reaches for your hand, squeezing it. "Don't ever apologize for telling me how you feel. I love hearing you talk, even about the things you don't like."

He's rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. It's so so warm.

"...Okay."

"Would you like to go home?"

You did. You were tired, but you had fun. You liked hanging out with him, even if it was in the quiet dark.

"Did... you want to do anything else?"

"I want to do what you want."

You huff, pouting slightly, which he smiles at. You twist your mouth in thought, before lighting up.

"Oh! There's this Italian ice place closeby that I really like! We could go there..." You pause. "...If you want."

"I would love to." He pulls you closer by your hand, bringing your body towards his. "Show me where it is."

The Italian ice spot is not far from the theater. In fact, you're able to walk there, although your heels are starting to pinch. You ignore it, encouraged by the idea of a sweet treat as you enter the place of business.

There's a line, so the two of you get in it, looking at the menu.

"They have fruity flavors but also milk-based flavors, like cookie dough, and they also have custard you can mix in." You point to the menu. "I like getting the blue raspberry and cotton candy! But it looks like they don't have blue raspberry today."

"Would you like to go somewhere else?" You glance at him.

"What? No, I like this place! I'll just get mango or something." He nods, standing tall again.

"Excuse me." The two of you turn to see a blonde woman standing there, phone clutched in her hand. "I hate to bother you, but you're just so hot! I was wondering if I could have your number."

You feel your heart sink. Of course he would have other women interested in him. This probably happens all the time. Why would you bother trying to get to know him when he could have any woman he wants?

"That's very rude." A strong arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you towards his side. "I am clearly on a date." The woman flushes and raises her hands.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I thought you guys were siblings." His face turns sour.

"Siblings? That's ridiculous. We look nothing alike. Do you need glasses?" She blushes darker and takes a step back.

"I-I'm sorry. My mistake. I'll leave you two be." She shrinks away to her other friends who are now glaring at the two of you. You want to disappear.

"You didn't have to be so rude," you whisper to Guy, and he grunts.

"I wasn't being rude. I was being honest. She needs to learn to mind her business."

You hum in thought, looking back at the menu. His arm doesn't leave your shoulders until you step forward to order.

"This is very good," he remarks as he stuffs spoonfuls of Italian ice into his mouth. Of course someone of his stature would get the Italian ice and custard in the largest size available.

"I'm glad you like it," you reply, taking dainty bites of your fruity ice. "This is my favorite sweet spot. It's more popular in the summer, but there's always something nice about a sweet frozen treat during the cold weather!"

He smiles, licking cream off his lips. You swallow at the action, clearing your throat and focusing on your dessert.

"So, um... what are your hobbies? I know you go to the gym but do you do anything else?" He shrugs.

"Not really. If I'm not doing my job or working out, I don't do much."

"Oh..." You pick at your dessert. "Don't you get bored?" He shrugs again.

"Sometimes. When I get bored at work or home, I usually come to see you."

You feel your cheeks warm up, but you try to hold your ground.

"Oh, so you only think of me when you're bored, huh?" His eyes go wide, but he relaxes when he sees you grin.

"You're fucking with me."

"Mm-hm!" you say with a nod, giggling. He shakes his head, but he's smiling.

"No. I think about you all the time, actually." You feel yourself melting like your Italian ice, but you try to stay strong.

"You must get tired thinking of me."

"Quite the contrary." He scoops up the last of his dessert, shoveling it into his mouth. "You're the most interesting person I've ever met."

"You barely know me."

"I know." He puts down his empty cup, staring at you. "That's why I'm trying to change that."

You bite your lip, taking a deep breath. You stare at the last third of your dessert.

"I don't want anymore."

"Do you want to take it home?"

"No, it'll melt and won't be good anymore... but I don't want to just waste it."

He holds out his hand, which you stare at before you slide your dessert over to him. He takes it from you, tipping the cup back and drinking the rest of the slush in your cup. You watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat, amazed at how it moves. He puts the cup down once he's done, giving you a thumbs up, which makes you smile.

"Thank you."

"No problem. I'll always be here to eat your leftovers."

You giggle at that, standing up.

"Alright, I'm ready to go home now."

You discard your trash and take about ten steps out of the Italian ice place before you have to stop. Guy slows beside you.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, I—" Your face twists in pain. "My heels really hurt."

"Oh..." He clenches his fists before unclenching them. "Here. Let me carry you to the car."

"Wha—"

Before you can ask what he's talking about, he's leaning down, arms outstretched as he picks you up bridal style, lifting you to his chest. He starts walking away.

"OH MY GOD! PUT ME DOWN!"

"Don't wiggle. I'll drop you."

"PUT ME ON THE GROUND RIGHT NOW OR I'LL SCREAM!"

"You're already screaming."

"PUT ME DOWN!!"

He stops at a bench, leaning down and resting you on it. You take heavy breathes, lightly slapping his arm.

"You can't just pick up a girl like that! You need to ask for permission!"

"I'm sorry."

The two of you rest in silence as you catch your breath, hand on your chest. He sighs, squatting down so that he's closer to eye level with you.

"Stay here. I'm going to go get the car and bring it to you."

"That sounds like a much better idea than carrying me to your car."

"I'm sorry." He puts his hand on your knee. "I'll be back. Don't move."

"I won't," you say as he stands, giving you one last look before he walks away swiftly.

You lean back on the bench and stare at the sky, taking deep breaths.

He picked you up. He picked you up and carried you, and he didn't complain about your weight or act like it was even hard. No one has ever picked you up like that before. Is he really that strong? He doesn't even seem real—

"Excuse me? Ma'am?" You blink, escaping your thoughts and looking at the young man who was now in front of you. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know the direction to the movie theater?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course."

You start explaining the route, the directions he would need to take, but he wasn't really getting it.

"Wait, so which street do I take a left?"

You sigh, explaining again, this time slower as Guy's car pulls up in front of you. You're still explaining as he gets out, approaches the two of you and aggressively grabs the young man's shoulder.

"She's taken," he grunts between gritted teeth. The young man looks up at him, frightened, starting to shake.

"I-I-I just wanted to know where the m-movie theater was." Guy blinks, his expression relaxing as he lets go of the young man.

"Oh. Sorry."

The young man scurries away from the two of you before you can finish giving directions. You look up at Guy, arching your brow.

"So I'm taken now?" He swallows, looking down at the ground.

"Only if you want to be."

You sigh, shaking your head as you stand.

"Alright, big boy. Take me home."

The drive home is silent, and Guy has a death grip on the wheel. You don't comment on it, instead looking out your window and watching the world go by. He pulls up to your apartment, opening your door for you as usual. He leans down with his arms outstretched, but you raise your hand.

"Do not carry me." He pulls back, letting you stand up on your own, closing the door behind you. He follows you up the steps, pausing when you turn around at the door.

"Before you go in," he starts, fists clenching, "I would like to apologize for a few things today."

"What?"

"I would like to apologize for carrying you without permission. That was very rude of me. I would also like to apologize for saying that you were taken. That's not my decision to make. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

You sigh, crossing your arms and leaning on one leg.

"You're a little rough around the edges, huh?" He twists his mouth, unable to look at you. You sigh again. "You're lucky you're cute, or else I'd be super pissed." He swallows, looking up at you.

"You think I'm cute?" You shrug.

"Yeah, in a rugged, scary kind of way. Like a pitbull that wears pajamas." He smiles softly at that, and it reaches his eyes.

"Thank you. That's the best compliment I've ever gotten." You laugh at that, throwing your head back. You calm yourself down, smiling at him.

"You're really something, huh, Guy?" He shrugs, still smiling at you. He suddenly frowns, glancing at the ground.

"I have to tell you something." Your heart sinks.

"W-What?"

"I have to go on a business trip this coming week. I'm leaving Sunday night."

"Oh! Oh, okay," you reply, relieved that it wasn't anything bad.

"But I should be back on Friday evening, if everything goes well." You nod.

"Got it. Thank you for telling me." He stares at you, shifting on his feet.

"Can I text you while I'm gone?" You think about it, then nod. He seems to light up at that. "Can I call you at night?" You shrug.

"Sure, if you want to."

"I would love to."

You rub your arms, thinking. You take a step closer, motioning him towards you. He tilts his head a bit, leaning closer. You lean in with little thought, pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek. It's light, barely there, but it was still something. You pull away, and Guy is staring off into the distance, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Are... you okay?"

"I..." He clears his throat. "I gotta go."

"Oh! Okay."

He spins on his heel, taking a few steps down before stopping, turning back and returning up the stairs. He grabs your hand gently, placing a kiss on the back of it before giving a swift 'goodnight' and going down the steps again. He practically races into his car, and once it's on, he speeds off. You watch his car leave, furrowing your brow.

"What a weirdo..."