#moots! please read

[alive-and-afraid]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Maze Runner (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Gally & Minho & Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Gally & OC (Maze Runner), Gally & Newt (Maze Runner), Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Frypan & Gally & Minho & Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Minho & Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt & OC, Minho & OC, Thomas & OC, Frypan & OC, Brenda & Frypan & Jorge & Minho & Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner) Characters: Gally (Maze Runner), Newt (Maze Runner), Thomas (Maze Runner), Brenda (Maze Runner), Vince (Maze Runner), Frypan (Maze Runner), Minho (Maze Runner), Jorge (Maze Runner), Teresa Agnes, Lawrence (Maze Runner), Ava Paige (Maze Runner), Harriet (Maze Runner), Sonya | Elizabeth "Lizzy" (Maze Runner), Aris Jones Additional Tags: Original Character(s), Oc is to Gally what Chuck was to Thomas, The Death Cure Fix-It, Book/Movie 3: The Death Cure, Post-The Death Cure, WICKED | WCKD is Not Good, Protective Gally (Maze Runner), Sweet Gally (Maze Runner), Gally is soft, Newt Lives (Maze Runner), Safe Haven (Maze Runner), Cranks (Maze Runner), Maze D (The Maze Runner), Gally being a big brother, Teresa Agnes Bashing, The Maze Runner Spoilers, Oc is a little too much like Gally, Sarcastic Newt (Maze Runner), All my homies hate Teresa, Newt & Sonya | Elizabeth "Lizzy" are Siblings (Maze Runner), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Glader Slang (Maze Runner), no beta we die like chuck Series: Part 1 of The Maze D Chronicles. Summary:

Hedy's always been resourceful. She's also always been alone.

She got out of her maze on her own. She got out of WCKD on her own. She survived the Scorch. On. Her. Own.

That is until some idiot stumbles into the crank-infested warehouse she's in, half-dazed and blinded by the sandstorm raging outside. She picks him up by the scruff of his neck and saves his ass from the Cranks.

After breaking his nose.

Seven months later and they're still saving each others asses, only now it's from WCKD guards on runs into the city, desperately trying to find a way to dismantle the organisation behind their torture. And now with Gally's old Glader friends bursting onto the scene and planning to stroll on into WCKD with no planning, they're not just going up against the guards anymore. And they're not just saving each other's asses.

[feathery-bastard]

Lord of the flies fandom are you still alive. Lord of the flies fandom if you can hear me. Lord of the flies fandom please

[lactoseintolerentswag]

when they've got interpreting spiderman noir under a specific cultural lens at the function [picture of me going insane]

I cant help myself.. what can i say. And since you've mentioned some research going on behind the scenes.. do you have any fun interpretations? Or even anything fun about the 1800s!

OH HI

Hm. I don't have anything as fun as historical dancing, but I suppose this does give me the excuse (thabk u) to blab about Noir's childishness.

(wow putting this under the cut bc it got longer than I thought it would LMAO)

I think what a lot of people (including Noir's contemporary writers and yes even the spiderverse interpretation) fall for when trying to read Noir's character is the imitation of his idea of what an adult is, that he hides behind. Like Noir's persona is incredibly exaggerated. He's playing pretend. Look here, he's practicing.

A lot of his persona as Noir is imitation! Imitation of his uncle, of Urich, of the violence he's been exposed to. He's running around in his uncle's old uniform. Fundamentally misunderstanding WHY his uncle had been ashamed of it and his role in the war.

And then he goes ahead and steals Urich's alias because it sounds Cool (which is such a teenage thing to do jesus christ).

But like that imitation of The Adult isn't something that's limited to that exaggerated persona that Noir encapsulates. Peter himself is trying So Hard to be grown up and tough and responsible that it loops back around to him being a brat who would try the three guys in a trench coat trick. He even gets beat up for it when trying to defend his aunt. And I mean I've posted about him being a brat.

About how he looks at Urich as a Prime Example of what a strong and knowledgeable adult is (which is part of why he reacts so volatile in response to Urich showing he's not exactly as morally righteous as himself, he's wounded and let down). Whiskey? Whiskey sounds like someone Mature and Cool would drink, I'll have it too. And then proceeds to throw his drink at Osborn and laugh about it. The illusion was broken for me then.

But well it's not broken for everyone. I mean like obviously I poked at the contemporary writers, but I'm more talking about the other characters in the narrative. Mainly Urich and Felicia.

Urich taking Peter under his wing isn't entirely under the motivation to nurture Peter. I think it Becomes that, but he's really envious of that kid. He wants to see him lose that hope that he once had (ruh roh the opposite thing happened, being around the kid made YOU more hopeful Ben. Guess you gotta be good. Hope you don't die now).

Urich really is exposing him to an extremely harsh reality, and taking him places where adults are typically only allowed. He's letting Peter get a glimpse into what it's like, which will eventually enable Noir's tool of violence. All these tests will accumulate into what Peter thinks someone powerful and strong can be and do.

Then his problematic relationship with Felicia (writers I'm malleting you for this). He's clinging to her adulthood and the safety she represents, and he's young but she sees some adult strength in him. I mean she trusts him with the blackmail Urich gave her, which she really. Shouldn't, even if that's what Urich wanted.

Anyway, strength is something she's been consistently drawn to her in her partners. Strength to feel as her own. Even if it's to hers and others' detriment. There's also a part of Peter that's drawn to Felicia because Urich was. He's still honing in the good parts of Urich he wants to be.

I think the one person in the narrative who doesn't fall for it? Is Aunt May. You could argue it's just her being naturally motherly, but for someone who was about to be eaten alive she's pretty frank with Noir. I think she can see that that violence and exaggerated grittiness comes from someone inexperienced and young. Even if she can't consciously recognize the similarities between Noir's persona and Peter's protectiveness of her. I don't think she wants to see that. I actually have a short comic script about that, but it probably will never see the light of day.

Ugh he's like a cat puffing up to scare away a predator. It's fake!!!!! It's all fake!!!!!! He gets intimidated by JJ, he never ties his shoes, gets powers and then immediately guns to beat the shit out of Osborn, sings about the sandman when he's getting his face bashed in, crawls to Felicia all pathetic and sad, and he made a costume to run over roofs at night in.

And it's funny how he's forcing himself to grow up, but also really sad because all the things he's being exposed to is already forcing him to grow up. He's witnessing things no kid should ever see or experience.

Then there's the time period to consider. The aftermath of WWI, being in the midst of the Great Depression, and WWII just around the corner. He's faced incredible hardship and is going to continue to face so much hardship, and he's going to mature faster than he ever should have. It should have made him crash and burn Hard when he became an adult, and to me he still does because I'm ignoring everyone after ewaof LMAO.

As for my research on the 1800s NY that's for my own spider iteration run I'm working on, so not too related to Noir until I reach the 30's :3

Hope that was satisfying!!

[dont-offend-the-bees]

’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise

Happy Painland Week! Day one is LOVE LANGUAGES! I could've picked touch or gifts or quality time or whatever as my love language but you know what? No. Life-affirming therapeutic domination. Edwin's love language is ordering Charles around. Fight me. Anyway, no smut here, but some steaminess/flirtation/allusions to sex. Some light angst bc Charles starts off in a bit of a spiral, bless his heart. Don't worry, Edwin'll put him right <3 (Quick translation note for any Americans reading: I'm referring to Charles' suspenders in British English, i.e. as braces rather than suspenders. Suspenders for us are generally the little sexy straps for stockings and would instantly up the kinkiness of the scene at least 70% (which I am in favour of, it's just not the fic I'm writing right now lmao)) 5.3k, M-rated, also available on Ao3. Thank you @painlandweek for putting this all together! Enjoy! 💛

Sometimes it seemed that the more Edwin learned, the less he knew. Or rather the more he thought he knew, the more he had left to learn.

Acquiring knowledge on any particular topic, it seemed, was only building the groundwork to question it further. Perhaps that's what an expert was, in the end: not a vast repository of facts, but one skilled in the art of digging for more. Not a pursuer of answers, but a pursuer of more interesting questions. Edwin had found it to be much the same across fields, across all his broad areas of interest and study.

Charles Rowland was one such area of interest.

It was quite astonishing; but thirty years into their partnership, Charles still managed to elude Edwin's understanding. Frequently. He was a lively, complex butterfly who simply would not be pinned (metaphorically, that is. In the more literal sense, he was most certainly not opposed to being pinned by Edwin. But he digressed.) They must have exhausted every conversational avenue two dead boys could traverse by now. How, then, could they persist in finding new things to say to one another? How, despite a mere sixteen years apiece of life before death, could they still find anecdotes unshared, secrets unspoken? Despite knowing Charles better than Edwin knew himself there was always, always more to learn.

And a great deal of learning had been done over the last eighteen months or so, indeed. Since the chaotic inciting incident: the now infamous milestone Case of Crystal Palace. Crystal, in all her messy human glory, had taken a battering ram to their comfortable routine. She'd rather shaken things up in the process — and thus, shaken a fresh slew of secrets from Charles and Edwin both.

Edwin's biggest secret was no longer a secret, of course. It was now common knowledge — though Charles, loyal to the last, hadn't shared it with another soul. He hadn't told anyone of Edwin's confession, nor had any official announcements been made by either of them as the 'situation' developed. But develop it had, in ways difficult to overlook. In touches, in kisses, in soft words and flagrant flirtations. Edwin imagined their friends and colleagues must have put two and two together by now, vis-a-vis Edwin and his feelings for Charles. And if they hadn't... well, it would certainly raise some concerns about the quality of their detective work.

Charles, likewise, had revealed a secret or two. Far less pleasant ones. Secrets that, in his more cynical moments, Edwin wondered if Charles would ever have told him without external pressure. Without Crystal's well-meaning badgering, or the Night Nurse's former villainy. Secrets about his family, his father, himself — or at least his own perception of himself. Harrowing they may be, but Edwin had filed each secret away carefully. Each bitter truth was a new supporting fact, a new data point. A fresh insight that peeled away Charles' brave face, and shone an interrogating light upon decades of behaviour.

Edwin had always known, of course, that Charles was not merely the plucky optimist he purported himself to be. Glimpses under the mask were rare, but inevitable. He'd have been foolish not to notice. But Edwin was not inclined to go picking at scabs. So what if Charles wished to maintain an image of himself? Image was everything; or so Edwin had been raised to believe. How a man chose to present himself to the world spoke volumes. Charles wished to be seen as a positive force, and Edwin had always respected him for that. Loved him, even, though he hadn't known it at the time. Charles' insistence on being a stubborn idealist had awed, amused and frustrated Edwin in almost equal measure. He wouldn't have changed it for the world.

But it was one thing to know that the chipper, animated, relentlessly positive Charles he'd come to know was a crafted image. Finding what lay behind the mask was another. It was a new level of understanding, of intimacy, to finally know the bedrock that lay beneath every too-bright word or action.

Charles Rowland was an inveterate people-pleaser.

In retrospect, of course, it made perfect sense. Edwin had sat with it, applied his new knowledge to a thousand interactions, and found it fitting. It had been a relatively easy fact to accept into his broader understanding of Charles.

The bitterer pill to swallow had been in realising just how often Edwin was, himself, a person Charles felt the need to please at all costs.

Edwin liked to think that their relationship had improved since those various revelations. It had certainly changed in notable ways. Especially since last November. Bonfire night. The night Charles had kissed him under the fireworks and thanked him, sheepishly, for 'waiting for him to get his head out of his arse'.

But the kissing and... other activities weren't the only new additions to their relationship. Moreso than ever before, there were repeat and regular attempts to open the lines of communication. They did not always succeed in those attempts. Charles' fear of rocking the boat and Edwin's discomfort with emotional outpourings were at odds with one another, and often left them at an impasse.

Nevertheless, Edwin was determined to try. Charles deserved nothing less; there had never been a person, alive or dead, more deserving of Edwin's trust. And it was the dearest wish of Edwin's afterlife that he could be the same for Charles. That he could be a person Charles need not perform for, or hide from. That he could be allowed to know Charles, to learn him, inside and out.

And while there was still, undeniably, work to be done, Edwin truly believed progress had been made. Through trial and a considerable amount of error, they had come to... understand certain things about one another. About what they each wanted, what they needed. Edwin was making leaps and bounds in the highly specialised field of Charles Studies.

So when Crystal stormed out of the office after another of her and Edwin's (admittedly rather petty) spats, he knew Charles needed attention before her footsteps had even faded.

"Charles?" Edwin prompted, with caution. He was not always an expert at 'reading the room', but in reading Charles he was growing more fluent by the day.

His dear friend's eyes snapped to him with a hunted look. Just as Edwin had thought they might.

Edwin cleared his throat. "Are you... alright?" he asked.

Charles, in that practised manner of his, plastered on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, mate." He couldn't seem to look Edwin in the eye. "I'm brills."

Hm. A likely story.

He should have suspected this might happen, in the wake of such a heated disagreement. The very air in the office still seemed to ring with the reverberating slam of the door. An overreaction, really. Even mere minutes later, the whole altercation seemed rather silly. But such things were bound to happen on occasion. Edwin had certain opinions, and no qualms about arguing in their favour — and in Crystal Palace, he'd met his match. The two of them often wound up in the unfortunate scenario of a minor dispute devolving into a full-blown tiff. Such squabbles generally didn't end until someone (Charles) laughed and broke the tension, or someone else stormed off.

Edwin didn't doubt that all would be well shortly enough. If their pattern held, Crystal would come slinking back in a few hours. She and Edwin would exchange either sincere regrets or stilted half-apologies (depending on the severity of the argument). Then they would smooth over any remaining awkwardness by finding something minor to agree on (usually something Charles-related), and go swiftly back to normal.

But that resolution was some time away, yet. And in the meantime the air hung heavy; saturated with ire and discontent. Charles, emotional sponge that he was, was clearly bearing the brunt of it — and, as usual, trying his utmost to 'laugh it off'.

Edwin responded to the blatant fib with a single raised, questioning eyebrow.

Charles flinched as if struck.

Oh, dear. The situation was more dire than Edwin had thought.

“Charles,” said Edwin again, softer this time. It was important not to go on the offensive; in his current condition, Charles was liable to take any careless word as keenly as a knife in the back. “Please tell me what’s on your mind.” After a moment’s consideration, he added: “I promise I won’t be angry.”

It felt like utter nonsense to say out loud, a patronising placation as one might give to a child. But Charles, in Edwin’s experience, responded well to directness. His panic thrived in the mires of ambiguity.

Releasing a ragged breath, Charles rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Just… dunno what to do sometimes. When you two go off at each other.” He peered at Edwin with his uncovered eye, and tried for a smirk. It fell short of the carefree, playful expression it was aiming for. “Dunno what side to pick, do I?”

He voiced it like a joke; but Edwin was listening well, and he knew an incomplete sentence when he heard it. He stepped closer and, slowly, giving him time to retreat, took Charles’ free hand and squeezed it.

Charles closed his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “Can’t keep you both happy,” he admitted on a low mumble, like it was a shameful secret.

Guilt curdled sour and heavy in Edwin’s stomach, but he kept it from his face. Any indication that Charles had made him feel bad was bound to make him shut down further. “It should not be your duty to keep the peace,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I will speak to Crystal later, clear the air.”

Charles nodded, but remained hunched unhappily in on himself. Propped against the edge of the desk as if he needed the support. Edwin could see his brain turning itself over and over in miserable little spirals; wondering if he should have stepped in earlier, said something else. Wondering what he could have done differently to make everything better. To make everyone happy.

Edwin swallowed tightly, and placed his hand upon Charles’ shoulder. “Charles. Look at me, please.”

He did so, without question or hesitation. Responding with ease to the polite command as if it had come from his own subconscious. Quick, and keen. Already Edwin had a strong suspicion of what was needed to calm him; but it was always important to test the waters, first.

Edwin, with great care, hooked a finger through the gold chain around Charles’ neck, and tugged.

The effect was instantaneous. Charles’ wide, fraught eyes softened, slackened, his lined eyelids drooping. His lips parted around a quiet sigh, smoother than his last ragged exhalation. His shoulders slumped as if a great weight had been released from them.

Charles may be an ever-unfolding and expanding area of study. But to Edwin’s expert eye, on occasion, his needs were remarkably simple to interpret.

Meeting his now somewhat unfocused gaze, Edwin leaned in. “Put Crystal out of your mind for now,” he said, a quiet command. “In fact, put everything out of your mind.”

“She’s upset,” Charles mumbled in half-hearted protest.

“Yes — and she will continue to be so for a while longer, regardless of what you or I might say.” Edwin smoothed the collar of Charles’ polo shirt. “When the dust has settled, I will find her and smooth things over. I promise. For the time being, you’ll do none of us any good with your overthinking.”

Charles snorted. “Overthinking? Me?” he joked.

With another gentle, but recriminating tug of the chain, Charles gasped and quieted. Already, his bright eyes were taking on a dreamlike haze.

Edwin sighed and leaned close, ‘til his nose grazed across Charles’ cheekbone. “Granted, your tendency to underthink before making dangerous choices borders on the pathological,” he teased. “But I suspect you’re thinking a lot of very unkind thoughts about yourself right now, and I’d like for you to stop. Please.”

Breath shuddering, Charles’ hands lifted, fisting in the front of Edwin’s waistcoat.

“That what you want?” He asked, his voice a small and broken thing. For all his strength of body and character, he felt as vulnerable in Edwin’s hands as a baby bird.

“How about I tell you exactly what I want for a while,” Edwin offered. “And then all you have to do is listen.“

He delivered a swift, dry kiss to Charles’ cheekbone. "No detective work required.”

It was a very simple solution, albeit one Edwin tried not to employ too often. He and Crystal had a sort of pact in place to discourage Charles' need to please others, rather than lean into it. Within reason, of course — Edwin had no wish to change Charles fundamentally as a person (or to discourage him from doing what felt good to him in intimate settings. If it made Charles feel good to make others feel good, who was Edwin to begrudge him the pleasure?). But they'd agreed that it was probably the healthier option, in the long term. To steer Charles away from hingeing his self-worth on what he could do for others.

But sometimes, the damage was already done. Sometimes Charles was simply too vulnerable to rejection, too stuck in his own head. And on those occasions, Edwin had learned the kindest thing to do was to take him by the hand, and take the guesswork out of the equation.

Charles sniffed. His soft curls tickled Edwin's forehead as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, alright."

"Good." Edwin gave him another kiss, pressing this one to his temple. Charles melted under his touch, leaning into him, his hands tight and hot on Edwin's chest. "Thank you, dearheart," said Edwin.

Charles shivered. "Fuck me..." he swore, a dazed mumble.

"Hmmm... No, not tonight, I don't think," Edwin quipped — gratified when Charles managed a snort of mirth. Edwin thumbed up under Charles' jaw, finding where the tension still lingered and soothing it out with firm strokes. "I have something better in mind," he said. He released his hold on Charles to roll up in his own shirtsleeves in brisk, meticulous folds.

Charles watched his every motion with a hungry gaze. "Yeah?" he breathed, somewhat stunned; eyes devouring each newly exposed inch of Edwin's skin up to the elbow. He did have a fascination with Edwin's arms; it was a tried and true method of holding his attention.

"Yes." Edwin glanced over Charles' shoulder with a hum, and settled his hands upon Charles' slender waist. "First things first; let's get you sitting comfortably, shall we?"

He braced himself and, with careful exertion, lifted Charles to deposit him in his usual spot on the desk. Charles went without struggle, and with a gasp that morphed swiftly into a groan. His legs flopped open at once, one ankle hooking around Edwin's thigh in invitation. He tugged on Edwin's waistcoat with a soft whine of his name.

Edwin, maintaining his composure admirably, shushed him. He removed Charles' hands from his own chest — though he pressed quick, apologetic kisses to the heels of each. "Later, my love. Now. Where did I put it..."

He patted down his trouser pockets. When that yielded nothing, he sifted through the stationary cup on the desk. He suspected the object he desired might still be in his coat pocket, but he was loathe to step too far from Charles. Luck, however, was on his side. He recovered the coil of string from a box of spellcasting odds and ends with a small sound of triumph.

Charles watched Edwin's hands unwind the string; rapt despite the slight glaze of his eyes. "You gonna tie me up, then?"

Edwin tsk'd. "What a one-track mind you have this evening," he teased. It wasn't a scold. Having Charles focused and fixated on trying to get Edwin into bed was vastly preferable to the jumble of insecurity. "Hold out your hands."

"Sure you're not tying me up?" said Charles, brow furrowing as he lifted his hands — palms up, beautifully willing.

"I suppose that depends on your definition," said Edwin, as he tied the ends of the string together to form a wide loop. He nudged Charles' hands into place, about a foot apart with palms turned inwards, and draped the loop over them.

Charles, through the haze, finally twigged. "Cat's cradle?" he said, with a slight chuckle.

"Do you object?" asked Edwin.

"Why'd you wanna do this?"

"Because I like playing games with you." Edwin directed Charles to rotate his wrists, winding the string into loops around his hands. He indulged in a gentle touch as he did so, tracing his thumbs along the creases of Charles' skin. The smooth stretch where once a 'life line' would have resided. Edwin had not set much stock by the art of palmistry, until he'd discovered that little commonality between he and Charles. "Again, please. One more loop."

Charles didn't argue — of course he didn't. Edwin doubted he currently had the capacity to argue; so deep had he already descended into that quiet space in his head. The one he occupied only in their moments of deepest intimacy, when Edwin took charge, took him in hand. His eyes, such quick and clever things, now gazed down at Edwin hooded and glassy. Perfect, still pools of pleasantly addled warmth. He'd sunk so readily, so splendidly, all but curled up in the palm of Edwin's hand.

Edwin watched him a moment before proceeding, soothing the ragged edges of his own Hell-torn soul. Whatever he'd done in life to earn the trust Charles placed in him, it must have be something very good indeed.

In next to no time, they had the string pulled taut between Charles' hands, forming the neat double cross of the eponymous Cat's Cradle. Edwin hummed in approval. "Well done," he praised, as he pinched the crossed strands and pulled them outwards. "And now to me. Soldier's Bed, please."

Though Charles appeared to be away with the fairies, he was attuned to Edwin's voice and acquiesced to his command with ease. This was a game they had played many times, on long and quiet nights. When they'd had nothing to hand but an old bootlace, and nothing they wished to do but keep each other's company. Charles didn't need to strain to recall how to release the strings into Edwin's hold. Or how to begin forming the next shape after that, his confident fingers pinching and tugging the relevant strands.

Peaceful and methodical, they worked together, shape by shape, hand to hand. When Charles was pulling the strings for Edwin he was focused, intent, a little wrinkle in his brow. Once or twice his tongue darted out, bitten between his teeth in concentration, and Edwin resisted the impulse to distract him with a kiss. When Charles was merely holding the strings he subsided into utter relaxation. Breathing slow, eyes closed or halfway there, watching Edwin's face and hands with hazy satisfaction. Occasionally he dropped a thread, but it was never a serious blunder, and Edwin got them back on track with a polite command to pick it up. In a customary game they'd have to restart, but this was no customary game. Now was not the time to dwell upon harmless mistakes.

The game served as Edwin had hoped it would. After a few rounds of he and Charles working in perfect tandem, he could feel the air had settled and Charles with it. The grounding touches of their fingers and the face-to-face contact couldn't have hurt. Edwin had fallen into a rhythm, politely requesting each new shape by name and praising the end result. Charles had likewise fallen into a rhythm of mellow compliance. As the rounds wore on he even offered the odd cheeky verbal acknowledgement of Edwin's commands. A 'comin' right up' here, an 'on it, boss' there. His voice was thick and sweet, his tongue succumbing to the same submissive, slumberous spell as his mind. But a little of his bright, energetic spark was creeping back beneath the haze.

By the time they'd worked through the established shapes, and exhausted their own catalogue of invented ones, Edwin was satisfied. He felt they'd left the storm behind and sailed into calmer waters.

"Good game, Charles," he said, as he took their last custom shape — the aptly named Nail in the Coffin — into his own hands, and unraveled it. "Thank you."

Charles hummed, drowsy, swaying a little where he sat. "What'chu wanna do now?" he asked, dark, glassy eyes intent on Edwin's face. Like it was the most important question in the world.

He looked so lovely like this. Of course he always looked lovely, as handsome a boy as Edwin had ever seen. But like this especially, so far gone in his peace and pleasure, there was nothing to compare. Warm and golden, soft and tousled; his eyes black and bottomless and only for Edwin. Gazing at him as if he'd hung the moon and the stars.

Edwin faltered, a small gasp catching in his throat. He remained adamant that he wouldn't take more than Charles should give, at this moment. But... perhaps a small indulgence.

"Kiss me," he said, tucking a finger beneath Charles' chin. "Please."

Charles nodded — a hasty gesture compared to his otherwise lethargic motions — and swayed forward. He crashed his lips against Edwin's in an artless kiss, his hands finding Edwin's waist and gripping tight. Like he couldn't get him close enough.

Edwin sighed into it, stepping into Charles. Into the comfortable vee of his sprawled legs, where he'd come to spend many a peaceful night of late. He tilted his head, guiding Charles into a gentler kiss. Leading him as he would in a dance and letting him fall, gratefully, into step. Edwin explored the curve of Charles' jaw with his fingers, the charmingly pointed shell of his ear. He thumbed across his sparkly earring, and Charles huffed a little laugh into his mouth.

"Magpie," he mumbled.

Edwin chuckled as well, a natural release of the warmth suffusing him. He broke the kiss to dust smaller, feather-light ones across Charles' cheeks. "Well," he said, a thumb pressed to Charles' plush lower lip. "I do seem to collect the most beautiful things..."

Breath hitching, Charles wrapped his arms around Edwin's shoulders and squeezed. Edwin returned the embrace without hesitation. Never before Charles had he felt at ease with this sort of thing — this effusive, uncurbed physical affection. With anyone else it was still a struggle. He had little desire to touch, or be touched. But inviting Charles into his embrace was never a hardship; it was simply his proper place. It was a fact of the universe: Charles belonged with Edwin. In his arms, on his desk, in his bed, on his nerves.

Charles belonged with Edwin, as Edwin belonged with Charles; holding his hand, steering him true. And, where necessary, using a firm word and a firmer hold to put those wretched doubts in his head to rest.

Edwin pulled away with a parting kiss to Charles' temple. Charles felt warm, in that strange, prickly way. Ghostly body heat wasn't so much a thrum of blood as an excitation of atoms. To Edwin's mind, he felt warmer than usual at present. "Are you hot?" he asked.

"Dunno," said Charles with a lax, flirtatious smile. "Am I?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "In the non-figurative sense, please, Charles."

"Mm. Yeah, bit hot." The smile widened into an impish grin. "Or maybe that's just you."

"You're incorrigible," Edwin muttered — but there was a smile in his voice and likely on his face, as well. His own cheeks were beginning to feel rather warm. He cleared his throat and tugged, meaningfully, on one of Charles' braces. There was a tantalising give and take to the elastic as his fingers slipped behind it. He was half tempted to release it, let it ping back, see what sound Charles made at the slight shock. But now wasn't the time for that sort of play.

"You may remove a layer, if you like," Edwin offered magnanimously — no ulterior motive whatsoever. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Charles didn't need telling twice. He slid the braces off his shoulders and grabbed his polo shirt at the back of the neck, dragging it off over his head. It was altogether a clumsier attempt than his usual so-called 'strip teases', but his hooded eyes burned on Edwin's face throughout. Afterwards he was left in just his sinfully tight white vest — and, of course, the enticing glimmer of his golden chain on top. But he remained pleasantly flushed and glowing, with not a hint of cold or discomfort. Charles was prone to chills in times of stress; a morbid sense memory of his last night alive. But he always seemed to warm in Edwin's presence.

Edwin, with an exhale that was just a tad on the ragged side, bowed his head and grazed a kiss across Charles' exposed collarbone. "Better?"

He could feel Charles' soft groan ruffling his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, feels good." He pulled on the hem of Edwin's waistcoat. "Bet you're hot too, yeah?"

Increasingly so, yes. Edwin was clinging to his composure by a thread. "It is a touch close in here," he agreed. He could feel Charles' restless fingers tugging, so he took them in his own hands, and guided them to the top button of the waistcoat. It was only fair he restore the balance. "Would you be so kind?"

Charles groaned again, this time so close to Edwin's ear it sent a ripple down his spine, and obeyed. His hands, as was often the case when disrobing Edwin, tripped over the buttons, rendered all fingers and thumbs in his eagerness. But they were in no hurry. Edwin closed his eyes and waited, tucked into the crook of Charles' neck and perfectly satisfied to be so.

When the final button surrendered the fight, Charles made haste to shove the garment off Edwin's shoulders. Edwin corrected him with a polite "Gently, please," and Charles took it in more careful hands, mindful of causing wrinkles. It made no difference, of course — Edwin could will his clothes to look as pristine or rumpled as he pleased. But Charles shuddered sweetly at the direction, and Edwin so enjoyed directing him. Besides, there was never any harm in promoting good habits.

"Fold it, please," said Edwin — stepping back to give Charles space. He watched Charles take the waistcoat in hand and, inexpertly, fold it in half twice. Lengthwise first, then the opposite. Hardly proper protocol, but Edwin didn't much care. He just took the haphazardly folded garment with gratitude and set it aside on the desk. "Thank you."

"Anything else?" Charles mumbled — his fingers teasing Edwin's shirt, itching to tug it free of his waistband.

Edwin sighed, and stilled Charles' hands. Perhaps he was letting the situation get away from them a bit. Charles was quite the difficult temptation to resist. "Perhaps later," he said. At Charles' disappointed pout, he made an amendment. "Definitely later."

Charles snorted, and let his head flop against Edwin's chest. "Alright," he mumbled. He sounded tired. Overwhelmed. It was a lot for him, this complete surrender, and Edwin well knew it. "Whatever you say, love."

"I say it's time for a rest." Edwin took Charles' face in both his hands, holding him still as he bestowed one more kiss upon his forehead. "Go and sit down, please. Comfortably, on the sofa. I'll join you momentarily."

Charles grumbled, but nevertheless did as he was told. He hopped off the desk, hand trailing across Edwin's chest as he passed him by. Edwin caught it for the barest second, just to give his fingers a parting squeeze. An altogether impossible urge to resist; and the loving way Charles' eyes found him over his shoulder affirmed his decision.

Tearing his attention from Charles and his smiles and his soft, trusting eyes, he turned it to the bookcase instead. He knew exactly what he wished to do with Charles, now. Something they'd had neither the space nor quiet for in quite some time. He scanned the shelves, deep in thought.

"Charles," he called out, careful not to cut too sharply through the peace of the room. "Douglas Adams, or Sir Arthur?"

It was a gentle prompt, and a simple choice. The stakes couldn't be lower. He waited to see if Charles would hand it back to him, anyway — still unwilling and unable to bear the thought of making an incorrect decision.

"Mmm... Doug," Charles mumbled.

Edwin smiled to himself. On the mend, then. "Excellent choice," he said; sliding their well-loved second edition of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency from the shelf.

He turned on his heel to find Charles, folded onto the sofa in a loose tangle of limbs, chin on his fist. He bore sleepy, squinting eyes and a dopey smile, both directed at Edwin and warming him through like late afternoon sunlight.

"Like how it sounds in your voice," said Charles, nestling in further. The very picture of contentment. Seemed he could scarcely keep his eyes open; but he must not have wanted to look away from Edwin just yet.

Edwin could sympathise entirely; he rarely wished to look away from Charles, either.

Edwin smiled as he stepped in close, a hand on Charles' knee; a smiling kiss dropped to his head of rampant curls. "Quiet, now, darling boy," he softly commanded, tugging on Charles' knee to make room. "And enjoy yourself."

~

“How long did the Monk believe these things? Well, as far as the Monk was concerned, forever,” Edwin read, his thumb tracing circles on Charles’ wrist. “The faith which moves mountains, or at least believes them against all the available evidence to be pink, was a solid and abiding faith, a great rock against which the world could hurl whatever it would, yet it would not be shaken. In practice, the horse knew, twenty-four hours was usually about its lot.”

They were a scant few pages into the book, and yet Edwin suspected that Charles had drifted into a doze. It was hard to tell without facing him. They'd settled on the sofa with Charles tucked up against the arm and back, and Edwin reclining between his sprawled legs. Edwin's back pillowed on Charles' torso; Charles' arms wrapped around Edwin, like a large teddy bear. Edwin could feel Charles' chin propped atop his head. On occasion, he nuzzled into Edwin's hair with soft hums as he listened to the story. But the hums and nuzzles both had grown less frequent already, subsiding to near silence.

Edwin read on regardless. Charles, like all ghosts, rarely if ever actually slept, and was likely still listening. Even if his mind was wondering elsewhere for the time being, he'd find his way back. He always did. And Edwin would be waiting for him.

A few chapters later, as Edwin recounted the thrilling mystery of the horse in the water closet, he felt Charles stirring. Soon, Charles' wrist was slipping free from Edwin's grasp, the hand coming to rest instead atop Edwin's hand in a gentle hold.

"Thank you," Charles mumbled, nuzzling into Edwin's hair.

Edwin smiled. "There's no need to thank me for reading to you," he said. "I enjoy it."

"I meant, like..." Charles sighed, squeezing Edwin's hand. "Thanks for, y'know. Bossing me around a bit," he said, sincerity threaded through the lighthearted tease. "Seriously. It proper helps."

Edwin laced their fingers, and brought Charles' hand to his lips. "Charles," he said, simple and serious. He kissed him on the knuckles. "I shall always be here to boss you around when needed."

Charles laughed. Quiet, unobtrusive. It seemed neither one of them was quite ready to break the spell just yet. "Love you," he murmured.

Marking his page with a finger, Edwin leaned back onto Charles' shoulder. He tilted his head back, all the better to look his beloved in the eye. "I love you, too."

He only had to lift his lips, a silent prompt.

Charles needed no further instructions.

~~

Thanks for reading! Consider dropping us a comment/reblog, they do so make my day/week/month 💛 Might not manage every day of this week but I will defo see you tomorrow for a fic/collab I'm SUPER excited about!!! Painland Week Prompt List

[chanrizard]

[thelov3lybookworm]

SO I decided im gonna torture myself today by reading a random wp anime fanfic my friend recommended (to cringe me out) which has random japanese words thrown everywhere and idek the who is who bc i don't watch anime and I need a look away break every 2 seconds (I needed to tell this to smn i'm sorry 😭)

you, my soldier, are brave🫡

honestly, i dont read anime stuff but i do read pakistani fanfics on watty (all thanks to @berryzxx hehe 🤭) and they also have soo mny characters like the whole book im just there like

who are u😃

so i know what ur going through babe and YOU ARE BRAVE TO GET THROUGH THE TORTURE MAY THE FORCES BE WITH YOU

reminds me tho, have u ever read skz fanfics?? theyre unhingeddd

[shalomniscient]

i am begging on my KNEES for my pinned post to be read… i do not derive any sort of joy from blocking people but,

if you are an ageless blog and you come into my inbox to interact in any way, much less ask me about the honest to god porn i’ve written, you are getting a block.

once more, i am not doing this out of malice. please respect my boundaries to not want to discuss nsft content, or any kind of content, with someone that could be a minor.

[runa-falls]

these are for @romanarose 🤭 i went on a meme making spree lol

[woodblxssomcrowned]

@imaginarianisms Traditional Clan garb + MMMMMMMM the senju-uchiha kids & the senju-uzumaki kids mayhaps??

meme (Please read meme instructions)

A bunch of sort-of Senju in Senju hakama.

It is sketchy and messy and not my best work by any means because I feared that if I put more time into it I would get overwhelmed and never finish it at all :')

I hope you like it tho

[domifucker]

get to know you better game! answer the questions and tag people you want to get to know better

thank u @frasermints ily

last song i listened to: ‘pierre & anatole’ from natasha, pierre & the great comet of 1812. angry josh groban make rick a happy boy (also i’m seeing the musical next weekend and i’m reacquainting myself with whatever the fuck anatole and dolokhov have going on)

currently watching: house md. i am not immune to psychosexual homoeroticism. also robert sean leonard has the soft wet eyes of a baby cow and i cannot stand him. i want to punch him in the face i want to kiss him on the mouth i want to gnaw on him like a rawhide bone i want him dead i desire him carnally

currently obsessed with: various leafs AUs i will never write, and my own hockey OCs who will never see the light of day. also cranberry raspberry juice.

tagging: @butchdomi @bumperbonk @mxaether @kucherovv @sammysonov @cujoforever @donttelltheelff and anyone else who wants to!! (please tag me i love reading these)

[miradelletarot]

Ok... I'm going to preface this by saying to please forgive my ignorance here because I really just have no clue what any of this means, and I need some guidance here.

Also, yes, I've googled a bunch of stuff, but some of it was conflicting info, and I think I'd rather just ask a bunch of ppl who likely know and understand this better.

For context: I'm straight. I grew up in a VERYYYYYY NOT Lgbtq friendly environment. My understanding of anything relating to the beautiful tapestry that is the Alphabet Mafia is sadly quite limited. Very surface-level. I try every day to understand more so I can support everyone better. (Horrible, hateful upbringing be damned).

Which brings me to my questions I guess. After a conversation with some lovely ppl last night (and what research I've been able to do) I have discovered that I'm demisexual. Which, frankly... Explains SOOO much about myself. Literally. Mind blown 🤯

I...I feel relieved that I understand an aspect of myself better, but I'm also left with more questions.

I understand it's part of the Ace spectrum. This I'd like to know more of. How big is this spectrum? What are the differences? Are there layers to one's demisexuality? I'm sure there are? Right? I know it doesn't matter what your sexual orientation is, but I'm still full of confusion lol.

Some resources say that yes this technically means I'm Lgbtq. Though, I have read a couple that say I'm not. I need some clarity on this one bc I don't want to insert myself somewhere I don't belong. If that makes sense...

Idk, if there's anything else I should know to make this all make more sense I'd appreciate it. Links, books, discord servers, one on one chats, idc. I am happy to learn!

I feel like I've learned more about myself as a person in the last few months than I have in the last...well...forever. I suppose.

Also I'm really sorry if this sounds really dumb or if I came across offensive in some way. The last thing I want to do is offend or hurt anymore. I just want to understand all of this better so I can, not only understand myself, but others in a more thoughtful way. The last thing I'd ever want to do is disrespect anyone.

[sunbunnyyy]

i know i just got here, but seeing all of the laughably bad takes from both sides of the spectrum is convincing me that no, i don’t actually need to be on social media again.

[l3visthighs]

Hey lovely Alyssa ✨

I hope you're doing well!

The Leviana fanarts you post are always amazing & I wondered if you could tell us more about your OC Ilyana? I'm really curious about this cutie!

Smooches 😘

Val, hi! 💕 how’re you doing?

Thank you so much for your question about Ilyana. It makes my heart so happy when people show an interest in her.

I have a little story I’ve been working on for a while for her & Levi. It’s just never seen the light of day because I don’t have a lot of confidence in my writing/storytelling. So it’s been more of a project just for me. :’)

I’ll insert a few paragraphs of it here though just to give a little more insight about her (her background, her personality, etc) <3

Year 843: 

That day had finally come; the day that Ilyana Hoover dreaded every single day since her adopted brother, Bertolt, had told her that he wanted to become a warrior. Today was the day she watched him inherit the Colossal Titan.  She couldn't believe it, she didn't want to. Thirteen years. Thirteen years is all she had left with him. For years she had tried to talk him out of it. But here she is now. Watching him train for his upcoming mission in Paradis with the now Armored Titan and Female Titan. She's going with them on their mission. She had already decided that long ago; she told herself no matter what the outcome was today that she would be there for him. She knows her brother. He's emotional, sometimes weak, and anxious. No matter what role they decide to give her in the mission, she would do it, she would go. If only to protect him. 

"I really don't think you should come along, Ilyana. It's going to be dangerous. We don't know what these island devils are capable of. Stay here and look after mom. She needs you." He pleads with her that evening. 

"You're really lecturing me over it being dangerous? Bert, you're scared of your own shadow most of the time" She sighs. "If I don't go with you and something happens to you, I wouldn't be able to live with that. I already made up my mind. I don't trust Reiner to protect you, either. You and I both know how hot headed and emotional he can be at times. Mom will be just fine. She's got dad here to watch over her. You know he'd never let her roam the streets alone." 

He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. She's right. He knows she is; and he knows there's no convincing her otherwise. His sister has always been stubborn. A bit hot headed herself at times. He knows she just wants the best for him. She's always been protective of him. But he can't help but wish she'd believe in him, just this one time. He knows he can handle himself. He's been through the training, he knows what to expect; what he's getting himself into. 

Ilyana always knew she was different from the others of her kind. Born a Marleyan but adopted at a young age by an Eldian family; the Hoover family. They’d found her alone on the street one evening and decided to take her in; a few years later came Bertolt. She never knew her real parents, nor what had happened to them. Every Marleyan here was disgusted by the Eldians. She had watched her family be talked down to, pushed around and spit at walking down the streets. But growing up and living in an Eldian family made her feel much differently towards them. She had read the history books, heard all of the rumors; But she refused to believe they were all as bad as the people of Marley had made them out to be. She loved the Hoovers. They had always treated her like their own. The least she could do in return for everything they'd done for her is watch after their son, her brother; blood relation or not. She would protect him with her life. 

————————

TLDR: Ilyana Hoover is a Marleyan; she was adopted by the Hoovers at a young age. She’s extremely protective over her brother, Bertolt. She finds herself feeling super sympathetic towards all Eldians; including the ones on the island. Shes confident, not afraid to hold her own ground/speak up for herself; but can also be extremely hot headed & rash. (Which causes for some bickering with Levi later on in the story) she travels to the island with the Warriors as a spy.

(Also all artwork of them is done by the lovely @/catyypss)

[causenessus]

haiii what r u favourite fics (completed mostly but ongoing is fine too<3) of suna? i neeeeed stuff to read ahhhhh i feel like i’ve read everything!! tyyy<3

CRACKS KNUCKLES

(unfortunately i think a lot of the things i'd read for sunarin are lost in my reblogs somewhere bc they're like little oneshots or it's like hcs for various characters BUT here are so my favorites that are super super memorable and will always stick with me <33)

kiss me by @eggyrocks will forever be a suna fic i think about and brainrot froth over the mouth over (completed/oneshot)

I READ THE FINAL CONTRACT (completed) IN ONE NIGHT IT WAS SO GOOD I HIGHLY RECCOMEND IT!! IT IS BY MY PLATONIC WIFE <3 @afyrian WHO IS ALSO COMING OUT WITH A SUNA FIC MAYBE TOMORROW <33 PLEASE READ ANYTHING BY THEM!! SHE'S SO GOOD <3 I WOULD ALSO JUST SAY CHECK OUT THEIR MASTERLIST FROM ONE OF HER OTHER SIDEBLOGS HERE!! THERE ARE MANY SUNA FICS THAT OMG?? I JUST REALIZED I HAVEN'T READ SOME OF THESE AND WILL BE DOING SO SOON!!

mirage by @nectardaddy RAHHH so many emotions with this one <3 (ongoing)

OH YNKELKNFJBVIOHERKEROGFIHENR SUNA'S PART IN THE RAVEN'S EYE DINER IS SO SO SO SO GOOD IT IS BY MY OTHER PLATONIC SPOUSE @guitarstringed-scars (ongoing but suna's part is done)

AND I HAVE NOT HAD THE TIME TO READ IT YET but @sandwhitches is a big suna enthusiast and i think you should also definitely check out on sight by her!!! (ongoing)

[thatweirdoleigh]

Would anyone actually read various Mikaelsons x various ocs fics if I wrote them?

[milky-aeons]

— BOOK ROOM

[ a collection of this blog author's favourite recommended reads! ]

𑁍ࠬܓ . . . here, on the bottom shelf, you will find my comfort reads. the fics i find myself reaching for over and over again. ones that will no doubt make you laugh and giggle and cry, that will remind you of nostalgic summer skies and warm, humid nights.

project jean by @jeanboyjean

atta girl by @st4rd0lly

by any other name by @kentopedia

mid day naps by @fyorina

sleeping without izana by @luna0713hunter

straight up by @gaoau

there's little miss bonten! by @arlerts-angel

wonder if she loves me by @luna0713hunter

𑁍ࠬܓ . . . oh, you have found my armoire? these fics i keep close to me at night. it brings me joy to know they are within the world, that the author has spun something so beautiful.

armin arlert sleep headcanons by @arlerts-angel

figure skater gojo headcanons by @volensnolenss

what it takes to kill an angel by @mncxbe

izana headcanons by @tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang

when izana plays the guitar by @luna0713hunter

☂︎✧.* . . . my window seat is much worn and many cherished. please, pick up a book and listen to the rain tap against the panelled glass while you let these words whisk you away.

look at you by @bokutosbiceps

cake for breakfast by @arlerts-angel

does he know? by @jeanboyjean

𑁍ࠬܓ . . . the book room table can be seen littered with works this blog author is currently reading. they have just left such a spectacular impression that they already have their home here amongst the others.

dead girl's beach by @kokoch4n3l

i think i want to marry you by @arlerts-angel

and for you, i would fall from grace by @chuuyrr

raison d'etre by @gaoau

unreal unearth by @fyorina

wasteland, baby! by @fyorina