#it's like somebody switched on a light

[lith-myathar]

.

[withoneheadlight]

how come i only feel fully alive when i'm obsessing about something?

[richo1915]

[yukinyaminyato]

i tried to switch on the lights in the corridor and managed to accidentally ring my neighbour's doorbell :) living in this apartment building is going soooo well.

[yuugurenomi]

i keep joking about my sona/true form being like a rat but rats are actually a really good real life equivalent me sized

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[physalian]

How To Make Your Writing Less Stiff 5

Movement

Dredging this back up from way back.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much during heavy dialogue scenes. E.g. two characters sitting and talking—do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them…

Gesture

Wave

Frown

Laugh

Cross their legs/their arms

Shift around to get comfortable

Pound the table

Roll their eyes

Point

Shrug

Touch their face/their hair

Wring their hands

Pick at their nails

Yawn

Stretch

Sniff/sniffle

Tap their fingers/drum

Bounce their feet

Doodle

Fiddle with buttons or jewelry

Scratch an itch

Touch their weapons/gadgets/phones

Check the time

Get up and sit back down

Move from chair to tabletop

The list goes on.

Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t—what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

As in, you could say “he’s nervous” or you could show, “He fidgets, constantly glancing at the clock as sweat beads at his temples.”

This site is full of discourse on telling vs showing so I’ll leave it at that.

Epithets

In the Sci-fi WIP that shall never see the light of day, I had a flashback arc for one male character and his relationship with another male character. On top of that, the flashback character was a nameless narrator for Reasons.

Enter the problem: How would you keep track of two male characters, one who you can't name, and the other who does have a name, but you can’t oversaturate the narrative with it? I did a few things.

Nameless Narrator (written in 3rd person limited POV) was the only narrator for the flashback arc. I never switched to the boyfriend’s POV.

Boyfriend had only a couple epithets that could only apply to him, and halfway through their relationship, NN went from describing him as “the other prisoner” to “his cellmate” to “his partner” (which was also a double entendre). NN also switched from using BF’s full name to a nickname both in narration and dialogue.

BF had a title for NN that he used exclusively in dialogue, since BF couldn’t use his given name and NN hadn’t picked a new one for himself.

Every time the subject of the narrative switched, I started a new paragraph so “he” never described either character ambiguously mid-paragraph.

Is this an extreme example? Absolutely, but I pulled it off according to my betas.

The point of all this is this: Epithets shouldn’t just exist to substitute an overused name. Epithets de-personalize the subject if you use them incorrectly. If your narrator is thinking of their lover and describing that person without their name, then the trait they pick to focus on should be something equally important to them. In contrast, if you want to drive home how little a narrator thinks of somebody, using depersonalizing epithets helps sell that disrespect.

Fanfic tends to be the most egregious with soulless epithets like "the black-haired boy" that tell the reader absolutely nothing about how the narrator feels about that black-haired boy, espeically if they're doing so during a highly-emotional moment.

As in, NN and BF had one implied sex scene. Had I said “the other prisoner” that would have completely ruined the mood. He’s so much more than “the other prisoner” at that point in the story. “His partner,” since they were both a combat team and romantically involved, encompassed their entire relationship.

The epithet also changed depending on what mood or how hopeless NN saw their situation. He’d wax and wane over how close he believed them to be for Reasons. NN was a very reserved character who kept BF at a distance, afraid to go “all in” because he knew there was a high chance of BF not surviving this campaign. So NN never used “his lover”.

All to say, epithets carried the subtext of that flashback arc, when I had a character who would not talk about his feelings. I could show you the progression of their relationship through how the epithets changed.

I could show you whenever NN was being a big fat liar about his feelings when he said he's not in love, but his narration gave him away. I could show you the exact moment their relationship shifted from comrades to something more when NN switched mid-paragraph from "his cellmate" to "his partner" and when he took up BF's nickame exclusively in the same scene.

I do the same thing in Eternal Night when Elias, my protagonist, stops referring to Dorian as "it" and "the vampire" instead of his name the moment they collide with a much more dangerous vampire, so jarringly that Elias notices in his own narration—the point of it being so explicit is that this degredation isn't automatic, it's something he has to conciously do, when everyone else in his clan wouldn't think twice about dehumanizing them.

—

Any literary device should be used with intent if you want those layers in your work. The curtains are rarely just blue. Whether it’s a simile with a deliberate comparison or an epithet with deliberate connotations, your readers will pick up on the subtext, I promise.

[frogmascquerade]

Trying to turn on lights with an al*xa honestly might be my last straw like I'm about to go completely full joker on this house

[atittueball]

literally could not sleep last night because while I was working at the office yesterday, I flicked off a lightswitch (got used to that after my boss started doing it), and my boss looked over at me and goes: “at least I know you’ve got something to remember me by.” in the most casual tone like she didn’t just drop the most devastating line because I’m leaving in a few weeks like??? HELLO???? THIS IS WHAT SOME TOPSELLING ROMANCE NOVEL PROTAGANIST SAYS??? NOT A FIFTY YEAR OLD WOMAN TO HER SECRETARY??????

[pacofprunes]

cotton candy grapes

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — very short drabble, reader has pink hair, noncon kissing, biting that draws blood, choking, subtle threatening, drug use

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

somehow, he hadn’t noticed you in the first game. you’d think the only other person there with dyed hair, that was pink, would immediately get his attention. but he didn’t notice until after the games when it was time to vote, you smacking that red X. he only saw your hair though, he wanted to see your face. he knew you had to be stunning.

the voting ends and he sees you on the other side sitting on your bed with your face in your hands. he gets up to go over to you.

“where are you going?”

nam-gyu his lap dog. he sits up out of his bed to see what his owners doing.

“none of your business.”

he walks away towards you, nam-gyu watching the whole time. on the way there he pops a pill in his mouth.

“hello señorita.”

you look up and he’s stunned. god you were beautiful. he whistles at you.

“what’dya say you join me and my team over there beautiful?”

he points to the other side where you see a group of people.

“uh, no thank you.”

“come on babe don’t be so difficult. you’re over here all alone, you need alliances. and i, thanos, the greatest rapper there has ever been, am a great ally.”

you pause and think. it would be nice to have allies in a shit hole like this. but then you think back to the first game. right in front of you, a whole row of people fall forward and get shot. it wasn’t from somebody tripping. no. it’s because this guy who says his name is thanos pushed them. you’re pulled out of your thoughts and look him in the eyes.

“you killed all those people.“

he looks at you with a shocked sarcastic smile.

“did i?”

“yes. yes you did. the first game, you pushed them all. no i don’t wanna fucking be on your team are you crazy?”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes it back slightly before you slap his hand away.

“come on señorita, money is money! you didn’t know those people and neither did i!”

he laughs, sick. he leans forward closer to your face and then moves over to your ear.

“plus, you don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you don’t join my team and switch that X.”

he leans back and points to the red X on your chest. flicking it. you stand up and ignore him before walking away, going to the bathroom to avoid him. he just stares your way.

“girls who play hard to get are so fucking hot.”

he runs a hand through his hair before going back to his degenerate friend nam-gyu. telling him all about you. granted he twisted a lot of shit. claiming you wanted him so bad, but was just so intimidated by how famous he is that you didn’t want part of that spotlight, and that’s why you said no. definitely was not what you said at all though.

you come back in the room, your pink hair bouncing behind you. god it looked so soft. he should’ve ran his hand through your hair while he had the chance. lights out comes about and he just sits up on his bed, taking another pill. thinking to himself what his next action should be. what if you died tomorrow and he didn’t even get the chance to kiss you? he gets up and walks back over to your side. you were trying to go to sleep, but weren’t asleep yet. he simply just grabs your elbow and pulls you behind the bed, pressing you against the wall.

“what the hell is wrong with you?”

he looks you dead in the eye with a crazed look. and rubs his hands through your hair. so fucking soft.

“babe, you’re just so fucking beautiful, what if you die tomorrow? and i don’t get the chance to smoke with you, kiss you, fuck you…”

you give him a disgusted look before he grabs your face in both hands giving you a tight kiss. forcing his tongue in your mouth. you push at his chest with your hands before stomping on his foot and he jumps back.

“you fucking bitch.”

he goes back up to you before you get the chance to get away from him and he grips your hair between all his fingers. you wanted to scream but didn’t wanna make things worse. plus, nobody would help you in a place like this. constant killing and fighting. nobody gave a fuck about you. he takes a deep breath before he breaths it all out into your neck. he wraps his hands around your neck as a warning, rubbing his fingers in circles around it.

“you’re so beautiful, one of the prettiest women i’ve ever seen. just give a handsome guy like me a chance.”

he kisses you again, hands still around your neck, doing light little pulse squeezes every few seconds as a warning. he bites your lip this time drawing a little bit of blood, causing you to go to scream. but as soon as you do, he’s squeezing your throat as tight as he can, you can’t get any air, not even a single noise out. he continues to kiss you before pulling away and looking you in the eyes as you struggle to breathe. finally he lets go and pushes your hair behind your ear.

“i expect you change your mind tomorrow, kay babe? wouldn’t wanna hurt you even more, i really do like you.”

he takes a step back and you guys just hold eye contact and he swings his cross necklace, playing with it in his fingers before opening it.

“if you ever want some, just come to me. the pink one suits you perfectly.”

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 6

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Happy New Year! Chapter count is continuing to go up, because I need to halve this chapter after hitting 6k. Should be 10 parts. Hopefully.

Colette woke up slowly, for a moment disoriented and confused, before she remembered what had happened the day before.

It was dark in the room still, the sun not yet up, and the house was eerily quiet. She groaned quietly and slowly got to her feet, shuffling across the room to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her softly, switched on the light and turned on the faucet to wash her face.

The water stung at her eyes, but she relished the cold, biting pain.

By then Sassy and Jimmy were both demanding to be fed as well, and she padded out of the bedroom into the kitchen. The house was still dark and quiet, and the cats were both weaving around her legs, meowing and demanding food.

She flicked on the lights in the kitchen, blinking against the brightness, and then bent down to feed the two screeching cats.

Screeching cats and back pain, like somebody pushed a hot knife right into her lower back. What wasn’t there to love?  

Colette groaned slightly, wincing as the pain in her lower back flared, and carefully straightened back up again. She ran a hand over her back with a grimace, trying to soothe the ache.

The cats behaved like Colette had let them starve for days and she rolled her eyes at their usual behaviour as she reached for her phone that laid on the kitchen island. Somebody, she was quite sure that it probably had been Lorenzo, had simply deleted every single social media app from her phone.

That was also a solution, she reflected drily. She checked the time, finding it shortly after six. Which meant that she could probably catch Max before he was stuck in pre race preparations.

Her heart sped up slightly the mere thought of him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Colette’s mouth. Without giving herself time to second guess herself, she pressed his contact and hit the call button.

He picked up immediately. Not that she had expected any differently from him. 

"Mon Coeur," she greeted him softly. "Good luck."

"Liefje," his voice was groggy but warm, and Colette could hear by his rough tone that he hadn’t been awake for long. There was shuffling on the other end of the line, and a low yawn, as he probably sat up in bed.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked him.

"No. I missed you horribly," he answered and she knew he was saying the truth.

"Well, you'll be back soon enough and I'll go back to torturing you with my icy feet," she teased him. And hog all the covers, because Max always ran hot at night and sleeping next to him was like having her own personal furnace. 

"I can't wait," Max said, his voice low and soft, and she could hear the smile in his voice. But there was something else...something else in his voice that she couldn't quite place.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her. "How is bébé?"

"Kicking a lot..." she answered softly. "I have some backpain, but nothing major."

"Keep resting, alright?" Max requested.

His voice was warm, normal…but she couldn’t help it…she couldn’t help but hear that something was wrong. She would have sworn on nearly everything that something was wrong. 

So she asked him. "What's wrong?" Colette asked. "What aren't you telling me, Maxie?"

Silence. For a long moment on the other side of the line, before Max sighed quietly, sounding a little guilty. "If I tell you that it's nothing that you need to know, nothing you need to worry about...will you let it go?"

Colette was quiet for a moment, trying to process this.

Whatever it was, Max didn't want her to worry about it. He was probably trying to protect her. She swallowed, before slowly saying. "I will...if you make me a promise."

"Which is...?" Max's voice was hesitant.

Colette took a deep, somewhat shaky breath. "Promise me that you're okay," she said firmly. "Promise me that...that there's no reason for me to be upset." She hated not knowing, hated that he was keeping things from her. But as long as she knew that he was okay...then she would let the matter go.

Max was quiet on the other end of the line, for what seemed far too long. He was hesitating, and that worried her.

But eventually, he answered her.

"I promise, liefje," he promised her. "Talking with you makes everything better."

The tension, that had slowly built up in her stomach started to dissolve, and she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Okay," Colette whispered into the phone, and hoped she sounded more confident than she actually felt. "Keep your secrets. We'll talk when you are home," she promised him. And then he would tell her what was actually going on. 

"We will," he agreed. "I can't wait. Did you get the flowers?"

"You sent me flowers?" Colette asked, her voice soft. "You didn't need to do that. And no, not yet,” she said with a smile. “But I bet they will be beautiful.”

"Not as beautiful as you," Max told her simply. "Now, go eat breakfast, and take it easy, alright?"

"See you soon," Colette said softly. "Go drive around in circles." She could hear him laugh, a soft sound.

"Take care of you and bébé," Max told her before he hung up.

She lowered her phone to her lap and let out a sigh, a mixture of relief and worry still coursing through her veins.

He was okay. He had promised her, and Max never lied. He probably just didn't want her to worry about anything.

The ring of the doorbell, made her pull on a dressing gown, and going to open the door, to get the flowers Max had bought her.

But when Colette did open the door...the bouquet of light pink tulips wasn't the best part of what was waiting for her: 

"Surprise!"

Colette's head shot up, and her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the person on the other end of the threshold.

There, in a pair of torn jeans and a hoodie, a travel bag thrown over her shoulder...and holding an enormous bouquet of pink tulips...was Victoria. 

Max's Sister.

"Vic!?!" Colette blurted out, taken completely off guard. "What are you doing here!?!"

"I thought you could use the company," Victoria answered simply, hugging her tightly, and Colette was already holding back the tears. "You know, while you deal with all this bullshit," Victoria said darkly. 

Colette quickly nodded in agreement, feeling her eyes water as she clung onto Max's sister. The tears starting to well despite her best efforts, and her emotions starting to overwhelm her yet again.

"You've -... You've no idea how good this is, to see you," she tried to say past the tears, and Victoria pulled her into a tighter hug.

"I know, I figured as much," Victoria said brightly. "Can I get in, or are you going to make me to stand on your threshold for the rest of eternity?" she teased.

She looked down at Colette and at her baby bump with a grin. "How is my niece doing?"

"You don't know that it's a girl!" Colette complained, wiping away tears as Victoria entered their apartment.

"Max seemed quite certain a few weeks ago," Victoria teased her.

Colette rolled her eyes, but she was smiling through her tears. She closed the door behind them, and turned to look at her friend, and the enormous bouquet of tulips.

"I guess we're going to need a vase," she said pointedly, at the massive arrangement.

"The poor doormen gave that to me, got delivered this morning for you," Victoria told her. "I also got you that Acai bowl you like from the bakery own the street and croissants!"

Colette looked at the tulips, taking in their pastel colours and delicate petals. Max really could be sappy sometimes, and it warmed her heart immensely.

"Pink tulips," she said out loud. "Of course he goes all in the pink.”

"You two really are kind of adorable," Victoria teased her, and Colette felt her cheeks heat up.

"Sometimes we are," she relented, taking all the tulips into the kitchen and reaching for a vase underneath the sink.

As she filled up the vase with water, she asked, "You didn't come all the way from Belgium just to visit me, right? I feel bad, taking you from Tom and the kids."

Victoria huffed a little bit, and leant against the counter before answering.

"Oh, shut up," she said fondly. "I wanted to come here… Mama is helping Tom with the kids and Tom knows I've been worried about you, besides they are fine on their own for a few days.”

"I'm fine -.." Colette started to protest, but Victoria fixed her with such a look that she fell quiet.

"Please, you've been going through hell," Victoria said firmly. "Don’t try to pretend you're fine when you aren't."

Colette exhaled slowly, staring at the flowers in the vase.

"I'm not going to deny that things have been hard," she said quietly. "But I'm trying to take it easy...for bébé's sake at least."

"How are you feeling about it?" Victoria asked her curiously. "About it all...getting out there?"

Colette paused for a moment, her hands absently fiddling with the tulips in the vase.

"Honestly..." she admitted after a moment. "I...hate it," she admitted weakly. "We kept it secret for so long...that's all I ever knew, Vic. Like that's the benchmark. Max comes back home to me...and here...right here, we are just us. Everybody important does know, but we have our privacy...we have...nobody gives us a second glance. And now it's out there. And everybody talks about it...and judges us...and makes up this picture in their head that has nothing to do with us."

She paused for a moment, shaking her head and then exhaling slowly to try and keep the tears that were threatening to spill under control. Victoria stayed silent, watching her closely.

"It's...weird," Colette said then, her voice sounding as shaken as she felt. "I know...a part of it is the stupid hormones…Some of it was my own fault, because I really should have thought twice before being bitchy on instagram,” she said with a snort, making Victoria laugh. “But all the people on social media…all these articles…the journalists…None of them know anything about us. Yet they judge us and speculate, and write whole articles about us and how fucked up our relationship is,” she said darkly.   "I don't like it," she said flatly, fighting back the sob that was threatening to rise up in her throat. "They act like they own a piece of us...like they know anything...it just...it makes me sick. "

She fell quiet, her hand shaking slightly as she fiddled with the tulips. The flowers were beautiful, but she was struggling to take pleasure in them, when her emotions was feeling like a storm in her chest.

Victoria was quiet for a long moment, and then she walked over to her and put her hand over top of hers to stop her from fiddling with the tulips. Instead, she gently pulled her into a loose embrace.

"It doesn't matter what some person on the internet says about you," Victoria said simply. "let them write their idiotic comments. It doesn't matter."

Colette rested her head of Victoria's shoulder, and exhaled slowly.

"I know it doesn't really," she admitted after a moment. "But it still hurts, in a way."

"People are stupid," Victoria said bluntly. "They make drama to fill their miserable lives, and write bullshit on social media, because they think they're entitled to everything. And that their opinion is somehow relevant. Don't listen to anything they say," Victoria continued. "They know nothing about your life. They know nothing about your and Maxie. They don’t know how fantastic you are. And they don’t know a thing about your  happy home, the little baby on the way, and an the amazing, loyal and insanely talented man who loves you beyond all rhyme and reason."

"So let them eat their hearts out, and let's get you some decent breakfast. An I'll stay with you as long as you need me to, okay?" Victoria said, pulling back and gently grasping her shoulders. 

Colette sniffed and nodded softly.

Victoria was just like Max. They didn't sugar cost, she cut it straight to the heart of every issue, and didn't let her bullshit herself.

"That sounds good," she agreed softly. 

It did sound amazing. Better than anything else. 

The Acai Bowl from the Bakery/cafe down the street was as amazing as always and so was the Croissant that Vic had brought with her. 

“You can finally show me the nursery!“ Vic said brightly.

"You're a little bit too excited," Colette scolded her with no real force behind her words. "We are only talking about I think four pieces of furniture, Vic. And some animal themed decor,” she said with a snort. 

Victoria gave her a dry look, and raised a perfectly arched brow. "You are underestimating me if you think I would not be interested in how my niece's rooms will look," she said with a scoff. “Besides I brought you some hand me downs from Hailey! We can put them in the closet!”

“Or nephew!” Colette pointed out, making Victoria laugh.

“How are you doing with names?” Vic asked her curiously. 

“We have an agreement,” Colette said drily. “Max got to name the cats and the baby gets his surname, so first names are my choice.”

"You're not giving my niece 6 names like yourself, are you?" Victoria teased her. "Please don't give me a hard time to pronounce my own niece's name if you can avoid it."

Colette rolled her eyes. “ I only have four names,” she gave back drily.

"Four names is still two too many," Victoria said bluntly. "One is enough. Two is more than enough. You're not a French noble woman from the eighteen hundreds."

“You mean I shouldn’t name our son Perceval Verstappen?” Colette gasped, wide eyed, making Victoria stare at her.

"...Oh my god...no, you absolutely can't!" Victoria exclaimed in horror, before bursting into a peal of laughter.

“Excuse me, I happen to think Colette Marie Eugénie Veronique Leclerc sounds great,” Colette deadpanned before growing serious. “No, I am thinking only one middle name,” she told Vic with a shrug. “If it’s a boy I was thinking Emilian Hervé. After Max and my father.”

Victoria's face softened at that. “That’s so sweet,” Vic gushed. "Hervé is a nice middle name, and Emilian is beautiful as well. But what if it's a girl?"

Colette huffed and shrugged. "I...don't know yet," she admitted honestly. "But I have a few ideas. I figured I would see what feel right once they are here...but I do really think it will be a boy..."

"You know it's only a fifty/fifty chance, right?" Victoria teased her. Colette rolled her eyes.

"Of course I know that," she huffed. "I just…I just feel it, y'know?"

"You're just really hoping it's a boy so you can dress him in cute little race overalls that match Maxie’s," Victoria said with a smirk.

"That would be adorable! How can you fault me for that?!" Colette protested immediately. 

Victoria laughed and gently squeezed her shoulders. "You have terrible taste," she teased Colette. "But I gotta say the baby will be cute, no matter the gender….though you do realize the chances are, if you get a mini Max, it will be a chaotic little hell raiser, right?"

Colette sighed. “I knooooooow,” she muttered. “He woul make me go gray before even reaching pre-school…”

“Besides Mini Colette would be just as cute,” Victoria teased her. “Max would be melting.”

"Max would absolutely melt," Colette admitted, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "He would be completely wrapped around her tiny finger and spoil her rotten."

"And she would be an absolute angel," Victoria continued with a smirk. "She'll be a daddy's girl and have him do her every bidding. She'll get away with murder."

Colette could only laugh at that description. 

“What do your brothers think it will be?” Victoria asked curiously.

“Max has gotten to them,” Colette said darkly. “All think it’s a girl. Hasn’t stopped Charles from buying enough Ferrari onesies to dress a dozen babies though.”

Victoria guffawed, and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Charles bought an entire Ferrari-themed wardrobe?" She asked between giggles.

“Which then made Max decide that the kid also needed Red Bull merch,” she said with a sigh. “I thought I woul get at least one closet in the house that does not have these damn Polo Shirts in it, but nooooo…”

"Of course it did," Victoria said, sniggering again. "You really are in a family with more red bull merchandise than common sense..."

“I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, I just hope the baby is healthy,” Colette said seriously. Regardless if it was a boy or a girl…she didn’t actually care…she just thought it would be a boy.

Victoria nodded, her expression softening.

"I know," she said quietly. "Everything else, like boy or girl, eye colour, hair colour...who cares? All we need is a healthy baby."

[keferon]

I want to discuss Prowl's fighting style in Earthspark. Because it's absolutely hilarious

Light spoilers below (no plot)

Okay. Whats with the way he plays possum? It's so fucking funny.

Somebody punches him and the guy just...falls down??? And lies there?? Like he just flat out died.

And when his opponent switches to something else, he just 👁👁 !caught you!! and attacks them in the back

And he does it consistently on a regular basis. It's such a ridiculous tactic ekhlhmtn

And I'm not implying that he "allows" his enemies to punch him as a part of his smart plan. He's genuinely just terrible at fighting with his fists. But he's like "You know what If I'm gonna be knocked off my feet anyway, I might as well benefit from it"

[richo1915]

Who hit the switch?….

[transmunsons]

Eddie doing a deal with Steve at that picnic table after school. Eddie’s on his second senior year and pissed off about it. He’s trying to be cordial to Harrington, but he keeps remembering how the basketball team messes with his Hellfire kids.

So he up charges him, gets a little petty revenge; he’s sure Harrington can afford it anyway. The extra money can go toward Eddie’s T payments.

Something rustles in the woods and Harrington freezes, listening. Some kind of wet, furless animal jumps out of the trees in a blur.

Before Eddie can react, Harrington grabs his hand and pulls him up, heading to the closest sanctuary, the high school. Eddie’s freaking out. They run into the building, and Harrington pulls them into the janitors closet. He lunges to the back, reaching for a mop, but Eddie hears a wet skittering in the hallway and slams the door shut. Harrington whips around at the noise and the sudden darkness. Eddie holds his breath until the creature passes.

“What the fuck is out there?” He hisses at Harrington. The closet is cramped and the floor is littered with cleaning supplies. They're right up on top of one another in the small space. “This is crazy, this is so fucking crazy—”

“Calm down!” Harrington hisses back, closer than he expects, breath brushing against Eddie's cheek.

“Calm? Why are you calm, what's wrong with you?” Eddie's heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might burst out of his chest. He can't breathe. “We just almost got attacked by some fuckin' thing!” He flutters his hands to emphasize 'thing' though Steve probably can't see it in the dark. He smacks a shelf.

“I've seen something like it before, it's some kind of demogorgon.” Harrington says. Eddie splutters. The king of Hawkins High just made a DnD reference.

“How do you—that is not a demogorgon, Harrington! Demogorgons don't exist and even if they did, they don't look like that!”

“Hey, you asked and I answered. And my name is Steve.” He reaches around Eddie and tries the door handle. He's practically hugging him.

Steve swears and flicks on the light switch, illuminating the closet. “It's stuck.”

Eddie can see Steve's face properly now in all its glory. The overhead bulb gleams off Steve's stupidly long eyelashes. He almost wants to turn the light back off. His breathing is still restricted.

“Guess we're trapped in here until somebody comes by.” Steve says.

Eddie balks at the thought of being stuck with Steve in close quarters for so long. “No we're not, just gimme a second.”

Eddie shoves a hand up under his Dio shirt so he can pull his bindings a little away from his chest.

“What are you doing?” Steve sounds alarmed. His eyes are wide.

“Don't get excited,” Eddie winks because apparently he has a death wish, “just need to breathe. Get me a flathead screwdriver. The door opens inward.”

Steve snaps his fingers and points at him, “Right, the hinges!” He turns around to rustle through the shelves, which Eddie, uh, doesn’t mind. Goddamn.

He faces Eddie again with a flathead in his hands and a triumphant look. Eddie grabs it with a ‘thanks’ and goes to work prying pins out of the hinges. He can feel Steve watching him. Eddie gets the door loose and shoves it open, catching it so it doesn’t make noise.

Steve stalks past him wielding a mop like a weapon.

“Where are you going?” Eddie stage whispers.

Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie, hair artfully falling out of place. “I’ve gotta find that thing, I’m not gonna let it roam the school.”

Eddie looks at Steve, looks back at the exit, looks down at the tile floor.

“Shit.”

He follows.

[dontopenfairies]

“Baby, you’re peeing on me.” She gently shook him awake.

“What’s that?”

“You just peed all over me and on the couch, too.”

“Oh…I didn’t think…I had a funny dream but I didn’t think…”

“It’s a good thing I put a plastic covering down,” she said, standing up and lifting him up with her. “I knew this might happen since you wet the bed during your nap last week…”

“I didn’t think…I have a pull-up on…”

She adjusted him on her hip. “It wasn’t really up to the challenge, was it? I think you totally emptied your bladder.”

“I didn’t mean…I didn’t…”

“Shh, shh. It’s not your fault, honey. Let’s go get out of these clothes and start the laundry.”

They made it to the laundry room and she let him down and started to strip off her pants. “Oh, you even got it on my shirt…”

“I didn’t…” he started to cry softly, chewing on his finger.

“Oh, baby. I’m not mad at you.” She undid his pants and eased them down slowly. The wet denim felt scratchy on his thighs.

She unbuttoned his shirt and threw that in, too. “See, it’s all going to be okay. I’m going to get you in the shower and then you’ll get a new diaper and everything will be okay.”

She led him to the bathroom and took off his soaked pull-up. “That is soo much pee. At least I know you’re drinking enough water.” He shifted uncomfortably as she dropped it in the diaper pail. She crossed to the shower and turned the tap on, waiting for it to warm up before switching it to the shower head.

“Step in, honey. Mommy’s going to get you clean.”

He hesitated. “I’m not going to shower with Mommy?”

“No, baby, you go first. I’ll shower after you, okay?”

“Okay…” He stepped into the shower and she lathered her hands with soap, standing just outside with the curtain ajar. She spent a long time washing his privates and bottom, instructing him to turn around so that she didn’t miss anything. Then she gave him a quick scrub and rinse all over and went to get him a towel.

“There, all clean. Let’s go to the bedroom.” She guided him down the hallway and laid another towel out on his changing mat. “Lie down right there while Mommy showers.” He opened his legs automatically as soon as he laid down, like he was expecting a change.

“Aww, you’re so cute. You know what…Stay just like that until I come back, okay?” She turned out the light and left him in the dark room. A second later he heard the shower running again.

She came back and switched on the light. She just had a towel wrapped around her waist. She started rummaging through her dresser, humming. He was starting to get cold and shivery on the floor.

“You are sooo patient,” she said, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and an old tshirt. “Look at you.” She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, the special drawer, and procured lotion and a big diaper.

“I don’t need that, right?” he said timidly as she knelt down, diaper in hand.

“Baby. What planet are you living on? You just peed all over both of us. You definitely need this.” She fluffed the diaper and he wiggled on the mat.

“I don’t need that. That’s too big. It’s going to be all bulky, and…and I’m not…I don’t need…”

“It’s this or a pull-up, honey. And it seems like pull-ups aren’t really up to the cut anymore.”

She started to rub lotion on him and he started to whine.

“What has gotten into you? It’s not like you haven’t had one of these before. You had to wear them for a couple days on the road trip. And remember when you had a messy accident and I had to…”

“No….” he whined.

“Oh, I get it. Did somebody make fun of you again?”

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then nodded.

“Was it Joan’s boyfriend?”

He nodded again, rubbing his hands across his face.

“I’ll tell you a secret. Joan’s boyfriend has to wear these every night. He probably just felt insecure.”

“It’s not the same…I had to have it during the day.”

“Right, because you went poop in your pants. And because I know you, and you can never make it all the way to the rest stops when we go for a long drive. It’s okay, honey. It’s just Mommy here. Lift up your butt for me. There you go.” She taped him up and pulled him into a sitting position.

“Mommy,” he said really quietly, and she pulled him towards her. “I like it.”

“I know, baby, I know you like it. Is that why you were really scared?”

He nodded.

“It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. Lots of people like all kinds of weird things.” She rocked him a little bit.

“I don’t want to get rocked right now.”

“Okay, just a hug?”

“Uh-huh.” Pause. “Mommy…?”

“Yes?”

“Can I mess in this one later? Just this one time.”

“It’s always okay to mess in a big diaper, baby, just not a pull-up. But if you do, Mommy’s going to change you into another big diaper and you won’t see the pull-ups again for a while.”

“I want that.”

“Okay, baby, whatever you want. That might also mean more spankings, too. And no toilet. No, not even in public. If you want to be a no-control little baby you’re going to be a no-control little baby. You can’t just get away with everything.” She stood up, carrying him with her again. “Let’s go get the couch cleaned up and then we’ll get you dressed and go out to get some food. I want to get that taken care with before I have a stinky baby on my hands.”

[stariikis]

trust myself

desc ; sitting in with riki as he films his en-note and accompanying him through the multitude of emotions that follow.

pairing ; idol!nishimura riki x gf!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 1228 notes ; understand that i love riki because i see a version of myself in him...

When your boyfriend sits down at the hotel table, a singular lamp illuminating his screen with a yellow warmth, your heart aches at just the thought of what he might say next. Though Riki’s always been very skilled at switching between seriously honest and teasingly goofy, he becomes a completely different person when he’s filming en-notes. 

He becomes so vulnerable to the invisible crowd that it hurts you more than it irks you. And sometimes, when confesses struggles even you have never heard from his mouth before, you wonder if you’re not enough for him. Not good enough a listener. Not trustworthy enough for him to confide in. 

How come he only opens up under the pressure of the camera lens?

“Don’t stress out,” you mumble quickly before he presses the red record button on his phone screen. Three simple words and yet they have Riki pausing for a long moment, digesting your words. 

After a while, he nods curtly. “I won’t.” He’s lying through his teeth. But he beckons you closer and as you lean in, he kisses your eyelid. Pulling away, he seems to smile slightly in an effort to coax you into relaxing. As if he wants you to give it up. 

Though the tender action does send a wave of serenity through you, you can’t help but to feel a lingering sense of dread, with questions unanswered running through your mind. When will I get to find out something about him that the fans won’t? Or does he think he should just be honest with everyone at the same time? Is he not conscious of the world being familiar with the very depths of his soul?

Or are you just envious that somebody who isn’t exclusive to him is able to understand him like you do? 

“27 June 2024.” Before you can get lost in your thoughts, Riki starts speaking. You hate with all your heart and soul the exhausted, subdued shadow over his features. He starts talking about their recent concert in Hiroshima — how they hold their Japanese single, ‘Blossom’, close to their hearts; how he’s proud of Jay for pressing through their performance even with an injured knee. 

Then he gets to the hard stuff. 

It’s like he already has one foot out the door when you send him a glare and he ignores it out the corner of his eye. As soon as he opens his mouth again, gaze trailing off to the bottom of the screen, you know it’s coming. The same phrase he likes to repeat over and over again, and then cover up with a ‘but you know, I just love performing in front of you guys.’ 

“I do have some regrets.” 

You hope your glare is like a slap in the face to him. If it’s not, you don’t know what you’re going to do with him. All his following words just seep down the drain. Why does it pain you more than it pains him, to hear the words, ‘I need to work harder’ come out his mouth? Like he genuinely doesn’t see that he’s pushing himself to the limit already? This is exactly why you despise concert season. Coupled with jetlag, the mental form of fatigue seems to strike around these times as does physical, and it’s never good for Riki. 

His words fall on deaf ears. You’re boiling with an inexplicable rage, but it’s the most tame version of the concept of anger.

You just don’t understand, as he stops the recording and turns back to you. You can’t tell if he plain doesn’t get the weight of the situation, or is trying to avoid your gaze solely due to that reason. 

So before he returns to his usual playful self – you can see the light slowly returning to his eyes; he’s about to shove you to the other side of the bed with a snide quip – you grab his wrist and look at him scrutinisingly. 

“Do you mean all those things you said?” You stare at him imploringly in the dim lighting. “Every single one of them?” 

“Do you wish you could say more?” You say breathlessly, desperately looking from eye to eye like they’ll provide all the answers. 

Clearly taken aback, your boyfriend gently pulls his hand from your vice grip. “I mean it,” he murmurs sincerely. “I mean it all. How could I not?” 

Your gaze travels down his neck to the safety-pin necklace he refuses to take off. The meaning behind it is special to him, and likewise, he can’t be seen a day without it. His dedication and sincerity will never be deniable. So why do you feel as if there’s something he’s holding back, not telling you… a truth that he’s altered? 

“There’s nothing more to say?” You press, slightly disappointed because there’s two explanations for this. One, he’s really got nothing left in him to spill, especially not to you. Or two, he just doesn’t want you to know what more he has to say. You can’t decide which’d be worse. 

“...” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He reaches up to fiddle with his necklace as he climbs into bed beside you. “I know. You’re concerned because I hardly open up to you one-on-one. Rather, you have to hear it second-hand when I have ‘conversation’ with the fans.” 

Right. He’s extremely insightful too. How did I forget that about him? 

You just nod, taking care not to look too upset by the situation. 

“Would it be a lame excuse to say that it’s because I don’t trust myself enough?” He whispers as he unzips his patchy blue jacket and unclips his earrings. “To come clean to you, that is.” 

“Yes,” you say instantly, lightheartedly. ‘Okay but seriously, why don’t you trust yourself? Is that the truth, or do you not trust me enough? They’re different, you know.” 

“I know…” he scoots closer to you and lies down on his side, facing you. “To put it simply, I’m scared that what comes out is a sugarcoated version of the truth. When I face you, I don’t want to worry you with… everything. When I face the camera… it’s different. Because what are they going to do about it? There’s nothing they can do to help.” 

You make eye contact with him, and finally a sliver of anxiety crosses his orbs right before your eyes. 

“I don’t like it when you put up a front with me though,” you say. “It worries me even more than you think.” 

“Well, I know now,” he scoffs, moving the hair out your face and looking at you with such a tender look of love that the surroundings all fade away to dust. “I’m sorry. I’ll confide in you better next time… wow that sounds so…” 

He cringes and buries his head into the pillows cutely. A mixture of affection and relief floods over you at this, and you touch his hands in silence. 

When he lifts his face from the pillow, he pouts endearingly and intertwines your fingers together. “Seriously, there’s nobody I trust more than you, okay? Sorry if it didn’t feel that way.” 

So, even though he’s supposed to be getting rest for their upcoming activities, he spends the rest of the night telling you the full, honest truth — and of course he pairs this with a bunch of kisses, teasing remarks and cuddles.

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