#it’s the first painting I’ve done in a long while that’s both for myself and something I didn’t feel rushed on or anything

[transthatfag]

portrait of my boyfriend that I did based on this kaye donachie painting.

[billythesimp]

Never Judge a Film By Its Cover

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎...

Thank you for the request Client_Clover! I hope this is too you liking, I've never done work like this when it comes to basing interactions off of aesthetic/genres.

Wise w/ gothic-alternative-sweetheart! reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡...⋙

Tagging: ☘️ anon

tw: none

⋈ Wise is used to all kinds of people in both kinds of works, whether it’s helping a client in the hollows or approaching a customer to recommend a new tape they figured would be to their liking. No matter the person, he is able to adapt to their personality and knows that better than to judge a person by their looks. He has an eye for these kinds of things, picking up on the littlest details of his customers which makes him a great salesman when it comes to film options. 

⋈ When he started taking an interest on one of the regular at the shop, he was thrown for a loop when he first laid his eyes on them. In a way, they reminded him of Ellen a bit, a very low energy personality who looked around the place with hooded eyes and a ‘Don’t approach me’ attitude. Their clothing choice was also interesting to say the least, wearing different monochromatic articles that could run from looking like a mess of nets and off-shoulder tops to high waisted skirts paired with long trench coat vibes.

⋈ Of course, the many times they come by they only view the tapes and even are with a group of friends from the looks, everyone being the complete opposite of what they seem like, cheerful and bubbly they stand out with a serious case of RBF. [Resting-Bitch-Face] But that makes him even more intrigued, who is this person and what are they like. How do they attract such bright people despite their gloomy-gothic approach? He figures this out one day when they come into his shop looking for something, walking out of the staff only room to find them at the counter.

▿

“Oh, sorry for the wait. Could I help you with something?” 

They only scratch at their cheek, eyes wandering away from Wise’s gaze before presenting a film in hand. “Uh, yeah. Could I rent out this tape?” He only looked down at the tape in question, the genre surprising him to say the least. “Oh sure. Just Oh~ Sweetie today?” The nervously nod, a faint blush painting their cheeks like dapped out watercolors. He rang it up, smiling to himself before handing over the tape. 

“Alright, you’re all set. The return policy is usually a week from today, but feel free to drop by anytime before then. There’s a fee for late returns, but feel free to call the store if you have any questions. Thank you for your business.” Their eyes gleamed in excitement as they held the case in hand, Wise could almost see the sparkles emitting off of them before they waved him bye with a sheepish smile blessing his vision. Once out the store, he could only stare before smiling to himself again.

⋈ Since then, he is always greeting them while also discussing new films that would be to their liking. Mainly ranging from rom-coms to fantasy-adventure, he has gotten to knowing them to the point where they’ve become close friends. Wise enjoys their conversations as they always mention their favorite part of the tapes; he recommends them with childlike innocence, glowing brightly with a cheerful disposition. They invite him out sometimes when he’s clocked out for break, treating him to noodles or listening to some new records across the street. Another place they are a regular at, learning more about their interesting taste in music that fits their aesthetic.

▿

He’s asked about your lifestyle once, giving him a nervous response while twiddling with your fingers. “Ah, well, I get that question a lot. I always had a fascination with gothic fashion and the aesthetic as a whole, so I wanted to express my love for the art form by wearing what I found comfortable. People are surprised when I mention that, but many people I’ve met say that it’s really cool, so I continue to express myself freely- sorry, I’m probably rambling now.” Your yapping slowing into a nonsensible muttering which Wise assures them that he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“Well, I think you're pretty- neat! It’s pretty neat, so I can’t argue with you on that.” He nodded along, seeing how they only skipped beside him with renewed confidence. “Thank you, Wise!”

⋈ Whenever he’s out and about, should he spot them in their usual circle or looming over a display alone, despite the aura they have hovering over them he still makes it a habit to call out to them. The moment before and after they spot him makes his heart flutter, how they look over with a subtle glare before perking up and grinning cheekily and waving him over. Really, it’s a sight to behold.

⋈ Maybe one day they’ll be more than friends, but neither of them would admit it. No number of soft touches and gentle smiles will push them to confess their little attraction to one another. So for now they’ll cuddle up on his bed while watching another film. As friends, yeah really close friends.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for assuming my coworker is a toxic partner?

I, 22M, work in a big chain restaurant with a bunch of people my age. Recently, one of the bussers who’s been at this branch since it opened two years ago (I’m a relatively newer higher but not by much, just not og staff) turned 19 and revealed that he has started dating one of the other servers that he’s been friends with for a while, let’s call the two of them Busboy (19 ftm), and Server (21 MtNB)

I’ve got nothing wrong with Busboy. He’s a hard worker, a little odd sometimes, and he’s been with our location for a long time. He and Server are both original staff members and the two have done a lot together, especially after Busboy turned 18 in December of 2022. Server set up Busboy’s first tattoo appointment, they go to the movies all the time, and at work they keep things friendly but professional. Honestly, we all kinda thought they were already dating before Busboy told everyone

Recently, Server got fired because of a stupid management rule about tables that walk out without paying. It sucked, but Server wasn’t really the best waiter anyways and there wasn’t really any lost love. Another waiter, let’s call him Closer (24M), and his wife (23F) have started hosting game nights at their apartment with Closer’s sister and some of her friends. As far as I know, Busboy and Server have been frequent attendants and tbh it looks like a lot of fun. Closer sent a general invite to the work group chat and me and some other coworkers decided to head over tonight

When we got there, it was fine at first. We were mixing drinks (no drinks for Closer’s wife since she’s pregnant or Busboy since he’s underaged) and playing games when I see Busboy take Server’s drink from them and tell them to stop drinking. Server sort of nodded real small like and I don’t know, it set off an alarm bell in my head. To paint a picture, Busboy is a fit young white guy even if he doesn’t pass that well while Server is a fat Mexican person with a lot of acne and stuff like that. Busboy’s also been known to cite his alleged disabilities to get out of work from time to time and he’s picky when ordering around the other bussers at work. Regardless of him being a Trainer, it’s just off putting yk?

I keep watching them before I asked Server if they wanted to be on my team for a card game we all wanted to play. Server looked to Busboy for permission and Busboy gave me a strange look before slowly agreeing. When Server and I were off by ourselves, I asked them if everything was okay. They didn’t really give me an answer, just sort of shrugged and said that it wasn’t anything I can do. Can you see where I’m going with this?

While we played the game, Busboy got very loud and obnoxious, saying inside jokes that only he, Closer and Server would know from when they opened our restaurant location, frequently interrupted my team and chastised me for offering Server some of my lemondrop drink, saying: “can’t you see that they clearly don’t want any?”

And here’s where I may be the asshole, I said: “How about you shut up and ask him what he wants?”

I know, I misgendered Server on accident, and I corrected myself in the moment, but the room went silent and Busboy got really confused and said: “But i did?”

I asked him: “When? They’ve spent all night stuck to your side, it looks like you’ve got them on a leash.”

Closer made an inappropriate joke to lighten the mood, but Busboy looked really confused and kept asking everyone if that’s what it looked like. I said: “yeah, it does. [Server], what do you want to do?”

Server said; “I don’t know, man, what are we upset about?”

But when I tried to explain that Busboy was acting really suspicious all night, everyone started telling me that I was wrong and that this wasn’t true, that Busboy’s always like this. It didn’t make any sense to me! I asked if Busboy always micromanages how Server drinks and Closer said; “no, but it’s [Server]’s turn to drive the two of them home. Usually [Busboy] drives and it’s a long drive, but today they’re in [Server]’s car.”

I ended up leaving pretty soon after and I feel really silly about the whole thing. So, tumblr, Aita?

What are these acronyms?

[thetriggeredhappy]

where i’m like, at, creatively

like what's my dealllllll

so i’ve noticed a pretty big uptick in new people around here lately and i wanted to cover a few bases since i’m realizing it’s been a pretty long time since i had a fireside chat with the room. this is for a few reasons - first of all, i don’tttttt like talking about myself! i feel like sometimes notes on what’s up with me and how i’m doing can come across as invitations to talk a lot about my personal life, and i’m not really here to get into it. i really do prefer the anonymity of the stuff i do here. not a ton of people i know in real life have any idea at all what i do creatively, and inversely not many people who know me for my writing or whatever know anything about my real life. love that separation! big fan of it! that’s why i go by the alias Trigger, don’t have very many mentions of any facet of my identity, my location, don’t even really have my general age listed (i’m an adult, that’s all i’m comfortable sharing). i’m not, uh. a very confident person i guess? but with that said, i’m fine with talking about broad strokes stuff, and with talking about the stuff i make. so let’s go over it!

i’m not really known on here for anything beyond my writing, but i actually do various different creative stuff. i make music, i draw, i paint, i know a few instruments, i sew and make props, i’m a chef (like. professionally. that’s my job in real life. like, i’m my boss and i just answer to the owner of the restaurant. i made my menu. we’re actually expanding it at the moment). my fanwork is definitely a passion of mine, i love doing character analysis and riffing with other people and collaborative work, that kind of thing, but i also do like. a lot of original work.

“I KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING DONT CANCEL TAKING SHOTS—“ i’m not. i’m fully not. taking shots is just gonna be well over 150k words by the end of it and i’m running the marathon, not the sprint. that’s gonna continue to publish slowly over time. that’s not where i’m going with this. i have an outline, i know the plot, i just have to write the scenes and paint the spaces between the bigger arc of it and figure out the points between A and Z, and that’s going to take a while. if that means that fic is done in fuckin 2030, so be it.

my problem here is twofold. first of all, i have what the doctors call “a chronic depressive disorder” and “the good old neurodivergence that means you’re a perfectionist and also incapable of starting things”. there’s a part of me that really wants to ‘just’ hammer out Taking Shots and wrap it all up and do the damn thing and wipe off my hands and take a bow or ten before i move on, but i’m aware that my internal motivation issues are going to make that task take an incredibly long time. the second part of the problem is that i’m going to feel intense guilt pretty much all of the time if i split my attention between an original work and the fanwork i’ve already started, because in my mind, i’d be doing a half-measure of both of them rather than a sufficiently good job of either.

i know that doesn’t make sense, probably because it doesn’t. but honestly, for a longass time, me wanting so bad to start making my original work A Thing I Do, yet feeling bad for not instead doing more of my fanwork (which i know people really enjoy), has just been putting the pole through the spokes of the wheels on both of those projects.

so i’m biting the bullet. fuckin’ whatever.

Taking Shots is going to continue to keep its irregular infrequent schedule - i generally write more Taking Shots whenever i get really really annoyed with myself that i haven’t written more Taking Shots. in the meantime, i’m also going to start making and posting more about my original work.

i’m making a comic.

it has a title, i’ve scripted a ton of it, i have the plot and characters and worldbuilding and development, i know how it begins and what happens and how it ends. i started working on the story and the world around 2016, and i’m pretty happy with it. it’s going to take years to make the entire thing, as it’s going to be hundreds of pages per arc and a number of arcs in totality, and i plan to post pages as i go, maybe individually, maybe in small batches. it’s a fantasy setting, what with the elfs ‘n legally distinct hobbitses ‘n shit, adventure comedy, character driven narrative. i’ve made a separate blog to house it, and here soon the plan is to start showing off what i’ve already got, whatever isn’t spoilers, break out the title and some of the pages. my plan, eventually (and i mean EVENTUALLY) is to open a patreon or whatever the thing is by the time i get there. i’d fuckin’ love to just, like, make art and stuff full time, but realistically, i do need to hold down a real job for a while, even assuming i can make a living on art. i don’t have anyone to support me financially, so that does need to come first.

my artfight victims and opponents (my beloved) have already met a bunch of the characters, and some of you who have been around for a while probably also know about them. it’s not a secret or anything. i just don’t want to lean on the crutch of like, building a brand and hype for characters before i make the media. i don’t like stuff like that. you’ll see it as you see it. i love talking about my process and thoughts while making things and about character writing, and i’m open to questions or conversations about the comic and the characters, but like, i’m probably not gonna open with “and here’s the plot outline”. that’s a lot.

i want to be transparent now rather than later that no matter what i do, including making a patreon (or whatever), fanwork of any kind won’t be housed there. this doesn’t mean i’m giving up my fan stuff or that it’s dropping down the list as a priority. that hat is being hung up someday, maybe, but Taking Shots ends either when i’ve written all of it or when i’m dead in the fucking ground. this is partially because of, y’know, legality, because you really aren’t allowed to profit off of fan writing in the same way you might on fanart or whatever, but even if i was legally allowed to i wouldn’t necessarily want to. i don’t like the idea of making any significant amount of money on fan content, i don’t ever want enjoying media to have monetary incentive for me. that sucks. fan stuff is an outlet for me and i don’t like the thought of profiting off of enthusiasm. that seems like it would get a little parasocial.

this is my main blog, i’m probably going to keep using it for fan stuff a lot, and most of my comic stuff is gonna go on the same blog as the actual pages, and i’ll probably make some kind of dedicated webpage for the comic as well, and at some point i’m gonna make an executive decision on where i want to host any q&a for the comic - probably here. i’m hoping that getting vocal about my original work stuff will help me, like… commit a little harder? i work on it way more frequently than my fan stuff, like it’s not even close, but there’s kind of this sense of “and it’ll happen someday”. maybe that someday could be, like, before the heat death of the universe. because it doesn’t need to take that long. i have so much done.

that’s the synopsis. if you’re interested in my music, that’s over here. i’m probably going to reblog some of the comic-related art onto here every once in a while, but i don’t plan on reblogging individual pages onto here or anything like that. thanks for the read! let me know what you guys think!

[adorethedistance]

Do It, Then - Frat!Trevor Zegras x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, PDA, crying (PG-13)

Words: 1213

Summary: Today was not your day and your only hope for any kind of redemption lies in the hands of your TKE boy.

A/n: The newest addition to the TKE literary universe is this piece I’ve been sitting on for a while. I hate it and if I keep looking at it in my drafts it’s never gonna get done so here we are. 

“Y/n?” Trevor looks at me confused as he opens the door. In a second, he raises both eyebrows when he notices the tear tracks painting my face. He reaches out to swiftly grab my tricep and bring me inside the house. This is the first time the rain has let up all day which is evident in the way my light-wash jeans have become increasingly two-toned. He ushers me further inside before closing the door and engulfing me in a soft hug. His strong chest smells of cedarwood and vanilla, and I slowly melt into him, thankful for his warmth preceded by a long day of cold. 

“Hey.” Shoulders relaxing, nose running, and tears still forming. One of his arms rests across my shoulder blades and his other hand cradles my head. Trevor gingerly rubs my back and presses scattered kisses to the top of my head. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.” As I take in his cologne, he breathes in my dry shampoo and I wonder if my scent is comforting to him in the way he is to me. 

After a few minutes of standing like this in the entryway, my crying dissipates and Trevor pulls away to try and look at my face. I don’t really feel ready to face him but I allow myself to look up at him anyway. He smiles at me, the hand behind my head moving to hold my face and trace the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone. 

“Come on, let’s get you dry.” Trevor takes my hand, leading me up the familiar route to his bedroom. We don’t talk the entire way to his room which I think is a new record for him. He knocks on the door and waits for Jamie’s reply before letting us in. I hesitate before I walk in, unsure of whether or not I want to subject Jamie to the full-length sob story that’s about to happen. I enter the room and Jamie immediately notes the puffiness of my eyes. He slips off the headset he was wearing.

“You okay, Y/n?” He asks, sweetly lifting his eyes to look at me. I shrug and half-smile to not freak him out. “I was gonna invite Val over, should I not do that or…?”

“You don’t have to cancel, it’s okay,” I’m able to whisper.

“Jamie,” Trevor grabs his roommate’s attention before motioning to his phone. He begins typing furiously for a solid minute, then he turns his phone off and walks over to their closet. Standing in the doorway, he scans over his half of the clothes before grabbing a pair of sweatpants and his black Golf Wang crew neck. He brings me the change of clothes before taking my hand and leading me to the bathroom down the hall. The place is of suspicious sanitation but I’m indifferent after the day that I’ve had. 

Trevor’s clothes smell like him and the sensation is comforting but it makes me miss his touch. I swing open the bathroom door and fling myself back into his arms. He laughs in surprise but gladly accepts the affection, kissing the top of my head for the second time tonight.

“You feel a bit better?” He asks sincerely and I nod against him, having difficulty finding the energy to speak. Trevor lets go of me and takes my hand, kissing the front of my knuckles and then leading me back to the bedroom. Jamie is engrossed in an intense round of Call of Duty, too focused on the game to acknowledge us in any way. Trevor walks us over to the bed and sits me down against the headboard, propping up on his pillow and grabbing a fluffy blanket for me. 

“You wanna talk about what happened?” He asks and sits on the bed, moving back to lean against the wall, perpendicular to the headboard.

“I just had a really terrible day.”

“I figured.” He laughs but nods along for me to continue.

“Y/n, do you prefer tea or coffee?” Jamie asks not looking up from his phone. 

“Usually Coffee.”

“Okay.”

“You were saying?” Trevor asks to guide me back on track.

“I’ve just had an awful day. I got locked out of my apartment and then when my landlord finally came with the master key, the power went out so I’ve been freezing all day and I couldn’t cook any food so I’m starving. I’m so behind in one of my classes because I haven’t watched the most recent lecture and we have a paper due next week. I have a massive headache from crying so much. And on top of all that, my friends got pissed at me for a misunderstanding and they’re refusing to hear my side of the story… It’s just been a really bad day.”

“I’m so sorry. That sounds really shitty.”

“And I didn’t want to intrude or be overbearing by just showing up unannounced but I knew seeing you would make me feel better.”

“I’m happy I can be that for you.” I smile at the kindness of his words and Trevor waits a moment before speaking again, “I mean, yeah, it’s whatever. I’m not a simp or anything so, don’t get it twisted, shorty.”

My jaw drops in fake shock and I laugh at his effort to double back. He shrugs playfully but then laughs with me, smiling sweetly at my reaction. His ability to cheer me up feels like it should be more ineffective; I can’t fathom how thorough his hold on me has become. 

“Bro what?”

“It’s cool, you know?” Trevor crosses his arms over his chest for emphasis and I can’t help but laugh.

“Trevor- You are such a dork.” 

“But I’m your dork?” He states tilting his head forward for added persuasion. Jamie audibly and exaggeratedly gags from the other side of the room, despite having headphones on, which makes the two of us laugh.

“Seriously, Z, that is the corniest thing you’ve ever said.” He tears his gaze away from the monitor as the CoD match he was playing timed out. Trevor merely shrugs before he leans forward to place a kiss on my cheek, right in front of his roommate. Jamie huffs a laugh before turning back to his game to start the next round. 

“I’m genuinely happy about being yours though.” He says, grounding the moment in sincerity once more. 

“How come? I didn’t think you were mine.” I’m only semi-teasing. Trevor rolls his eyes and then puts his right hand on my leg to nudge me.

“You know what I mean!”

“I really don’t.” 

“Is this about me not asking you yet?” He asks straight up.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Oh, come on!” I smile and sit up as tall as I can to playfully puff my chest, 

“Do it, then.” Trevor lets out a big sigh before sitting up a little straighter. He uncrosses his arms and then takes my hand in his before asking,

“Y/n, will you please be my girlfriend?” I pretend to think it over for a moment before nodding softly.

“Yes. I’d want nothing more.” He smiles dazedly before leaning in to give me a soft kiss. 

“You guys are cute. You’re making me sick.”

***

a/n: I’m hoping posting this will get me out of my writers block rut. we’ll see lmao

[flash-the-readies]

Calling my younger self out for all the embarrassing things they thought/did when I first started getting into Pink Floyd (I just think I was endearing albeit annoying)

Initially confused them with LED Zeppelin because for some reason my brain put them on a similar tier

Went to watch the Pulse tour DVD … promptly realised it was post-Waters, cried, shut it off immediately, and haven’t seen it since (I actually own a DVD and a VHS tape of the film…both of which were gifts actually)

Saw that Live at Pompeii gif of Roger blowing the smoke rings and just stared at it for a long while promptly falling in love

Didn’t know the Wall was a double album and just assumed the second disc was demos so I never listened to it and would only listen to half the album. Eventually I decided to play the second disc and realised how stupid I was (In the Flesh confused me)

Had an entire wall in my room dedicated to The Wall (I painted out the brick design and had these posters)

Didn’t really care much for the WYWH album (and now it’s my favourite Pink Floyd album..)

FUCKING GAVE AWAY THE IN THE PINK NICK SEDGWICK BOOK BECAUSE I WAS GOING THROUGH SOME SHIT AND ROGER WAS MAKING ME FEEL GUILTY AND HORRIBLE

Would listen to the Wall at least once a day for months on end especially while sitting alone at lunch

Used the fact that my mum desperately wanted me to make friends to go to a Roger Waters concert with this boy who had a crush on me and then promptly started trying to convert me to Catholicism once he found out I’m atheist, bisexual, and non-binary. Roger Played the Gunner’s Dream for the encore so no regrets there

Had a long and unhealthy obsession with The Final Cut and would play my LP of it at least once a day

Read something about Roger calling the rest of the band “the muffins” and promptly dubbed David “greasy muffin”…and got the rest of my online friends to join in

Wrote endless HCs with a friend about Watershend (Roger Waters x Pete Townshend)… I stand by this one. Sorry

Did a 10 minute presentation on the Wall for a history class when I was…14

Called in sick to school even though my teachers knew I was going to watch Roger Waters in concert

Found a copy of Rick Wright’s Wet Dream on vinyl at a market… had no cash in the moment … asked my friend if they could give me cash and then I’d pay them back later… my friend agreed thinking it was for food (I wasn’t trying to deceive them I promise I just didn’t communicate what that money was for as clearly as I thought I did… but I did pay them back plus a bit extra!) I did get my record tho

Went to Battersea Station…. DIDN’T REALISE IT WAS A FUCKING SHOPPING MALL ON THE INSIDE BECAUSE I FAILED TO DO MY RESEARCH AND DIDN’T EVEN ATTEMPT TO GO INSIDE BECAUSE I AM AWKWARD AS HELL… so instead I opted to awkwardly stand around the outside and check out the nearby shops (this is recent ;-;)

I used to draw and would just fill my notebook up with drawing of Pink Floyd (mostly just Roger…)

I am just now remembering how much of my fanart was nose-centric

You know that common trans experience of “trying desperately to live as your assigned gender one last time so you overcompensate before you come out”… well that overlapped with my “ukulele and Syd Barrett let’s dress psychedelic” phase

Have bought way too many pieces of clothing because they remind me of something Roger wore once (I think I’ll make this into it’s own post perhaps)

That’s all I can remember for now. Just feeling nostalgic. I could make a second part of all the most recent cringe shit I’ve done. I’m not laughing at myself I’m laughing with myself. Honestly my younger self was iconic, gotta love her

[ashisgreedy]

Imelda Reyes x F!MC

“In Her Embrace”

Tags: Smut 18+| F x F | First times | Cunnilingus | Gay Awakening(?) | Aged up 18+

WC: 2,500+

AN: Guess who I have a crush on 🥴

Dear Diary,

I'm sorry I haven't written in you for a while. In the past few weeks, something wonderful happened… and I have been otherwise occupied with this new, incredible thing. I can't stop smiling as I begin to write this. I would like to start from the beginning so I may paint the full picture for myself to recall as I grow older.

My best friend Imelda and I have been growing close lately. After my last break-up, she encouraged me to stay single for a while. I had been dating back to back as you can see in my previous diary entries. But, something about the way she was almost begging me to turn down Andrew Larson’s invitation for dinner made me seriously consider it. I took her advice and decided I would stay single for a bit longer to really help remind myself of who I am.

She was happy when I told her this, telling me she always hated all my boyfriends, that they didn’t deserve me. I smiled at that, remembering a time when she wouldn’t have spoken so freely to me. It used to be low blows and curt comments from her, but now, since we’ve grown as friends and I earned her respect on a broom, I’ve been privy to how she truly feels. 

Two weeks ago, it was girls night. We planned a sleepover in my dorm room over the holiday. All my other roommates were gone for the extended weekend back home and Imelda and I took full advantage of the privacy, making a pillow fort by my bed and reading to one another out of the fantasy book floating around the Slytherin girl’s dorms. The book was something someone brought from back home, a muggle story where the main character was female and went on all these badass adventures. It's now Imelda's favorite.

She braided my hair, a bit too tight I might add, I had to loosen it to stop the headache from forming, and I manicured her nails. She keeps them short for her quidditch matches and I made sure to add a tiny heart to both her thumbnails in black paint.

When it came time for sleeping, we both changed into our pajamas and tucked into my bed for the night. We could hardly stop chatting even long after the lights were out. Imelda was so giggly this night, in a better mood than I had seen her in a while. Her laugh was contagious and I couldn’t help but share it.

We found ourselves tangled up, giggling about nothing and everything late into the night. There was a moment, just one, where I felt a shift in our dynamic. She looked at me, her legs twisted with mine, her hand sliding through my hair, and she just stared into my eyes. I didn’t know what to do. The laughing had died down and I supposed she was growing tired as the hours went on.

“Good night, then…” I finally said, breaking whatever tension had begun to build around us. I pulled up the blanket and snuggled my head into the pillow.

I saw her face go from bright and cheery to dark and stormy in a nanosecond. She huffed a ‘night’ to me and turned away. My forehead creased at the sudden change in her demeanor. Had I done something wrong? I scoured my mind thinking of the entire evening all the way up until this moment.

“Imelda… Is everything alright? We were just laughing moments ago.” I tried, my heart swirling with fear that I had somehow caused a rift to develop between us. I reached out to touch her arm, the one my hands had already been all over this evening to provide her comfort.

"You didn't do anything wrong..." She mumbles. Her voice was wavering and a piece of my heart broke.

I rubbed her arm with more confidence. “You know you can always talk to me about anything. We’re best friends.” I used my most reassuring voice. “I’m here for you.” There was a distinct sniff that came from Imelda so I immediately wrapped her in my arms and held her to my chest. “You can talk to me about anything, Mel. I mean it.”

She didn’t cry as I held her, she fought off the tears as best as she could. I could feel the war inside her body as she held back, trembling and squeezing her eyes shut. She was always so strong and I wanted to allow her the space to feel whatever emotion she was feeling if she was in the mood to express it.

After some time, she calmed and her breath became even. Imelda finally rolled over, looking at me. The light from the window spilled over her features and I gave her a small smile. “What has got you so worked up?” I asked. I was waiting for a spitfire answer but she just stared at me again with those big brown eyes.

 She wrapped her arms around me and I did the same to her. We shared her pillow while I rubbed her back. She adjusted herself and my hand went a bit too far, grazing her backside.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling my hand back. The blanket’s slid down cooling off the body heat between us.

She smirked and grabbed my hand, placing it on her thigh. “It’s fine. You can touch me anywhere.”

My fingers rested on her exposed skin, a bit higher than proper since her sleep shorts were riding up. I froze, unsure of what kind of joke this was. She teased me constantly, but never like this. Her toes grazed my foot as she brought her leg closer to me.

“What… do you mean by that?” I asked, hand still stiff on her exposed skin.

She took in a deep breath. “I mean what I said.”

She didn’t elaborate and I found my thumb sliding in small circles on her thigh. Chilled bumps rose and I gently squeezed her thigh where it transitioned into the swell of her ass. My mind felt blank as I did this, driven by a tiny voice inside my head for more. Her skin was soft and warm and she smelled of the same floral soap I used.

“Hey,” Imelda said, cupping my face and taking me out of the trance I was in. “If I am wrong, please tell me...”

I watched as she slowly inched forward. I looked down at her dark rosy lips, slightly parting as they neared mine. I leaned forward and our noses brushed, her breath fanned over my cheeks, then our lips met. I didn’t feel confused like I thought I should, kissing another woman. Instead, I felt free, like I was soaring. As Imelda tilted her head to deepen the kiss, I found my hand traveling up and down her form.

I’ve never felt the spark most people describe when kissing a lover. It's always been just that, two lips touching. But this… it felt right in every way possible. The way her lips quivered pressing into mine sent a bolt straight through me. What was once a cup of the face to pull one close was now a caress of affection and devotion, and what used to be groping and foreplay was a gentle escapade to explore one another for the sake of admiration and longing.

The entire world could be burning just outside but it wouldn’t even compare to the sudden passion that was set ablaze in my heart for her, for my best friend. Imelda lay back on the bed and pulled me with her. Her tongue darted into my mouth and I couldn't suppress the noise that escaped me. Now this, this was the feeling I'd been seeking all my life in the arms of another. I smiled into her kiss realizing it had been within my reach this whole time.

I touched her soft hair and slid my fingers down to her waist. I felt her curves and the strong muscles underneath from her many sporting practices. I then dared to move my hand up her stomach, splaying my fingers out to feel all of her. She had given me permission to touch her, but I wanted to give her a chance to change her mind. The closer I got to her chest the more her breathing picked up.

I cupped her breast in my hand and felt jubilant when she moaned for me. I was falling apart, breaking and shattering, and being rebuilt by her touches and sounds. I squeezed her breast again, the thin layer of her sleep shirt leaving nothing to the imagination, and rubbed my thumb over the soft peak. Her body came alive for me, her nipple hardening under my touch. I groaned into the kiss, a new feeling sweeping over me knowing I had this effect on her.

She was my best friend, my closest ally, and here she was, moaning and rubbing her body against mine as we tangled together, pining for more of my touch. I wondered if she was just as turned on as I was. I felt the heat between my legs and couldn't get over the idea that maybe she was just as turned on too.

"Imelda" I breathed "May I… uh" I tugged at her sleep shorts, the thin fabric stretching as I did.

She started kicking them off in a flurry. "Gods, yes."

I helped her out of her shorts and panties. On a roll, I pulled off her top and she tugged mine off too. Her hands cupped my newly exposed breast and her lips moved to kiss my nipple. A jolt of pleasure shot through me at the soft yet pleasurable sensation.

I moved my hand to her thighs and pushed until she parted for me. I had been trembling but nothing like this as my hand made its way up her leg. I felt embarrassed by the shaking but adrenaline was making its way through my veins in a frenzy. Imelda whimpered when my fingers grazed her center. My breath caught when my digit ran down her slit and found her so wet.

"I want to taste you." I gently pushed her to lay flat on her back again. "Please, please Imelda. Say yes," I begged, the warmth of her slick on my fingers causing me to lose my mind.

"Yes!" She pushed on my head until I was between her thighs. A smirk grew on my lips seeing her beautiful personality come out, the one I'd grown to love.

I pushed her legs apart, looking at the sight before me. Fuck, she was perfect. Every ounce of her body was beautifully and wonderfully made just for me, it felt. I used my thumb to reveal her clit and sighed when the nub was just as pink and swollen as I'd hoped.

Imelda groaned and rocked her hips, bucking against nothing. I ran my finger down the seam and met her entrance. Effortlessly, my finger slid inside. Her walls were silky smooth as they flexed around my intruding digit.

"That's enough teasing." Imelda decided.

I nodded. "I'm sorry, I will take time to explore you more later" I apologized, giving her clit a soft kiss.

Imelda groaned and tangled her hand in my hair again, pushing until my mouth was fully on her pussy. I licked and pressed my tongue down, feeling the bud roll over my tongue and give way to pressure. Imelda was practically panting the more I lapped at her clit

I circled my lips over the swelled clit and sucked lightly until her breath hitched. I used my tongue to swirl in circles until her legs were trembling around me. Her moans and reactions were all I could have ever wanted from her. I let up, giving her clit a momentary break while I moved down her cunt to taste the wetness unfolding. The taste was like no other. I groaned as I ventured more into the source.

I pressed my tongue flat and ran it all along the seam of her pussy. I gripped her rocking hips, keeping her at the perfect angle for my mouth. Imelda yelled my name with a string of curses and began to arch off the bed.

She didn't have to tell me, I knew, I could tell how close she was in the way her body amped up. I focused on her clit again, slipping my finger back inside her and rubbing circles over her g-spot. She was pulling at my hair, anchoring my face to rub her clit all over my tongue in a desperate manner.

I had never been so turned on in my life than when her moans became lewd and her cunt throbbed around my finger. I had known her for so long, I thought I’d known everything about her. But, this was very new. The way she whimpered my name, her lewd low moans, how she arched forward, keeping eye contact with me as pleasure pulsed through her. I reached up, cupping her breast in my hand and rubbing to add just a hint more pleasure to her euphoric moment.

When she came down, I kissed all over her thighs. I moved up her stomach and kissed her breasts again. I moved to her neck and tasted her skin and a hint of sweat.

She gasped and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight to her warm body. We lay like that for a long moment before I was pushed down, looking up at her.

It was my turn, then it was her turn again… then my turn again, over and over until the sun filled the bedroom.

We got about 45 minutes of sleep before we decided it was fruitless and got up for the day.

We took a shower together, and I got to wash her beautiful hair for her. She helped clean me off with the wash rag getting every inch of me clean. We made-out in the shower under the warm running water. I told her how beautiful she was and got to watch her cheeks blush in the light for the first time. She rolled her eyes playfully and pulled me in for an even hotter kiss.

We floated through breakfast and held hands under the table. We didn't leave each other's company until days later for her first mandatory quidditch practice began. The holiday break was over and classes would be starting up again soon.

I sat outside the quidditch pitch studying to get a head start on various classes until she was done. The next time I saw her, she had her hair back in a low ponytail and wore her green quidditch uniform. 

She had a single yellow flower in her hand as she joined me on the lawn. She offered it to me, twirling it in her fingers, with one question "Will you be my girlfriend?"

The hug I gave her had me tackling her to the ground. We both giggled and I said yes, a thousand times yes, as I kissed her neck and cheek. We finally looked at one another, her smile more wide than I'd ever seen it, and shared our first kiss as a couple.

So, Diary, that is why I haven't been around the last few weeks to update you. I will try to keep up with my entries in the future, but I can't promise I won't be swept away by my girlfriend yet again.

M.C.

[fanaticmorelikefantastic]

I'm just gonna put this here

It felt like it had been hours. Hell, when I checked the time, it really had been hours. Yet here I am, still staring at an empty Word document. Well, almost empty. I kept writing and rewriting the first few sentences. ‘It was a cold and stormy night.’ No. Who starts with that anymore? ‘It was summer, the summer of my-’ Ugh I hate summer, it makes me think of flies. ‘It’s too bad that every love ends with heartbreak.” I’m not even writing a tragedy what? Well I could, but I’d feel terribly bad about it and would eventually end up writing a messy redemption arc with countless plot holes. Ew. I don’t know how long this cycle continued for until I was entirely fed up with everything. That’s a lie, it lasted for an hour and forty five minutes. I was obsessively checking the clock the entire time as though it held some secret answer to my writing dilemma, or the universe, or something. But it doesn’t and I’m all out of ideas, and motivation, and friends, and real romance, and potatoes, and milk, and hair ties, and- okay let’s stop. I shut down my laptop and put it in its bag. For a moment I thought that I could finish that painting I’ve been working on (the one that was ordered by that pretentious a- be nice), but the tedium deterred me. (It does have to be done in the next ten weeks though. I wish I would’ve just picked a struggle instead of being so ambitious.) Maybe a break is what I needed. That or a change of scenery. Both maybe. After standing up and almost falling right back down, I was reminded to eat, or that I haven’t eaten, or that I should go out somewhere to eat while I write! Genius, absolute. I practically ran to my room to get dressed to go. I could walk around and see if there’s anything to eat nearby, or I could just go to one of my regular spots. I had a hankering for adventure today, so I settled on the former. Cute clothing always boosts morale, so let's put some on. I also make sure that they’re comfortable. It’s important to be comfortable when you’re planning on staring at a computer screen for several (more) hours. 

It must’ve been divine intervention that made me want to go outside, because whilst in this cafe (which I never really noticed before) words have been pouring out of my mind. A hook, an exposition, a main character that I actually don’t hate, it seemed like all the stars were aligning in favor of me and this story. Well, all the stars that aren’t the male lead. I had written all the way up to when we meet him, but there he goes, pulling a disappearing act. Nestled in the corner of a cute and cozy cafe on a late autumn morning seemed like the perfect place to have a meet cute with the fragmented image of a male lead, but strangely, he was nowhere to be found. I scanned around the space for any inspiration. The cozy wooden tables and decorations paired with sleek black accents along the ceiling and other places gave the area a moody and romantic feel. The only problem was that there weren’t any moody or romantic people whose style I could rip off for my character. I gave up on my plan pretty fast. I had made plenty of progress already (or at least I gaslit myself into thinking so), so I chose instead to worry about whether or not I should get another one of those delicious sandwiches. Paninis. The food they served here was stupidly good, and maybe it could magically imbue some new ideas into my head. I decided on getting the chicken version of the sandwich (panini) I just had. While I ordered at the counter, my eyes wandered to a mini key lime tart seated behind the glass. I wondered for a second what their desserts tasted like, nestled all cozy in their display. It's what they specialize and advertise so I’m sure they’re delicious, but I needed an excuse to come back later, right? 

I settled into my seat, a new spot closer to the window this time, thinking that maybe a different view would help me to finally write in this character. His personality was already pretty much decided (it’s written in the notebook I have reserved for this book), but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what he was to look like. While pondering at my meal (sandwich (panini)), I heard the little cowbell on the door jingle and I instinctively looked up. I was joking earlier, but now I’m sure that some higher being brought me here because the man that just walked in was drop dead gorgeous. He was an absolute unit, his arm muscles unmistakably flexing in his short sleeved shirt (not that I was looking or anything (no, really they looked at me first). It was gray, which I usually wouldn’t like, but when it’s tucked into a pair of dark blue jeans fixed by a belt that matched the combat boots peeking from under them (the jeans), I waver just a bit. That’s all well and great, but the real kicker was when he glazed his eyes across the room. Oh my goodness his eyes. It felt like getting hit by a ton of bricks but if the bricks were made of metaphorical blue raspberry jell-o imbued with pure effervescence. It seemed like my fingers were floating when I wrote:

‘His eyes were blue when they met mine. I know it’s terribly cliche, but I couldn’t help but notice the cold, milky blue in his irises that melted away like a glacier when he looked to the floor. With gentle hands, he picked up my wallet, placing it in my hand that was, embarrassingly, frozen in place. I grasped it mindlessly as we both stood up. 

“Be careful not to drop it next time.” Not if you’re around to pick it up for me. 

“Yea.” I sounded pathetic. I felt pathetic. I looked pathetic as I watched him walk away, heart full of hopes, stomach full of butterflies, and head full of dreams.’ 

He walked right by me and I froze, the result of a sort of guilt for using him as a basis for someone in my novel. I tried to steal a discreet glance at him, but it was just my luck that he sat down in a cafe, by himself, with just one coffee, to do nothing. He wasn’t even on his phone. I immediately turned back around, not giving myself any time to see if he saw me or not because of course he did. He didn’t have anything else to look at (Wow, I sound so stuck up). I do my best to wrap up the paragraph I’m on and hide the embarrassment I feel towards this stranger that probably doesn’t even know I’m writing a paragraph about a girl falling in love with a fictitious version of him. I feel gross about it, but it’s not like I’m stalking him or anything, I just appropriated his likeness to write into my novel, which will be published, and people will (hopefully) read. I left before he did and on my way back I wondered why it was that I felt so guilty about it. It surely wasn’t the first time I pilfered a random name called by the barista at Starbucks, or stole the style of somebody I saw out of my window, or even took the words from a conversation I’d overheard for the sake of my writing. This time it felt a little more personal, maybe it’s because he was my type: tall, blonde, and built like a refrigerator. Whatever it was, I put it behind me by the time I got home. After all, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again. Now that chicken panini? That’s a different story.

Enter tomorrow morning, where I wake up refreshed, and early, and equipped with a name for our favorite love interest. Leon. It was a great name to give him, simple and iconic so the readers (and I) will remember it throughout the rest of the story. Also it goes great with the name Audrey. Audrey and Leon, star crossed lovers.  For a moment, the image of the guy from the coffee shop flashed through my mind, but that man’s name could never be Leon. I stretch my limbs, popping almost every joint in my body, before stepping into the shower and thinking about how his (the guy from yesterday’s) name probably starts with a J. He looked like a Jason, or maybe a Jamie. Definitely a Jamie. After I quickly jot down the name (Leon, not Jamie) into my notebook, which has gained more than a few stickers on the cover, I decide that now is the perfect time to go for a walk, maybe even a jog. It’s not often that I wake up feeling so great, so I have to take full advantage of it. Athletic leggings and a sleeveless top, something I don’t usually wear, but today we’re getting out of our box. I give a small thanks to laser hair removal as I put them on. The shirt matches the stripe in the leggings, which matches my shoes. I love how it matches. I also love how my leggings have a pocket on the side, and how it zips closed. I say another thanks to feminist clothing designers as I put my phone in said pocket before checking my ponytail once more in the mirror and leaving from my front door (like I have any other one). I make extra sure to lock it, turns out I hadn’t last time, which was scary, but thankfully inconsequential. 

The elevator to the lobby was filled with bliss. I even said hello to the receptionist on my way out of the building. I logged two miles around the park, half of which I actually jogged for. I sat on a bench, feeling accomplished and wondering if I should do another lap around, or maybe I should reward my excellence with a little treat, a chicken panini perhaps. I remembered those sweets they had on display at that shop (I can’t remember the name of it for the life of me) and decided that I’d rather die than not eat one of those this morning. I just did a run, I already worked off the calories, right? I did my best to perform a discreet smell check before heading that direction. I hummed lightly to myself all the way there, brainstorming ideas for how to progress my novel. It’d be cool if she found out his name by accident, like seeing it on his belongings, or overheating a friend say it, or something. That’s all fine and good, but the trope of saying ‘The name’s Leon’ still has a vice grip on me. I should've brought my notebook along. Then I could have written all this down. The friendly jingle of the door bell greeted me as I walked in the store. When I took my place in line, the focus of my thoughts shifted to which dessert I should get. Something with apples for sure. I love apples. They’re so refreshing and kinda earthy? There are so many kinds of apples, but they all taste similar somehow. I wonder why. I couldn’t pinpoint the reason before it was my turn to enthusiastically order an apple turnover (and a chai latte, I couldn’t help myself when I saw someone order one before me). I received the turnover in a little brown baggie and took a seat nearby to wait for my latte. While waiting, I pondered the second meeting of our (my) favorite protagonists and if Jamie is getting another medium black coffee right now. Wait, Jamie? I snapped myself back into reality as I watched (the man that I secretly dubbed) Jamie walk into the store and towards the ordering counter. I hadn’t expected him to be here again today, or at least that’s what I told myself because I couldn’t admit the possibility of him being a regular here. He probably was. I had (thankfully) barely started my thought spiral when my name was called at the counter. I mindlessly walked up and grabbed my cup. What a coincidence, I walked to the counter just in time to witness Jamie order a medium coffee with cream, but no sugar. I looked at him for a second, one second too long apparently. He looked at me (with those eyes, those infuriatingly gorgeous ones that made me sacrifice my writing morals to make the male lead have ones the exact same color) and smiled. He smiled at me, a knowing one as though he knew something I didn’t. Did he? Probably. I returned it along with a polite nod, then tried my best to exit the store with my dignity intact. Unfortunately, fate had different plans. I had barely taken a couple steps away when I heard a voice call out to me.

“Hey wait up!” It was him. I know it was, I just heard him order his coffee. His voice sounds like coffee, rich and smooth. I turn around, putting on my best I-definitely-didn’t-plan-to-write-a-whole-book-about-you face.

“Yea?” I can’t get over how perfect he looks. It feels illegal for a man to have such flawless skin and- scar? Why would he have a-

“Hey um, I just couldn’t help but notice you at the cafe earlier. Well I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna meet up for a chat there sometime?” I would die for this man. It was something about the way he said it, or maybe he’s just using his evil eye powers to hypnotize me because I feel like I could never say no to him and I have an alarming lack of qualms about it. 

“Yea- Yea, um I think that’d be nice! Well, my name is _ and I’ll look forward to meeting you- uhh…” I gave him that please-tell-me-your-name look that people do when they want to finish their sentence. He laughed a bit. Well, more like a lighthearted exhale, but I say it counts.

“Leon. It’s Leon” Oh. My. God. Oh no. Oh dear.

“Leon, Okay! Do you, uhh” I moved the bag that held my pastry to be precariously secured by the hand that held my latte in order to grab my phone from my pocket. 

“Oh, yeah, let me put my number in.” Leon gently took it from my hand when I held it out to him (he also scrambled my brain by making me try to figure out how his hands could simultaneously feel like clouds and alligators). I watched him type his name, then his number. All my thoughts must’ve gotten scared and hidden away, because my head feels empty as  a helium balloon. I clumsily receive my phone back once he’s done, looking at the name ‘Leon S. Kennedy’, then back at him. He’s so gorgeous and he’s just standing there, smiling, but not like an idiot (I’m the one smiling like that), he’s more like, a reassuring fireman. 

“I’ll see you around then?” I barely registered that he was talking to me. It felt like I was having a semi-lucid dream where once I wake up, I realize my entire life until now was just a figment of my imagination. 

“Yea.” I sounded pathetic. I felt pathetic. I looked pathetic as I watched him walk away, head full with dreams, heart full with hopes, and stomach fluttering with butterflies. 

…

I am so dead.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiii! Here’s the bookcomb for Katniss receiving affection, Catching Fire Edition 🥰🥰🥰🥰. Again, I tried to limit this to when she was receiving affection, not giving, so like the see you at midnight kiss couldn’t make the cut, etc. Anyways I love doing these! 🩵🩵🩵🩵

-

I gulp my tea even though it’s too hot and push back from the table. “I better get going. Make myself presentable for the cameras.”

Hazelle hugs me. “Enjoy the food.”

-

Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn’t see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn’t have much choice, because I’d gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink.

-

I’d given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I’d skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn’t even know I’d gone hunting and they’d be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me.

-

“Has anyone touched this since you last saw us?” he asks sternly. “Remember, we specifically asked you to leave your hair alone.”

“Yes!” I say, grateful that I can show I haven’t totally taken them for granted. “I mean, no, no one’s cut it. I did remember that.” No, I didn’t. It’s more like the issue never came up. Since I’ve been home, all I’ve done is stick it in its usual old braid down my back.

This seems to mollify them, and they all kiss me, set me on a chair in my bedroom, and, as usual, start talking nonstop without bothering to notice if I’m listening.

-

When my hair is done, I find Cinna downstairs in the living room, and just the sight of him makes me feel more hopeful. He looks the same as always, simple clothes, short brown hair, just a hint of gold eyeliner. We embrace, and I can barely keep from spilling out the entire episode with President Snow.

-

Just then, Effie Trinket arrives in a pumpkin orange wig to remind everyone, “We’re on a schedule!” She kisses me on both cheeks while waving in the camera crew, then orders me into position.

-

My face breaks into a huge smile and I start walking in Peeta’s direction. Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips — he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg — and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry.

-

We slog back to the train in silence. In the hallway outside my door, Haymitch gives my shoulder a pat and says, “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

-

“You know, everyone’s always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven’t seen them,” I say.

“Well, I’ve got a whole train car full.” He rises and offers me his hand. “Come on.”

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand.

-

Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. The mayor’s introducing us as the massive doors open with a groan.

-

The man has only just crumpled to the ground when a wall of white Peacekeeper uniforms blocks our view. Several of the soldiers have automatic weapons held lengthwise as they push us back toward the door.

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building.

-

Somewhere below, musicians begin to play. As the first wave of our little procession begins down the steps, Peeta and I join hands.

-

Cinna begins to take in my clothes around the waist. The prep team frets over the circles under my eyes. Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment.

-

President Snow himself makes a surprise visit to congratulate us. He clasps Peeta’s hand and gives him an approving slap on the shoulder. He embraces me, enfolding me in the smell of blood and roses, and plants a puffy kiss on my cheek.

-

The music’s slow and dreamlike, so Peeta pulls me into his arms and we move in a circle with practically no steps at all. You could do this dance on a pie plate.

-

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. I turn, being careful not to disturb him, but he’s already awake.

[…]

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.”

“Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead.

-

He steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy.

-

“You’re sure?” I say. “Because it’s going to be hard, with the kids and all. I don’t want to get five miles into the woods and have you —

“I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being, radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.”

That’s why.

-

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale.

-

“No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him.

“And avoiding a stroll by the Hob . . . that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building.

-

“None of you deserves candy!” I say.

“What, because we’re right?” Peeta wraps his arms around me. I give a small yelp of pain as my tailbone objects. I try to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I’m hurt. “Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we’re all idiots. How’s that?”

“Better,” I say, and accept his kiss.

-

When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily.

-

She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there.

“Don’t go yet. Not until I fall asleep,” I say.

Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his.

[…]

“No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today.

-

My whole body aches with exhaustion. So I let my mother doctor me and feed me breakfast in bed and tuck another quilt around me.

-

Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television.

-

I want to ask them more, but Cinna appears to give me a hug and check my makeup.

-

As I stagger up the steps to my house, the front door opens and Gale pulls me into his arms. “I was wrong. We should have gone when you said,” he whispers.

-

They appear in the doorway, holding tea and toast, their faces filled with concern. I open my mouth, planning to start off with some kind of joke, and burst into tears.

So much for being strong.

My mother sits on the side of the bed and Prim crawls right up next to me and they hold me, making quiet soothing sounds, until I am mostly cried out. Then Prim gets a towel and dries my hair, combing out the knots, while my mother coaxes tea and toast into me. They dress me in warm pajamas and layer more blankets on me and I drift off again.

-

Downstairs, my mother and Prim embrace me again, but they’re not overly emotional. I know they’re holding things in to make it easier on me.

-

When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It’s the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he’s offered me any sort of affection. He’s been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go.

-

Cinna just smiles. “Had a damp morning?”

“You could wring me out,” I reply.

Cinna puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me into lunch.

-

I’m determined to keep him alive, knowing the cost will be my own life, but the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it’s Peeta, not Haymitch, beside me. Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one.

-

It’s such a short ride that there’s no real time for conversation, but when Peeta takes my hand, I don’t pull it away.

-

Peeta and I are finally left alone. He reaches across the table to take my hands. “Decided what to do for the Gamemakers yet?”

[…]

We sit in silence awhile and then I blurt out the thing that’s on both our minds. “How are we going to kill these people, Peeta?”

“I don’t know.” He leans his forehead down on our entwined hands.

-

We finish the meal in silence, but when we rise to go into the sitting room, Cinna puts his arm around me and gives me a squeeze. “Come on and let’s go get those training scores.”

-

Peeta walks me down to my room in silence, but before he can say good night, I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. His hands slide up my back and his cheek leans against my hair.

-

It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows.

-

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta’s lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he’s practicing his knots.

-

The other tributes begin to line up as well. I’m confused because, while they all are angry, some are giving us sympathetic pats on the shoulder, and Johanna Mason actually stops to straighten my pearl necklace.

“Make him pay for it, okay?” she says.

-

I automatically rise and, as I do, I sense Peeta reaching out for me. Tears run down his face as I take his hand.

-

“Any last words of advice?” Peeta asks.

“Stay alive,” Haymitch says gruffly. That’s almost an old joke with us now. He gives us each a quick embrace, and I can tell it’s all he can stand. “Go to bed. You need your rest.”

-

Do we sleep? I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking. Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest.

-

Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go. Tributes enter the arena alone. He gives me a light kiss. “See you soon,” he says.

“See you soon,” I answer.

-

We sit, as we did last year, holding hands until the voice tells me to prepare for the launch. He walks me over to the circular metal plate and zips up the neck of my jumpsuit securely. “Remember, girl on fire,” he says, “I’m still betting on you.” He kisses my forehead and steps back as the glass cylinder slides down around me.

-

When they reach the sand, I help haul Peeta up onto dry land.

“Hello, again,” he says, and gives me a kiss. “We’ve got allies.”

“Yes. Just as Haymitch intended,” I answer.

-

We position ourselves in a line at the mouth of the hut and Peeta slips his hand into mine.

-

I stretch out, pressing my hot cheek on the grass mat, staring at the thing in aggravation. Peeta rubs a tense spot between my shoulders and I let myself relax a little.

-

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.

-

While Johanna collects water and my arrows, Beetee fiddles with his wire, and Finnick takes to the water. I need to clean up, too, but I stay in Peeta’s arms, still too shaken to move.

-

Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. I watch the water as he watches the jungle, which is better for me. I’m still haunted by the voices of the jabberjays, which unfortunately the insects can’t drown out. After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair.

-

This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

-

I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick.

-

There’s nothing to do now but wait. Peeta and I sit at the edge of the water, hand in hand, wordless. He gave his speech last night but it didn’t change my mind, and nothing I can say will change his.

-

“Gale,” I whisper.

“Hey, Catnip.” He reaches down and pushes a strand of hair out of my eyes.

-

[typewriter83]

Hi! I've been following your work for some time now, and I think you're such a prolifically skilled writer. I prefer the canon dynamic between Joel and Ellie, and the fact that their relationship has father-daughter themes but isnt purely that, yet also isn't romantic. However, I will dabble in some stories about Joellie and I do find that concept interesting. Just out of curiosity, I was wondering what your thoughts are on one of the OG fics, Flying to Wyoming? I noticed you mentioned it in a previous post listing fics. I know that while it's well-written, it's also considered a rather controversial (and at times, extreme) fic, and for good reason. I'm interested in seeing what other people think.

Oh, hello! First of all, sweet new cub, you’re too kind - I’m so touched that you enjoy my stories. Like sincerely touched. Thank you.

I came into the the TLOU fandom from the show, looking for Joel&Ellie stories, and had no interest in the romantic ship - shh, don’t tell the cubs - but it was fics that drew my attention and curiosity and eventually the brain rot sent in. I’m a fan of the canon dynamics too - minus Ellie’s treatment of Joel in Part 2, but that’s a topic for another day.

But yes, let’s talk about Flying to Wyoming because on the surface, it’s the quintessential Joellie story - discussion below the cut - it’s LONG, so buckle up.

FtW is one of those stories that I should have let lie, should have let it be a one and done, enjoyed it and never gone back. I read the entire 600k word behemoth in less than a week, which means I was speed-reading, skimming and not in great depth and detail. But at the end, those last paragraphs of the final installment, I was crying, like tears flowing down my cheeks and I wandered my house like I’d lost real people in my life. (Am dramatic, didn’t y’all know?)

The basic dynamics of the story are there - a sweeping epic, cross-country survival adventure where a teenaged orphan girl falls in love with her older male protector, one of the first people that’s ever protected her, ever put her first. Much like the canon story, Ellie starts off terrified of Joel and what he might be capable of, and Joel treats Ellie like cargo because he doesn’t want to get close to her and fail yet another that comes into his life. And, honestly, this story could have been a platonic story, 100% it would have worked - even with undertones of a teenager crushing on an older man, it would have worked. But, because of the twist the writer takes, we have a whole different angle that’s being built up to - trust me, guilt-ridden Joel is my bread and butter and there’s a lot of guilt in his inner dialogue. Ellie’s a very curious, horny teenager - which is pretty much on target for the character. I’ve written both these angles, myself, and so have others.

So, what’s my problem with it? It’s a lot. The change in dynamics after the FtW2 - it’s been awhile since I’ve read it, so if I mess up the timeline, that’s on me - Ellie is still 14 when they set out for SLC and the explicit sexual activities ramp up pretty quickly especially at the bed and breakfast. I’m judging here - okay, maybe a little, and I have no place to judge - but that’s a lot for a young teenage girl. My problem with it is simply a matter of opinion - Ellie was so young. Am I a prude? Was I sheltered? Maybe - or maybe it just wasn’t my cup of tea for reading material.

The writer is talented, his depictions of a broken world are brilliantly detailed. His depictions of how states would fight states and the scars left in the earth after battles that took place long before Ellie was born are gorgeously detailed. His descriptions of abandoned and desolate towns along the highways are incredible. Some of my favorite scenes come from their stops along the way, but namely the town at the edge of the Mississippi where they stop for bike repairs - it’s a real bonding moment for Joel & Ellie and the town’s description is vividly painted.

Those are my positive takeaways from the story - the writer draws you in with his depictions of the broken world and it’s part of the draw to the TLOU universe for me as well. The whole idea of two humans walking - or on the back of a bike - across a broken country, it’s just so compelling.

Back to the Joellie aspect of the saga.

It’s made very clear in the final story - which by the way is the best title: The Home at the End of the Road is just a perfect title to describe not only their home once they settle in Jackson, but Jackson itself is their home at the end of their long journey. I could weep - anyway, by the final story, it’s made clear that Ellie is considered an adult by end-of-the-world standards when she turns 16, and Joel is finally ready (at peace?) to give himself completely to her. I didn’t particularly care for the scene itself - it’s not how I would have written it, it’s not what I was looking for or expecting, but we’re not yucking on anyone’s yum here, it just wasn’t it for me.

The story jumps ahead by a good decade and immediately takes a sad, different kind of dark turn - we know Joel is mortal (for some of us, he’s not, but here he is) and the writer spends the last chapter showing that they’ve started a family but Joel’s mortality is this dark cloud over the home at the end of the road.

What I’m about to say next is entirely my opinion - I never had a chance to speak to the writer, he was long gone from ao3 by the time I read this story - this is my opinion. The idea of the war between FEDRA and surrounding communities felt like it was taken straight out of The Walking Dead - I don’t mean that in a bad way, just that it felt out of place for the universe. TWD and TLOU take place in different times beyond the start of their respective outbreaks - TWD is about 15ish years after the outbreak when the show ends and FtW is about 30-35 years after - that’s a big difference. I don’t think there are a lot of big communities out there in the TLOU universe - not like what was depicted in FtW, and an all out war against FEDRA. Again this is just my opinion.

When I set out to write Every Night Has Its Dawn, I wanted the epilogue to be an homage and draw inspiration from the final chapter of Home at the End of the Road. I wanted to show that living at the end of the world could be possible for Joel and Ellie and the family they have together. I was so devastated by FtW ending with not only Ellie losing Joel and one of her children, but then she loses her own life. It was too heartbreaking, and I had another vision.

That’s a lot of fucking rambling to get to the point. The story itself is a good story - the details and the way the Joel/Ellie relationship were written were not my cup of tea and I can see why you say that it’s an extreme example of the forbidden ship. It is. It’s a lot - there’s a lot of graphic descriptions of underage sexual activity, and it’s depraved, a lot of it. Does that make it bad? No, it makes it someone else’s enjoyment. It gives us writers inspiration though - there’s a lot he writes that I strive to write, but there’s a lot that I would change, and maybe did a little to fit into my universe.

Anyway, that’s my long winded take. If you stick around this long, y’all deserve a medal. Drop a line if you wanna add something to this. I would love to discuss more.

🫶🏻

[gasha40k]

At long last! It’s been a while since my last post, although I’m sure I could probably start every post by saying that. Warhammer has taken a back-burner position in my life for the past few months. I haven’t played a game of 40k since October! If I’m honest, this is primarily because of money. I’ll spare everyone the rant and say that 40k’s prohibitively expensive nature has become, well, prohibiting, I guess. But that being said, the fixation always returns. And return it has! In the last however-many-months since my last post, I’ve spent most of my 40k time playing Kill Team and avoiding finishing my reading of Angron: The Red Angel, but I’ve done a little bit of fun stuff on the side that I’d like to share.

First time using colored primer went pretty well! Certainly saved me a lot of time and Mephiston Red paint

Angron is progressing! Since my last post I’ve primed him and most of his subassemblies. I’m painting him sort of in half, with his left arm and wing detached, as well as his bronze armor plating. I’m doing this so that I can get in and color the backsides of his wings properly.

This guy has been a big challenge so far. A model this large is both imposing and resource-intensive, and I’ve done literally no painting as of recent, so I’m likely not going to finish him for a long while, but I’m excited for when I eventually do.

Formerly known as Urayen’s Reavers, the Eclipse Cavaliers are a band of opportunistic Aeldari Corsairs who all seek one thing and one thing alone: profit

Moving on. As I mentioned previously, I started playing Kill Team this year, and I gotta say, KT fucking rocks! The rules are super approachable and the small scale of the game allows for much more focused and cinematic battles. It’s also a lot quicker, which makes it much easier to get pickup games in, which means I can actually play some 40k sometimes nowadays.

These xenos boys are known as the Eclipse Cavaliers. They’re a band of scumbag Corsairs and my squad of choice. I’ve written a lot of backstory for these boys so as to texture my games a bit more for myself, so I’m gonna put all that stuff in another post where I can talk about these characters in a bit more detail.

The 2nd Company is lead by the boisterous Captain Zaraf Gorfried Redfale. They specialize in the utilization of heavy war implements, such as Gravis armor, tanks, and artillery vehicles

Now that we’re onto more conceptual subject matter, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how the Thunderbearers actually function as a Chapter. Each Company of the Thunderbearers controls a massive warfleet—much larger than the average fleet of most Successor Chapters—and acts as a semi-autonomous fighting force in and of itself, with the ability to prosecute independent campaigns so long as they remain aligned and in accordance with the Chapter as a whole. The 1st Company is functionally the “core” of the Chapter, made up of the Chapter’s command fleet, veteran company, and portions of the 10th.

The 2nd Company is technically the first of the Chapter’s autonomous fighting forces, and they’re also the only Company for which I own a Captain (the big Gravis fucker who I show off pretty often). The 2nd Company’s culture can largely be sourced to that of a feudal desert world known as Manticore. As the 2nd Company makes up a good amount of the Chapter’s infantry regiments, I felt it necessary to give them their own heraldry.

The special heraldry on their armor pays respect to Manticore in a few different ways. First and foremost, the red armor is a visual homage to the cold, crimson dunes that cover Manticore, but secondarily, it is a holdover tradition that comes from Manticoran warrior culture, wherein it was standard practice to color one’s armor with any number of red pigments so as to camouflage themselves in the dunes. Over time, different colorations of red grew to signify different things, with the 2nd Company’s crimson and gold coming to represent wealth and nobility.

I think that having a squad or two with a splash of red will really make my Space Marines pop out a little bit, and will definitely add some variation into my annoyingly uniform army. I’m thinking of doing little streaks of red on a few of the vehicles, as well, which will make them stand out too.

Speaking of vehicles, the Thunderbearers have received some reinforcements!

This is a Ballistus Dreadnought that I got my hands on through a friend of mine who was selling his Astartes. I kitbashed him a little but tried not to overdo it with the baubles, since my Redemptor is a bit of a piece. Design-wise, I tried to make this a sort of “Primaris update” of one of my first models, Big Harold.

The Aurum Eternatus, one of the Chapter’s most sanctified relics, is a Venerable Dreadnought whose chassis contains the body of the previous fallen Chapter-Master

The thing that I like the most about the Venerable Dreadnought is the ornate look to it. It’s got a lot of trim and fancy panels everywhere and kind of looks like a church-mech.

This aesthetic choice is most noticeable in the lascannon, in my opinion. Combined with the gold trim, the cool indented archway designs on the side panel of the las sorta gives “Gothic castle wall.”

While I couldn’t really replicate the trim, I did use a bunch of bits from the Venerable Dreadnought kit to up the Gothic factor. There’s also a noticeable lack of purity seals on Big Harold, which was something that I absolutely had to remedy. There’s 7 seals! Now we’ve got a proper 7-times blessed Primaris-scale lascannon to snipe tanks with.

Harold has sort of fallen out of use in my lists recently because, uh, Venerable Dreadnoughts do not exist anymore. Awesome! The older Dreads just aren’t as good as Redemptors as well, so Harold has sort of retired to a more ritualistic position on the Chapter.

In his stead, though, we’ve got quite a few new additions to the army alongside our Ballistus. Not included here is another drop pod and a bunch of new infantry units.

Sternguard Veterans of the Thunderbearers 1st Company

Here’s one of ‘em! This is my first squad of Sternguard Veterans, but I’m in the process of building another. Like the Ballistus, these dudes are as of yet unnamed, but I like them quite a bit! To be critical, though, I think I overdid it with some of the bits, but I’m sure the silhouettes will look less obnoxious once they’re all painted and voluminous.

My favorite of the bunch is probably the Veteran Sergeant. His heroic pose and classic bits give “default Space Marine.” And the Veteran on the left is using a bit of a unique shoulder pad that may or may not be a cleansed and sanctified Chaos relic, which may or may not be a common practice in the Thunderbearers Reclusiam Cataegis.

Next post will include the Eclipse Cavaliers and a new Thunderbearers character guy.

[perotovar]

Erin 👉👈 is there a song on your wrapped you associate with River? If so…could you write a lil river drabble?? If you wanna 🥺

I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THE REACTION THIS GAVE ME, GIDEON! I HAD TO COMPOSE MYSELF FOR 15 MINUTES

FIC?? FOR MY OC?? MY LOVELY RIVER??? HAPPILY, MY LOVE!!!!

this takes place pre-frankie for obv reasons, but also because they strike me as the casual hookup/fling type. frankie was a surprise for them and they definitely didn't see things going in the direction that they went, and absolutely thought frankie would just be a fun hookup.

it's also my first try at x reader/2nd pov! pls be nice 🥺👉👈

gimme a number from 1-100 and i'll write a drabble based off that song in my spotify wrapped

pairing: river price (nb/afab)(they/them) x reader (gn)

62. White Hot – Loathe

a sense my body finds feelings and thoughts align enough to find a sense, our bodies' crime colors swirl tonight, i walk in rhythm a shift in me, soon you'll see our colors swirl in rhythm

They giggled as they pressed you against the wall of your apartment. Soft kisses trailed down your throat, followed by little nips and sucks, making you shiver and moan softly.

You’d seen them at The Night Owl before. Always from a distance and surrounded by a small group of friends. They were easy to see, always catching your eye no matter where in the club both of you were. Their long hair always perfect, not a strand out of place. Makeup always done to perfection, and clothes fitting them just right. Who wouldn’t be captivated by them?

You don’t know how you got to this point, with their mouth attached to your neck and their ring-clad fingers gripping at your ass. Luck, you guessed. 

“Bedroom?” They whispered, lips latching onto your earlobe to nibble softly. You nodded, eyes half-lidded and glossy, a dazed expression on your face as you pointed in the direction of your room. “Do you want me to fuck you? Or do you want to fuck me?” You’re pretty sure your brain was making the dial-up tone as you saw the smirk spread across their painted lips. 

“F-fuck me,” you gasped, your jelly-like legs following after them. They pushed you lightly onto your mattress until your back was flat against it.

“Good answer,” River hummed, undoing your pants and pulling them down and off. You watched as they unbuttoned their shirt, tattooed skin nearly glowing in the dim light. You shivered, your arousal building the longer they stayed here. You did your very best not to pinch yourself. “Do you have the… equipment, for that?” They asked, grinning wickedly down at you. You gulped and nodded, pointing toward the harness and dildo in your closet.

The next couple of hours are almost a blur of moans and skin slapping and sweat. Deep scratches and dark marks embedded into your skin, you silently trying to catch your breath, eyes shut softly. Plush lips kiss along your collarbone and up until meeting your lips, making you melt further into the mattress. You’re pretty sure you could stay here and kiss them for hours, perhaps even days. 

They moan softly into your mouth before coming up for air, pressing their forehead to yours. “Thank you,” they whispered. “I was waiting for you to say something.”

You opened your eyes and furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

River smiled, a little shy this time. “I’ve seen you. At the club,” they bit their lip, and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to approach me or not, so,” they shrugged. “My friends had a bit of a bet going.”

You blinked, completely shocked. “Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” They asked, resting on their elbow as their head was cradled by their palm. “Look at you,” River smiled, green eyes roving over your naked body appreciatively.

Warmth spread across your cheeks and you smiled shyly, hiding your face in their neck. They laughed softly, one hand caressing the back of your head while the other moved down to squeeze your ass.

Silence fell over the room as you cuddled, and eventually, River started to get up. You lifted your head from their neck and frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?” You asked, worried you’d been too clingy.

“I should probably…” River trailed off, eyebrows turned down, insecurity washing over them.

“Oh,” you said softly. “I mean, only if you want to. I, uh… I’d love it if you stayed. A-at least for the night? I make a mean breakfast sandwich,” you smiled hopefully.

A soft smile graced River’s features as they looked down at their painted nails. “Do you have a veggie option?” They asked towards the bedroom floor, shuffling on their feet slightly. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you nodded, holding your hand out for them to climb back in. When they did, you held them close to your chest this time, your fingertips running across their bare back comfortingly.

River stuck around for a few weeks, and you think it might’ve been the best few weeks you’d had in a long time.

[justice-is-a-weapon]

In vino veritas [Dazai x gn reader]

·•━━━━━━━⋆⋅☆⋅⋆━━━━━━━•·

Chapter 15 / ?

previous | next

TW: mentions of depression

Walking outside I took a seat right next to the door. I took in the view I was presented with. To my left a run down car. It must’ve stood there for god knows how long, considering it was overtaken by rust, the black paint chipping away. I heard some birds chirp nearby. I, however, was not in the mood for chirping.

I took a look at my watch. 4:38 pm. It had taken me exactly 20 minutes to calm down from the fight. At least I had now calmed down so much as to not bash in Dazai’s face when seeing him again. Now I tried focusing on what exactly he had done to avoid letting him trigger me like that again. I recognized a pattern. Dazai will at first ignore any issue he faces while also being completely aware of it, then, when he needs to actually face it or is confronted with the issue, he may snap. This usually leads to the other person involved giving up when they can make the decision to do so. This is the route I assumed his colleagues usually took. Well, it was the easiest way out. But sometimes the easiest way is not the right one. I took route two: Confronting the issue head on. That was my error. Or maybe it wasn’t. It definitely made Dazai turn directly against me. Dazai is very likely to attack even those who he cares about when he feels threatened. I’d need to stay away for now. No provocation. First thing is making him feel safe, not threatened.

I still need to clean that bathroom though. He needs a shower. Or a bath.

I had also been too harsh on him. Maybe I should apologize. Yes. I will apologize.

I took another deep breath. We both fucked up, I thought. I could check his mailbox while I was at it. Nothing except for some bills to pay, advertising and some sort of weekly news subscription. With that I sat down again, leaning back against the wall, closing my eyes.

I imagined Dazai walking out the door, sitting down next to me. He'd first complain about the bills but he’s also saying sorry in my imagination, sorry for causing me all this trouble. I’d tell him not to be sorry, he’s just feeling intense emotions and this meant stuff like this could follow. I don’t blame him. Although him saying sorry would help me immensely. It’d be proof we’re both merely human.

But I’m taken back into reality.

Dazai is not sitting next to me. Instead I’m met with two long legs. My gaze follows from the brown dress shoes, over the beige dress pants, up to the black collar and lastly his face. I’ve settled on calling his hair “piss blonde” by now. He doesn’t like me anyway.

“So why are you sitting out here? Thought he probably ghosted you too.”

It’s more of a statement than a question.

“Well he did,” I finally answered, “But I’m more of a ‘I’ll break into your house if I need to’ type of person y'know?”

“Makes sense.”

I don’t question his response. An uncomfortable silence follows.

“I know you don’t like me.”

He looks at me, not quite expecting me to talk nor my sudden honesty. I just roll my eyes.

“Don’t act like I can’t be honest for once.”

A pause.

“I know that you know that I don’t like you.”

Now it was my turn to quirk a brow at him. Thankfully he answered my unspoken question.

“Dazai told me.”

This made me whip my head towards him. I hated how much I reacted to the simple mention of Dazai. I suddenly felt a bit caught.

“He gave me quite the verbal beating the day after.”

“He did?”

“I’m usually not afraid of Dazai but he seemed pretty determined to change my mind.”

He took another look at me. I prepared myself, thinking harsh words would follow. Kunikida didn’t like me. He didn’t trust me and I knew it.

But I was surprised.

“I don’t completely hate you. But I don’t like you either.”

He sat down next to me. Right where I imagined Dazai just a minute before.

“Just seeing you sit here tells me you’re determined too. I like determination. It’s part of my ideals. I’m a man that is determined to follow my ideals. They give my life meaning.”

“I’d call that fanaticism.”

“To some it might be yes. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make. I was actually trying to tell you there’s traits I like about you too.”

“Oh wow. Thanks for the compliment.”

I said rather sarcastically. I looked up at him, our eyes meeting for a second. He seemed softer. He was serious.

“Thank you for putting up with him. I know he can get a bit difficult.”

I hadn’t expected such kind words from Kunikida. He then shook his head and continued.

“To be honest I don’t get how or why you do it.”

With that he let out a long sigh and rested his head against the wall, looking towards the sky, then closing his eyes. I exhaled, slightly laughing.

“I just try again and again. Why? Because he’s my friend. Of course he’s an ass but I’ll make sure he’s doing okay.”

“You’re something for sure.”

We sat in silence for a second.

“I miss him too, yknow.”

Silence. Then his eyes widened.

“Please don’t tell him I said that.”

Now this made me laugh.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

I wanted to ask him another question but didn’t know if it would be too invasive. After some thinking about it I decided to do it.

“Why are you here though?”

“Mainly to check up on him I guess. But someone beat me to it.”

Again, comfortable silence.

“I used the premise of giving him his work stuff. Mainly a lot of documents. But I really just wanted to see if he’s doing okay.”

For a man so focused on ideals instead of emotion Kunikida seemed to actually have a heart. This made me happy. It was proof that I was not talking to a robot.

“Is… Is he doing okay?”

“I think it’s a depressive episode.”

“Oh… I see.”

“But we’re making progress.”

He looked me up and down.

“If you’re making progress, why are you out here?”

“Sometimes getting your ass kicked is also progress.”

A small chuckle from Kunikida.

“How far did you push him?”

“Insulted me, yelled at me, tried to tell me I’m nothing-“

“Oh I see. He’s frustrated.”

“Very much.”

Again we sit in silence.

“And how are you doing?”

This question made me think. How was I doing? Good? Bad? Something in between? To be honest I had no idea.

“Fine?” Was my final answer but it came out as more of a question than a real answer.

“Take care of yourself.”

I said nothing after that.

“Should I go in again?” I asked quietly. “I don’t want to upset him. Or worse, I could flip at him too. I don’t want that.”

“I know you don’t.”

I looked at him shyly.

“What do you say?”

He chuckled quietly, fixing his glasses.

“Get your ass inside.”

·•━━━━━━━⋆⋅☆⋅⋆━━━━━━━•·

[There it is! The long awaited chapter! Thank you for your patience. For anyone wondering what’s going on in my life please go ahead and read the author’s note. Take care!]

[kimtaegis]

{Kimtaegis’ GFX Breakdowns, Ep. 1:

↳ SARANG/SARAM; a namgi web weave}

better late than never – I’ve mentioned that this year, I will start writing my thought process behind my graphics down in actual posts instead of hiding them in the tags of a self-reblog, both for myself and those who are interested in that, so here we go!

the first more graphic-y post of the year was a little birthday present for @outroindigo, who told me that namgi’s dynamic as well as their solo music are extremely important to her, so that was the starting point basically! I initially wanted to use a web-weave-like layout for yoongi's birthday post this year, but thought that it just fit too well for this project, since including lyrics and website screenshots made it so convenient to explain the topic. the main source of inspiration but also material source was doolsetbangtan, an incredible blog that not only translates bts' lyrics, but also gives extra insights and explanations of their word plays, references to reoccuring lyrical themes and even links to other media that are connected to the songs' content. they were a huge help, most elements that ended up in the post had been already pointed out under their sites for trivia: love, people, and people pt. 2 respectively, I pretty much only had to follow the mentions and use them!

my post starts with the first half of a quote from namjoon from his november 2016 vlive and ends with it as well (in the caption) to tie the whole set together. I tried to organize the elements in a way that even someone who has never heard of the whole live/love/sarang/saram thing can easily follow and understand it, while also maintaining a pleasant overall layout and colour change (planning that took quite some time, I tell you). the trivia: love lyrics panel is a screenshot I took from spotify, I just changed the background colour to fit. underneath the people performance gif is an excerpt of yoongi's billboard interview from july 2023. the rest are screenshots directly from doolset, gifs from yoongi's iu's palette interview and selfmade visualisations of lyrics, etc. I decided against listing all the content elements in the caption - as usually done for an actual web weave - because some media was used multiple times and it would've felt weird to repeat it in the listing.

regarding more stylistic choices, I decided on a blue and warm yellow-orangy colour scheme, both because kari's current blog layout is this beautiful blue, but also because I associate blue with both namjoon (especially after indigo, obvs) and yoongi (his painting from 2020 instantly comes to mind). since 'love' on the other side is often portrayed as something warm and cosy, red/orange/yellow became the contrasting colours. I tried very hard to make all the colours look as consistent as possible and to match the shades of blues to kari's blog colours. funnily enough, there always seemed to be either something blue or warm-toned in the actual content, which was pretty convenient. besides the pseudo-screenshots for some of the lyrics (typed out in fonts that are typically used in books), I created three graphic elements as well, simply because I know sweet kari appreciates them and I wanted to have a personal kimtaegi touch in it. the first one is a visual representation of people pt. 2's lyrics. I always thought of faceless silhouettes when thinking of people, and combined that with yoongi's painting style (you see that painting means a whole lot to me lmao). since I can't really draw, I used paintings I found on pinterest (you can find the whole board in the source of the og post), masked the person and the heart out and changed their colour (which is not as easy as it sounds!). the fading effect was achieved by carefully going over both until I liked how it looked (which again, took embarrassingly long). the second graphic element is again a direct visualisation of the lyrics used in the panel: I digitally cut up a picture of namgi, in multiple rectangles that are supposed to represent the letter ㅁin saram. I actually printed the picture out first and cut it up with scissors, but I couldn't find a good way to scan it back in :( so digital cutting it was; please note that the edges of every snippet are rough, I always try my best to make it look as realistic and tangible as possible which is time-consuming but adds a nice touch in my opinion.

the collage effect of this graphic is inspired by works of anthony garace. his artworks are stunning, and I do love a good mixed media effect! also it just fits perfectly with the lyrics... among all these straight lines (-> the rectangles), [I find/ is] my love, my love, my love (-> little snippets of a picture of the two). the flowers in the last graphic both represent yoongi (the lotus flower cutout, referencing his amygdala lyrics about blooming like a lotus flower, which is also achieved by love, y'know :( ) and namjoon (the wildflower; yes it's an actual blue wildflower, I researched! it's a wild blue flax; referencing his same-named song). I used an actual photograph of it and made it look like a painting with photoshop magic. it also was supposed to look just a litte like a cynotype as used in his album design.

again, look at all those nice rough edges in that panel, this is all added intentionally. I hope everyone who saw the post also caught the teeny tiny animation of the hangul letter ㅁ to ㅇin the text on the left side; quite literally eroding edges <3

the last gif of ot7 was perfect to round it all up, referencing the lyrics above quite emotionally, starting off with the two of them, then them being joined by the rest....sigh. I will be honest, there have been a few tears falling onto the keyboard. I hope this set can convey namgi's beautiful lyricism in an interesting, artistic way. it's easy to get inspired by their art, it definitely makes you appreciate everything they do even more.

[nintendoprecure]

NP Update of sorts??? Idk what to call this

Anyways, hello everyone! Peach (the creator) here! Today I’m gonna give like a current like… “where I’m standing” for NP’s progress

First off, remember how I said I was gonna transfer the current NP episodes on AO3… yeah that slowly evolved into a rewrite. I’m rewriting NP EP1 again😭😭 the current EP1 I wanted to change a few things and thus it started a rewrite. Also the visuals now for the episode are very outdated in comparison to ep2 & 3 so I wanted to give them a fresh coat of paint as well. I think it deserves some better looking art if you know what I mean. Also it’s hard to work AO3 on a phone I’m struggling so I apologize if it’s taking so long to get it up on there, I’m trying my best😭

Second off, the fancuries.

I’m shocked that I ever got nominations considering I have done NOTHING with NP this year since the previous fancuries. I’m still very grateful for all your support, I’m just… don’t feel like I deserve any of it😭

The show must go on though. This ain’t a consideration post because that period obviously passed but rather a… idk. I just feel like talking about it. Hope that’s okay😭

NP has been nominated for the following categories:

- Fanseries of the Year

- Creator of the Year

- Best Fanseries Concept

- Best Mascot/Fairy Design (Pixelena)

- Best Supporting Cure (Cure Trainer)

- Best Mascot (Pixelena)

Now I’m gonna break these down in the next bit…

- Fanseries of the Year

…. I don’t deserve this one. NEXT—

- Creator of the Year

I’m assuming this means me… like myself uh… I’m honored😭 I’ve been mostly doing Mario related stuff this past year though,,, (though said Mario thing DOES relate to NP in a way but shhh) but um… I do like to create things so I’m touched by this!!

- Best Fanseries Concept

I’m sure there’s already plenty of video game themed precure series, but I do hope that somehow NP can stick out and be unique while still being fun. NP does indeed take place during a very specific time period (late 2010s) so it does let me utilize games from this era. Also I love the 3DS, they’re perfect for a precure henshin device. I hope that NP’s concept of “cures visiting their representative world” which will appear in future episodes also is very fun and a different kind of way for world building…

Hmmm I wonder if this has anything to do with Project SFA hint hint hint

- Best Mascot/Fairy Design (Pixelena)

I feel like Pixelena is ALWAYS nominated for this or the other mascot category. I mean… who doesn’t love a cute adorable alpaca as a mascot? Her design is simple but still playful with her polka dots and fluffy fur & but is so cute…

- Best Supporting Cure (Cure Trainer)

Ahhh, Natalie!! She is indeed a good support (in sense of this and quite literally in battle). She’s extremely energetic and bouncy, surely will put a smile on anyone’s face, and in battle she sends out her trusted Pikachu to fight!

- Best Mascot (Pixelena)

Once again, Pixelena. She is very flattered for all the love (please don’t let it get to her head please don’t let it get to her head) and demands that she’s wins because she deserves it. Go vote Pixelena she wants to aim to be president next

Onto the last section of this little update thing- Project: SFA

If you follow my main (@peachiecure) you may have noticed my posting a new project there that’s Mario related but… Larissa appears to be there. That is because Project: SFA is actually a spinoff of NP…

As mentioned before, NP has a concept where the cures visit their representative worlds to sometimes help out, and it appears that the Mario world that Larissa visits has very interesting… things happening.

SFA mostly focuses on the royal trio, a group of young royals in the Mario universe but Larissa does visit every now and then. My hope for both projects is to show very different parts of NP’s overall world. Of course, SFA will be written in a way so that if viewers only care about consuming SFA’s content, then they’ll be able to enjoy SFA without diving into NP for explanations. (But that ain’t really relevant for this account to be talking about huh… welp, oh well)

That’s all I currently have for now to share, thanks for listening to me ramble ahahah.

[crystallizedkingdoms]

your room was square

Square rooms and small boxes keep Rory awake at night. The only thing on his mind is the ache that is his lover.

wc: 2,224

you can also read this on ao3 <3

Alex puts us all in boxes.

I don’t think that’s really a secret. Anyone who has ever talked to him can see it in his eyes. Those eyes sweep across your entire body, searching for anything he can take, use, pick apart, then put you in a box once he is done with you. He’s done it with all of us in his friend group. He’s done it to me.

I’m not sure if that makes sense, but the visual comes pretty naturally to me. I think about boxes when I’m alone with him. It’s hard not to. 

Alex’s room is square, perfectly equilateral. Even though his cramped twin bed is tucked into an awkward corner, when I look up at the ceiling from the discomfort of his mattress, I feel like I am stuck in the middle of it all. It’s a strange sensation. It feels wrong and unnatural. Its confines are no different from the box Alex places me in.

Except I walked into this one willingly.

It’s a weird pedestal of its own, I guess. I know Alex struggles to figure out what to do with me. There’s this weird intersection of the me he knew and hated when we first met, and the me he’s with now. I guess it’s why he wants to keep us a secret from everyone else. He’s not sure which one to judge me on all the time, so he leans hard on one or the other when he gets frustrated.

Alex is always frustrated.

I turn in the bed, twisting my body to face him. His bed is so small, and the room is so cramped that all I can see and feel and smell is Alex, Alex, Alex. He’s laying on his side with his face so close to mine and his arm loosely wraps around my waist. He would never do this awake, so I know for a fact that he is actually asleep.

I can’t help but look down at us. We are both far too big for his bed, so we have to huddle up against each other to even fit. Alex is curled up on my side and I am awkwardly trying to fit myself into the middle, where I have no space. Alex’s body lays naturally while I awkwardly try to squeeze next to him. My legs find the crook of his knees, my hand rests on the small of his back, our clothes are ruffled and pulled in strange ways by our limbs. Our bodies press so close that I dimly, stupidly, think they look twisted together.

It’s only in quiet times like these, where I can see our bodies and the souls that inhabit us, that I think about the things that Alex hates.

Alex hates a lot of things about me.

I think about how I’m taller than Alex. I know for a fact he hates that about me, even when he tells me off for slouching. He only ever fusses and tells me to straighten up when we’re alone. When no one can see our true height difference; when Alex is nicer, when he cares about me. He never fusses when we’re in public or with our friends. Especially not when we’re beside each other. 

I slouch a little more. He straightens his back for an extra inch of height. I let it happen. What else am I supposed to do?

It’s a little funny, the extent that his hate goes. Like, my shoulders are broad, and so is my entire body. Despite that, I paint my nails black and have long blond hair that nobody really likes, and I hide my toned body under beaten-down hoodies. So, most people don’t say I’m masculine when they look at me. They usually say the opposite, actually. I’ve gotten used to the comments. I’m fine with not being called that stuff, you know?

Except Alex. It’s weird how he goes out of his way to call me handsome before he calls me hot. He squeezes my arm and says I’ve been getting stronger in a strange tone that makes me feel like shit. He tells me these things like both a compliment and a curse. I don’t know which one is worse. 

Sometimes Alex will swing in the opposite direction, too. He’ll avoid calling me handsome or hot altogether. He’ll run his fingers through my hair and say he likes it long. His finger twirls a strand as he calls me cute, or hell, he even called me pretty one time. Even though this is the complete opposite to the way he treats me most of the time, it has the same effect on me. It still makes me feel like shit. I still think it comes from hatred. 

Alex hates that I don’t initiate touch when we’re alone, but he also hates when I try so much as to even hold his hand when we’re outside. Alex hates when I take charge of anything in our relationship, even when he begged me to do so earlier. He flinches when I joke about myself being the man in the relationship. Alex hates me most when I call us boyfriends.

I think it’s obvious what exactly it is he hates about me, and us in general. And I guess I can’t blame him. He’s… new. You know what I mean? He’s, uh… working things out. No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. Alex is still working through the fact that he's [WHITE NOISE]—

Alex twitches in his sleep. His eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a small frown. It’s such a small action, but I notice it so quickly while I desperately search for the word I'm trying to say.

The actual word sits on my tongue, but I can’t make myself say it. It’s a strange sensation. This should be more concerning. Why can’t I say this one word? I want to question it, but… 

Oh, whatever. My thoughts are a fucking mess, as always. It doesn’t matter. 

What does matter is that Alex can’t help but put me in his stupid fucking boxes just because he can’t figure his own stuff out. I bet he thinks it gives him some sense of control or whatever the hell. I’m not stupid, even if that’s what everyone thinks. I know it’s what he wants.

I’m supposed to go along with what he says. I’m the selfish liar who almost got everyone killed and has to accept his shit apologies. I’m the one he can criticize freely, from my impossible theories to my appearance. Always submit to his whims of adventure; reluctance is acceptable, even preferred. Just so long as I follow through. Defend him from attacks, take the kiss, and love him. I know this is the box he puts me in.

And I know what you’re thinking, too. You have your own little box for me.

Why the hell are you with this guy, Rory? You know he’s judging you. You know he’s trying to make you into something you’re not. Why do you even entertain him? Do you even love him?

…I don’t want to look for those answers. I guess I’m no better than Alex when it comes to that.

Alex heaves a sigh, and his body visibly relaxes. For a second, my heart skips a beat and my face gets way too warm and I hate that I still react this way around him. It’s humiliating, how I play into exactly what he likes without thinking. Alex always catches when I blush too hard or get awkward around him. He teases me. I swat him away. ‘You know you like it,’ he always says. I nod and sigh, ‘yeah, yeah, whatever, Alex.’

Truth is, I don’t always like it. I don’t always like Alex. I do most of the time, though. I guess that’s all he cares about, huh?

Without thinking, I reach my hand up to brush away a strand of red hair from Alex’s face. It’s not long enough to brush behind his ear, but I go through the motion regardless. It’s kind of cute, which is a thought that Alex would complain about if I ever said that to his face. I let myself think about it, anyway. It’s one little disobedient thought I allow myself to enjoy in the dead of night.

Besides, it’s not like Alex thinks about the things I want him to think about, either. I know that even when we’re together, his mind wanders off to whatever the woman of the week is. Sometimes it’s Sammy, sometimes it’s Vella. The Essentia is a new one. I see how his eyes wander and traps them in another cage of his. 

Sometimes I get jealous of them. Which, yeah, I know, what a shitty fucking thing to feel. They’re not exactly being treated much better than I am. But even when I’m the one who gets to lie in bed with Alex, I know he’s thinking better things about them. I know he thinks he’d be better off with them than with me. The thought of them getting that kind of pedestal from Alex frustrates me in a sick way.

But it’s not their fault. It’s Alex who chases after them on his own whims. They are all so distant and yet that doesn’t stop him. They all have this weird fucking relationship with Alex that I don’t think I can replicate. 

I find myself wanting to be like them. It’s a deep craving, one that aches in my soul. I search ONISM for clues about Sammy, and I wish that Alex would search for me the way that he searches for her. I look at the way Alex hounds Vella and I wonder what the hell I need to do to be like her. I see how the Essentia guides Alex in these stressful fucking times and I want to take her place instead of feeling so lost. 

Pathetic, I know. 

Alex stirs in his sleep. His arm on my waist tightens and he brings me closer to him. My heart pounds so loud in my chest that, combined with the aching, I might just fucking die. It’s unfair how I can still love him when I want to hate him. 

It is times like these, where my thoughts are messy and only about us, that I wonder if our relationship is a mistake. If it is some sort of freak accident in our reality. I don’t think you can blame me for feeling that way. I feel out of place in Alex’s love. Sometimes it feels like I am fitting into the middle of a space that was never made for me.

That isn’t how relationships are supposed to be, right? This isn’t how love is supposed to burn. I’m not supposed to feel out of place in his arms. We shouldn’t be like this. We shouldn’t be together.

Was I ever meant to be here with him?

I carefully return to lie on my back, and I look around Alex’s room. Its walls feel smaller and more cramped than ever. The thoughts of us and our shitty situation and our terrible relationship build up inside me until I think I might just get up and leave. Let’s be real, it would make things so much easier. It would be for the best.

I try to sit up without moving Alex’s arms. I debate leaving without telling him. I think about my life without him. I think about escaping this cage. I think about being happy. These are thoughts I’m only allowed on nights like these. They’ve gotten so rare.

I need to leave him.

But then I feel Alex cling tighter onto my body, pulling me back to face him, and he lets out a choked-out whimper that’s so desperate and my heart aches all over again. Suddenly, I can’t leave, I can’t, I shouldn’t leave him, I love him so much, it’s not that bad it’s not—

I close my eyes, and I cast the thoughts of leaving out of my head. I ignore the closing square walls and the tight chains around my body. It’s not like I can’t handle it. I’ve gone through worse. I don’t mind the cage he puts me in. It makes us closer. Why should I leave it? I don’t think I want anything different, really. I don’t want us to be better. I want this.

I shuffle closer to Alex and gently kiss his lips. Somehow, it feels more like he was the one who pulled me into the kiss than me making the move. I don’t question it. I don’t miss how the corners of his lips twitch into a soft smile before disappearing into that peaceful, sleeping face. I don’t question it. I kiss his lips again, on my own accord, and I melt into Alex’s crushing embrace. 

The thoughts of leaving are dim in the back of my Mind. I realize how dumb it all sounds. Just the mindless anxieties of some depressed kid. I don’t need to leave. I don’t want to, not really. I don’t think I could live without this. Without Alex.

I just hope with all my Soul that Alex knows the difference between lovers and cages.