#eliot euphoria

[psychobootyshorts]

If they ever make a Moriarty the Patriot live action adaptation (godforbid honestly), I would like to present my fancast for Sherlock: Hale Appleman.

You cannot tell me he wouldn't look SO GOOD as Sherly, just look at Eliot Waugh from the Magicians with longish hair.

[noh07]

list of mixed name ideas (october 29, 2024)

i sorted them into three categories: androgynous, feminine and masculine.

in this list, there's any type of names (mostly for english-speaking people though): typical first names, noun names, mythology names, etc.

if you have more ideas of names for trans folks, writers, etc, just lemme know! (Can also be not-so-cool names for the writers, we need them for the asshole side characters :3)

i will update the list every time I have a lot of new name suggestions. this is not the newest version, but you can find it under the tag #updated name list on my profile.

(alphabetical list with 553 mixed names under the cut)

--- androgynous ---

Addie/Eddie

Aki

Alex

Alexis

Alli/Allie/Ally

Ares

Ari

Artemis

Aster

Azure

Bennie/Benny

Beverly

Billie

Blair

Charlie

Chrissy

Crimson

Edie

Eli

Ellori/Ellory

Emerson

Emi/Emmie/Emmy

Evie

Finn

Forest/Forrest

Frances/Francis

Gray/Grey

Hayden

Hunter

Jackie/Jacky

Jamie

Jess

Jessie

Jupiter

Lark

Lenny

Lori/Lorie/Lory

Lou

Louie

Mag

Maggot

Mars

Max

Mercury

Mika

Miko

Mizu

Neptune

Noah

Paris

Ollie

Quinn

Rafa

Reg

Robin

Ronni/Ronnie/Ronny

Saturn

Shilo/Shiloh

Skye

Val

Venus

Vin

Vinny/Vinnie

Wilson

--- feminine ---

Abby

Abigail

Adelaide

Adeline

Aileen/Eileen

Aimee/Amy

Alana

Alena

Alessia

Alexa

Alexia

Alexandra

Alice

Alissa

Alli/Allie/Ally

Alura

Amalia

Amber

Amelia

Amelie

Amity

Angie

Anna

Ann/Anne

Annie

Anastasia

Andrea/Andreea

Antheia

Arabella

Astra

Atlanta

Audrey

Aurora

Azura

Bailey

Becky

Bella

Belle

Bettie/Betty

Beverly

Billie

Brenda

Brie

Candace/Candice

Carla/Karla

Carolina

Caroline

Catherine

Celina/Selena/Selina

Celine/Selene

Charlotte

Christina/Kristina

Christine/Kristine

Claire

Clara/Klara

Chloe/Cloe

Cora/Corah

Daniela/Daniella

Danielle

Dalia/Daliah

Debbie

Debora/Deborah

Delilah

Diana

Dianne

Dora/Dorah

Eburia

Eda

Elena

Eleanor/Elenor

Elisa/Eliza

Elizabeth

Ella

Ember

Emerson

Emery

Emi/Emmie/Emmy

Emilia

Emilie/Emily

Emma

Euphemia

Euphoria

Esme

Esmeralda

Eva

Evie

Evelyn

Felicia

Fenya

Finya

Fia

Fiona

Francisca/Franziska

Freya

Gaia

Georgia

Gina

Ginny/Jeanie

Hanna/Hannah

Harmony

Heather

Hecate

Hera

Hestia

Hope

Iana

Irena

Irene

Iris

Isa

Isabel/Isabelle

Isabela/Isabella

Ivonne/Yvonne

Ivory

Ivy

Izzy

Janice

Jasmin/Jasmine

Jenna

Jenny

Jolene

Julia

Julianne

Julie

Juliet/Juliette

Katarina/Katharina

Kathy/Katy

Lana

Lara/Larah

Laura

Lauren

Laurel

Lena

Leia/Leya

Levina

Levinia

Lia

Liara

Lili/Lilli/Lilly/Lily

Lilian/Lilien

Lilith

Lisa

Livia

Liz

Lizzie/Lizzy

Loanne

Lola

Lorelei

Lori/Lorie/Lory

Louisa/Luisa

Louise/Luise

Luce/Luz

Lucy

Luna

Maggie/Meggie

Meg

Madeline

Maira/Myra

Margaret

Marge

Marla

Marlene

Maria/Mariah

Marie/Mary

Melanie

Melissa

Mellie/Melly

Mia

Michelle

Milly

Mina

Minerva

Minnie

Miriam

Mona

Naira/Nyra

Natalia

Natalie

Natasha

Nellie/Nelly

Nessie

Nina

Nora/Norah

Nori

Oliv/Olive

Olivia

Ollie

Paris

Pascale

Patricia

Paula

Peggy

Penelope/Pinelopy

Penny

Petunia

Philippa

Pia

Polly

Poppy

Ramona

Rebecka

Regina

Robin

Rose

Roxanne

Sara/Sarah

Sofia/Sophia

Sofie/Sophie

Stella

Stephanie/Stephany

Tara/Tarah

Tatiana/Tatyana

Tess

Tessa

Tia

Tiana

Tina

Valerie/Valery

Vanessa

Venus

Veronica

Victoria

Vivian

Viviana

Willow

Yana

Yasmin/Yasmine

Zoe/Zoé/Zoey

--- masculine ---

Aion

Alex

Alexander

Amon

Anthony

Anton

Arcturus

Ares

Ben

Benjamin

Bennie/Benny

Benson

Bill

Billie/Billy

Bob

Bobby

Brendan/Brendon

Brian

Bruno

Calvin

Carl/Karl

Chad

Chase

Chris

Chrissy

Christopher

Conan

Damian

Dan

Daniel

Dave

David

Davon/Devon

Dionysos

Don

Donald

Dorian

Dylan

Elia/Elijah

Elio

Eliot/Elliot/Elliott

Emerson

Emilio

Erion

Evan

Felix

Fred

Freddie/Freddy

George

Gian/Jan

Hannibal

Harald/Harold/Herald/Herold

Ian

Icarus

Jack

Jackie/Jacky

James

Jamie

Jimmy

John

Johnny

Jona/Jonah

Jonas

Jones

Julian/Julien

Julius

Jupiter

Justin

Kevin

Larry

Laurence/Lawrence

Lenny

Leo

Linus

Lori/Lorie/Lory

Louis/Luis

Louie

Lucc/Luke

Lucas/Lukas

Luigi

Marc

Marco

Mario

Mars

Max

Mercury

Michael

Mickey

Mike

Milo

Nathan

Neptune

Nick

Nico/Niko/Nikko

Noah

Oliver

Ollie

Orion

Paris

Pascal

Patrick

Paul

Pete

Peter

Philip/Philipp/Phillip

Raymond

Reg

Reginald

Regulus

Remus

Rob

Robbie/Robby

Robin

Ron

Ronald

Ronni/Ronnie/Ronny

Saturn

Sean/Shawn/Shaun

Sebastian

Sirius

Steve

Steven

Theodore

Tim

Toby

Tom

Tommy

Tony

Valentine

Victor

Wilson

Yan

Zach/Zack

Zeus

If you want me to add meanings, origins, etc., just tell me! ^^

[isabelle-spray]

Euphoria S3 theory/fan fic

Rue - attending community college, working at the diner in the evenings, living with Mom, sponsoring a kid at NA

Gia - just graduated high school with excellent grades and has a place to study psychology at a good school in the city. She is suffering with severe anxiety and PTSD from the events of s1&2. Her relationship with Rue has become strained.

Leslie - is a couple of years into a new relationship with a guy that both girls like. She announces that once Gia heads off to college he will be moving in, and suggests that Rue may want to get her own place.

This makes Rue feel rejected and angry and pushes her towards a relapse. She starts hanging out more with the kid from NA - but eventually avoids relapse after she encounters a crack-addicted Eliot living in a trap house, and is reminded of her experiences with Laurie. She visits Fez-co and Ashtray’s graves and promises him she will not let herself or him down again.

She also visits the grave of her father and tells him that she is doing ok and how proud she is of Gia, even though Gia kind of hates her now.

Lexi - fresh out of her masters in screenwriting at NYU, Lexi is in LA working as a runner on a TV show. After the artistic triumph of her play we all expect her to be flourishing - but she is now grappling with the realities of life in the film and TV industry. Feeling frustrated creatively at having to work at a movie theatre to make ends meet - not the glamorous life she had in mind.

Cassie - the Howard’s mom has liver cancer. After dropping out of college (which she never wanted to go to anyway) she began working as a host at a gentleman’s club, but has now moved on to working as a high end escort - which pays for her mom’s treatment much better, but she is maintaining the facade of her job at the club. She has also become an alcoholic.

Lexi hardly ever comes home because she does not want to face her mom’s illness. Cassie is mad at Lexi for not helping care for their mom or financially contributing, but her mom assures Lexi that she wants her to follow her dream, so she plays up her role on the TV show. Cassie and Lexi both eventually find out about each other’s lies.

Rue supports Lexi in facing the reality of her mom’s illness.

Jules - living in a loft in Chicago and working on her art and gaining a biggish following on her instagram. She caught the attention of a LGBTQ art foundation with her college artwork and is now interning with them. Jules has a new group of artsy friends but after a traumatic experience of transphobic harrassment she finds that they are more interested in coat tailing her than caring for her. This makes her reminisce about her friendship/relationship with Rue - because Rue’s love - whilst toxic in some ways - was authentic.

By the end of the series they have reconnected and will never be as close as they were but have forgiven one another.

Lexi and Jules connect over their frustrations of the creative industries, but Lexi is envious of Jules’ success.

Maddy - married to a 35 yr old realtor she met through her babysitting work, Maddy is seemingly living the dream. Stay at home mom, twins, sitting by the pool drinking rose. But she finds out that he has been cheating, and so she goes into a tailspin of affairs.

Whilst leaving a hotel where she has met a guy, she finds Cassie waiting for a cab. One of her clients has brutally beaten her and she is visibly hurt. Maddy’s memories of her assault by Nate make her soften towards Cassie. She takes her to the emergency room. The two begin spending time together and Cassie finds healing in getting to know the twins. Maddy offers her a job as a nanny.

Nate - Nate attended North Western on a football scholarship - however he is suspended as he is embroiled in a legal case of sexual assault against a female student. He visits his Dad in prison but Cal has not forgiven him for turning him in. He does however, tell him to get help and explains that he has accessed therapy and can see how his treatment of Nate has affected him. Nate does not listen and is further aggravated by this.

Nate asks to meet with Maddy on the pretence of apologising for his actions in the past. She turns him down. Instead he turns to Cassie and offers her cash to sleep with him in order to make Maddy jealous. He is the client who beat her. Maddy finds out and decides to expose Cassie’s escort work to humiliate her.

However before she can do this, Cassie’s mom passes away. The funeral sees all the characters reunite and temporarily set aside their differences to support Lexi and Cassie. Maddy and Cassie later reflect in the way that Nate manipulated them both. Maddy encourages Cassie to go to the police with the evidence of her assault and press charges against Nate, but Cassie is too afraid.

As Nate’s trial for the allegations of sexual assault at college draws near and attracts media attention, Lexi discovers what he did to her sister. She, Jules and Rue hatch a plan to stage a protest against violence against women, including an art installation made by Jules, outside the courthouse which Jules uses her instagram to promote. Cassie is too afraid to attend the protest but gives Lexi her blessing.

The final episode:

The protest is at first a roaring success but then is mobbed by TERFs claiming Jules cannot organise for women since they don’t believe she is a woman. Lexi throws a heavy book at them and is arrested. Rue and Jules later go to collect her after she is released and ask Lexi when she got so badass.

Nate is acquitted of his charges due to a technicality and due to his lawyer being expensive. This prompts Cassie to go to the police. She meets the other 3 who are on their way out. They joke that no one ever thought Lexi would be the one getting arrested and not Cassie. In the end Lexi and Cassie have not fully resolved their differences but have been brought closer by the events.

After all this is done, Rue goes back to the crack house to check on Eliott and finds the kid she is sponsoring there has overdosed. She calls the ambulance and watches her own life flash before her eyes in a coup d’etat, full circle moment as they try unsuccessfully to resuscitate him. She realises that she was lucky to get out when she did and the full extent of Gia’s trauma. She goes back to her Mom and does not tell her what happened, but they hold one another and Leslie tells her she loves her.

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #9

Massively Milky 🥛 / Euphoria 💖

“Oh,” says Eliot, stopping short in the doorway of his bedroom. Q, hot on his heels and less than sober, crashes into him. 

“Hey, what gives?” he complains, but Eliot just holds up a hand. Q hops up and down, trying to see over Eliot’s shoulder, but he lands unsteadily and braces himself against Eliot’s hips, making him stumble farther into the room.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Margo yells from where she’s splayed on top of Josh in Eliot’s bed. “Get the hell out!”

“Bambi,” says Eliot, playfully aghast. “In my bed? The chutzpah!”

“Out!” shrieks Margo, and Q ducks as a stiletto comes flying over Eliot’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing Eliot’s hand and tugging him down the hall to his own room. “I put a charm on my door earlier, there shouldn’t be anyone in there.”

“Put a charm on your door to what?” asks Eliot, letting himself be tugged.

“To lock it, duh. Have you met me?” A little clumsily, Q disarms the spell and lets them in. “Not exactly the party type.”

“And yet,” says Eliot, turning in a slow circle as if taking in his surroundings, “here you are. Partying.”

“Yeah, well, someone dragged me downstairs.” Eliot’s been in his room before, at least in passing, but for a moment he stops and sees it as Eliot must: the plain pale blue sheets and navy duvet, the pile of rumpled half-clean laundry threatening collapse in the corner, the total lack of decor. Eliot’s room at least has, like, plants and stuff. And framed art. All of the art Quentin came to school with is Fillory fan art Julia gave him or he’d bought himself at the one con he went to back in high school, and it now resides deep in the suitcase stuffed in the back of his closet. 

Eliot does a theatrical little bow. “You’re welcome. Feel free to thank me for the many handcrafted cocktails as well. That was kraken rum in that hurricane. Not like the brand Kraken, but, like, actual kraken. And I made the orgeat syrup from scratch.”

Q furrows his eyebrows. “There’s no actual kraken.”

“Oh, yes, there is.”

“Nuh-uh,” says Q, shaking his head and flopping onto his bed. The last shot of rum is starting to hit him, his thoughts going blurry, everything suddenly moving a little slower. 

Eliot throws himself down beside him, somehow still managing to look graceful and put together despite the many, many hurricanes Q watched him drink. Helped him drink. Whatever. “There is, and they’re sentient.”

Quentin is suddenly very, very aware of how close to him Eliot is. He can smell his woody cologne, the alcohol and sugar on his breath, the sweat from dancing downstairs in a pit of other people blowing off steam about midterms. He can’t remember if he put on more deodorant before the party. Or what he ate for lunch or what his breath might be doing. Did he even brush his teeth this morning?

“I know,” says Eliot softly. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“What?” says Q, too fast, and Eliot laughs.

“The kraken. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Q laughs too, nervously. “Um, did you need something from your room?”

Eliot shrugs, letting himself collapse back onto the mattress. “I was going to do some E, but it’s not worth the trauma of potentially seeing Josh’s dick.”

“I thought you liked dicks,” says Q, and immediately regrets it.

“I do,” says Eliot, as if that’s obvious, because it is and Q is just drunk and dumb, “but I’ll take a pass on Josh. Margo gets territorial.”

Quentin tries to laugh. He is definitely not thinking about Eliot’s dick.

Instead, he tips backward so that he and Eliot are lying parallel. From this angle, he can see the mound of his belly rising up like fresh dough waiting to be punched down. He’s been doing a bad job of eating things that are nutritionally complex recently, not to mention all the stress eating he’s been doing as midterms approach, and upping the dosage on his meds hasn’t helped. When was the last time he ate a vegetable?

“I’ve never done E,” he says to the ceiling.

Eliot snorts. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Hey!” With only a little difficulty, Q rolls onto his side to face Eliot. Booze sloshes in his gut. “Don’t act like I’m some kind of square! I’ve smoked weed with you!”

“Using the word square isn’t helping your case, Q.” Eliot levers himself over as well, and suddenly they’re staring at each other, noses six inches apart. Quentin cannot remember the last time he washed his sheets.

Eliot blinks at him. Q stills. 

“I left my drink downstairs,” says Eliot, as somberly as if he were announcing the death of a beloved relative.

“I’ll get it,” says Quentin instantly, standing up too fast. He sways and steadies himself on his bookshelf, the room tilting around him. “I think.”

Eliot hits him with a winning smile, and then it’s not a question anymore. Q wobbles downstairs, realizes he forgot to ask Eliot where he’d left his glass, and decides no way is he going back up and down the stairs a second time, so he googles how to make the cocktail and cobbles one together to the best of his ability. Luckily, most of Eliot’s liqueurs and syrups are clearly labeled, even the ones in otherwise unremarkable glass bottles, which probably has something to with the mason jar he spies in the fridge with a masking-tape-and-Sharpie label that says IMPOTENCE TONIC DO NOT DRINK in Margo’s loopy handwriting. 

Satisfied with his work, he takes a shot of rum for confidence, scoops up a stray pizza box from the kitchen counter, and carefully makes his way back upstairs, leaving only a few drops of hurricane on the steps for his trouble. Outside his room, he stops to catch his breath and get his bearings. Eliot is in his bed. He’s about to be in bed with Eliot. And granted, it’s not the first time that’s happened. Not even the first time he’ll have slept with Eliot. But it’s the first time he’ll do any of it lucid, and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. If something else is going to happen between them, he wants to remember it. 

He bumps open the door with his hip and exhales in relief when Eliot is draped right across the bed where Q left him. His dark curls fall foppishly over his forehead. Q has the unbelievably stupid thought that he looks like Sleeping Beauty.

“Hey,” he says, nudging the door closed again with one foot. “Your hurricane cometh.”

Eliot barely raises his head off the mattress. “Too late. I’m not getting up.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna drink it then,” says Q, climbing back onto the bed. “Your loss.” 

“Nooooo,” whines Eliot, and Quentin dangles it over his face. 

“Last chance.”

Eliot flails aimlessly with one long arm, and Q loses his balance trying to dodge and topples onto the floor. Only about half of the hurricane lands in the glass, and the rest catches Eliot’s thighs on its way down.

“Oh,” says Eliot lightly. “I’ve been shot.”

He slumps off the bed and onto the floor beside Q, who sets the glass out of harm’s way and pulls the pizza box down with them. There’s still a few slices of pepperoni left, which is better than he could have hoped for a Physical Kids party. Half the time you open a pizza box around here and it’s got some kind of psychedelic on it. Or else it’s vegan, which is worse.

“Do you want some?” he asks, taking a giant bite. Part of him is aware that it probably isn’t cute to be stuffing grease-sheened pizza into his mouth when he can see his stomach pushing against the fabric of his t-shirt, but it’s that or some word salad about how good Eliot smells, so he takes his chances on the pizza. 

“Mm, thanks,” says Eliot, balancing the box on his thighs. “Cold pizza.”

“Room-temperature pizza,” amends Q through a mouthful.

“Oh, I stand corrected.” He closes the box and places it back in Q’s lap, then gives it a tender pat. “You have it.”

“I’m not going to eat half a pizza in front of you.”

“Why not?” asks Eliot, and there’s something brighter in his dark eyes than there was a moment ago.

“Uh, because I don’t need it? Obviously?” Quentin’s blushing, but he grabs at his stomach anyway. “Hello?”

“Oh, but I like this,” says Eliot, his voice going soft. So slowly, he drags a gentle hand down Q’s middle, just fingertips, barely enough to press, but it still makes everything in Q stand up and take notice.

He chokes a little on the bite of pizza in his mouth. “Don’t be weird.”

Eliot rolls his eyes. “My taste isn’t weird, it’s superb and discerning.”

“Your taste in what? Losers?”

Eliot frowns. “Let me try again. Oh,” he repeats with more emphasis. His hand is back on Q’s belly, pressing a little harder now. “But I like this.”

Quentin’s face burns hotter. “Stop,” he says, pushing the pizza box away. “I get it. You don’t have to rub it in.”

The furrow between Eliot’s eyebrows doesn’t smooth. Q’s heard Margo yell at him about getting lines there by doing exactly this. “What am I not making clear?”

Q blinks at him. “What?”

Eliot reaches out and cups Quentin’s cheek in one big hand. “I’m not making fun of you, Q, Jesus. I’m just — saying.”

Something warm and prickly is suffusing Quentin all over, halfway between thrill and panic. He can feel his pulse thudding where his skin touches Eliot’s. He can’t hear anything else. He can’t look away.

“Saying what?” he asks quietly. The music from downstairs pounds through the floor, and he feels himself unconsciously begin to tap his fingers on his knee in time.

“Oh my fucking god,” says Eliot, “am I speaking Armenian? I’m not just sitting here because I want to be in a quiet, depressing room when I could be at a party. I am saying that I like you. Do you need me to repeat it in any other language?”

“Hey, in my defense, my Armenian is not good,” says Q, though he’s halfway to laughing now. “Is this real? Am I dreaming?”

Eliot purses his lips. “You’re lucky I didn’t get around to doing E because this would be even less coherent.”

Q feels around behind him for the half-empty glass of hurricane and swallows half of it in one go. “Wait, so you’re saying that —

“Oh, come on, Q,” says Eliot, knocking back the other half of the cocktail and rolling away from him. “What do you want me to say, that I have feelings for you? I’m begging you, don’t make me.” He pouts. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Okay,” says Q, and it must be the kraken rum because he doesn't think he’d be this bold otherwise. “Then show me.”

Without a word, Eliot hauls him back up on the bed, extra pounds be damned, and Q, breathless, stares at him wide-eyed. 

“You’re strong!”

“I grew up on a farm, remember? I’m more butch than I look.” Firmly, gently — if you had asked Quentin five minutes ago, he’d have said a touch couldn’t be both at once, but Eliot manages it — he flips Q onto his back and crawls on top of him. 

“Look,” he murmurs into the curve of Quentin’s neck. “I know body stuff is hard to believe. But I need you to trust that I wouldn’t lie about this. I’m a bitch, but not like that.”

Q nods, brain not fully online due to the sandpaper scrape of Eliot’s stubble against his skin. “Okay.”

“Okay,” says Eliot, and then he says something in Armenian into Quentin’s mouth.

“Fuck you,” gasps Quentin.

“Gladly,” says Eliot, and he kisses him.

Q kisses back hungrily, desperately, pressing Eliot close like he can’t get enough. He buries his hands in his curls, mouths urgently at his neck, his jaw, his collarbone. Eliot’s less frenetic, his kisses long and deep and steady. He pulls the elastic from Q’s hair and runs his hands through it, cups his face in his hands and kisses until Q needs to come up for air.

“Okay,” Q pants, eyes blown wide. “I believe you. I believe you.”

“Good,” says Eliot. He’s stretched out beside him, so long that his feet hang off the bed, and he feels like the buffer between Q and the rest of the world. The party thuds on downstairs, but it’s muffled through the haze of alcohol and body heat and endorphins.

Q leans in, unwilling to put much space between them, and Eliot kisses him slowly, reels him back in. He braces a hand on Q’s paunch, and Q manually overrides the urge to pull away again. This is good. This is okay.

“Soft,” Eliot mumbles into his neck, and Q laughs.

“Yeah. Pretty soft.”

“’S nice,” says Eliot, garbled. He sucks at the soft skin below Q’s soft jaw. It’s all soft. Q starts to wonder just how much secondhand weed he’s inhaled. 

“You should eat the pizza,” says Eliot. “You’ll be less hungover tomorrow.”

Q squints at him. “Is that true?”

“Okay, maybe I just want to feed you cold pizza. Let a man have his strange desires.”

“I thought they were disturb and su — superb and discerning,” he pronounces carefully, and the crinkle of Eliot’s smile around his eyes is everything. 

“You’re drunk,” he says gently. “Eat some pizza.”

“You’re drunk,” says Quentin as Eliot drops a hand over the edge of the bed and fishes for the box. “You eat some pizza.”

Eliot obliges, taking a bite from the slice Q had started earlier. He pulls Q up to sit against the headboard and holds the pizza to his lips.

Q has not been fed before. He’s arguably not even that good at feeding himself, if recent events are anything to go by. But Eliot is slow and gentle, and he keeps looking at Q with sweet, fond eyes. With each slice, Q feels heavier, less like he’s floating. It’s good. He feels like he’s fully here. He feels full.

Eliot kisses him. Q burps. 

“Okay?” asks Eliot, and Quentin nods. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good,” breathes Eliot, laying his palm across the crest of Quentin’s stomach. “Do you want to keep going, or do you want to stop?”

It’s not even a question. “Keep going,” he says, and Eliot moves on top of him again, careful not to put too much pressure on his midsection. 

If it was hungry before, then this, now, is satisfaction, languid and warm. They get each other off, and as Eliot cleans himself up, Q lies still, curled in something close to the fetal position in just his boxers, room unsteady and next move uncertain. This is the part where Eliot goes back to his own bed and they don’t talk about this in the morning, right? 

“Scoot over,” says Eliot, lighting on the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless and wearing a tiny pair of royal purple underwear that are probably silk or something, and Q reaches out in tipsy, muted wonder and touches the swell of belly pushing over his waistband.

“Oh,” he says softly. “I see what you mean.”

Because Eliot’s little belly is perfect. It’s feathered in dark hair, his skin pale in contrast, and there are impressions pressed into him from the waistband of his pants, his belt. Q runs his fingers over them, tries to smooth them out. Minor mending, indeed.

“Mm-hmm,” says Eliot. “Not so hard to believe now, is it?”

“Do you have this all the time?” asks Q, rolling over for a better angle. “Do you have it, like, spelled or something?”

Eliot nods. “The waistcoats,” he says after a long moment. “They serve a purpose. Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

Quentin pets at the little mound of flesh. “I won’t. It’s so nice.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” says Eliot again, drawing it out. Slowly, he turns and scoops himself around Quentin so that they’re spooning, his chin propped on Q’s shoulder, his arm hooked over his middle, tracing idle patterns on Q’s own full belly through his t-shirt.

Eliot kisses his neck. Eliot holds him skin against skin. Eliot plays with his hair. Eliot falls asleep halfway through muttering something about the music choice downstairs and then wakes up again and finishes the sentence a moment later. Quentin is so verklempt by it that he has to turn over and give Eliot a turn to be held. He’s not entirely sure that what was on the pizza wasn’t psychedelic. For all he knows, he got caught in the crossfire of someone’s drunken casting downstairs. Or maybe this is just what it’s supposed to feel like to feel content with someone. To feel held and feel wanted. 

“Room’s spinning,” says Eliot softly from beside him. Quentin smoothes the hair out of his face and squeezes the pressure point that’s supposed to help prevent nausea, or something like that. It’s been a long time since health class.

“Oh, no,” he says, exaggerated. “You’ll have to stay here. And there’s only one bed.”

Eliot huffs out a sleepy laugh. “Whatever will we do,” he mumbles.

Quentin wakes up with Eliot’s hair in his mouth, his hand asleep under Eliot’s ribcage, his own morning wood prodding uncomfortably against Eliot’s hip, and a spectacular hangover. But he remembers every moment of the night before.

Carefully, he tries to maneuver Eliot so that they can both lie facing away from the piercing autumn sun, but Eliot stirs, rolling one shoulder into Quentin’s jaw. “‘S it morning?” he asks blearily, and Q shakes his head, helping him roll over.

“Not yet. Go back to sleep.”

In the early morning silence, he pads downstairs and fills two honest-to-god steins with water for a few hours from now, when they’ll inevitably need them. Then he slips back into bed behind Eliot and gathers him into his arms. One language isn’t enough for how good it feels.

[maculategiraffe]

tagged by @dsudis to share the story behind my url! (dira yours is awesome btw)

heh. well. mine was lowkey supposed to be a throwaway? like I wanted to post my weird kinky dead dove id fic somewhere and I certainly wasn't going to do it on the livejournal where people knew me irl. and I didn't know if anybody was even going to read it and I definitely didn't expect people to still be recognizing me by this name seventeen years later or I might have stressed out more about what to name my secret kinky lj

but anyways it's from a t.s. eliot line that I was taken with because of course "maculate" isn't a word we usually use. we use "immaculate" to mean "spotless" but we don't use "maculate" to mean "spotted." and I especially liked using it to describe a giraffe because a giraffe isn't the opposite of immaculate in a bad way. it's not dirty, or stained. it's dappled. and glory be to god for dappled things

so I just liked the phrase and then people did like my story and I found a community and people started calling me mac for short and I got some kind of unexpected name euphoria about it and so it turned out this was my url forever and ever amen

would honestly love to hear anyone's url backstory. love self-chosen name stories. consider yourself tagged?

[skullcandy11111198]

Leveragetober23 Day 12: pride

Parker is singing again. It's kinda creepy, but the group isn't willing to call them out on it.

Bigots can try, but they will fry.

Over and over and over again.

The taser sparks. Everyone shuffles back, just a little bit. No one makes eye contact.

Eliot goes back to hauling away the still twitching body while Hardison goes through the man's phone. Ostensibly, it's to see what he knew about them and what his mission was. Really, it's just so he can leave Parker to it. He loves his partner, really, but sometimes his person is whoo boy, as Nana would say. He leaves Parker to it. They grin and start the chorus over again, stroking the handheld lightning stick.

Really, it's not like the group was doing any crimes right now, anyway! Anyone with any sense could see that! Unless there is an apocalyptic level job that just absolutely needs to be taken care of, the founders of Leverage International never seem to work in June. So why all of these people have come out of the woodwork to try to arrest them, or capture them, or whatever it is they are trying to do, right now?? They're not having it. And of course, everyone is decked out in their colors, with all the pins and patches and paint to match, so people have made some stupid comments. But they learned.

Really, just try and stop Parker. Oh, that's right, you can't. Because they have a taser and a goal.

Originally, it was just Sophie's vacation. Every June, she would take the month off and go swanning off somewhere that no one else knew about. Nate tried to follow her a few times, but when Sophie doesn't want to be found, she was not. After a while, though, she opened up, and it turns out the big secret is that she charts out all of the major pride parades across the world and just spends the month country hopping, joining in on every celebration of pride she can.

Once the group found out, it sort of became a family outing. Everyone learned a lot about each other that they didn't know before, all they were all closer for it.

Sophie is a raging pansexual. That woman has got it on with every gender out there at least once, and she loved it. Truly, she just loves the human body in every shape and form it comes in. People routinely get gender euphoria just from being in her presence. She honestly might be a goddess, no one is sure, and they also aren't sure they want to know.

Parker isn't so much a girl as just girl-shaped in the eyes of society. They'll answer to she, but really they'll answer to anything and people just assume she. They like they/them the most, though. And pretzels. They really like pretzels, and think Alec and Eliot would too.

Alec vaguely knows he isn't entirely straight. He loves Parker, in all their Parker-ness. But he also has feelings about their resident hitter that he is not entirely clear on. He never really crushed on people all that much when he was younger, too. He really had to know them before he ever thought of them in that way. Either way, Nana always said he had a big heart. That was usually followed by some version of "now put the money back, please, we'll donate our own time to the homeless shelter, not someone else's resources," but suffice to say, he goes all out in his love.

Eliot, likewise, isn't a heterosexual cis man, but he's known that since the beginning. He knows he got lucky, having the parents and the support system he did, and he is thankful every day. His family accepted him from the beginning, and was able to contact a close friend who was able to help them out with getting prescriptions for testosterone early enough that he never really had to go through a lot of the pains and dysphoria a lot of people in his shoes go through every day. He is aware of his privilege, and he is grateful to everyone that helped make his belief into reality. (He also hasn't realized that Parker is basically courting him and Hardison is trailing after with a smile on his face and his heart in his eyes, but he'll realize it soon enough.)

Nate, though you would never know it when first meeting him, totally had bi-wife energy. Nate met Maggie through Sterling at I.Y.S., but she was on her way out the door to go clubbing with some friends and dragged him along when she saw how miserable he looked at the office party. Soon enough they were dancing the night away, and that was that. Maggie is also one of the least problematic people you will ever meet, so of course she was still close friends with all of her exes, which meant Nate was close with them too. Let's just say some of their dinner parties could get a little…raucous.

But coming back to now.

For some reason, all the grumps and grunts have decided June is the month this year to just get in their way, and Parker is having none of it. There are plans! Charts! Parties to attend, celebrations to have, riots to honor! And No One is going to stop them.

Bigots can try, but they will fry. Tzzzt!

[taleswritten]

Under the cut is a list of muses I have for those who can’t open the google doc. Note: the google doc has detailed information about them so if you can, please open it up.

Bold is primary, italic is secondary, regular is by request.

TVD/TO/LEGACIES:

ELENA GILBERT

KATHERINE PEIRCE

DAMON SALVATORE

ALARIC SALTZMAN

LIZZIE SALTZMAN

josie saltzman

caroline forbes

bonnie bennett

Klaus Mikaelson

FINAL FANTASY:

CLOUD STRIFE (ff7r)

aeirth (ff7 remake)

tifa (ff7 remake)

Jill Warrick (ff16)

Clive Rosfield (ff16)

snow villiers

THIRTEEN REASON’S WHY:

Justin Foley

Bryce Walker

Jessica Davis

Clay Jenson

911/911 LONE STAR:

ATHENA GRANT

MADDIE BUCKLEY

OWEN STRAND

TK STRAND

GRACE RYDER

AHS:

Brooke Thompson

Montanna Duke

donovan

BBC SHERLOCK:

SHERLOCK HOLMES

BRIDGERTON:

Simon Bassett

Daphne Bridgerton

kate sharma/bridgerton

Penelope Featherington

BTVS/ATS

Buffy Summers

CORDELIA CHASE

CAOS:

SABRINA SPELLMAN

ONE CHICAGO:

natalie manning

JAY HALSTEAD

ADAM RUZEK

KIM BURGESS

Hank Voight

CRIMINAL MINDS:

Spencer Reid

Emily Prentiss

DAREDEVIL:

MATT MURDOCK

DEXTER:

DEXTER MORGAN

DCTV:

SARA LANCE

JOHN CONSTANTINE

SPOONER

EUPHORIA:

JULES VAUGHN

RUE BENNETT

FROM DUSK TIL DAWN:

Seth Gecko

Kate Fuller

GOOD GIRLS:

BETH BOLAND

Greys’ Anatomy:

meredith grey

JO WILSON

CARINA DELUCA

Ameila Shepard

GAME OF THRONES:

DANY

Jon Snow

Sansa Stark

NCB HANNIBAL:

WILL GRAHAM

HAUNTING OF BLY MANNER:

DANI CLAYTON

PETER QUINT

HEMLOCK GROVE

PETER RUMANCEK

HTGAWM:

CONNOR WALSH

LAW AND ORDER SVU:

OLIVIA BENSON

Elliot Stabler

kathleen stabler

alex cabot

casey novak

LOST GIRL:

BO DENNIS

LUCIFER:

CHLOE DECKER

lucifer morningstar

mazikeen

MINDHUNTER:

Holden Ford

POSE:

ANGEL EVANGALISTA

BLANCA EVANGALISTA

PRODIGAL SON:

MALCOLM BRIGHT

RIVERDALE:

ARCHIE ANDREWS

BETTY COOPER

TONI TOPAZ

CHERYL BLOSSOM

FP Jones

JUGHEAD JONES

ROSWELL NEW MEXICO:

MAX EVANS

LIZ ORTECHO

STRANGER THINGS:

NANCY WHEELER

BILLY HARGROVE (BILLY’S TATTOOS POST SEASON THREE HERE )

STATION 19:

Vic Hughes

SUPERNATURAL:

Dean Winchester

THE MAGICIANS:

ELIOT WAUGH

MARGO HANSON

THE WITCHER (GAME, TV SHOW, AND BOOK MIXED MEDIA):

GERALT (please note, geralt has cat-eyes. not the eyes we see in the show. if you need a visual, think game geralt)

CIRI

Yennefer (only willing to write her with @writtenmisfits at this current time)

Jaskier

TRUE BLOOD:

SOOKIE STACKHOUSE

TARA THORTON

jessica hamby

JASON STACKHOUSE

SAM MERLOTTE

WYNONNA EARP:

WYNONNA EARP

WAVERLY EARP

NICOLE HAUGHT

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY:

KLAUS HARGREEVES

ALLISON HARGREEVES

VAN HELSING:

Vanessa Van Helsing

YOU:

BECK

JOE GOLDBERG

LOVE QUINN

THEO

FORTY QUINN

DCU:

WONDER WOMAN/DIANA PRINCE

HARLEY QUINN (au verse 1 here)

DESCENDANTS:

HARRY HOOK

MAL BERTHA

EVIE GRIMHILDE

MCU:

DEADPOOL/WADE WILSON

EDDIE BROCK/VENOM

STEVE ROGERS/CAPTAIN AMERICA

WANDA MAXIMOFF

BUCKY BARNES

NATASHA ROMANOFF

YELENA BELOVA

THOR

LOKI

MICHAEL MORBIUS

Peter Parker (the amazing spiderman)

POTC:

CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW

ASSASSIN’S CREED SERIES:

JACOB FRYE

EVIE FRYE

EIVOR

KASSANDRA

DETRIOT BECOME HUMAN:

Connor

DRAGON AGE:

MORRIGAN

FENRIS

GARRETT HAWKE

MARIAN HAWKE

LUCANIS

TAASH

CYBERPUNK:

V (both male and v, both streetkid and corpo)

JOHNNY SILVERHAND

JUDY ALVAREZ

LAST OF US:

joel miller

ELLIE

LEGEND OF ZELDA:

LINK

RESIDENT EVIL:

ADA WONG

LEON KENNEDY (previously traumamade)

ETHAN WINTERS

LADY DIMITRESCU

Claire Redfield

dimitrescu daughters

TOMB RAIDER:

LARA CROFT

UNCHARTED:

NATHAN DRAKE

BLEACH:

ichigo kurosaki

GRIMMJOW JAEGERJAQUEZ

VAMPYR:

JOHNATHAN REID

BLACK BUTLER:

SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS

BLUE EXORCIST

RIN OKAMARU

HELLSING:

SERAS VICTORIA

INTEGRA HELLSING

NARUTO:

NARUTO UZUMAKI

TSUNADE

SEVEN DEADLY SINS:

BAN

VAMPIRE KNIGHT:

yuuki cross/kuran

ZERO KIYRUU

OUAT:

Regina Mills

Emma Swan

SOA:

JAX TELLER

VENUS

GEMMA TELLER

WHITE COLLAR:

Neal Caffrey

FAR CRY:

FAITH SEED

NEW AMSTERDAM:

MAX GOODWIN

CRUELLA:

CRUELLA DE VILLE

MASS EFFECT:

JOHN SHEPARD

JANE SHEPARD

KAIDAN

SAMARA

KASUMI

MIRANDA

DOCTOR WHO:

rose tyler

GOSSIP GIRL REBOOT:

ZOYA LOTT

MAX WOLFE

DOOM PATROL:

JANE

LARRY TRAINOR

A WAY OUT:

LEO CARUSO

CASTLE:

RICHARD CASTLE

BITTEN:

ELENA MICHAELS

TEEN WOLF:

CHRIS ARGENT

ALLISON ARGENT

SCOTT MCCALL

LYDIA MARTIN

STILES STILINSKI

THE FLASH:

BARRY ALLEN

NORA WEST ALLEN

BART WEST ALLEN

IRIS WEST

CAITLYN SNOW

KILLER FROST

SUCKERPUNCH

BABY DOLL

SHADOW HUNTERS

ISABELLE

ALEC

HOUSE OF ASHES

JASON

THE MEDIUM

MARIANNE

THE LAST KINGDOM

UHTRED RAGNARSON

Iseult

MOON KNIGHT

STEVEN GRANT/MARC

FIRST KILL

Calliope Burns

Juliette Fairmont.

THE QUARRY

Kaityln Ka

Dylan Lenivy

Laura Kearny

THE SANDMAN

Dream/Morpheus

INTEVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

Louis De Pointe

Claudia

HORIZON SERIES

Aloy

THE VAMPIRE ACADEMY (TV SERIES)

Rose Hathaway

NETFLIX’S WEDNESDAY

Wednesday Addams

Morticia Addams

Enid Sincliar

DAYS GONE

Deacon St. John

QUEEN CHARLOTTE - A BRIDGERTON STORY

Queen Charlotte

MAYFAIR WITCHES

Rowan Fielding

Critical Role (currently caught up to episode 97 and both seasons of the animated show)

Vax

Vex

Keylith

THE EVIL WITHIN

Sebastian 

Baldur's Gate 3:

Astarion

Karlach

Orin

Hazbin Hotel:

Angel Dust

Charlie Morningstar

Niffty

Alastor

Outlander:

Claire Fraser

A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES SERIES:

Feyre (started and currently reading book 3)

HELLUVA BOSS:

Stolas

Loona

Fizz

Moxxie

Millie

[coppersunshine]

I have to accept the fact that I will never get the lithe androgynous elfin prince gender euphoria I wanted but with the way I'm bulking up from aerial I'm starting to experience Eliot Spencer style short and stocky and ready to whoop your ass gender euphoria instead and i'll TAKE IT

[identity-library]

Mental Health (TV Shows)

A:

Alladin (1994)

Mechanicles (Low Vision)

B:

Big City Greens (2018)

Alice Green (Phobia - Snakes)

C:

Chicago Med (2015)

Jason Wheeler (Addiction - Alcohol/Drugs, Suicidal Ideation)

D:

Dead End: Paranormal Park (2022)

Barney Guttman (Abuse)

Norma Khan (Anxiety)

Dirty God (2019)

Jade (Abuse)

Doom Patrol (2019)

Kay Challis/Crazy Jane (Abuse, DID)

E:

Empire (2015)

Andre Lyon (Bipolar Disorder)

ER (1994)

John Carter (Addiction - Drugs)

Euphoria (2019)

Jules Vaughn (Depression)

F:

G:

Get Ed (2005)

Loogie (Dissociative Identity Disorder)

Glee (2009)

Emma Pillsbury (OCD)

Grey's Anatomy (2005)

Amelia Shepherd (Addiction - Drugs)

Andrew DeLuca (Bipolar Disorder)

Charlotte King (Addiction - Drugs)

Jo Wilson (Depression, PTSD)

Miranda Bailey (OCD)

Owen Hunt (PTSD)

Richard Webber (Addiction - Alcohol)

H:

Happy Tree Friends (1999)

Flippy (PTSD)

Petunia (OCD, Phobia - Germs)

Hazbin Hotel (2024)

Angel Dust (Addiction - Drugs)

House (2004)

Gregory House (Addiction - Drugs)

I:

Inside Job (2021)

Andre Lee (Addiction, Anxiety, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)

Reagan Ridley (Trauma)

J:

Jessica Jones (2015)

Jessica Jones (Addiction - Alcohol, PTSD)

K:

L:

Lilo & Stitch: The Series (2003)

Clyde (Kleptomania)

M:

M*A*S*H (1972)

Benjamin-Frankling "Hawkeye" Pierce (Claustrophobia)

Mom (2013)

Bonnie Plunkett (Addiction - Alcohol/Drugs)

Christy Plunkett (Addiction - Alcohol/Gambling)

Marjorie Armstrong (Addiction - Alcohol)

Ray Stabler (Addiction - Drugs)

Regina Tompkins (Addiction - Drugs)

Moon Knight (2022)

Marc Spector/Moon Knight (Autistic, Dissociative Identity Disorder)

N:

NCIS: Los Angeles (2009)

Alex Kilbride (Addiction - Substances, Depression)

NCIS: New Orleans (2014)

Patton Plame (Addiction - Gambling)

New Amsterdam (2018)

Lauren Bloom (Addiction - Drugs)

New Girl (2011)

Ernie "Coach" Tagliaboo (Phobia - Boats)

Jessica Day (Claustrophobia, Phobia - Tight Spaces)

Winston Bishop (Panic Attacks)

O:

P:

Person of Interest (2011)

Harold Finch (Anxiety, PTSD)

Private Practice (2007)

Violet Turner (PTSD)

Q:

R:

Roswell, New Mexico (2019)

Alex Manes (Abuse, PTSD)

S:

Station 19 (2018)

Jack Gibson (PTSD)

Robert Sullivan (Addiction - Drugs)

Sean Beckett (Addiction - Alcohol)

Stumptown (2019)

Dex Parios (PTSD)

T:

The Healing Powers of Dude (2020)

Noah Ferris (Anxiety Disorder)

The Infinity Train (2019)

Simon Laurent (Abuse, NPD, PTSD)

The Lion Guard (2016)

Ono (Phobia - Bats)

The Magicians (2015)

Eliot Waugh (Abuse, Addiction - Alcohol)

The Prodigal Son (2019)

Malcolm Bright (Night Terrors, PTSD)

The Second Best Hospital in the Galaxy (2024)

Dr. Klak (Anxiety)

The Simpsons (1989)

Abe Simpson || (Dementia, PTSD)

Artie Ziff (Narcissism)

Bart Simpson (PTSD)

Carl Carlson (Schizophrenia)

Clancy Bouvier (PTSD)

Gary Chalmers (Aerophobia, Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, Intermittent Explosive Disorder)

Gloria Prince (Kleptomania)

Homer Simpson (Kleptomania, PTSD)

Lisa Simpson (Anxiety, Depression, OCD, PTSD)

Marge Simpson (OCD)

Ned Flanders (OCD)

Nigel (Anxiety)

Richard "Rich" Texan (OCD)

Seymour Skinner (PTSD)

Shauna Chalmers (Intermittent Explosive Disorder, ODD)

Snake Jailbird (Kleptomania)

Willie (Intermittent Explosive Disorder)

Total Drama (Franchise)

David "Dave" (Anxiety

Jay (Anxiety, Phobias)

Mickey (Anxiety, Phobias)

Mike (Dissociative Identity Disorder)

Sam (Addiction)

Shawn (Anxiety)

U:

V:

W:

X:

Y:

Z:

#:

9-1-1 (2018)

Robert "Bobby" Nash (Addiction - Alcohol)

Edmundo "Eddie" Diaz (Anxiety, PTSD)

Evan "Buck" Buckley (PTSD)

Christopher "Chris" Diaz (PTSD)

Maddie Buckley (Postpartum Depression, PTSD)

9-1-1: Lone Star (2020)

Judson "Judd" Ryder (Grief, PTSD)

Tyler Kennedy "TK" Strand (Addiction - Alcohol)

[stormruff]

I FEEL THE EUPHORIA

Crossover: Marvel Cinematic Universe and Euphoria.

Warnings: drugs, curse, overdose, daddy issues, and if I forgive other sorry.

Bruce would be Professor Hulk/Smart hulk.

Rue is MJ's sister.

How did this all happen? Niether you know. as a child your father abandoned you when you were five. Despite being created by a billionaire genius, you still had problems. Everything piled up, the hatred you had for your father, the Bullying you suffered from Flash Thompson and Liz Allan for not being like them. As much as Peter and Mj picked their fights, it wasn't enough.

But your life change when you met Rue, she understand you,she introduced you to drugs, she gave you a direction.

You lived two lives. From a side the sweet Y/n Banner, with a bright future ahead of her, an Avenger. On a other side, Y/n Banner, a druggie, nerd, popular.

With the return of his father things only get worse he is not very present, but when he is, he gets to be "invasive". And finding out about his adventures with Rue would put everything in jeopardy.

— Hey druggies! — you arrive in the alley near the school with a backpack.

— the dirty talking about the badly washed — Fezco says lighting a cigarette.

— I'm still not — you sit down —Rue — you hug the girl who hands her the heroin.

— not cocaine? — Rue says

— I haven't touched this beauty in over two weeks — you inhale the substance

— And where are you been? — Ash indaged

— she has to keep the good girl profile — says Eliot — next news: the avenger Y/n Banner is a junkie — he laughs.

— First: It would not be y/n banner — you say — It would be the daughter of scientist Bruce banner has toxicology problems. Go to hell. — you arch your head back — Rue, the pin — you were referring to the cocaine that is delivered to her.

— Is it weird that we only know who you really are? no shadows. - Fezco says looking at you.

— They know a sweet girl, who puts up with anything. — you look up — Everyone hides something. Everybody lies.

— I lie to Mj that I like her boyfriend — rue says with a laugh.

You loved those moments together, they turned into nights.

— y/n how can you hide all this from your father? —Fezco breaks the laughter

— he has his life, he doesn't care. As he never cared, he abandoned me, forgot my fucking existence, and now he comes back wanting to be my father.

— I wanted my dad to come back…— Rue says

A noise was heard. You stop what you were doing.

— did you hear that? says Ash the most sober of them.

— you don't have to be sober to listen. - Eliot stands up.

The noises intensified, the steps started to be heavy, soon you were on your feet.

— What the fuck is going on? - Fezco says looking at you who shook Rue's hand while trying to pull the gun that was kept in the backpack.

— we'd better run away... what if it's the police? - Ash said nervously. Everyone agrees Fezco and Ash are the first to leave. Soon Eliot runs off.

— Rue go. — you say but she squeezes your hand even tighter — you go first — you point the way for her to follow when you see a shadow getting bigger — Rue! - you scream she tries to run but she stumbles.

— Well, Well, Well who I find here... —says the figure as Rue backtracked — Y/n Banner... What are you doing here? — your chest rose and fell.

— abomination... — you were apparently calm but your voice was cracking — what do you want?

— may your father pay for what he did...

— I only take it up my ass because of him! — you discreetly move your hand to the backpack — but if you want to kill me, let her go.

— and where is the fun in that? — he laughs

You manage to reach at least one explosive and throw it in Emil's face. You help rue to his feet, draw the pistol and throw the backpack on the floor. Rue climbs on top of a trash can near the wall and jumps over it. So you do the same.

You run down the alley until you reach the sidewalk. You stopped for five seconds until you heard the sound of Blonsky breaking through the wall and running after you.

— I know a place. — says Rue and you follow her down the sidewalk until you're in the middle of the street. — he's catching up with us. — you look back and see the Abomination coming closer. you shoot the hydrant next to Blonsky which slows him down then you shoot the power wire that falls on top of it.

You arrive at an alley that Rue guided you to. She goes up the fire escapes quickly followed by you.

— where are we going, Rue? — you said

— hide. — Rue says running upstairs — owes me two pins — you look back and see Blonsky crashing down the stairs causing the stairs to bend

— run! — You run to the roof of the building. — Perfect Rue! We are going to die!

— look! —Rue Points to a space below the pipes, it was small but you would fit. Rue crawls under the pipes and you follow.

Rue would squeeze your hand as you heard the monster's footsteps approaching, you tried to look calm but you were terrified, but deep down deep inside you wanted him to find you, the only reason you didn't get sober was because you thought only in suicide.

— We're going to get out of here and we're going to get high together Rue, I promise… — You bring your face close to hers when they hear the roar of the Abomination. He passed by all sides while you were very silent.

He got close to where you were, fear took over you. He was getting closer to the point where his footsteps were winding in her face.

He got close and it looked like he was going to burst the pipes, until something pulled Blonsky out of there. Rue tries to scream but you cover her mouth, making her scream muffled. The noises and punches ceased and again steps turned towards you still a bit of heroin in your pocket you reached and placed it in your hand. If you were going to die, you would die stoned. You inhale the powder together and a smile comes to your lips and a kiss would ensue.

— Y/n? — a familiar voice called you, making you mumble.

— Shit! I fucked up.— you whisper looking at Rue who comes out of hiding first. You follow her. — Dad.

— Are you god? — your dad asks and you nod -- Y/n, What you doing in Queens? 

-- I came to study with Peter, MJ and her sister in this case here. — You point at Rue. Your voice was a little cracked from the drug.

— Miss Jones — Bruce greets Rue who nods. — Well, I think better, you came out your home. He will wake up faster.

— I kind of live in this building. So I'm coming down, see you tomorrow and pay me huh? — rue  opens a door that leads directly to the apartments.

You and your father walked down from the terrace, where you were trying to look sober, when clearly the last thing you were...

— since when do you met Peter's sister-in-law?

— And does it matter? — you said harshly, your life didn't matter to him. And the drugs made you too sincere.

 — matters a lot. - Bruce says stopping immediately and you didn't stop. You weren't having the discernment for that. — Y/n, tell me the truth now. I know you're lying, because Peter is in the tower with MJ -- your heart was about to burst out of your chest when you felt Bruce coming after you, you ran as fast as you could as he was about to reaching you realized the alley you were in before the confusion and remembered that before everything Ash sold you several substances... it was today that you died of an overdose. So a shot at the lamppost delayed his father

When jumping over the wreckage of the wall you saw your backpack and took it and hid behind a car and began to inhale the heroin bag by bag until he lost his sense of reality. Your life was over, what moral would the avengers give to a drug addict now? You'd spend days in a fucking toxicology clinic and then die of an overdose.

You've thought about killing yourself every day, but you've never felt more like it than now. The drugs were burning your neurons more and more leaving you half dead. Bruce screamed his name louder and louder while you laughed or moaned softly.

Bruce saw your shadow and ran towards it.

-- Y/n you will... -- Bruce tries to scold you but he sees you in that situation -- Y/n you will... Oh my God. -- He tries to get you on his lap, but you push him away.

-- What?! -- you laugh -- are you caring with me? 

-- I will always care about you. -- you laugh again, but you look at your father with a look he's never seen before.

-- don't joke! -- you turn the eyes to the ground -- where are you been when I needed you? Where are you been in my worst moment? Who give me the hapiness? Was it you? No. Was Rue, Always been Rue. -- you stagger to your feet and Bruce put his arms around you. -- But do you want know the truth?! Do You want to know the fucking truth?! -- your body was shutting down, but you had to keep going, you had to say it. -- I felt the Euphoria. - Bruce noticed a greenish in his eyes. A greenish he knew. you laugh and fall into your father's arms.

-- Y/n?! -- Bruce looks down at his passed out body in his arms -- Y/n speak to me, please!

[yardsards]

so right im a trans guy who doesnt pass very well yet and i was sitting at a train station yesterday and someguy just came up to me like "you, boy... take this..." and handed me a werthers original. i felt very happy about being recognized as my gender and free candy and all that but my euphoria was preceeded by the instant, intense thought, "oh boy eliot yardsards would (might) love to hear about this". so here i am. o patron god of transmascs and old man candy

you were right, i DID love hearing about that

and i'm SO GLAD that's my reputation

may everyone reading this receive gender euphoria and old people candy in the coming days

[ravens-realm]

About Me (prt. I)

If someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read/watch/listen to?

-Read: Anne Rice novels; poetry by Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, Arthur Rimbaud, + T.S. Eliot; All things Edgar Allan Poe. -Watch: Moulin Rouge, The Dreamers, Thirteen, Center Stage, Ginger Snaps, Lolita ('97), The Mummy ('99), Hannibal (tv series), House, Skins (UK), Euphoria, The Borgias (US) -Listen: Damien Rice, Fiona Apple, Bright Eyes, Mazzy Star, Jacques Brel, Lana Del Rey, Deftones, A Perfect Circle, Marilyn Manson, Korn, Rob Zombie, Fleetwood Mac, Agnes Obel, Josh Groban

List 4-6 most influential books over your lifetime.

-12 Rules For Life by Jordan B. Peterson -Beyond Order by Jordan B. Peterson -Anxiously Attached by Jessica Baum -Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson -To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee -Candy: A Novel of Love and Addiction by Luke Davies

Which Hogwarts house? What's your patronus?

-Slytherin house and my patronus is a Wolf.

Use 5 words to describe yourself.

-Creative -Resilient -Analytical -Resourceful -Open-minded

Describe your ideal day.

-My ideal weekday is a productive day at work where I have solved the problems that come up, created what was needed, and helped where I could. Then, traffic (my 1hr+ commute) would be easygoing and no more than an hour. In my car, I would jam to my music and/or listen to an audiobook, or speak w/ a friend. Once I get settled in at home, I take care of my dog + lizard, open up a beer or pour a whiskey, and then I get things done around the house or do some self-care, and really ideally just play a video game or have friends come over! -My ideal weekend day is getting dolled up to go out with my friends or bf.... or just hangin' around the house and grillin' + chillin'; listening to music or doing a project by myself or with loved ones...

[unvow]

Tag meme: getting to know eachother better!!

Tagged by @glowingsamulet and @sampilled 🤍

Last song: the style is death by forever grey

Currently watching: spn on and off, mad men also on and off (i've seen it multiple times already lol it's just kind of a comfort), i started watching euphoria recently just to talk about it with my coworkers 💀

Currently reading: stigmata by hélène cixous, middlemarch by george eliot (so well written but incredibly long), and finally i'm also working my way through a book of henry james' selected fiction (i got it for the beast in the jungle specifically)

Current obsession: having a lot of fun with spn right now! sam is my #1 boy but i'm also interested in psychoanalyzing dean and john when the mood strikes me lol

I tag @samrubygf @lilstvr and @samwinchestergf 🤍

[casekek]

don’t forget Eliot and Hardison nearly coming to blows over a sandwich, and then Eliot becoming a celebrity and experiencing sandwich euphoria (over an entirely different sandwich).

leverage truly has some of the most random side plots. sophie can't stand midwestern food until she gets hungry enough to understand the appeal of pork rinds. parker gets put on antidepressants and experiences one episode of being sociable and happy. parker overcomes her fear of horses which she has because as a child she witnessed a horse beat a clown to death (to be clear, a murder committed by a man dressed as a horse, not an accident involving a real horse). actually parker mostly just seems to be experiencing different emotional stakes than everyone else

[geocrumb]

I got stoned and used ai to help write the begining to a LITrpg

Eliot's gaze was locked on Jacob, their team leader, who was fervently outlining the final play. The intensity in Jacob's voice sliced through the air, mirroring the adrenaline coursing through Eliot's veins. "We'll run a stack offense to the right, focusing on dump and swing plays. Eliot, you'll be our ace on the left sideline. Quick cuts, swift swings, and then the long huck. It's all on this, team!"

Jacob, a tower of confidence, caught Eliot's eye. "You with me, Eliot?"

Panting, hands on knees, Eliot looked up. Despite the drain of the game, a spark of determination ignited within them. "Yeah, I'm ready," they replied, their voice a mix of exhaustion and resolve.

The game's rhythm slowed, stretching each second. Eliot sauntered to the left sideline, feigning weariness. Out of the corner of their eye, they spotted a strange flicker in the sky, like a glitch in a video game, but shook it off as a trick of the light. Jacob, in sync with their ruse, passed to Zander, their agile star receiver. The defense's attention shifted, following Zander's swift maneuvers.

Eliot's defender, fooled, edged away. Seizing the moment, Eliot burst into a sprint, adrenaline masking their fatigue. The defender scrambled, hopelessly behind.

At that critical moment, Zander executed a deceptive move, drawing double coverage. Doug, smoothly, flicked the disc back to Jacob. Eliot, tearing downfield, glanced back just in time to see Jacob launch the disc.

It soared, a spiraling symbol of hope and desperation. "Not like this," Eliot grunted, tapping into their deepest reserves. Each stride was a fierce battle, propelling them closer as the endzone neared and the disc descended perilously close to the ground.

In a moment of sheer will, Eliot leaped, their body stretched to its limits. Time seemed to freeze. Their fingers slid underneath the disc, securing it inches above the ground. The crowd erupted as Eliot slid into the endzone, disc triumphantly in hand. They had done it - the ultimate play at the ultimate moment.

________________________________________________________

Eliot dialed their mom's number, still buzzing from the game's adrenaline. "Mom! We won, thanks to the final play. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow at Team Taco. I'm craving their al pastor tacos!"

Their voice was vibrant, contrasting with the game's fatigue. "Heading home now, see you tomorrow. Love you, Mom."

Ending the call, Eliot pocketed their phone. The night air was cool, the city's hum a soft backdrop. As they replayed the game's highlights, their mind briefly wandered to the fantasy novels they loved, where heroes triumphed against all odds in magical worlds. If only life were so adventurous, they mused.

Approaching the road, lost in thought, Eliot stepped off the curb. They thought they'd checked both ways, but the world shifted violently.

Eliot's gaze drifted to the side, the world around them slowing to a near halt. A moment suspended in time, their eyes locked with the oncoming truck's glaring headlights, like the ravenous gaze of a predator. The truck's grille loomed like a gaping maw, hungry and unstoppable.

Then, in a merciless snap, time lurched forward. The impact was immediate and savage. Eliot's body, a mere plaything to the truck's brutal force, was hurled violently across the road. The pain erupted instantly, a searing, white-hot explosion of agony that consumed their entire being. It was an all-encompassing torment, a brutal orchestra of bone, metal, and asphalt.

In those fleeting, torturous seconds, Eliot's world was torn asunder. The vibrant thrum of victory that had pulsed in their veins was replaced by an excruciating silence, punctuated only by the sound of their own ragged breaths. The euphoria of the game, the cheers of the crowd, the triumphant catch - all were obliterated in an instant.

Lying crumpled on the asphalt, Eliot was acutely aware of every fractured bone, every abrasion, every jolt of pain that coursed through their shattered body. The darkness crept in at the edges of their vision, a merciful veil drawing close. And in those final moments of consciousness, as the world faded to black, Eliot's mind grasped for understanding, for reason, for anything but the enveloping void. ______________________________________________________________

Eliot's world shrank to a pinpoint of pain before fading into nothingness. In the void, they became vaguely aware of sitting. Confused, Eliot risked opening an eye, only to snap it shut again at the sight of a smiling, bald man with a robust mustache.

A tentative cough escaped Eliot's lips. "Are... are you God?" they ventured.

The sound of warm laughter answered them. Encouraged, Eliot opened both eyes this time, taking in the figure more fully. The man resembled a bald version of Santa Claus, complete with a handlebar mustache.

"Oh no, no," the man chuckled. "Consider me a liaison, an Adjudicator of the Divine Will. You can call me Emarius." He adjusted his small spectacles and rifled through papers in a folder on his desk. "It appears you've died, Eliot. But, there's good news." He rummaged further, then brightened. "A god has chosen you to become a hero. They've granted you a divine spark."

Emarius leaned over, opening a drawer, and produced what looked like a tiny ring box. "Here it is," he continued, "This will unlock a world of magical abilities, uniquely attuned to you. Go on, open it."

Eliot hesitantly reached for the box, turning it over in their hands. It was disappointingly ordinary. Inside, they found a contact lens. "Um, what?"

Emarius peered over. "Divine sparks vary in form. Yours is a contact lens – a concept I believe your world is familiar with."

Fumbling with the lens, Eliot mumbled an apology. "I’ve never been good with these."

"No matter," Emarius said, and with a swift magical gesture, he had the lens in Eliot's eye. The instant it touched, a searing pain shot through Eliot, eliciting a scream.

"Ah, I should have warned you," Emarius mused. "It can be quite painful initially. Now, let's see your stats."

Blinking through the pain, a display materialized before Eliot. A pleasant voice read aloud:

"Name: Eliot Hale. Race: Human. Rank: Emergent Tier – Seedling. Stats (Note: Base peak for Non-Magic Human in any Stat is 10). Strength: 4. Agility: 8. Vitality: 6. Intelligence: 6. Wisdom: 7. Charisma: 4. Mana: ??? Luck: ??? Endurance: 9. Focus: 6."

Eliot stared at the floating text, their mind reeling.

Emarius's expression shifted as he sifted through the papers, a frown creasing his forehead. "You see, Eliot, sometimes gods select individuals to become heroes in other realms. They train, grow in power, vanquish evil, and eventually serve as embodiments of their deity's will." He paused, a hint of discomfort in his eyes. "However, not all paths are so... straightforward."

He cleared his throat softly. "In your case, you have been chosen for a more... arduous journey." Emarius's voice lowered, tinged with a solemn gravity. "You are destined for the Crucible of Ascension."

Eliot's heart skipped a beat. "The Crucible of Ascension?" they echoed, the name sending a chill down their spine.

"Yes," Emarius continued, his gaze steady. "It is a realm unlike any other – a domain forged by the gods as a testing ground, a forge for heroes. But make no mistake; it is no ordinary challenge. The Crucible is a nexus of trials, a purgatorial arena where potential heroes are... refined. Here, greatness is not gently coaxed forth but rather extracted through hardship, conflict, and sometimes, moral quandaries."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. "In the Crucible, you will face unimaginable trials. It is a place where gods mold their most formidable agents – be they champions, death dealers, spymasters, or even villains. Your journey there will define the kind of hero you will become... or if you'll emerge a hero at all."

Eliot felt a cold dread settling in their stomach. The Crucible of Ascension – it sounded less like a hero's journey and more like a descent into nightmare. But it was clear there was no turning back. They were about to be thrust into a crucible that would test the very limits of their being.

[denimbex1986]

'As a long-time admirer of Christopher Nolan’s cinematic world-building, I already expected Oppenheimer to be an intricate tapestry of technical and historical details about the scientist’s brilliant life and eventual downfall. I was excited to spot all the ways Nolan stitched esoteric nuclear facts into his screenplay as a way to embed the story in reality—particularly those points about Los Alamos, New Mexico and the Manhattan Project that only few would know, except maybe nuclear scholars, affected communities, and those who have read American Prometheus, the Pulitzer Prize-winning biography about J. Robert Oppenheimer on which the film is based.

While Nolan achieved this synthesis throughout the three hours of his film, I am most in awe of the creative precision displayed in the first 15 minutes. Within that time frame, Nolan does something playful and magical with scale. In a series of hard cuts, he introduces Oppenheimer, up close, his face young and then old, increasingly burdened by the consequences of his life’s work. The audience also encounters the other main character of the story for the first time: atoms, in a state of uncontrolled chain reaction, a sweeping, slow-motion nuclear explosion. Moments later, we see atoms again, up close, bright, swirling, vibrating. The atom looks sublime on the big screen. This introduction elegantly captured the atom’s duality: profound and terrifying. As a nuclear nonproliferation researcher, I was moved by the way Oppenheimer portrays this paradox.

The opening scenes of Oppenheimer, particularly his time studying at the University of Göttingen, are a crucial part of the film. Without Oppenheimer’s intellectual growth in Germany, he would not have the knowledge and experience that would eventually lead him to oversee the Manhattan Project. The Göttingen montage is composed of deftly edited scenes of a young, inspired, and neurotic Oppenheimer, furiously imagining quantum objects—as waves, as particles, as specs of stardust—to discover a “hidden universe.” The images are perfectly paired with violins that amplify the sense of euphoria and mania, and the beauty and darkness inherent to the subject matter Oppenheimer has chosen to study. (The film’s composer, Ludwig Göransson, said in an interview that the music for the swirling atoms was the most challenging to record for the film.) While watching this, I couldn’t help but wonder: “Is this the first time atoms are visualized in this way in cinema?” These scenes, while abstract, show something closer to reality than the static and simplified atomic model printed on every science textbook: atoms in constant movement, which is a phenomenon beyond what human vision and language can apprehend.

During a conversation with Werner Heisenberg in 1922, Niels Bohr apparently said: “We must be clear that when it comes to atoms, language can be used only as in poetry.” It seems that Nolan agrees with this, offering his audience a visual and poetic depiction of the atomic world. (Nolan acknowledges Oppenheimer’s love for poetry by including a split-second shot of Oppenheimer’s copy of The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot. Kai Bird and Martin Sherwin’s American Prometheus also notes that Oppenheimer published poetry while at Harvard University.) To me, this is one of the most impactful moments of the film, thanks to Nolan’s creative direction to present atoms and quantum physics as a sensory and emotional experience.

Paradoxically, the audience must feel Oppenheimer’s love for his work to feel his horror and remorse after the Trinity test. Once the “gadget” successfully exploded on New Mexico, Oppenheimer had effectively weaponized the very thing he found so wondrous at Göttingen. Oppenheimer’s curiosity, ego, and moral blindness that came with the exigencies of war transformed him from a theoretical physicist eagerly exploring the underpinnings of the universe to a bomb-maker entangled in political machinations largely out of his control.

The movie covers Oppenheimer’s eventual dedication to arms control after the Hiroshima and Nagasaki nuclear attacks, with most of the narrative focusing on his fears of an arms race between the United States and Russia and his firm opposition to the hydrogen bomb project. The movie omits to mention Oppenheimer’s other efforts to control the atom, specifically by advocating for a transparent, international body that would govern nuclear research and prevent further development of nuclear weapons. This position, put forward in the Acheson-Lilienthal report and the subsequent modified version called the Baruch plan, immediately failed, as the Soviet and American sides fundamentally disagreed on the terms of the proposals. In the wake of these diplomatic failures, Oppenheimer’s disillusionment and dejection began to impact his passion for the sciences. According to American Prometheus, Oppenheimer, at a particularly low point, is quoted as saying that physics seemed irrelevant and that “the charm went out teaching [it] after the great change in the war.”

The omission of these historical details does not take away from the power of the film since Nolan portrays it through other artistic means. In the second half of the movie, there is no longer a sense of joy in the science; Oppenheimer stops imagining atoms and instead begins to see concentric circles of nuclear detonations over a world map, a visual motif that also alludes to the ripple effects of his creation. Also, the two primary storylines—“fission,” which depicts Oppenheimer’s life in color, and “fusion,” filmed in black-and-white and representing then-US Senator Lewis Strauss’ perspective as he reveals his role in Oppenheimer’s downfall—become ever-more interwoven. While some audiences may have found Nolan’s non-linear storytelling confusing and frustrating, it struck me as ingenious and essential. At this point, the film is no longer just about physics or war, but about humans and hubris. The predominant visuals are no longer atoms in different states of beauty and terror, but the drab procedures of politics.

By the final hour of the film, the audience endures not only the humiliation of Oppenheimer, but also the oppressive air of bureaucracy, with scene after scene of bureaucrats flicking through their binders, speaking on podiums, or huddled together, devising their next political move. I found a subtle message in this visual shift: the terrifying realization that the most destructive weapons in the world are ultimately left in the hands of fallible men—the jealous, the petty, and the power hungry.

Beyond giving the audience an abbreviated history lesson, Nolan also displays an intricate tapestry that connects science with technology, with war, with power. There are many threads that Oppenheimer leaves for contemplation, but this one lingers with me most: In the process of harnessing science to build a weapon that he had naively hoped would “end all wars,” Oppenheimer had taken part in unconscionable violence and destruction that haunt us to this day.'