#but at the same time idk how to fix this without any help?? like what else could i do to fix this... anything else i can put up with or

[ableedingpromise]

But how do I even fix myself likeeeeee my whole life i fought to get help just to realise the help that therapists give is fucking useless. I've either been ignored, ghosted or just told to calm down. Like wowwwww I never thought about that so helpful!!!!!!!!!!!

[papercorgiworld]

Two idiots in love

A Theodore Nott imagine

I’m back! Apologies for my silence. Especially to the ones who’ve been sending me love, but I was really busy and barely had any time to open this app or my phone in general. I got this post and a few more coming in the next few days. I had a very productive evening and day so, yey me. Sending you lots of love! Happy readings!

— The request —

Plss do a Theodore fic where he tutors the reader in potions or something and he’s a bit rude but like sweet at the same time??? Idk like he thinks she really cute but can’t believe someone can be so dumb

— The writing —

Theodore was a quiet guy and not one to make a move on just any girl. Unless drunk, then he might end up in a bathroom with some equally wasted girl for a little make out, but actively searching for a girlfriend just seemed like so much work to Theo. He much rather just hang out with his friends and skip class to have a smoke. 

However, this did not mean that he was immune to having a crush. Oh no, he had a crush and the worst case of crushing. He was constantly thinking about you and stealing glances whenever he could. It wasn’t on him, you were just too damn perfect. It was almost annoying Theodore how amazing you were. 

“Hey, Theo mate. I have a question.” Enzo quips as he takes a seat opposite of Theodore and reaches for some toast. “No.” Theodore answers without looking up from his plate, making Mattheo and Blaise smirk, but Enzo isn’t fazed at all. “Fine. Your loss. I’ll just have to tutor (y/n) myself.” Theodore’s eyes shoot up to meet Enzo’s with a piercing look to determine whether his friend was bullshitting him or not. Enzo’s smile reveals his amusement but also that he was telling the truth. “She needs a tutor?” Theodore says with a calm voice, though there is an obvious hint of excitement in it. “Yes, apparently she blew her last potions test… like big time. And she’s so desperate to fix her grade she asked me to ask you, apparently ‘the smartest guy in class’ - her words not mine - to tutor her. I’m assuming you’re interested?” She thinks I’m the smartest guy in class. So she’s noticed me. She knows who I am. She knows I’m smart. That’s good. Really good. She knows me. “Theo?” Enzo askes breaking Theo’s train of thoughts. “Uhm-Yeah-I… I’ll think about it. If I have time. And stuff.” Blaise, Enzo and Mattheo stare Theodore with wide eyes. “Someone hit him.” Blaise finally speaks and Mattheo nods before raising his hand to smack Theo’s head. “If I have the time, bloody idiot.” Theodore pushes Matt’s hand away and narrows his eyes at Mattheo’s mockery and insult. “Just say you’ll do it.” Enzo urges and Theo looks at him for a second before nodding in agreement.

***

Pretty. Perfect. Potions-Peanut. Theo thought as he watched you screw up a simple brew for the third time, like he hadn’t just explained to you step by step how to do it. He was falling in love even more as you sighed and stared at your cauldron and back at your instructions. “I think I messed it up again.” Theodore chuckles at your sad and defeated expression. “You think?!” Theo jokes, but immediately worries that that might be a bit rude of him. “But uhm-do you know where it went wrong?” He asks and you focus on your instructions again in search of which step you screwed up. Your eyebrows knit together even more and Theodore can’t help but roll his eyes. “You really don’t have a clue what you’re doing, do you?” You drop your head a little. Great, I'm making a total fool of myself in front of Theodore Nott. Not only am I ruining my fantasy of ever having a chance with him, now he and his friends will be laughing at me for the rest of the year… 

“You can’t be this dumb? Check again, you’ll find it.” Theo breaks the silence and your eyes meet his with a hesitant look, before quickly searching for an answer on the list of instructions. Yes, I just called her dumb. Good work, Theo. Theodore grits his teeth as his anger with himself grows. After a few seconds of you searching for how you screwed up your potion and Theodore searching for something right to say, you are the first to speak up. “I give up, I suck at potions.” You let the paper in your hands fall on the desk in front of you and turn to look at Theo who gives you a surprisingly sweet smile. “Yeah you do, but don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’ll explain it again…and better this time.” 

Your heart melts at his sweet voice and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You really don’t have to waste your whole evening explaining potions to me, I’m sure you have better things to do.” Theodore smirks at your blushed cheeks. “I’m sure I won’t be teaching you potions all night. At some point you’ll get it and successfully brew this… and then we can move on to more interesting subjects.” You look back at the papers on the desk and press your lips together to keep yourself from smiling like a love struck fool, while Theo's smug eyes scan your face with satisfaction. “Dumb, but so adorable.”

“What?” You look up at Theo and he looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean to say that outloud.” He chuckles awkwardly and you can’t help but laugh. “I might be dumb, but you’re a first class idiot as well.” Theodore rolls his eyes, while an amused smile tugs on his lips. She’s right about that. I am an idiot. He reaches for the books on the desk, forcing his smile into a line. “Let’s just focus on potions.” You chuckle at his flusteredness. “Sure.” 

Both flustered your glance over at one another only to catch the other one already staring. The potion might not have been right, but the chemistry definitely was.

***

“Sooo, how did the tutoring go?” Mattheo asks as he catches up with Theodore in the hallway. “Great.” Theodore answers, but avoids eye contact with his friend, making him suspicious. “Great? What does that mean, she understands the material now?” Theodore chuckles and his tongue darts in his mouth. “No, she still doesn’t get it. Which means she needs another session. So, it went great.” Theodore explained, unable to hide his happiness now that he gets to spend more time with you. Mattheo just shakes his head in amusement. 

[candypot]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗦𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗧 : relationship headcanons

notes: guess who’s back to serve more big texts and pointless details

He has to be deeply in love with you to get into a relationship in the middle of the process of building his career, so you don’t have to worry about him changing his mind or feelings so easily. Like, chill, your relationship with him is gonna be more firm as the Golden Gate Bridge at the moment he decides he wants you.

Probably doesn’t give you as much attention as he wants to due to his busy schedule, but always make sure to send you pictures of what he’s doing when he’s far from you. Be prepared to receive a whole photoshoot of every minor detail of his day.

Loves to apply make up on you. Sometimes even stop at the corridor just to apply some gloss on your lips (he may apply it with his own lips idk)

Usually is very sweet with his s/o, despise what most would expect he loves to compliment even the minimums details of his s/o body and personality in random moments of the day. Like, he loves you, of course he’ll be your biggest supporter despise the criticism.

Loves to gossip with you, it’s therapeutic and it keeps his day interesting (prepare yourself to hear him curse all the bloodlines of Neige Leblanc)

Will for sure criticize some (changeable) aspects of your looks if he feel like it’s necessary, but don’t worry, he got your back. For example, when he see your hair looks messy he’ll scold you for being so careless while helping you to fix it, it’s almost unethical for him to point your flaws if doesn’t plan to immediately fix it for you. The critical part of it is meant to improve what you already have not to change it, so he’ll never offend your body type or maybe your crooked teeth.

A huge fan of sleepovers. Usually calls you to sleep in his dorm after he’s finished with all the work so the both of you can rest and do skin care routine without worrying about being interrupted or messing with his weekly schedule (but don’t get too funny thinking you can disturb his night routine at any time).

Loves to make you flustered! It’s so adorable seeing you blush and squirm under his gaze after he shower you with his love. (Like the time when he kissed yuu on the cheek)

He has mixed feelings about public display of affection. At the same time he loves to play with your hair and casually fix your clothes and make up, he won’t kiss you in places he consider inappropriate to preserve his respectable facade.

Takes care of you at the point it’s stressing. “Where were you at?” “Why are you so pale?” Did you eat enough?” “Make sure to don’t miss your appointments” “How was your night? Did you sleep well?”

he’s the guru of beauty and you’re his apprentice, so don’t get mad if he decides to randomly brag about beauty tips or techniques for you to try out.

May be a little jealous even though he’s very confident on his looks and on his trust on you. Vil will try to hide it at all costs because the feeling of being insecure is humiliating for him, but it’s kinda noticeable to be honest, like when he started to criticize those random guys that talked to you on lunch for absolutely no reason. (Who’s Regina George next to Vil Schoenheit when he’s feeling jealous?)

Looks tough but it’s super fragile, it will take a while for him to open up to you but when he does you’ll notice he needs more care than he appears to.

Loves to snuggle. It’s wonderful to simply get lost in you soft caresses and scent after a long day of work, but make sure to snuggle just after his skin care routine is done.

[val-cansalute]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch.3 - 18+

cw: smut below the cut, mdni, cunnilingus LOOOOOOL, fingering, tribbing… but, like, some dirty talk 😥 idk ppl… idk… still got like three chapters left 🐺 proofread but not very well cuz i’m gonna fall asleep

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

If you squint hard enough--

“Yep, it’s fixing up pretty nice, kid.”

-- you can just about make out the flecks of dust flickering in the influx of honeyed light through your windows.

“Not swollen anymore.”

And you can watch them flutter gently in mid-air, never quite meeting the ground.

You could watch them forever. Just sitting here, just like this, just like them, basking in the gentle warmth of the sunlight, the hazy sound of the nurse woman’s voice, suspended in the incessant grip of your pathetic melancholy.

“You should be fine to be back up on your feet now. Should try getting some fresh air soon.”

Her voice comes back into focus immediately.

There are stages to grief – so they say. But, to you, it feels more like a whirlpool of every emotion you’ve ever felt that you’ve been stuck in for what seems like forever, only growing in ferocity as time passes.

Been stuck in the same stage for a while. Been feeling like some external force has just been dragging your body to places day to day, not fully aware of what’s going on around you. And, as you said, soon as you can walk again, you’re out of here.

Are you even allowed to grieve a person you slaughtered?

“Yeah. Will do.”

That’s the signal. A week or so and you’ll be gone.

Do you have a plan? Do you need one? It’s not like you’re running away. You’re leaving – just, without telling anyone. You’ll just pack your shit and… go… where?

Roam?

It’s morning, the light that follows the storm-ridden, long, harsh hours of night, and the eery stillness of the snow blankets the earth now, though it was once pummelling towards the ground in malignant winds.

Ellie had woken up before you, and quickly ensured that wasn’t an issue by seemingly putting all her power into each step she took and object she lifted and aggressive sniffle or violent coughing.

What a pleasant way to wake up.

She quickly rushed off to the stables, thanking you for letting her stay the night, and once she was gone, you realised that there was an odd air of domesticity in your interactions now. You weren’t sure how to feel, so you sat in silence for a moment, until a knock interrupted your thoughts.

Without a lock to keep the pests out, the nurse woman quickly ended up inside your house, nagging you about your refusal to open the door as she looked at your ankle.

Everything happens for a reason, you suppose, since you came to the realisation that there was nothing binding you to this place any longer.

A few minutes pass, moments obscured by the depth at which you sank into your thoughts, and the nurse is helping you lull your trembling left leg into taking a step forward, when a harsh gust of icy wind envelops your skin. The door slams shut.

Ellie seems to be fond of making annoying entrances when it comes to you.

You inspect her movements curiously as she shakes the snow off her boots from over your shoulder, wondering why she’s back but not feeling even a sliver of disdain.

Eventually, she looks up to meet the pair of you’s eyes and clears her throat bringing her gloved hand to the nape of her neck to scratch.

“Hey,” she breathes out, to which you nod before carrying on with your miserable attempt at walking again, though you’re tentative to Ellie’s every movement from behind you.

The sound of that familiar creak tells you she’s sat down on your shitty mattress, and a small sniffle tells you… well, nothing.

You try to turn your focus back to the nurse woman whose eyes are trained on your leg, a smile gracing her lips when you make it back to the bed smoothly.

“There. You’re all set, kid, just keep it moving and you’ll be back to normal in no time. I’ll come check up on you in a day or two, alright? I’ll, uh… leave you two be, then.”

You hum half-heartedly, still slightly cotton-minded, watching her leave and the door close before you turn to look at Ellie looking back up at you.

“You’re back?”

With a mischievous smirk, she reveals a small jar from the side pocket of her threadbare backpack, stuffed with pure weed,

“Yeah. Thought you might want some of this.”

You take a seat beside Ellie, her eyes lingering on your every movement before you look up and meet her gaze.

“Where’d you even get that?”

“Hmm, I’ll show you next time we’re together on patrol. Here, take this.”

She hands you a blunt and you look over it cautiously, trying to mask your lack of experience and simultaneously ignore the blush of your cheeks induced by Ellie’s somehow sustained smirk.

She takes a lighter from her pocket and brings it to the tip as you hold it between your pursed lips, silently beckoning you to go ahead.

The warmth fills your chest; a pleasant wave of tingles overcomes you, like your insides turning to fuzz, and you let go, watching the smoke dance upwards and dissipate in the air separating you from Ellie.

You pass it to her, taking note of the way her lips wrap around the same place yours did moments before while your high already settles in.

Lightweight.

Maybe that’s why her eyes seem to pierce with excruciating intensity now. You look down instead and toy with the frayed end of your tattered jeans.

“You know what I realised?” she murmurs, taking another puff before continuing,

“You’ve been here for, what, half a year now?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s… actually kind of a long time. But you still act the same as you did when you first arrived.”

“Do I?”

Ellie breathes out and passes you the blunt, nodding. Your eyes don’t leave her lips.

“Yeah. Still… you know.”

“Yeah, well… I just don’t really get along with those people.”

“Those people?”

You look up and Ellie’s got a shit-eating grin plastered across her face as you jump to your own defence.

“Woooooooooo-”

“Wha- I- I didn’t mean it like that!”

“-ooooooooooo-”

Her voice is muffled by the contact of her face with the pillow you bombard her with.

“Ow! Fucking… Asshole.”

You chuckle, taking a long drag before muttering, your voice barely above a rasp,

“Bet you don’t like that, huh?”

The mattress shifts beside you as Ellie moves closer. You don’t look, but you can hear the playfulness in her words.

“Yeah, actually, I don’t.”

Silence overwhelms the room, the slow infiltration of hot smoke which now lays thick in the air rendering you too fuzzy to speak. Your fingers brush Ellie’s calloused ones as you pass her the blunt, dragging your dilated eyes to look into hers, still appearing somewhat sober.

“You dont mean that about me though, right?”

“Hm?”

“You know… The thing you said before. That you just don’t really get along with most of the people here. Cuz we get along pretty fucking well.”

Before you can hide it, you face breaks out into a grin,

“Why, would it really upset you if I meant you too?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

There’s a gentle buzzing in your chest that develops into wholehearted laughter before you realise it, contagious to Ellie, whose own lips give up trying to repress the smile playing on them now.

“I just mean… I know there’s not many people… as awesome and cool as me here, one could say, but-” she continues before you cut her off,

“-Butt-”

“-But, I don’t know, we’re kind of friends, right?”

“… One could say.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Now, your heart’s racing and there’s a growing ache nestled between your legs, because the sight of Ellie’s own legs spread as she falls back to lean against the wall is not for the weak.

And you… You are weak.

“Unless you keep looking at me like that.” Her words rip through the warmth of the silence so you realise you had gone silent as you shamelessly stared.

“What?”

“You’re staring. Think you got a little something there too,” she leans in to wipe the imaginary drool at the corner of your lip but you sluggishly swat her hand away.

“Fuck off, I do not. And I am not.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Suddenly, the way her eyelids lay heavy over her forest green eyes, scleras tinged pink, becomes almost hypnotic, addictive.

“Yeah.”

So much so that you almost choke on your words.

“I think you are.”

Like you’re going to suffocate, unable to inhale steadily as she leans closer for the billionth time, clearly searching for the same relief you are, and her breath gently fans your lips.

“Think you’ve been staring for a while…

Think you want something real bad, huh?”

That pounding heartbeat, the shaking of your hands, this feeling is akin to fear. It’s almost terrifying how bad you want it, so you turn away and bring the blunt to your mouth again, forcing her to watch you breathe the hot air into her anticipating, flushed face. She closes her eyes, and then opens them, to see you looking right back with parted lips.

Finally, she places a gentle touch to your cheek, gracefully wrapping her other hand’s fingers around the weed in yours and flicking it into the nonexistent world surrounding you carelessly, closing the distance between the two of you once and for all.

There is a gentle sickness in the wetness with which your tongues dance against each other, and it is exhilarating in a way that makes you forget everything; in a way that makes the only thing echoing in your mind the intoxicating sound of lips smacking and Ellie’s deep groans into you, warm saliva coating the skin around your mouth.

For once, there is no reluctance in the intimacy you provide, and it has proven to be the most effective antidote to your problems yet.

Amid the rapacity, Ellie’s lips wonder further, engulfing the skin beyond, that which is your jaw, up to your flushed earlobes, and it’s so near, so tender, that it overwhelms your brain, heightening your high to unchartered altitudes. You can hear her every movement and every moan - feel it stronger than anything you’ve ever felt before, as her hands roam across the expanse of your body and settle on your tits before gently circling your nipples so that your hips buck into her shamelessly.

Ellie takes note of your sensitivity, half-lidded eyes looking into yours drunkenly as she makes her way to your chest, gliding her tongue around your raised nipple and gently pulling on the other. Your body is like a furnace, aching for her with ferocity. She knows; she burns just as bright.

Ellie’s hungry, desperate to taste you, to indulge in every drop of your flavour and savour it. So she’s sucking on your tit with such fervour, leaving a trail of spit as she wraps her lips around the other, that you find yourself pushed back against the pillows, yearning to just rip the fabric of the shirt that still rests at your collarbone right off of you.

Instead you lay still, letting the overcoming take you, and watch her with fascination, raking shaky fingers into her bound, auburn locks.

She moans into your skin at the touch and you can feel it in your pussy, the way it drips for her. Lucky for it, she makes her way down, one hand still groping desirously at your tit, the other ghosting over the waistband of your pants subconsciously. God, you need it, a thousand times over and then a million over again.

Ellie’s at your hipbone, infuriatingly close to where you need her, and you’re trembling with anticipation, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Fuck… take ‘em off…”

She smirks up at you dazedly, and you resist the urge to shove her head back into you,

“You want me?”

“Yes, fuck… Ellie, please.”

She hooks her fingers into your belt loops and pulls them down without further question, dragging your underwear down too, almost fast enough to not notice the wet spot in them.

Almost.

Her relishing the sight of the fat jiggling as her hand slaps your tit and you jerking forward juxtaposes the lazy kiss she presses to your swollen clit, hands moving to your thighs as she pulls you closer.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

Gently sucking the bud into her plump lips pushes a breathy moan out of you in grateful relief and, as you grind against her tongue, she runs the tip of it teasingly up your weeping slit so that you’re reduced to a picturesque masterpiece of nothingness above her, with your head thrown back and your mouth hanging open, sweet whimpers trailing out, and your glistening chest displayed beautifully.

And the way you rut your cunt up against her, aching to feel her tongue deeper, aching to have her inside, makes her thrust against the pillow like a dog in heat for some semblance of relief, friction. You want to be the one to give it to her. Each husky groan pushes you further, the vibrations against your cunt sending you to heaven and back.

Ellie’s mouth is the fucking greatest, the swirl and suck a godsend to your clouded mind, with its focus streamlined to your pussy, so you moan deafeningly when two rough fingers slip into you and pump in and out of your viscous walls rapidly.

The sound of her slurping fills the room, and it is filthy, pornographic, but you’re moaning and twitching against her regardless, your pussy clenching tight for her, squeezing and pulling in her digits ravenously.

Soon, embarrassingly soon, your hips jerk, overwhelmed with delicious, warm ripples of pleasure throughout your body, and your eyes roll back as you tense and cum in her mouth for what seems like forever, but she holds you down, her lips and fingers never letting up.

Your sweaty figure is hunching over, stomach tensed and caving in, resisting the stimulation to your sensitive clit, with the hand laced through her hair now pushing her away despite the fact that you love it. Her eyes are closed and she’s wholly immersed in your essence and your whimpers, lapping at the slick pouring out of your pussy greedily with a gentle shake of her head between your quivering thighs.

A moan of your name and she’s up, humming in devious satisfaction, and giving your fucked out face a pussydrunk grin, your milky cum painting the lower half of her face so it glistens stunningly.

She shoves her fingers into your open mouth, muttering a quiet, “Fuck,” through laboured breaths as you suck on them, tasting yourself. Before she can go back in, pulling them away, you reach out to her desperately and smash her lips against yours again, pussy throbbing simply because she exists, as she lets out a small noise in shock but quickly moves in tune with you.

Between breaths, you help her take her clothes off, hugging her to your exposed chest, your heart pounding readily. There’s nothing you want more than to feel every inch of her on you completely, and the feeling of her hugging you back with just as much hunger makes you hot.

Slowly, you watch the string of slick connecting her pussy to her underwear dwindle as you pull them further down her legs, listening to the sound of her panting loud into your ear, and feeling her hair gently grazing your flushed cheeks.

Ellie pushes your left leg up and slots her cunt against yours so you can feel her hot skin moulding with yours, throwing her head back at the obscenity of the squelching noise it creates.

“Fuck, baby, it’s so wet, you’re so wet, all mine,”

“Ellie, oh my god.”

Slow movements turn into feverish humping, the sound of your wet cunts slapping each other reverberating and she leans over and places her forehead, wisps of hair stuck to it via droplets of sex sweat, against yours, breath fanning your lips. You strain to push yourself up for a second and peck her lips which she leans into quickly, like she’s been waiting for it.

You can feel your climax building up, intensified by the sight and all consuming sensation of her ramming into you, and the quiet whispers of,

“Fuck, love your pussy so much, gonna fuck you so good, mmmh, ‘s all mine, gonna fuck you senseless”

She keeps going, and you can feel everything so much clearer than you ever have before, each squelch and pull, panting into each other like you’re tempting each other to kiss each other again and she gives in, with the grip she has on your thigh concentrating.

It’s so graphic, so dirty and desperate, and you can’t help but give into the the feeling of the coil tightening in your stomach before snapping completely, your cum splattering over Ellie’s viscid thighs because she’s close and avid, eager to cum on you.

She can feel it building up as she grinds against you tenaciously, watching you writhe beneath her. Ellie moans gutturally , fingertips digging into your hips and the plush fat of your ass to hold you in place as she gets herself off,

“Fuckin’ take it, baby, know you can, gonna c-cum-”

“Yes, Ellie, oh my fucking-”

“-Fuck, gonna cum all over you, an’ you’re gonna fucking take it, yeah, mm-”

One last time and her hips are stuttering against yours before she collapses on you, chests rising and falling with heavy breaths into each other harmoniously.

The contact of your clammy skin against hers is comforting, and you lay there until the heat of sex settles and the potent scent of weed dissipates, and is replaced by the cold bite of the winter air that weasels its way into your room once more.

Until it starts to feel cold.

And then the fog clears and your mind spirals down from the passing high, opening the guilt’s floodgates. There is nothing you can do to calm the storm gathering in the confines of your rib cage; you clutch the sheets for stability.

Not even the gentle graze of her fingers up and down your arm can relax you, or the warmth of her sigh into the crook of your neck. Though you cannot understand it, there is panic and it is omnipotent.

Then Ellie’s movements halt abruptly and she jerks up from the bed,

“Fuck, oh my god, I completely forgot,” she jumps up, and you watch her get dressed in a flurry of fabrics, just as loud as the last time she got ready here.

You can’t focus; your chest feels tight and you’ve done something very, very bad but you don’t quite know what. Somehow, you manage to make out from what she tells you before rushing off and abandoning you in your resounding culpability, that there is a small get together at The Tipsy Bison tonight that she promised to help out with and that you are invited.

Lucky you!

She makes her way back to you on her way out, and you can tell she’s unsure how to approach you when you recall it, though in the moment your mind is swarming with wasps and you cannot form a coherent thought.

She pulls your shirt down over your tits and places a somewhat insecure kiss to your cheek, mumbling, “See you,” with a small smile, and then she’s on her way.

…

You sit up and stare at the floor in the silence, trying to swallow; the guilt, and the confusion. It’s painful to not understand, rummaging through the contents of your brain to make sense of that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach, but for some reason you can’t find anything logical and, yet, you stop thinking you fucked up.

It hits you, and you throw your clenched fists over your eyes, rubbing furiously and desperately, the thought of you getting fucked like a dumbass while Soren lies dead miles away up north. You have no right.

It’s raw and visceral: your gasping for air and dry sobs, no tears coming up because you’ve been all cried out for a while. You just feel choked up, empty, and nauseous.

Still hyperventilating, you practically hurl yourself across the room to your bag, pathetically grabbing shit with shaky fingertips and shoving it in.

It’s time to go. Away from the people. Away from the noise. Away from the tumult. Away from any reminder of the joy you do not deserve.

an - this one’s long as fuck… i feel like i decay when i write smut, IVE BEEN AVOIDING STUDYING, DOING WORK, AND GETTING READY FOR A WEDDING BY WRITING THIS, creds to cafekitsune for dividers

[airaibunny]

dom!sana x sub!fem!reader - “in the closet” (warnings: smut, fingering, praise, semi-public[maybe? idk?], finger sucking[idk if this has an actual name], breasts/nipple play)

a/n: this took entirely too long to finish, i’m so sorry everyone. i hope the wait is worth it! if its not, again im really sorry. i have no clue how sets work, im pretty sure they have a director. if they dont then you know the drill: pretend with me

word count: 1.4k

you’re very used to long photoshoots. you’ve never really had a problem with posing and focusing, but you can’t seem to do that today. it’s not your fault though, how can you possibly concentrate when your girlfriend looks so damn hot?

you like to think that the stylists don’t have a favorite, but it’s undeniable that her outfit outdid everyone else’s. you can’t stop looking at her, and you’re not being sneaky about it either. it’s very blatant to everyone on set. she glances back at you sometimes and you can undoubtably feel the slick running onto your underwear.

“y/n, over here please.”

the sudden remark coming from the director jolts you out of your thoughts. this is the third time you’ve been redirected. you really are trying to pay attention, but you just can’t. you can hear sana giggling at you and you turn to look at her without thinking about it. you immediately remember that you’ve just been told to face forward however, so you look away.

“okay, i think we need a break. let’s take 30 and then try this again.”

the director lets out a sigh and you mouth ‘sorry,’ feeling that this was entirely because of you. you notice jihyo walking up to you and brace for impact as you’re sure she’s coming to reprimand you.

“what is going on?” she crosses her arms in front of you and awaits your explanation. “i don’t know, i’m sorry. i’ll fix it when we start again, i promise.” she remains silent for a few seconds. “you better. we’ll talk when we get home.” with that, she walks away. it didn’t go as bad as you thought, but now you have to get a world famous “jihyo talk” when you get back to the dorms.

you sulk for a second, but quickly forget when you see sana drinking water out of the corner of your eye. the way she moves her head back and exposes her neck reminds you of the tension between your legs. you watch as a drop of water drips down her chin and she wipes it away. you rush over to her side and grab her arm. “do you want something?” she playfully remarks and shoots you a fake oblivious look.

you roll your eyes and begin pulling her away from everyone else. you truly couldn’t care less that there’s people looking at you, you need her to touch you. you frantically run around for a few minutes trying to find any sort of open room and finally find a closet. it’s not huge, but you both fit in it comfortably and it’s clean.

you pull sana inside and reach behind her to close the door. you quickly realize there’s no lock and look at her for help. “is something wrong?” you nod and point to the door handle. “oh, that has an easy fix.” she smirks at you and grabs your waist. she switches places with you so that you’re the one closest to the door now. in one fluid motion, she flips you around and presses you against it. “see? problem solved.”

you can feel her breath on the back of your neck as she speaks and suddenly feel uncomfortable in your clothes. you tug at your skirt, but she grabs your hand. “are you sure you want to take it off? if so, we’re going to have to make your outfit looks the exact same when we put it back on.” blinded by your lust, you decide to ignore sana’s warning and continue pulling your skirt down.

you hear her snickering at your back. “you’re so needy, is this really necessary?” you finish taking off your skirt and sana grabs it from you, placing it on a shelf behind her. she slightly pulls at your underwear and instructs you to take it off as well. you swiftly comply with her request and she places it where she previously put your skirt.

sana takes advantage of the fact that your shirt has no straps and pulls it down to reveal your breasts. she brings one of her hands to your back, holding you in place against the door. she uses her other hand to play with your breasts. she draws circles around your nipples and tugs at them, making you squirm in your spot. “calm down, i’ve barely touched you, angel.” you whine at her in response.

her hand travels down your chest, caressing your stomach and abdomen before stopping right before your core. “sana…” you put one of your hands on top of hers. “do you want me to keep going?” she takes your hand in hers and kisses it before placing it back on the door. “yes, please…” she kisses your shoulder and whispers against your skin. “thank you for saying please, you’re such a good girl.”

she finally brings her hand to you core and you jump a bit. you can tell she’s holding back as she places soft kisses on your neck and shoulders. “fuck, i wish i could leave marks.” she’s still teasing you and playing with your folds, but not giving you what you really want. you let out small moans and whimpers, mindful of the people outside.

“sana, please.” she keeps tormenting you even though she knows exactly what that means. “please what? i can’t read minds.” you can feel a wicked smile appearing on her lips with the remark. “i want…” she rubs circles on your back, encouraging you to go on. “mhm?”

“your fingers, inside. please…” she moves the hand on your back to your waist and pulls your ass against her. “okay, angel, only because you asked so nicely.”

she parts your folds with her fingers before slowly inserting two digits into you. “how does that feel?” you don’t bother responding verbally, you just grind back against her. she starts pumping her fingers in and out of you slowly, letting you get used to the initial sensation. “you’re soaked, have you been like this the entire day?”

“yeah.” she begins speeding up, making you let out muffled moans and whines. without thinking, you grab the hand on your waist and bring it up to your breasts. she chuckles behind you. “do you want me to play with your tits?” you mumble out a ‘yes’ as well as you can given your current state. luckily for you, she doesn’t make you repeat yourself.

she continues adding speed to the fingers inside you while taking your nipple in between two of her fingers. you’re worried about how loud you’re being, but your brain is too foggy to actually stop yourself. “hm, feels good…”

you can feel a knot growing in your stomach as she curls her fingers inside you. she immediately realizes how close you are and speeds up even more while still messing with your tits. you bring one of your hands down and hold onto her forearm.

“go ahead, i’ve got you.” with sana’s permission, your muscles contract as you finally reach your high. you shut your eyes close as she keeps going, letting you completely finish. the hand previously on your breasts has moved to your waist, holding you up.

once she’s sure you’re entirely done, she turns you around and presses your back against the door. she brings her fingers up to your mouth and brushes them against your lips. “open.” she commands, bringing her other hand to your jawline. you do as you’re told and she pushes her fingers inside your mouth, letting you lick them dry.

once she’s satisfied with your work, she grabs your clothes from the shelf behind her and helps you put them on. although you struggle a bit, you manage to get your outfit to look just as it did before, or at least you think you do.

“how do my hair and makeup look?” you ask, bringing your face closer to her. she strokes your hair and drags her thumb across the bottom of your lip. she then cups your face, pulling you in for a kiss. “you look great, what about me?” she smiles at you, already aware of what you think.

“you look really fucking hot.” you give her another kiss and she giggles. “oh yeah?” you nod your head, still planting soft kisses on her lips.

“okay, we have to get out now.” you pout, but you know she’s right. “don’t be sad, i’ll make it up to you later, at home.” she reaches for the handle to open the door, but adds to her statement before doing so. “that is, after jihyo yells at you.”

[graves4girls]

for syzoothhhh... any fluff relationship hcs on your mind ?

☆ headcanons | syzoth

✮ wc. 1.2k ⚠︎ warning(s): gn!reader (i normally write fem!readers so if i put the wrong prns smwhere let me know and i'll fix it) i apologize if this is ooc i'm still learning how to write him (つ﹏<。)

also idk what species his family was so let's just say they weren't human/humanoid so this holds up

Just to start off, he finds himself taking a liking to you far too quickly, and he doesn't really understand why exactly you're so intriguing at first. Maybe it was the way you accepted him so earnestly upon meeting him, without a hint of dishonesty in your sweet voice, or maybe it was the simple fact that he found you to be incredibly appealing physically. Spoilers: It was both, and so. much. more.

He's hesitant to bare his natural form in front of you at first, worried he'd scare you off. And he panics when he spots you in a crowd, having just wielded his scales moments prior in the midst of battle, unaware of your presence until the damage was already done. 

You'd found him before he could flee the battleground, gently prodding questions at the scene that'd just unfolded before you, and he sheepishly offers a mumbly explanation, green eyes darting everywhere but your own. You had assured him it was "fucking awesome," and he fell that much harder.

When he does realize he's attracted to you romantically, he isn't quite sure how to run the news by you. Does he just outright blurt it out? Does he drop little hints and let you figure it out? He doesn't have a clue how human attraction works, not necessarily having much practice in the area, so instead he yearns from a distance for a good while. 

You'd catch him staring at you whenever you were in the same room, and he'd always be the first one to defend/protect you, were you caught up in any sort of trouble.

He isn't the best at hiding his infatuation, as much as he'd like to say he is. He slips up numerous times: lingering a hand on your waist when he helps you up from the sparring mat, offering you small trinkets he says reminds him of you almost on a daily basis, spewing mindless praises whenever you do something that impresses him before he can stop himself. I mean, can you blame him? You were perfect in every way.

You catch him alone one afternoon, giving him a knowing look as you tilt your head. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" He'd stiffened for a moment, concerned with your sudden cornering. "Have I upset you?" You punch his chest lightly, rolling your eyes with a small smile. "No, you're not in trouble. I was just wondering…how much longer are you gonna wait to make a move?"

He was both thrilled and utterly mortified by your interrogation, but he wouldn't dwell on it. He'd finally been able to voice his feelings, and you'd accepted his confession with a sweet smile and a brush of your thumb over his knuckles. 

NOW to the ensuing relationship.

He was already protective of you prior to your relationship, but with the new emotional territory came his heightened need to keep you from harm or stress, following you like a lost puppy whenever you ventured into foreign land, unknowing of the threats that may be lurking, or clinging to you whenever you fell victim to unwanted attention, assuring whoever was heckling you knew he wasn't one to piss off.

Even behind closed doors, he's hanging off of you any chance he can take, partially owing to the fact that he's cold-blooded, and you're so warm. He can't get enough of your body heat, draped over you like a blanket as you tend to the most mundane of tasks, half-heartedly whining that he was too heavy to be dropping his full weight on your back as you amble around the house. 

He's not exactly accustomed to the physicality of an intimate relationship in this form, but he swears he falls even harder when he sees how patient you are with him. You don't reprimand him if he accidentally bashes your noses together the first couple times he tries to initiate a kiss, or when he kind of hovers his hands around you when you slip into his lap to make out, unsure of where to grab you. You'd giggled against his lips, mumbling something into his skin as you'd settled his hands on your waist, assuring him he was getting the hang of this thing.

When he learns how to kiss you without nearly breaking one of your noses, he's stealing kisses left and right, whether it be a quick, chaste peck to the lips or full on tongue. He's starting to understand the appeal of human relationships. 

He's not too much of a show-off when it comes to being out in public, he likes to keep your business your business. But, if need be, he'll wrap an arm around your waist, or press his chest to your back with a hand settled on your hip if someone tries to chat you up, his subtle possessiveness creeping up on him as he spits a few choice words. He avoids your eyes, a bit embarrassed at his childish behavior when you tease him about it later, but you follow up your taunt with a kiss, hand caressing his cheek. "It was kinda hot, honestly."

Selfishly, he loves to be praised and complimented. Be it due to his rough past, he absolutely melts whenever you shower him in heartfelt praises. You tell him how much you love him, how drop-dead gorgeous he is, how proud you are of him, and he's a mess. Thanks to your constant affirmations, he isn't nearly as ashamed of this form as he was before you met, and damn if he isn't grateful to have someone like you to call his.

He adores his alone time with you, soft caresses to his strong muscles as you ramble about your most recent training session, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes into his skin as he listens to every word that falls from your pretty lips. He'll never get tired of the way your warm hand mindlessly trails all over his cold skin, ultimately ending the night with him curled around you from behind, arms like a vice as he silently pleads you to stay with him, nuzzling his nose into the side of your neck as he falls asleep.

He enjoys the days where you offer him a massage after a long sparring match, chilled skin warmed by the candles you light as he relaxes against your touch. Little hisses and grunts leave him as you knead at the tense muscles, working out all the knots with skill, and without fail he ends up fast asleep every single time.

He also likes when you run your fingers through his short hair, nails gently massaging his scalp as he hums, leaning into your gentle touch.

On the off chance he decides to morph back into his natural form, he'll curl up to you, big head nestled in your lap as you run your fingers along his rough scales, low, content grumbles rumbling in his throat as he lays there. 

He's absolutely head over heels for you, and he makes sure you know it. Nuzzling up to you in the quiet comfort of your home, longing gazes when he can't get to you from across the room, muttering gentle reminders of his unbridled affection in passing between training sessions or battles.

[iwonderwh0]

Another fic idea that I'll never write:

Connor accidentally transfers from his body and temporarily exists as non-physical entity in Hank's devices

Starts with situation where there's something that requires Connor to be connected to computer via cable (like for example to manually delete some CyberLife junk that slows down the system and lost its purpose) and needs Hank's help to be there and do what it takes, because Connor needs to be in stand by for this to work, so he's just sitting/lying next to him completely limp with caple connected to the back of his neck.

At some point something goes wrong and Hank's computer goes into restart, and when it loads Hank notices that first this CL maintenance program loads in, then blank text document opens on his computer and in a matter of seconds text appears, first some unreadable wall of symbols, then normal text, something along the lines of

"Hank, are you there? I'm afraid my program is running on your computer. I'm trying to move but I'm not sure if it's going through. Am I moving right now?"

Then

"If you're there please write something, I can't hear you."

Hank will stare at the screen, then at motionless Connor next to him, when he look back at the screen there'll be another couple of messages asking him to write something and from the way they're written and the speed at which new text appears it'll look like an escalating panic – from just asking Hank to write something it'll turn into begging to at least interact somehow with the computer, at some point within merely a second they'll start to appear too quickly to read. Hank'll grab keyboard and as fast as he can write something, maybe first just gibberish to write something asap, then delete it and write

"Connor?"

New wave of about a ten new lines of text will appear, most of which just repetition of the general message of "yes, I'm here"

"Can you hear me?" Hank will ask at loud, then type it after not getting any response

Another wave of lines of text with general message being "No, I can't hear you. I can't see you. I can't move." and "please don't leave me", desparation slipping through the lines

Hank will ask if he can do something to fix it

"I don't know" will appear on one line after another in some slight variations, then

"Can you connect some mic and headphones? I can't find any available."

Hank will look around the room, then type "wait, I'll go grab some" to which another wave of desperate "Please don't leave" appear in response, then "when will you get back?"

Unsure if he should go search for headphones at all Hank will type

"3 min"

Then search for headphones

"Connor?" He'll call again, hearing some noise his headphones "Hey, hey, can you hear me now?"

"Yes. I can hear you, but I can't move. I don't- I don't feel like I have any body at all"

"So you're in my computer... How did that-"

"Am I still connected?"

Hank moves to check that Connor has cable securely connected to the port on the back of his neck, and on the other side it's just as properly inserted into according port on the computer. He carefully moves Connor to confirm that one more time.

"Did you feel that?" Hank asks

"Feel what?"

After initial panic when both of them get slightly calmer they'll come to realisation that in order to allow the kind of changes they were about to make android's mind is basically temporarily transferred into another device, in their cases Hank's computer, but due to some mistake in process, computer went into a restart, so no transfer back occured + some component burned down making transfer back temporarily impossible (unless it's replaced). Or idk how it works, it's actually against my headcanons, but fuck it. The point is that this will take time to replace it, because it has to be ordered as something custom that can't be found as it is available the same day.

Without the need to move actual physical body (that occupies most of the resources) actual "mind" is not so big so it can even run on a phone, which is exactly what happens next. (Don't attack me, it's a silly little story idea, so let me have fun)

So for a couple of days or up to a week Connor exists within this non-physical predicament, learning ways to interact with other devices (like connecting to cameras that are within same network just to see something, although it's hard to understand the depth (regular cameras are sure different than the ones used for android's eyes)), surfing the web, etc. Basically like in the movie "Her"(2013) but as a temporary measure.

During this time Hank adopts a habit of wearing a headphones (or just one) at practically all times just to keep Connor a company while he's like that, because (at least at first) he's freaking out and is really opposed to the thought of being left alone even for a short time, because without a body and barely any inputs from the real world (compared to usual amount and quality) the experience is way too similar to non-existence and shit is understandably freaky. It seems like constantly having such a company, basically enduring someone else's presense at almost all times can rapidly become annoying and unbearable, but somehow it quickly becomes a second nature instead. In a way it's even nice. Consequently they talk more than ever, often ending up discussing something minor or ridiculous, something they'd never talked about otherwise, just because they're basically getting used to thinking out loud with a company.

Story ends with Hank finally replacing the component that got broken with a new one, allowing Connor to finally transfer back. The image of his body moving for the first time after being completely still for a relatively long period of time seems to me weirdly adorable. Being able to finally move and feel again must be similar to the feeling of wearing the right type of glasses for the first time after living with way too weak ones without realising how fucking blind you actually are. But yeah, it must be about 10 times better than that.

The first thing after finally being able to feel physically present like an actually existing person? A hug. Of course.

[coca-lastic]

Unhappy Christmas! | F. odair

Warning: ANGST, mentions of forced prostitution, mean!reader? (Idk lol)

A/N: My first language is not English and blah blah blah

_____

"Merry christmas!" You shouted excitedly at Mags.

You had won the 67th hunger games and, after going a little crazy, you started to overcome it. Obviously it is impossible to completely overcome it but, unlike before, now you know how to be happy. The other Vemcedores of District 4 had helped you find your way out of the fog that embraced you and sent you back again and again.

You could easily say who was the person who helped you the most, the one who gave you a hand when the darkness was consuming you and he got you out of there. The one who said words so your brain wouldn't shut down completely. The one who hugged you so you wouldn't fall even though your legs didn't respond to your call.

He's always been the one to help you, ever since his family helped yours not die in a fire when you were 6 years old. Since then he has always been there for you.

And you would like to do the same.

But lately that seemed like an impossible task and you didn't even know why, you didn't know what was wrong, you didn't know what was changing him. That's why you decided to invite him to the Christmas gathering with your family and Mags (Who, since your games, is also part of the family).

"Do you know if the bakery will be able to sell the cake?" You asked the old woman.

"They said they would have it ready by the afternoon my girl, stop worrying"

"No no no, this has to go well Mags, we've been enjoying a meeting for a long time without someone going crazy, and it's usually me, so I have to have everything under control" You said as you walked around the entire room, checking and criticizing the decorations.

Mags sighed with a smile on his face as your stress continued to grow, you had always been such a perfectionist. "If you keep this up you'll probably collapse before the meeting. Sit down, I'll bring you some hot chocolate."

"But Ma-"

"No buts" she said and walked at a slow pace towards the kitchen. You followed her, Mags was very strong but sometimes her old age worked against her.

"Maybe if Finnick would deign to help" you murmured annoyed, you were the one who had invited him, but he could have the desire to help with something, right?

"Oh...Finnick?" Mags said, looking at you with a look somewhere between amazed, compassionate and sad. That was not a good sign.

"Yeap, I invited him too, lately he's been a little... weird" You said, sitting quietly on one of the kitchen chairs and crossing your arms over your chest.

"My girl... I don't know why he didn't tell you but... Finnick- he's not here" And again, a sad and compassionate look but this time not at you. His gaze was completely fixed on the floor.

"Wha- What are you talking about Mags?" You laughed in disbelief, he accepted the invitation, he is going to come. "He told me-"

"He told you what you needed to hear, my girl. You love Christmas, he has no right to ruin what you had planned."

"He's doing it anyway. He's supposed to- He's supposed to come." You ran out of the kitchen, straight into your room.

Normally you wouldn't get like this, you had to change many plans with Finnick, it was normal. But it stopped being that way when he had been doing it for months, with every damn invitation. You open the doors of your friendship, of your kindness, and he closes them as if you were one of the many girls who are lining up to have him.

_________

Angry, stressed and more angry.

The meeting had already started. There was your family, other neighbors from Victors Village, and some friends of your parents. But he wasn't there, and that made you angry. Because you did this for him, he loved socializing but now he rejected any situation in which he could do it.

Before he took you out of the darkness and now that you are out you want to be in the illuminated area with him. But he is not there. It's like he didn't get you out of there, he just replaced places. And you are no longer able to find him, you do not see a hand to grab and pull, he is not here, not there, he is not anywhere.

Oh, and the damn cake wasn't ready yet.

"If that fucking cake doesn't arrive, I'm going to hang myself" You said annoyed in the patio of the house. You were waiting for the person to take him to your home but he didn't arrive.

"Calm down little one" your father said next to you.

Your impatience was beginning to radiate from you. Your mind only thought bad words and all of them were directed towards the bakery... and a few - or maybe many - towards Finnick.

"Look, it's here. Don't even think about tipping them!" You said towards your father. Sometimes anger makes you a bad person.

Both of you waited for the young man with a hood over his head to approach with the cake, but instead he continued straight, specifically towards Finnick's house.

"Is that Finnick? Didn't you say that he wouldn't be in District 4 today?" No, it couldn't be that you planned a damn mini party so he could fit in. The idiot pretended to leave so he wouldn't attend.

"I'm going to go say hello dad..." You were going to say a lot of things, but hello wasn't on the list of what you planned to say.

Finnick opened the door to his house and with a staggering step he entered, he was about to open the door but you screamed for him not to.

He closed it anyway.

Wow, today he was earning your fury. It's no longer a metaphor, he literally closed the door on you as if he were a stalker. And honestly you'd had enough of that. You had had enough of being ignored repeatedly in the last few months.

"Finnick come on! You lied about the Christmas party and you can't even open the fucking door to apologize?!"

Silence, he didn't answer you. You looked out the window and you didn't see him, you didn't see the friend to shout at, you only saw the darkness that he had entered a few seconds ago.

The window was open and, once again, anger made you a bad person, so despite creating several scratches on your hands and knees, you managed to enter through the window.

"You son of a b-" you screamed as you fell from the window to the floor.

"Y/N? What the fuck are you doing?" The spotlight turned, illuminating the room they were in.

"You! This is for you! Couldn't you be so kind as to open the door for me?" You stood up quickly, pointing a finger at him aggressively and approaching him.

"I- I didn't hear you knock-"

"Of course you listened! It's just that you've apparently changed so much lately that you couldn't even have a bit of fucking consideration."

"What are you talking about? Y/N what the fuck happened to your knee and why are you coming to my house like you're a fucking murderer totally bad at his job?" She raised one of her eyebrows, but her body remained relaxed on the couch, as if you weren't bothered at all.

"Do you want to know what happened to my knee? Well, I got hurt because you couldn't OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" You moved further towards him. and probably thanks to your scream Finnick got up from the couch, confused but still relaxed. "Oh! And you know what? I threw a whole damn Christmas party because we're both supposed to love Christmas and YOU DIDN'T EVEN DEIGN TO COME! What the fuck is wrong with you Finnick?"

"Ok... you're a little upset, aren't you?" He put his hands on your shoulders and crouched down a little so he could look you in the eyes.

And normally you'd punch him but he's your friend, so you kept eye contact with him. You looked at his eyes helplessly, with impatience, but in his eyes for some reason you only saw sadness and sadness. They were a little red, as if he had cried, when he blinked his eyelids took a little longer than normal to return to their place and his eyelashes were shiny. "Look, I'm sorry, I had to leave in an emergency, okay? I figured the party was already over so I came straight home."

"There's literally loud music and people outside the house, unless you're blind, deaf and stupid, no, the party's not over." Tears began to build up in your eyes, 'and it made you upset with yourself. You didn't want to cry in a serious discussion.

"Well, I'm an idiot then. I'm sorry, okay? I swear I'll be there at the next party" he walked away from you a little. Sitting back down in the chair.

"Damn Finnick, I don't give a shit about the upcoming holidays, what I care about is that the last few months you've changed and I haven't even been able to change with you!" You said in a broken voice, tears already sliding down your cheeks and your mouth curling to try to contain the sounds of sadness.

Finnick didn't say mad, he just looked at you. And no matter how much you've been with him for 12 years, you couldn't decipher that look. He looked like the 14-year-old boy who was thrown into the sand again. He seemed without hope, without happiness. The only shine that was in them was tears. that showed their sadness but I don't know that it trickled down their cheeks, the pain that he kept only for him, that clouded only his vision.

"Finnick...I just want to know what's going on with us. Why don't we walk around anymore, or p-play or just- just talk? Why-why don't we do that anymore?"

"I..."

"Just tell me Finnick, because I'm trying but I don't even know what I have to do."

"I-I can't, I can't tell you. He-he doesn't allow it," Finnick said with a broken voice, lowering his head to the floor. You approached him and knelt in front of him.

"Who is he Finn? What are they doing with you?" You grabbed his face and made him look into his eyes, as teary as his own.

"Snow... h-he's worse than he looks..." he sniffed and bit his trembling lip "h-he's s-so cruel, he's a m-monster."

And just by saying who is responsible for why your friend is shedding salty tears, fear came to you. You knew that this man is capable of too many things and that scares you. It scares you that he showed that prick to Finnick and you didn't. You're scared that Finnick is cracking and you don't know how the first crack got.

"I've changed...he's changed me y/n and I dislike that" he sniffed again "and if you find out how he's changed me you'll probably never- you'll just walk away"

_____

What happens when there is so much darkness that no way out has been discovered?

What happens when fear overwhelms you?

Fear is darkness, and darkness is blinding. The problem is that fear is infinite. Everyone has a different fear, some are afraid of the dark, others are afraid of spiders, others are afraid of the sea, others are afraid of blood, others are afraid of heights.

But what happens when you are afraid of fear?

That's what happens with you. You know that the boy you have loved for a long time is afraid, and that scares you. But you can't do anything because the fears are infinite, the fear remains and blinds you.

The fear of your disappointment, the fear of your disgust, the fear of showing what he has become has blinded him. And you have seen it. But you don't know where that fear comes from, you don't know who or what is producing it.

So for now you only have to observe, continue fearing, remain scared but attentive, wait until the moment when his fears are weak, the moment when hope removes the blindfold from his eyes. And at that moment have it again.

Seeing that boy again who, although fear has changed him, will continue to be the same boy who loves having a nice Christmas.

[eerna]

Omg the way Eloise is written as a feminist character BOTHERS me. I can’t always put my finger on why, but a thing that sticks out to me the most is how she just says the most blatantly basic (for us 21st century viewers) things and idk it’s supposed to seem revolutionary… but it’s never clever. And it is never deep.

Anyways I saw your tag on the Eloise/Cressida post and I was curious to hear any elaboration of your thoughts on her feminist portrayal? (But no pressure!)

YEEAAAH EXACTLY! I have the same issue, Eloise just says 21st century equality stuff without ever having read a single feminist pamphlet (this is canon, she doesn't start reading them or attending discussions until she's 18). Somehow she developed a perfectly uniform idea of modern womanhood when she was isolated and raised to be a traditional lady. Her opinions should be WAY more half baked and full of holes because this life is the only one she'd ever known. That's not even mentioning the inability to discuss feminism without discussing class, something Eloise has No Idea About.

Then comes the issue of writing. This is a stupid show. No one looks smart on this show. So when Eloise drops a "smart comment", it is cringe and dumb. She is supposed to be eloquent and witty, but most of the time she looks like a mean snob belittling everyone around her.

Another issue is that everyone else around her is a horrible sexist caricature. Yes, she is snobby, but my god every other woman only cares about men and marriage and gossip so I can't even blame her all that much for it. Her friends don't really care about what she has to say and will always leave her to go chase a man. And even SHE starts fitting the description the moment she falls for a guy - she lies to her friend and puts everyone in danger, and 90% of the reason is a man with only 10% being her self actualization. You can't write a proper feminist if everyone in your story has the same goal, which is to find a husband. It doesn't help that we know Eloise is headed for marriage and babies because every time a character expresses they don't want one or both of those things, they are proven wrong by the narrative.

And finally, my last thing making Eloise a bad feminist character, is that she is SO PASSIVE. Sure, it might be the point of the show as Pen calls her out for it, but we still don't know if they are gonna fix it so I am putting it here anyway. She only talks and complains about her lot in life, but never acts against society. I was happy when she started sneaking out and hang out with The Working Class Feminists TM, but that turned out to be a short failed romance subplot instead of a character moment and she gave up on it almost right away, so it doesn't count. And now in s3 she decided to embrace society and its expectations, so I am not sure we will ever get to see that kind of rebellion again - I sure hope so! But idk.

As a "well written Eloise" character, I'd like to suggest Felicity Montague. She is a character from a 18th century romcom, a noble lady, aroace and trying to go to med school when her gender prevents her from getting an education. She doesn't use her screentime for long-winded monologues about the unfairness of the world, she ACTS on her thoughts and opinions so we know what they are. She switches covers of romance books and textbooks so she can study without being bothered, she runs away from home to try make her dreams come true, she finds alternative solutions. Her thoughts are never lauded as One Truth, in fact she is often called out for the blind spots in her opinions since she too grew up a sheltered noble and can't account for all experiences. She is surrounded by women who challenge her ideas and make her into a better friend and person. AND she is funny and reading her is just plain fun. You CAN do a feminist who doesn't belong in her era, you just have to be careful to also make her a good character.

[bonefall]

Do you have any plans for Moth Flight in your au? I always felt like she had a lot of potential, but her super edition…. Oh it’s bad. God forbid a disabled, young, single mom try to raise children and have a job at the same time. Too bad there was no one to help her when things got stressful, like you know, her clanmates… No women should have a job and children at the same time ever again.

If it wasn’t obvious that was sarcasm, Moth Flight’s story has awful implications. But! In BB Clerics Not being allowed to have kits wasn’t a law until the Ripple Era, it used to just be a personal vow and was a bit taboo. So I’m interested in of Moth Flight still had something to do with the creation of the vow itself? And just in general if you have any plans to fix her story or if you’re just throwing the whole thing out. (Which would be completely understandable.) I just think there IS potential there in her story, especially in BB where the Clerics Vow is actually ACKNOWLEDGED to not make sense and be bad. It could be interesting for the idea to rise from such a hyper specific, awful situation. The Clans having altered her story so much over the years that it went from the truth, “the first Cleric was a young, single mother of four, trying to raise her children while morning her husband and convincing the other Clans that they needed Clerics. The odds were against her.” To the perfect, Cleric’s Vow supporting lie, “the first Cleric had kits. She was unable to balance raising them and caring for her Clanmates. She taught the Clans a valuable lesson, a Clerics first and only duty should be healing and worshiping StarClan. Kits only get in the way of that duty.”

Idk, I just feel like there’s still an interesting story to tell somewhere through all of Moth Flight’s super edition’s bs. In the hands of a better writer who doesn’t ACTUALLY believe that Moth Flight’s genuinely tragic life means that all women who have jobs can never have children or get married again.

There's HUUGE overhauls here. I spoke about it eons ago during the last wave where I was discussing my changes to BB!DOTC, but let me give you the fragments thus far.

It's VERY different. Get ready for Moth Flight to be a completely different character.

MOTH FLIGHT'S VOW

She is no longer the child of Wind Runner. In fact...

She's the daughter of Wind Runner's shitty ex, Branch

Moth's other dad is Cloud Flight (prev. Cloud Spots). Since the Great Battle, Cloud has been wandering between the 5 groups as a sort of traveling doctor. It's a lot of work, there's only him and Dapple and an overwhelming amount of cats who need his skilled paws

So Moth Flight has always been a bit detached from people. I want her to actually have ADHD this time around, instead of it vanishing when it isn't convenient.

She kind of has Military Base Kid energy, hopping place to place with unresolved mental health issues. She probably bites ppl because I love weird girls

"papas can i bring my leeches" "honey no"

Cloud really wanted to train her to be a Medic the way he is, but... she has to learn how to do it her own way.

Branch doesn't help he's a goof and mostly interested in playing games with his baby.

I want to portray Branch as someone who's flighty, not another example of "before the Tribe cats came we were uncivilized heathens without society"

I also don't like his original narrative purpose to give Wind Runner trust issues that don't matter. If she had trust issues, what exactly was all that "please let me join ur group" about??

BB!Wind Runner is a breakaway from the River Kingdom, and the leader of the loosely united Moor cats. She created the Wind Coalition and is its intense, notoriously ruthless leader

So something eventually calls Cloud to do his work for the Wind Coalition

Branch: *SWEATS*

Cloud Flight: "..............branch. what did you Do"

Branch: "youre not allowed to be mad at me"

Cloud Flight: "tell me what you did and then we'll see if im mad at you"

The take might be controversial, but I do like the way that Windstar has problems with Moth Flight for no reason. I wanted to preserve it while removing it being yet another case of motherly child neglect, and more of a case of Wind Runner holding unfair grudges. I think it's good drama

Moth Flight's love of nature, herbs, and the natural world eventually prompts her to follow a Hairstreak Butterfly to the Moonstone. It leads her through the winding tunnels, a path that only Clerics will know how to navigate in the future, to the shimmering chamber in the middle.

Through her special connection to StarClan, drawing off the early cultural view of their ancestors as nature spirits (the fact that they are star spirits is a Park Cat contribution and all 5 leaders have their lives by this point), Moth Flight is able to come into her own as a holy speaker and healer. She begins to blur the line between holiness and healing, marked by how Clanmew has only one word for both concepts.

Hairstreak Butterflies also become known as a "herald" type of butterfly. I could get into the linguistics of this, but the old Tribemew word for moth/butterfly becomes the Clanmew word for sacred butterflies.

Micah is not supremely important anymore, but he's there. He doesn't become a healer in MFV, he's just Moth's mate.

But things begin to go wrong when her kittens are born.

All four children are born with a high connection to StarClan, just like their mother.

She takes it on herself to train them, as Cloud Flight had done with her, wiser from understanding that they would learn in their own ways.

Dapple and Cloud Flight never have this connection to star spirits, and they're growing old. Cloud is ready to retire, Dapple dies in some way before she's able to train a replacement

It begins to cause panic in the groups. It was bad with only two healers, but now everything is stretched even thinner.

SkyClan, notoriously violent, is the first to make the move. Skystar was not above the practice of Kit Stealing, taking Misty's kittens and giving them to Petal Claw for her loyalty ages ago.

Kit Stealing wouldn't become common until the creation of the Law of Loyalty, which is only a few years away, but it did exist before then.

They want a Mothkin kitten.

The Wind Coalition, of course, moves to fight and protect them. They call on ThunderClan, who can usually be relied upon

ThunderClan's request... they also want a Mothkin kitten. They need doctors too.

The River Kingdom and ShadowClan are also moving to take a kitten

EVERYONE needs a doctor, and they will fight and kill to get one. They all begin to realize... if they don't separate, there will be blood. People they love will die, and they'll be ripped apart anyway

Moth Flight, seeing this, BURNING with sorrow and fury at the violence of the Clans but knowing there is no other option, tells her children to make her a promise.

"That there will be no Mothkin after you. That you will never take a mate, or give your kidnappers more children. That you will remember that they were willing to kill their own families to steal you, and that you will be loyal the pursuit of life, virtue, and your sacred ability to heal above the cruel commands of the treacherous Clans."

Having accepted this, the family calls for an end to the fighting. Each child chooses a Clan to go to, and has their name changed.

ThunderClan: Spider Flight -> Spider Flight (no change)

SkyClan: Honey Flight -> Honey Pelt

RiverClan: Bubble Flight -> Bubbling Stream

ShadowClan: Blue Flight -> Blue Whisker

They're being shuffled based on which Clan they go to because it always bothered me that their names don't match their Clans, and also Spider Paw going to RiverClan when he has a phobia of water is insulting and I said no

So, TL;DR, this is a completely different story because DOTC is the one arc that I don't value "fixing." It needs a complete overhaul, imo.

This one would take place after Thunderstar's Justice, which immediately follows the First Battle. In terms of timeline, first is Hollyleaf's Century, 30 years later BB!DOTC begins and lasts several years, a few months after the First Battle begins Thunderstar's Justice, and then Moth Flight's Vow follows a year later.

[taihua]

Very interested to know what made it seem like Feng Xin didn’t love the present Jian Lan. He couldn’t seem to let her go. Though I do agree that Jian Lan has completely moved on

I agree that he didn't want to let her go, but I don't think it's because he still loved her--to me, it's pretty clearly about his sense of guilt that he wasn't there to take care of her.

There's also the fact that he didn't recognize her the first time he saw her, and even when she's without her heavy makeup, he's still not exactly... idk. Kind?

But words got stuck in his throat, because before when Jian Lan was Lan Chang and covered herself in heavy makeup, looking like a wench, he really didn’t recognize her. It couldn’t be helped. Feng Xin still looked exactly the same as he did once upon a time, but Jian Lan’s transformation truly was too great. Looks, makeup, manners, speech, class…even if her blood parents were to stand before her they might not recognize their precious daughter. Feng Xin was astonished. “…It’s you. It really is you. It has to be you! …I thought you married, and were living well. How did you…how did you become this way…” (Chapter 141)

It's reminiscent of the way he refused to let Xie Lian do certain jobs in Book 4 because he thought it wasn't suitable for someone of his status; while I think it's going too far to say that he's classist, I do think that he expects a certain standard from the people close to him. Also evidenced by the fact that his relationship with Jian Lan involved him wanting to get her out of the brothel. Even then, he wasn't willing to meet her where she was and accept what had happened to her, which I think paints their love story in a different light.

In Feng Xin's words: “But I was never annoyed with you! I wanted to redeem you!” (Chapter 214)

He's the "I can fix her" meme. Which wouldn't even be so bad if it wasn't contrasted against Hua Cheng loving the worst parts of Xie Lian and still accepting him. Feng Xin doesn't do that with Jian Lan, so his love feels contingent on her changing.

Which is incidentally how he feels about Cuocuo, too:

“Can you really take him for your own son?” “As long as it can return to the right path, how can I not?”

Once again, it's conditional. He doesn't accept Cuocuo unless he can become something else.

Also in Chapter 214, you have Jian Lan berating him for not fulfilling his duties as a father: "

“How? Isn’t it because of you?! ‘It’s the father’s fault for only raising without educating’ , if it wasn’t for you slacking off on your duty as the father, would your own son have been dug out from his mother’s womb to be made into something like this?"

I always like this line because it shows they're both meant to be educated enough to understand Confucian ideals, and even as far as she's fallen, Jian Lan still throws this back at him. So when Feng Xin asks her to stay, he doesn't even mention loving her--he only mentions feeling obligated:

“Come…come back,” Feng Xin begged, “I’m still…sigh, I still feel I, I…I want to take care of both of you. I should take care of both of you. I have a duty, I’ve promised you.”

Notice the hesitations, too. He's stuttering worse than Mu Qing and "f-f-friends" here, which casts the "I want to take care of both of you" under some serious doubt, imo.

And besides all that, I think it's just the fact that he doesn't seem happy to see her at any point! His behavior around her is anxious and stressed. When she leaves him in his palace, he's emotionally drained. He's the type to laugh out loud at jokes and sing when he's happy, but she just leaves him feeling anxious and depressed--which is partly because of what happened to her, but I also don't see any evidence that he's excited to see the love of his life again.

[z0nic]

ok so while the au is about enerjak the main character is silver. he returns to his future after helping team fighters rescue mecha sally deroboticize her stop king naugus blah blah. wrap up the preboot threads quickly theyre not the focus. we need silver to go home (somehow). once he returns to his future he finds that the future is different. he recognizes it as similar to the future he encounters in dark mobius, and deduces that the timeline must have changed and enerjak was the cause for the ruined future at this point. while he is very devastated since he believed for almost all his life eliminating the traitor in the freedom fighters would fix everything he stills himself and goes to travel back in time again. (lets say the method he used to go back in the first place was that 2 way chaos control thing from 06) however the state of the future this time is a lot more intact than before, since eggman's takeover was much more destructive to mobius than enerjak's cleansing was (but silver wont know that). because of this, angel island is still intact and floating, although there is no master emerald. instead, the 7 time stones are keeping the island aloft (knuckles used the time stones to destroy little planet and freeze angel island in place but that will be revealed later). silver finds a library similar to the one he found antoine's diary in, but instead he finds locke's journal instead, mixed with assorted documents from haven (which silver won't be able to decipher very well). similar to antoine's diary, the last entry gives silver the information he needs to travel back in time, a description of what happened on the day of his death. and more importantly, the date. without reading any further than locke's description of the weapon to destroy enerjak and his transformation, silver grabs a time stone and warps back in time.

^THATS THE PROLOGUE THE REST ISNT AS DETAILED

silver arrives in the past, on angel island when locke teleports sonic and julie-su there. he's more confident than normal, since he's beaten enerjak before and didn't get the facts wrong this time. however, by the time he arrives to the master emerald shrine, sonic already destroyed the enerjak weapon. silver thinks that he was too late to change history, and angrily tries to immobilize sonic with his psychokinesis. at this point nobody knows who he is, and so while locke, sonic, and julie-su interrogate him and he tries to explain the best he can the destructix slip out of the way like they did in the normal story. after he clears things up, sonic declares that he has a plan to stop knuckles and silver follows him to the emerald. however, he notices finitevus lurking in the shadows while sonic turns super, and recalling how knuckles was turned by a hex on the emerald, silver rushes to grab sonic again at the instant he turns super. since he disrupted the transformation, sonic turns super but is knocked out, lying on the ground (and does not detransform). the feedback strikes silver too, so he's pretty winded. knuckles sees the commotion and goes down to the chamber too, where finitevus commands him to attack silver. they engage in a fight while locke and julie-su check on sonic and finitevus disappears through a warp ring. silver tries using the same tricks he did during the dark mobius fight, but due to the strength of the hex he doesn't do much other than slow enerjak down. meanwhile, super sonic awakes, but is noticably more sinister than normal. (either he changes to an entirely different form due to the hex or hes the evil super sonic from the red emeralds idk which yet) however, he still goes to fight knuckles, knocking silver down. sonic isn't trying to restore knuckles here he just wants to beat him up. silver recuperates with locke and julie-su.

silver asks if locke has a second copy of the weapon or anything similar to which he obviously says no. meanwhile finitevus tells enerjak to teleport super sonic to one of his labs in downunda, and knuckles complies. sonic moves to attack him again, but is stopped by finitevus who has deduced that his hex worked. some way or another (idk yet) he convinces super sonic to ally himself with him, and they go back to the master emerald chamber. immediately, finitevus tells enerjak to KILL locke and for super sonic to fight silver. both comply, and locke dies. no noble sacrifice for him here he just dies. its pretty unceremonious. i bet knuckles would feel bad though. julie-su holds finitevus at gunpoint and tells him to break the curse, pretty desperate at this point. finitevus says the same schpiel of someone sacrificing themselves, and julie-su assumes she'll have to do it but archimedes (hes here too i forgot about him sorry guys) offers to do it instead. however at that moment knuckles (who finitevus told not to interfere when julie-su threatened him) shows up and is all nuh uh. no sacrifices for you. and motions for super sonic to come back. silver is vaguely chasing after him but hes kind of slow. in the meantime, sonic and knuckles use the master emerald to absorb it fully, causing angel island to fall into the ocean. theyve now become twice as powerful, and the blast knocks out julie-su.

silver returns after the trio warped out of there, and not really sure what to do and believing he fucked everything up he brings julie-su to new mobotropolis to ask for help. the freedom fighters (and shadow i guess) are obviously horrified at that. silver tells them that at this point, their best bet is sending him back to his future so he can prevent this from happening. he doesnt say that doing this will probably erase everyone from the timeline.he asks if anyone has a time stone, but nobody knows what those fucking are. he determines that their best best is using chaos control again, and tails mentions that the chaos emeralds are in the special zone. just then, they get word that enerjak has completely decimated new megaopolis and sonic is coming for new mobotropolis next. silver tells everyone to hurry (real fucking helpful silver.) and asks if tails and shadow can accompany him to the special zone. they agree, and enter the special zone through the star posts just moments before super sonic and enerjak attack the city. they do some miscellaneous challenge that doesnt really matter and then return back through the star post portal, where super sonic and knuckles are waiting. they reveal that they saw the portal and deduced who had came through, and wanted to wait before destroying the star posts so they could finish them off too. sonic asks tails and shadow to join them (he doesnt care about silver), since he doesnt really want to fight his friends more than he has to (implied here he didnt kill the freedom fighters or chaotix but their fate is unknown). obviously they refuse and knuckles fires a Beam at them. tails absorbs the energy however, turning into turbo tails and telling silver and shadow to hurry and send him to the future. as the three fight, shadow and silver each grab a chaos emerald and prepare to chaos control. shadow asks what will happen after silver goes back, to which he professes that he doesn't know. they chaos control to make the time portal, and as silver goes through he sees shadow turn into chaos shadow and join the fight before closing the portal behind him. THE END!

[drabbles-mc]

Palliative Care

Horacio Carrillo & F!Reader

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Horror: came back wrong

Warnings: 18+, major character death, angst, scars, blood, hospitals, all the sad angsty things idk

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Is this a day late? Yes. Is this one of the strangest, saddest fucked up little things I've ever written? Also yes. No clue where my brain went during this but here we are. I also think this might be my first ever fic with no dialogue. What a day!

Narcos Taglist: @ashlingnarcos @garbinge @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa @narcolini @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

palliative care (noun): treatment that reduces the pain without curing its cause

You had been one of the lucky ones. You knew it, too. With the minor exception of a few scars running up the side of your body, you came home fully intact. And compared to what you’d seen happen to so many others, a few ridges along your ribcage and thigh were hardly worth mentioning. You were grateful, in your mind at least, even if you didn’t always feel it all the way down into your bones.

The only thing that had gotten you through the atrocities that you’d seen, the losses that you’d suffered despite how hard you tried to prevent them, was the knowledge that one day you would be back home again. You weren’t going to live out your days wading through the carnage of war. And even though there was no guarantee of it, you were determined not to become and be buried as part of the mess yourself.

Unfortunately, no amount of determination and wishful thinking prepared you for what it was going to feel like being home again. All the days and nights you spent begging for some stability, some peace, maybe even a little bit of quiet, and once you got it you had no idea what to do with any of it. So many months in the midst of war and once you were relieved of that sense of urgency, your body just couldn’t accept it. There was no turning the dial down. The last thing you wanted was more chaos, but it felt like you were constantly filled with adrenaline, ready to handle crises that weren’t even there.

After months of struggling with guilt and the dreaded thought that you were somehow subconsciously ungrateful for the opportunity to be home and safe again, when you were asked whether or not you wanted another change of venue, it felt like the only answer was yes. It’d be different than last time, they assured you, but it wasn’t going to be some quiet hospital in the middle of a relatively safe city like where you’d been in the interim. Part of you knew that this was the last thing you probably needed, but if peace and quiet wasn’t fixing you, maybe getting thrown back into it would do the trick. So, off to Medellín you went.

It was different, just like they’d said. But in a lot of ways it was also the same. The apparent spontaneity felt familiar. There wasn’t always an obvious rhyme or reason to when the violence would crescendo, although you supposed that was the point.

The thing that felt the most familiar, though, was the underlying feeling of futility that you felt. More officers, more soldiers brought to you begging you to not let them die. You’d spent enough time doing triage on battlegrounds to know relatively quickly if you were going to have any control over the outcome. You hated how often you didn’t. But you knew better than to let them know that. Calm, collected, reassurance even if it was a lie was the best you could do for any of them regardless of whether or not you could help them.

You didn’t like the feelings that came rushing back, the familiarity of it all, but even though that was the case, it was the first time in a long time that you didn’t feel like you were out of place.

You grew to recognize the people that filtered in and out of the hospital on a regular basis. Sometimes they saw you frequently because they themselves were getting injured. As much as you hated seeing people getting hurt over and over again, at least return trips meant that they kept surviving.

The other people you saw frequently were the officers in charge. Sometimes they were getting patched up by you, but other times they were coming through to check on their men. All you could hope was that you had good news for them. The same way you could tell within moments of seeing someone getting brought in whether you’d be able to help them or not, officers soon learned to be able to tell whether or not you had good news for them. They never held it against you when you didn’t—the families were another story.

You didn’t know much of anything about Colonel Carrillo outside of the things you’d heard about him in passing. Your conversations with him were always short, always professional. He never seemed to show any emotion to you one way or another regardless of whether you were delivering good or bad news to him. His expression almost always stayed the same. Neutral, hardened. No matter what you said, he’d always conclude the conversation with a tight nod, and an even tighter “Thank you” before going off to wherever he was needed next. He never seemed to want to listen to your apologies, whatever condolences you used to try and offer him. You stopped giving them after awhile—he seemed almost relieved about it.

His absence wouldn’t have been something that crossed your mind at all if you hadn’t heard other nurses and doctors talking about it in passing. People stopped showing up all the time—you considered yourself lucky if you weren’t there to find out the reason why. If you hadn’t heard the murmurs, you never would have given it another thought. You would have just hoped the best for him, while in the back of your mind knowing it most likely wasn’t the case.

But then you heard them talking about how he’d gotten sent away. You watched the news enough to put it all together. Part of you felt relieved knowing that at least he was one person who wasn’t being sent away from the war in a pine box. Another part of you felt the tightness reappearing in your chest the more you thought about it. You knew what it was like to try and leave the fight. You’d done it of your own volition and you still couldn’t handle being away from the thick of it all. You could scarcely imagine what being pulled away before he was ready would do to someone who seemed to operate the way that Carrillo did.

He faded from your mind eventually, the way that most people tended to when you saw so many of them each day. You had much more present issues to think about. All of Colombia did. The surges of violence had you feeling like your hands would never be clean of blood no matter how hard you scrubbed them, no matter how scalding the water was. More officers than you could try to count or keep track of, dead before they got to you if not shortly after. There was no way to keep up with it. It was a feeling of drowning that you had felt before, one you never wanted to feel again. This time around, though, you at least knew how to tread water—exhausting but vital work.

The days had blurred together so completely that you lost track. You didn’t know how long Carrillo was gone for, but suddenly he was back again. He strode across the hospital floors like he hadn’t even been gone a day. You saw the difference in him, though. Soldiers all reached a point where they get pushed so far that they will either break, or they’ll evolve. You’ve seen the fallout of both those options and it was impossible to say that either one was preferable. But you could tell by the set of Carrillo’s jaw that he wasn’t broken. He was different, but not broken.

He spoke to you like no time at all had passed, so you returned the favor. Right back into old scripts, old routines. He had more jagged edges now where you just had more exhaustion. Maybe when all of this was said and done you’d simply be too tired to do anything but adjust to a quiet, normal life. More wishful thinking.

You felt like you had needed to claw your way out of your shift. The hours just kept slipping on by. Just when it seemed like there was no end in sight, you were told to go home. You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately taking off to get your things so you could grab what precious few hours of sleep that you could manage.

Your car keys were in your hand when you heard the sudden rush of yelling voices and running feet. It would’ve been so easy to pretend you’d missed it all, to slip out the back and cross the lot to your car. Avoiding it was infinitely easier than confronting it and throwing yourself into the middle of it. You knew that. Easier would’ve been such a nice change of pace. And yet you threw your keys back into your locker and headed back out towards the floor.

There was chaos and cussing and men groaning in pain. Immediately it became a game of Tetris trying to organize and find room for everyone, both patients and hospital staff alike. Only so many of you could populate a floor and still do your jobs without tripping over each other.

You were trying to figure out where the hell you were supposed to start when you felt someone’s hand reach out and grab yours. You returned the gesture on instinct, never one to deprive a desperate soldier of a last hint of comfort. However, when you looked down at the person who had grabbed your hand, you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face. You’d never seen the Colonel being anything other than cold and composed—never the one on this end of the equation. You’d definitely never seen him reaching out to anyone for comfort.

When you took in the state of him, you couldn’t help but to wonder if he was just looking to you to confirm what he already knew. No amount of tactical gear in the world would’ve saved him from whatever he’d gone through before he got brought to you. Despite all the blood and the pale look of his face, the grip he had on your hand was surprisingly strong.

All of your usual words got caught in the back of your throat, things you would typically say to provide comfort in moments like this. But it was Colonel Carrillo, a man who wanted nothing to do with being placated. It was better that way for both of you now because the lump at the back of your throat made it impossible for you to say anything at all, comforting or not.

The tighter he tried to hold onto your hand, the more you tried to match his grip. You brought your hand that he wasn’t holding to rest on his shoulder, fingers wrapping over the curve of it. You tried not to pay attention to the blood that seeped from his uniform into the pads of your fingertips. Even as the seconds ticked by, and his grip started to weaken, and tears began to cut the edges of your eyes and his, you didn’t apologize. He didn’t ask for one either. He didn’t ask for anything. He just held your hand until he couldn’t anymore.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hi Rumortracking  Anon! Re: Markus Anderson, idk if you’ve already seen this, but SMM subreddit has an extremely well-researched and enlightening post in 3 parts - “Deep Dive into Markus Anderson” and the early days of Soho House - that is loaded with links to articles, going as far back as c2008-9, detailing MA’s history - from its very inception in London - with Soho House.

MA’s job is to travel to prospective global venues, setting up new Soho House locations…not only the brick-and-mortar facilities, though, but also (and most importantly) the preliminary “special sauce” of identifying and coalescing the ~exclusive core Soho House membership groups in each city, who are then invited to join the SH clique. They consist of trendy up-and-coming 20/30-something “creatives” mixed with established, wealthy oldsters, and each group wants/needs something from the other…the reflected shine of youth/beauty/innovation v access/money/connections…and sex (lots of kinky, nonjudgmental, libertine sex). Markus is the magician who concocts this Soho witches’ brew of social interaction in each city/SH venue, and he evidently is uniquely talented at it. Like a shadowy, deviant society hostess, MA mixes and fixes people. His little black book, not to mention his private phone photo galleries, must be titillating! Also, from very early on, Soho has maintained a Soho House yacht, used for events like Cannes. 

Suspicious types like Weinstein, Epstein, and Maxwell have been involved in SH from the start, and MM’s first documented interaction w Soho House was in 2010 (a picture of her and Ninaki Priddy at one of the LA Sohos). Note: this was before Suits, before her relocation to Toronto, before Soho House Toronto. In other words, MM and MA most probably have known each other for a very long time, and it’s likely that MM has worked for/“at” various Soho Houses (allegedly…and in what capacity, who knows?). Scooby Doo (MA’s alleged ex-lover), Lainey, Messica, Edward Einninful (sp? the UK Vogue editor guy), Missan, ALL of the Yorks (PA, Fergie, Bea, Eugenie)…they all have long-standing ties to Soho House. Not to mention, the curious coincidence that MA was born in Peterborough, Ontario, CA less than a year after Pr Andrew attended school there for a semester…

As you read through these well-documented SMM posts/articles on MA, the linked articles about Soho House “culture” and “ethos” (lol) are equally as riveting. There’s a reason these posts are marked NSFW. Even pics of the Soho House dining room wallpaper are labelled NSFW iykwim. If you or anyone else are interested in falling down the Soho House rabbit hole, then brew some tea, pour a nice Chardonnay, pop some popcorn, and settle in for some juicy reading! 

(Hope this link works: 

https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/comments/189it6f/soho_house_deep_deep_dive_part_1_soho_house_early/) 

***********

I appreciate that SMM has such a loyal following but I’m not a fan. I know these are fighting words but SMM and Sussex Squad are different sides of the same coin. God help you if you disagree with the hive (which I have). It’s not fun.

And come on. Prince Andrew is Markus Anderson’s father just because the dates line up? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds, without any other proof? It’s as absurd as saying Kate is a falling-down-drunk alcoholic who drank her way to stomach cancer or that “abdominal surgery” is code for William having been physically violent towards Kate because of his anger and her 3 month convalescence is so she doesn’t have to be seen with bruises and broken bones. This, by the way, is exactly what Sussex Squad is saying about Kate’s health crisis.

SMM isn’t for me anymore. I’m not going to funk anyone’s fun but coincidences can exist without it being an evil conspiracy.

[whittlore]

waiwai do we have any hitch lore??- I need a recap on hitch’s lore so I can start thinking of the dynamics in shattered dream’s gang :3

AREGAHAHAHA yeaahh!!!! he does a have a small lore for now

basically, hitchprint is made out of ink's vials and error's strings. hitch which is an synonym of error and print which is related to drawing, printing, ink ect.

his extra abilities are controlling emotions, and he can even feel the other's one if he cares enough to "connect" with you - how does he do that?? he connects a string on both souls, yours and his and that's how he understands you— for example, if you're feeling sad but somehow can't cry, if he connects this string to you he'll feel the sadness but will also express it for you [that's when the term cry for you becomes real eheheee🗿] he can be very vulnerable, but you don't see him like that often, he's moody and neutral most of the time it's a mix of it ig, he's not too edgy but not so kind either BUT is very protective of his partners 👀 oooooo he doesn't show it though, and with shattered's influence, ig he's got some manners from him too lol

his other ability is to make artificial souls that he can control and pressure you with it, example if he makes a fear soul he will be able to paralyze you — and this in a certain distance, if you're further than the distance he's able to control you won't be touched by it BUT if he forces too much his eyes will glitch and will hurts asf, to ease the pain he will put his glasses on and cover his eyes with his hoodie + won't be able to use his magic for a few days. [that doesn't happen so much thankfully??]

and ofc, strings that he calls emotion strings, it randomly changes colors. other functions? idk yett

so, for his backstory

when hitch realized he was just an anomaly in every way possible he was really upset about it, he used to wander in the void since he had no idea how to leave, core!frisk was here when it happened, they searched for hitch for a while until finally founding him and brought him to the Omega timeline where he sort of got used to it.

he wasn't really comfortable there though, he felt it that it wasn't his place to be on, and he was really depressed at this period of time. so he didnt go out much, sometimes he would to take some fresh air, the reason he stayed was because of dream, he was the only person he truly spent time with and genuinely concidered him a friend.

until one day, he was woken up with a lot of noises, it was late at night, screaming could be heard and fighting could be seen, someone was attacking the area, it was shattered that was attacking the Omega timeline — hitch surprised by what he was seeing, ran toward the mess and asked what was happening, when he learned that it was dream he was dumbfounded and afraid for him.

despite that hitchprint somehow tried to defend the timeline, without laying a hand on him as he simply tried to get dream's attention, mostly because he didnt want others to hurt him. of course shattered caught him, somehow recognized hitchprint, then started to say how sad he was for him, that he understood, that he could fix his broken heart, his shattered dreams... if he joined him, of course core frisk and the people of Omega timeline tried to convince hitchprint but he ignored and left with shattered.. well he didn't have a choice at that moment as he had already teleported somewhere else.

hitch couldn't help but feel fear and excitment, was that really the same person?? he wondered why shattered didn't kill him or whatsoever but quickly learned that his power did intrested him and was the only reason he was spared, he felt heartbroken at the idea that it wasn't because of their friendship [or could it be?] but stopped thinking about it much with time, now as long as he was with him, he didn't care even though he was different.

THAT'S ABOUT IT I THINK I might add some stuff but for now it's just that haha hope it's enough, also you have to tell me yours too!! I need to draw themmmmm!!!! 😆😆

[mxeve0]

Spiderman Noir X Fem Reader

I know that technically he's 19 in the comics, but after being voiced by Nicholas Cage he just has to be like...idk 40.

Warnings: Angst, mention of scars and sh, daddy issues?(if that's a warning idk)

The Shadow of a Shadow

Part•1 (Part•2)

The blank ceiling of your makeshift dorm was starting to shift and change the longer you stared at it. There wasn't much in your room except a bed and wardrobe, a small bathroom consisting of just a sink, toilet and shower, a small kitchen with one counter top as well as a stove and fridge and a small seating area with a giant TV fixed to the wall. You couldn't really complain though, it was the least the Spider Society could do. Your own universe had abandoned you after deeming you an unfit and reckless role model due to your abilities.

Of course you had the same basic abilities as every other Spiderman, it was just your webs that were different. In order to produce webs, you needed an open wound with a supply of blood, which you could then weave into the webs. After being weaved they worked just the same, but having a superhero that had to harm herself to save the city wasn't acceptable.

Seeing the people you risked your life to save turn the back on you was the last straw. It wasn't like you wanted to open a wound every time you had to fight, and yet they couldn't appreciate you. You left your universe and had been hopping around others for a while, and when you finally went back, everything had gone to shit. There was no longer a sense of right or wrong, no morality in the public and the government had collapsed. There was no saving it.

You'd gone to Miguel to see if there was anything he could do, but his stoic silence gave you the answer you feared the most. It was one of the only times when he'd shown any sympathy when he offered to give you a place to stay within the society's HQ. With the help of a few other Spidepeople, a storage closet had been turned into what was now your dorm room. It was great, and you appreciated them giving you someplace to stay. But without a city to protect, what kind of Spiderwomen were you?

You sighed and stood up from the couch. It was small and uncomfortable if you sat on it for too long. Stepping out of your room, your eyes took a second to adjust to the bright light that flooded in through the large windows. You joined the traffic of the other Spidepeople who filtered in and out of different rooms in the building, only to later join back into the hoard. It was like some sort of hive mind.

You recognised a few Spiders as you sauntered along, and Sun-Spider gave you a friendly "good afternoon" even though you thought it was morning. You weren't quite emotionally stable enough to hold out a conversation. You needed something to help you cope, but you had nothing. And then, like some sort of miracle, the darkness of a familiar black jacket and hat caught your attention.

Noir was just about to walk past you. You two had spoken once or twice, mainly about how tough being Spiderman can be, but you never had a real connection with him. Now you wanted one. Somehow, despite not speaking to him that often, you had a gut feeling that he'd give you the closure that you needed. That he'd listen to you and assure you that you're doing your best and that's all that matters. Maybe it was just your daddy issues taking advantage of the fact that he was just under twice your age and emotionally stable.

You turned on your heel and joined the train of people that were walking the opposite way. Being a few people behind him made you grateful for the fact that he was taller than most Spidepeople. You kept track of his fedora that bobbed up and down as he walked. If you could catch up to him and stick right behind him, then maybe you could go from there. You slipped between the gap in the people in front and landed yourself right behind him. Now you just had to talk to him.

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

Talking to him seemed to be a lot more difficult than you originally thought. You'd followed him around for the rest of the day, and had disappeared back into your dorm when he went back to his own universe. You'd never had a problem with talking to him before, so why now? It had been 3 days since you had created your little plan - if you could even call it that - and you had gotten nowhere with it. You were sitting on a balcony when you spotted his darkness amongst the crowd of colourful suits, so you hopped down and got back to following him, trying to build up the courage to talk while doing so.

The feeling of someone watching Noir grew as he traversed his way down to the lower levels. He knew it was you. At first he thought it was a coincidence when every time he turned around you happened to be there. But the more and more it happened, the more he realised it wasn't a coincidence. He noticed you the most when you seemingly wait for him to come back, and when you'd follow behind him when he went to get coffee, even though he remembered you telling him you couldn't stand the stuff. Though the biggest clue for him is when you'd grab the sleeve or back of his coat as you followed him through crowds of Spiderpeople.

He didn't mind though; you were quiet and didn't bother him, and even if you were to talk to him he found your previous conversations quite pleasant. But he still couldn't help but wonder why you had begun to cling to him all of a sudden.

He wasn't oblivious to what had happened in your own universe, but he didn't know the full details. All he did know was that you barely left your dorm, and when you did, you never seemed to speak.

Today, Noir had been back in the Society's HQ for quite a while now, probably close to 6 hours, and he hadn't seen any sign of you. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he enjoyed your presence, even if you didn't say much, and he was starting to miss it.

He figured that you were most likely still in your dorm, and thinking that it couldn't hurt to check up on you, he made his way over. Your room was tucked around a corner on one of the main floors, far enough away from the noise of all the Spiderpeople that would walk past. He knocked on the door and waited for your response. You hummed loud enough for him to hear, and he opened the door. You were laid on your back on your couch, throwing some kind of metal ball in the air repeatedly. It was probably a vital component for some sort of machine, but you had a habit of taking things apart only to never figure out how to put them back together. This was evident thanks to the pile of metal and wires on your coffee table.

Noir stepped in and closed the door behind him. You sat up so that he had somewhere to sit, and once he was sat you laid back against him. He picked up some of the wires and scraps of metal and began to mess with them, intertwining them. He had no real goal, he just enjoyed playing with the technology that he didn't have. You place the metal ball on the table and got yourself comfortable resting against him.

The two of you sat in silence for a while the only noise being the clicking of metal as Noir put the pieces together. All of a sudden, he piped up.

"Not that I don't appreciate the company, but I'm just wonderin' why you've started to cling to me all of a sudden." He turned his head to you and you could feel his breath on the top of your head. You stopped playing with the hem of your top. Feeling your heart in your throat, you sat up and stopped leaning on him. How were you supposed to tell him 'Oh yeah well you know everything has gone to shit and everyone is overwhelming except you, and I don't know if that's just because you're quiet and you don't force conversations, or because you kinda feed into my daddy issues since you're older and so authoritative, and really I just need someone to tell me that I'm doing good and you seem like the right person to do it.' Absolutely not.

"Well, uhm." You took a deep breath, trying to form a coherent sentence. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes. This was so embarrassing. "So, obviously everything in my universe has gone pear shaped so now I'm stuck here and it's just really depressing because how am I supposed to be Spiderwomen if I don't have people to save? I guess I just feel like I don't really have a purpose and I don't want to be a burden to anyone so if I am annoying you I'll leave you alone but I guess what I really want and why I'm sticking to you like a web is just because I need someone to reassure me about everything. I don't know why it chose you in particular I just feel like it's more authentic being told that you're doing a good job by someone who's older since they have more experience. Not that I'm saying you're old." Your fists grabbed the fabric of your trousers as your eyes remained glued to the floor. Blinking away the tears, you looked up at him.

Noir was silent. The big white eyes of his mask stared at you blankly. He wasn't even moving. It was hard to tell how he was feeling. Your gut feeling was that he thought you were weird and annoying and wanted you to leave, but you knew he wouldn't just tell you that bluntly. You looked at the way his hat cast a shadow on his mask. You guessed that behind the mask he looked just the same as every other Peter Parker. Yet for some reason you had convinced yourself that he looked better. His voice broke you out of your daze.

"Well..."