#red red red I just thought of like…the perfect comparison for how I imagine their relationship

[thedensworld]

I need your fluff scoups please🥺

Time for the Rose | C.Sc

Pairing: Scoups x Readera

Genre: Fluff, established relationship

Summary: you found out how he always got you flower at the perfect time.

Not only are you dating at the perfect time, but you are also dating the perfect man. Seungcheol loves giving you flowers ever since he discovered your secret fondness for them. It was during his first visit to your place when he noticed a bouquet of fresh flowers laying on your kitchen countertop. His mind immediately raced, wondering, "Who's the guy brave enough to give you flowers?" Especially when he thought he had made it clear to everyone that you were his.

"I got those myself after work," you explained, noticing the puzzled look on his face.

Seungcheol tilted his head, still uncertain. "You got them?" he asked, seeking confirmation. You nodded enthusiastically, taking the bouquet and showing it to him.

"Isn't it pretty? I usually get roses, but they were sold out. So daisies are my second choice," you said with a bright smile.

Seungcheol smiled back, charmed by your excitement over the flowers. To him, they paled in comparison to your beauty. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful thing in the room.

From that moment on, Seungcheol made it a point to bring you flowers regularly. It became his way of showing his affection and making sure that the sight of fresh blooms never left your kitchen countertop.

He loves seeing the flowers he gives you sit in vases around your house. Sometimes they are red, pink, or white. You always say that the kind doesn't matter, but he knows you love it every time he hands you red roses. The smile on your face that reaches your eyes, the sound of your laughter every time he shows up from afar with a bouquet in his hand—these are the moments he cherishes the most.

Oh, how he loves those moments. He makes sure to keep them forever, capturing each one in his heart like a precious photograph.

Besides that, Seungcheol loves that you get flowers for other people, a fact that makes him fall even harder for you. It was lunchtime when he picked you up from work to have lunch together. On the way back to the office, you asked him to stop at the flower shop.

"Didn't I get you some flowers just a few days ago, love?" he asked, worried that maybe he was forgetting something.

You nodded with a smile. "These are for Minji. It's her birthday today."

Seungcheol watched as your smile grew wider the moment you entered the flower shop. Your eyes closed with every breath you took, savoring the scent of the flowers. He couldn't help but look at your face closely, feeling grateful to be the man standing beside you with your arm linked to his.

Seeing you this happy over something so simple made his heart swell with love. He couldn't imagine anyone else being in his place, sharing these precious moments with you.

"What do you want to get for her?" he asked, his mouth drawing closer to your ear, a habit he had whenever he spoke to you.

You turned your head to him, your eyes sparkling. "I was thinking of getting yellow roses, but everything looks so pretty here," you said, your mouth pouting in a way that Seungcheol found utterly adorable.

"Why do you like flowers so much?" Seungcheol finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"They're pretty," you said simply. "And they have meaning. You know I love things that are subtle and symbolic."

Seungcheol nodded. You always had a penchant for the symbolic, for gestures that spoke volumes without needing words. It was one of the many things he adored about you.

"Like yellow roses for friendship, sunflowers to show adoration, and irises to show faith and hope," you continued.

Seungcheol smiled, his thoughts drifting to your favorite flower. "How about red and white roses?" he asked.

You pondered for a moment before selecting yellow lilies and white daisies for Minji and asking the staff to arrange them into a bouquet. You shifted your attention back to him and smiled. "Love and purity."

Seungcheol shook his head in disbelief, guiding you out of the store. Though he prided himself on his masculinity, he found himself considering learning about flowers just for you. Every time he saw the joy they brought to your face, he knew it was worth it.

*

You finally visited Seungcheol's office after a long time. He had sent you a text earlier saying he would be busy today and couldn’t pick you up for lunch. However, you asked if it would be okay to visit him instead, and his response was ecstatic. Seungcheol just loved having you around.

Seungcheol waited for you in front of the elevator, a wide smile spreading across his face as soon as he saw your figure revealed by the opening doors. He immediately took everything from your hands, the lunch you brought for the two of you, as he walked you to his office. His staff mostly knew who you were by now. Seungcheol had made it clear that he was dating someone amazing and had proudly introduced you to everyone. They seemed to enjoy the sight of their boss looking completely smitten every time you visited.

Once inside his office, Seungcheol set the lunch down on his desk and turned to you, his eyes filled with affection. "I’m so glad you came," he said, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You two were conversing comfortably as you savored the lunch you brought. You asked him about the job that had kept him busy, and he explained it to you in detail. While talking, your eyes wandered around his office and landed on something that piqued your interest. A single red rose sat in a vase on his desk.

"You have a rose in your office?" you asked excitedly.

He nodded with a smile. "That's your flower."

You didn't understand, so you asked, "What do you mean, my flower?"

"I always take one of your flowers and take care of it just like you do, so I know when it's time to get you another one," he explained.

Your body felt like it had stopped working. That's how he knew how long they would last.

Everything made sense now. He always seemed to know the perfect time to get you a bouquet of flowers—always exactly a day before your current ones began to wilt. Typically, your flowers would last 10 days to two weeks, but sometimes they withered sooner. Yet, Seungcheol always had another bouquet ready, as if he had been with you, watching over the flowers together.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. "You really pay attention to everything, don't you?"

He shrugged with a modest grin. "I just want to make sure you always have something beautiful to look at."

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you, Seungcheol. For everything."

He leaned in, "anything for you," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

You looked him in the eyes, your gaze full of adoration, and you couldn't help but pull him closer and kiss him right away. He seemed flustered and mumbled, "We're at my office, love," but you didn't care. You loved him so much and felt an urgent need to let him know.

"I love you, babe," you whispered, smiling as your palm rested on his cheek, caressing it slowly.

Seungcheol closed his eyes as his smile grew wider. "Fuck it, I love you too, love," he said before grabbing the nape of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss.

A kiss at lunchtime in his office.

Seungcheol was glad he had installed blinds in his office two weeks ago.

[eyesofthethrone]

So inspired by @meanbossart and his art of his durge Drow I wrote about 2k speculating on Drow's relationship and feelings towards Orin the Red and after showing it to him in private I now feel comfortable posting it publicly. Thanks for sharing your art with us man and creating such an interesting character xD

TW: Detailed descriptions of canibalism, suicidal imagery

The congregation all spoke of it, some were quiet, while some were too enraptured in the murder-bliss of Father staunch their words that spilled like blood and blood from the blessed sacrificed.

His sister, his cousin, his priestess, how could he not look upon her except with awe? How his eyes must shine like maggots in the torchlight, gleaming, following her. Obvious to all that look, even the hollowed out eyes of the skulls, fly-licked and stinking, could see it.

All did wonder did he take her to bed, did his mouth fall down upon her in reverent worship? Did she take her brother and lord inside herself? Might there not be a chance that the divine blood might mingle and quicken and the faithful might empty their throats into golden goblets so that they might be raised in celebration of a new Spawn?

Crass. Ugly. Short-sighted creatures. Pathetically mortal despite their feverance. None could ever despoil the most beloved and blessed Orin. Her changeling form was a gift from the Father himself and he had decreed that his daughter would never be violated or deformed in such a way. A beautiful doll, their Father’s perfect puppet. It was why she was perfect, for was it not anathema to their Father to give life? She could not, would not, thus she was purely a vessel for murder.

Oh how he loved her, dressed her in jewels, combed and twisted her hair till it coiled about them like intestines from a split gut. Her smile was the edge of the blade, her voice was the music of the last whimpered gasp of the dying. It seemed profane to him that it was he who was Chosen, and not her, for surely he was a mugger’s cudgel to her executioner’s axe, but he knew not the mind of their Father, could only thank him in prayers that he had deigned to make his sister live at the same time as him. To make his sister love him as he loved her.

Not to say he didn’t dream of intimacy with his beloved Orin, but it went far, far deeper than the dreams and lusts of these base creatures who clustered and fawned and crumpled so easily, so boringly beneath his fingers.

When all was said and done, and their Father’s war was won, they would be the last two living creatures beneath a dead sun, the blood of the graciously murdered would swim about their ankles and the yawning nothing of the void beyond the powers of the slain gods would rush to claim them and there, in that triumphant moment of annihilation would he finally be as of one with her.

Alas, that the moment of death was so brief, he would have just a second of her that way, when he snapped her neck. Perhaps as the last god of the dead world his Father might stretch out that moment of time so that they both might enjoy it, when he murdered her. To spend eternity holding her in his arms as the light left her eyes and the breath gasped between her teeth would be a reward beyond all riches, and while he did not serve out of a desire for reward, if that did happen he would be more than satisfied.

If not, there were still yet other intimacies available to him. He dreamed about it. He imagined what it would be like to peel her skin from her flesh, layer after layer, as fine and as translucent as silk. He might wrap it around himself, cocoon himself in her so that every inch of him was caressed by her. How paltry the pedestrian thought of running fingers through hair or gripping thighs seemed in comparison.

Then with her tender lamb flesh beneath bare, then, oh then would he begin to know her as a lover might. He would run his tongue over every strand of sinew, carve the path of each individual cord into his own unworthy heart. The flesh would be wet and warm as he peeled back each individual layer, quiver in necrotic anticipation of each touch of his lips. The fluids spilling forth her he would suckled and lap at. Just imagining the noises that would make made his spin tingle and his loins ache.

The thought of where he would make the first bite on occasion paralysed him, so many wonderful, tender spots. Her throat, the thin, soft film of flesh before the tough gristle of her larynx. Was that not a perfect metaphor for her? At first glance she seemed so small and delicate, but she was hard and tough, gristle and bone.

Her breast? The softest of meat, full of shimmering fat and so tender it would melt between his teeth and slide down his gullet without him even needing to swallow. To devour her there, to take sustenance would be poetic in a way, to draw nourishment like a child never would.

(Not that he didn’t consider a child, in the darkest and deepest places within him. That their Father might somehow bless them with his seed, and her belly might grow where he could kiss and worship it. That he might be privileged to hold a daughter of Orin in his arms who gazed up at him with his own eyes. But such a thing was anathema to their Lord, so he only held those thoughts in the dark, hidden cracks within his very soul where the Blood of Bhaal might not reach.)

The belly was traditional, of course, a knife parting the delicate sack of her guts so that they might lunge out of her towards him, tangling him up in an embrace, her miles and miles of intestines wrapping around him and holding her closer to her than a woman had ever held a man. Now this, this was true intimacy, close to it. The breathless rapture of holding her where no one else had even seen, let alone touch. He imagined wrapping them around him like a girl with ribbons, wet, soft and supple. Sometimes he thought how wonderful it would be to choke himself with them, to hang himself from the hooks of the temple. The poetic symmetry spoke to the romantic in him, for her to kill him after he had killed her and be left for all eternity as a symbol for those who would follow after. Bhaalist couples would point to their remains and coo “Oh, the greatest of romances, the most ardent of lovers,” for what could be a more perfect devotion of love than to die together in that moment of bliss, a perfect moment that would last an eternity, a true blessing from their Father.

He never would, of course, because as poetic and fairy-tale as that would be, it would be disrespectful to her, to her death and her body and he worshipped her (not as he worshipped Father, of course. People could be so foolish when they said you could only devote yourself to one thing, as if love was finite and not a wellspring eternal in your throbbing meat-heart?)

For the truest expression of his devotion would be to consume her, to catch the edge of a sinew where it met the cartilage, between his teeth and gently, lovingly pull it from her bones. He would not be as crass as to use a knife or even his hands. Only with his kiss would she be defleshed, the long, arduous work of days, even months, but he would do it, he would do it for her. Swallow down every inch of her and hold her safe in his belly like a child, perhaps his gut would even swell up and become round and gravid? That he might place his hand upon it and feel her within him. He would cradle her, sing to her, dream of her, all those things that a mother might do with her unborn child. For such was the depth of his love for her that it moved beyond the common and mundane categories of mortals. Sister, mother, daughter, lover, it was all the same to him, to them.

Her meat would be sweet and lean, soft and easy to swallow, like lamb or veal. He would lick her bones clean of all specks of flesh, he especially looked forwards to the feeling of her eyeballs popping between his teeth and then running his tongue around the inside of the socket. Then her brain, her wonderful, clever, cunning mind, always scheming and plotting. He loved her mind and her thoughts like rot loved the damp. He pictured her seeping into him like mold in a cellar, little black dots swarming over his insides. Would he know her better, understand more once he had finished eating her brain?

The heart was cliche, but cliche for a reason. Before he had come to know his sister a little better and her preferences he had tried presenting her with the hearts of his murder victims like a cat with a broken bird. His beautiful, untouchable Orin had not understood the suggestions of his actions but had accepted the tokens as offerings to their Father. How could he not love her for that? For her clear-minded devotion to something greater than herself. There was so much to be admired in that. When he eventually drew her own heart from behind the lattice of her ribs he would show it just as much reverence.

Her tongue would be another delicacy, when she lived it was sharp and acidic and honest. He loved her mouth, her tongue, her words. Words were just pieces of your soul fleeing your body to try and crawl into others like carrion flies. If he ate her clever tongue would he consume her soul completely?

No, no, he was getting ahead of himself. Not yet, not that yet. First he would have to eat the difficult parts. Not even a drop of her blood would go to waste and that meant he would have to eat her hair, her beautiful, long hair that shimmered like gold in the moonlight, always wet and healthy from the blood that sprayed into it. It would be an ordeal to swallow it all down, he knew he would gag and choke, be forced to swallow down his own bile again and again from the texture but he would do it, he would do it for her, a sign of devotion.

But her bones, her lovely, graceful bones would be the real test. Were he less faithful, less devout he would snap the cartilage and suck the marrow from within but he would take all of her into himself. He could cheat by waiting for them to dry out where they would break apart easier but no, every second wasted, every moment he made her wait would be an outrage. His lips and mouth and throat would be torn open by the shards, they would churn in his belly like, tumbling over and over like stones till they were worn down by the acid, lacerating his insides in the meantime. The agony would be exquisite, each spasm a kiss from her. Perhaps the agony would make him wish for death, perhaps it would actually kill him? It would be poetic for her to kill him from the inside, burrow her bones through him like worms.

Once she was consumed, once he had fully taken her into his body, he would lay down in the bed he had once wished to share with her in the heart of their Father’s temple and hold her within himself. This was why Bhaal was the god supreme, why their Father would one day rule the cosmos as was his right, because what other god permitted such an expression of love like this. This, the most blessed and perfect of unions. His stomach would not swell but shrink, his lovely living in his gut would not be expressed out but absorbed within.

When his stomach was empty, their matrimony would be complete, he would have unified with her completely. Her flesh one with his flesh, her blood running through his veins. For what we eat nourishes us, becomes part of us. He pictured her body dissolving into him, strengthening him. He would never have to eat again he knew because their love, partnership, sibling-hood would be all the sustenance he would need for the final act. He would be privileged that she was going to be the last thing he ever tasted.

For once it was done, Father’s plan realised and he truly was the last living thing in the universe, he would lay down amid the blood and gore and the dead, take his dagger and with a single strike through his own heart commit the final murder and thus murder all of reality, where all would be united in oblivion. No past, no future, just that single shining moment where he was Orin and Orin was him and that would be all he would ever know.

It was beautiful, perfect, poetry, more transcendent than the dreams of lesser mortals who desired such carnality, who believed that a mere exchange of fluids was the ultimate expression of ardour. No vision, no imagination.

What could be better? Except perhaps if the roles were reversed?

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when even the rats and ghosts slept, he would creep over to where Orin lay to watch her sleep, and pray over her, pray that one day it would be she who would eat him.

[buckyalpine]

Okay okay, that Wakanda Bucky imagine was soooooo hella cute 🥺❤️

Would you do a continuation of it where they live happily in the hut and maybe with some smuuuuut ? 🙊 The idea of him in that Hut, all cozy and romantic is not leaving my mind

WAKANDA BUCKY? YES, I will gladly give you more (this can be read as a standalone) There's something about Bucky in Wakanda that's just so soft and comforting to me. That sweet baby with his goats, just living in peace for the first time ever in a place where no one can hurt him. It's also the first place where he can just be himself without the pressure of worrying about anything else.

Just you and him.

He's just so in love with you; his words can only do so much. He wants to make you feel good in the most intimate way possible. He wants to physically give you what words won't translate.

He's nervous though.

He knows you love him for all of his imperfections; there's no doubt you adore every single bit of him. He has no reason to worry about what you'd think.

But this beautiful sweet boy is shy anyway.

Too shy to tell you he wants to make love. Too shy to slip his hands onto your bare skin even though he knows you wouldn't stop him. Too shy to even insinuate he wants more. Ever since you've moved into his hut, he'd wanted you closer. You cuddle every night and he loves the feel of your soft body nuzzled right by his side but its just not enough. He always tells you he loves you and how much you mean to him but it doesn't compare to the way he wants to just melt into you.

He manages to hold his tongue until one night when he just can't anymore. He's cuddled up on your chest while you both lay in his cot and he feels so safe and loved. He wants you now, more than ever. He doesn't even want to take you apart and wreck you; he just wants to love on you softly but he's not even sure if he can, I mean he only has one arm-

"What is it Buck" You whisper, carding your fingers softly through his locks, pushing back the few strands that fell from his half tied hair. "What you thinking about" you let your finger trace over his features, smoothing the crease between his brows that he makes when he's deep in thought. He blushes at you catching his mind in action, blinking with wide eyes before chewing his lip.

"I-

"What is it sweet boy" You continue to let your fingers gently dance over his face and the action makes him purr, leaning for more of your touch.

"I want you"

"You have me baby" You whisper, your heart beating a little faster wondering if he was implying what you were thinking, what you'd been wanting and craving for ages-

"No angel, I want you" He says in earnest hoping you'd understand, "I just-I'm not sure how" He looks down at himself, now afraid to meet your eyes. How could he make you feel good if he only had so much to work with. "I want to make you feel good"

He hesitantly lets his hand slide along your hip up to your waist and slipping under your shirt. The feeling of your bare skin is already so addicting, he starts to work at taking your clothes off as soon as you nod with a needy please. He finds you so unbearably gorgeous when you're naked on his bed and at one point he thinks that might be enough.

Your bare form is everything to him and he'd do anything to worship your more sacred places.

He'd be such a precious baby when it comes to you undressing him. The pink on his cheeks spreads to his ears and he can't help but gush at the way you kiss every scar and freckle on his skin when you let his robe drop to the floor.

"You're perfect" You whisper and he shakes his head because he's nothing in comparison to you. Not with all those angry red lines scattered across his chest, scars covering most of his skin.

"Not like you angel, I'm not-

"You are. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are soldier, how perfect and strong your body is" You don't let him argue, a gasp slipping past his lips when you wrap your hand around his length and start to pump. He's about to protest again because this is about you but he has no idea how long you've been waiting to do this for him.

"Please Bucky" You softly beg and he's an absolute goner when you wrap your hand around his aching length. Just when he thinks it couldn't get any better; your warm soft palm stroking him up and down, you tell him how beautiful and perfect he is and he swears he could cry.

"Look at how pretty you are baby" You coo, perched between his spread legs, leaning over to suckle the tip, humming at the taste, "Can't believe you hid this all from me for so long baby"

"Another-fuck sweets-another night, God I'll cum-you gotta stop" He whines as you release with a pop, your lips covered in his slick. He pulls you to lie down beside him, thinking about all the times he imagined making love to you. Looking into your eyes, letting his body cage you from the rest of the world, just you and him and nothing else.

But it wasn't easy with 1 arm.

"M'sorry baby, I-" Bucky stuttered, feeling unsteady as he hovered above you.

"Lay down for me" You cut off his rambling with a kiss to his lips before letting his head fall against the pillow. "Just wanna feel you Jamie, be close to you" You moan, rubbing your now dripping pussy all over his cock. "Want you inside me"

"Put my cock in you angel" Bucky's feral side made an appearance while he held his length letting you line up with the tip, the both of you gasping at the feeling of him finally pushing into you. "Fuck babydoll, wanted this so bad"

"oh fuck" You threw your head back at the feeling, all the pieces inside you coming together as you sank all the way down making you feel complete. "You feel so good inside me Bucky" You whined, grinding and rocking yourself on his thick length, feeling him in your belly.

"C'mere angel, please" He begged, reaching for you and pulling you causing you to fall onto his chest. He planted his feet and started to thrust up making you cry out. "Wanted to make love to you baby, I-fuck I love you so much, wanna make you feel so good"

"Feels-so-good-hng" You whimpered between thrusts, nipping and sucking bruises onto his neck while he held onto you tightly with his arm. "I'm-so close-

"I'll make you feel good" Bucky groaned, pushing you back up and slipping his hand between your bodies while you leaned back and held onto his thighs. You cried out as he found your clit, moaning louder with you and he toyed with your pussy.

"That feel good baby?" He panted, letting his thumb rub your clit in fast circles, your silky soft bud throbbing against the digit, "You look so pretty with my cock in you angel, cum for me, cum for me pretty girl"

It didn't take long for you to shatter around him, and Bucky followed right behind. He nearly sobbed as you collapse against his chest while he pumped you full of his load, not bothering to pull out long after his cock softened. Cuddling with you with his spent cock warm in your soaked pussy was his favorite part of the night. Nothing was more intimate than the both of you so closely connected, whispering sweet nothings while tangled under the soft sheets, the both of you falling asleep in the warm, cozy air of the hut.

[endereies]

A TOUCH I CAN TRUST - MS

No Nut November - Day 24

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ A painting brings some old memories to light when you and Matt visit the museum (sexual assault mentions - tw)

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, like it was staring back at you. You knew why.

It was so perfectly manicured, each brushstroke airbrushed to perfection. A gorgeous woman stood slightly of centre, staring at the viewer. Long brown hair that flowed past her chest and down to her hips was neatly pushed behind her ears. Even so, it left a small gap where her collarbone showed through, the highlight evident with pure titanium white. Her dress was one similar to one in your own closet, a sweet ivory. A few plaid lines just below the sewed in corset. The only difference was that this was longer, stretching to her ankles. She didn’t feel beautiful, anyone could see that on her face. The vibrant white stood against the muted colours once more, presenting a single tear. Why cry when one is so beautiful, so modest.

The man made that clear. He was centred in the frame, stood proud and confident. He was meant to be there. His hair was less neat than hers, a few curls tossed around his face. Positioned behind her, his hands grip her hips, bunches of clothing bundled around his hands. He was a man of power, the sprays of purple in his suit showing it. Proudness shone over his expressions, a mindset that was common.

That’s when you saw it, the red tints over the wrong parts of them. It wasn’t obvious unless you looked close enough, the slight pink in her clothing. Like a poorly covered mistake. Mistake? It covered her neck too, thought to be poorly interpreted lighting. Maybe it was a poorly interpreted ‘no’. his hands were covered in it, too vibrant to be a shadow.

The closer you looked at her solemn face, the more it all morphed. Her features changed. A soft button nose turning sharp, the eye colour mixing with swatches, becoming muddy. He changed too. His hair wasn’t curly anymore which now illustrated all his features, all the wrong ones. It was too familiar to ignore. How could you ignore anything about the twin etched in oils?

Your own skin grew red as you kept scratching at it, the same areas he did, begging you to ‘sit still’. Swallows grew dry in your throat, making you almost gag on the dry feeling. You just couldn’t look away. The background was blank, but the painting moved so it couldn’t be avoided. Moving your hands away from your body didn’t help, they only went to your lips, a silent barrier between your imagination. The woman twitched through your glossed eyes. God, you hated calling her that. She had a name, she is a person, real or not. She may have been a creation, but don’t creations get given titles of meaning, of value? Why was she different? Why did her name have to be connected with her past?

You didn’t dare blink. If you did, not only would you cry but without a witness, she could get hurt. Don’t be ridiculous, she wasn’t real. You were. Who was watching you? Who was watching you, except him? He stared at you again, straight forward, taunting you.

Nothing helped you feel any better, not when he was there. You were too emersed in it to notice to hot tears that flushed your face. You understood the red, it tainted your own skin. Was it comforting that someone else felt the same as you?

“Sweetheart…?” Honey seeped into your ears, soothing the tremors like a sore throat. One look at the painting and he understood, he’d seen this piece before. It was a main headline on the museum’s website when he booked tickets here. He knew the meaning and it’s all too familiar comparisons. It was easy to piece from there.

Matt didn’t want to startle you with his touch, he learnt that quickly. He needed you to ease into it,  but it was hard if you didn’t know it was there to begin with. On a whim, he lightly feathered your arm, a place he didn’t know to be a trigger. Yet you still reacted.

Your body was jolted out of thought, the clench of your eyes making another tear fall. It didn’t matter that it was in public, it mattered that it was happening. Every part of you wanted to soften your body but it was just so stiff.

“Hey, breath, it’s just me, okay? Do you want to hold my hand.” Through the anxiety you sprung to grip his hand, your longer nails almost forcing into Matt’s skin. The curls of his hair returned, there was safety in Matt. He was a little shorter too. He wasn’t the same.

“Here, I just want you to relax” He didn’t dare touch you anymore than what you allowed, so he shifted his body so not only weren’t you no longer looking at the painting, but people also couldn’t look at you. “You’re safe, no one is going to hurt you.”

His comments just drew you closer to him, away from everything else. It was too much to try and focus on anything else. Why did you have to react so pathetically?

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” You scrapped any coherent syllables together.

“I know sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” You moved a hand to wipe your face, freeing your sight.

“I thought I was better, thought I moved on…” your body shrunk into itself, a shell of what you were fifteen minutes prior.

Matt’s soul crushed itself at your words, they stung so deep knowing that was how you thought of yourself. “You are better, this whole process isn’t linear, I’d be surprised if it was. You’ve come so far, kid, and I’ve seen it first-hand. You’re so amazing and you’re so strong. But you don’t have to carry this weight alone. Why don’t be grab something to eat so you can relax?”  

“Yes please, thank you…” Matt replied with a squeeze of your hand, a silent sign of his devotion to you, a touch you could trust.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckers @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @zariyamitchell-blog @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @slutf4rmatt @flouvela @lovesturni0l0s @2prcntmilkluvr @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[courtingchaos]

Nectarine

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Warnings: Talk of body parts in a sexy way. Comparison of the female body to fruit, implied white/light-skinned reader due to analogy/prose. I had this very particular phrase stuck in my head and it comes across as that. Uh, I just really like how it reads so that’s why I’m putting a warning here because I didn’t want to take it out.

A/N: I’ve hung on to this for like two months now because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post it but I was rereading it tonight and I forgot how much I like writing from Eddie’s perspective. So also have this thing too.

18+ NSFW No Minors

He’s never been jealous of fruit before.

Never had the urge to rip a nectarine out of someone’s hand and huck it right into the pool for making him feel like this. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the spectacle since you bit into it, that first bite crunching through the mottled white and red flesh. You’d come out from the kitchen of Steve’s house with it already wedged between your teeth while you balanced pizzas in your hands and he’d shot right up to help. You’d laughed around the mouthful and when he’d taken the boxes you pulled the fruit away from your lips, the sound of you sucking up the spit that had dribbled against them making him almost burst.

There’s something suggestive in the way the colors meld on the skin. The deep red giving under your teeth to reveal the pale flesh, juices rushing your fingers and down your chin. He watches you laugh and jump when some of it drips down onto your chest and he watches you try to wipe it away while keeping your top in place.

He’d been stock still, leaned over the pizzas and it’s Dustin elbowing him that makes him realize he was for real staring, mouth agape and fingers clenched around greasy cardboard. You’ve been too busy laughing it up with Robin to notice him going absolutely insane.

“Dude get the fuck out of the way.” Dustin says under his breath and Eddie just slaps the back of his head.

“Language, asshole.” The ensuing shove and slap fight makes Eddie forget for a brief moment the erotic fruit imagery happening on one of Steve’s parents matching loungers. He lets Dustin win when he goes for Eddie’s hair and gets to run off with his pizza instead.

Eddie can hear the light edge of your laughter and another crunch when you bite through another not-so-ripe part of the nectarine and it sends him right into the pool. He knows he can hover by the edge and keep his interest hidden but also still remain conversational so he does a soft somersault into the deep end. Swims for the side you’re seated on and breaches the water as you decide to lean forward to dig through your big pool bag. Cleavage stares him down and he furiously rubs at his eyes and bitches about the chlorine content to cover the tears he’s sure are streaming down his face. There’s a rivulet of shine along the top of one breast, dipping right down the middle and he imagines running his tongue along it. Chasing that line of sweetness to the inside of your swim top to make you giggle like Robin does with her dumb jokes.

Another bite, more red disappearing to reveal pale pale pale. He wants to peel back that stupid coverup you have wrapped around your waist to reveal your pale thighs. He could rip it back with his teeth too, pull it clean off your body so he could revel in the softness of them. They’d give under his teeth and he’d be so careful leaving only the most perfect love bites.

“Eddie?”

His attention snaps to Robin where she stares at him with concern on her brow. “What?”

“I asked if you ate?”

“I will!” He whines at her and she catches his quick glance at you. Her mouth falls open slightly and he gives her a death glare, a warning to back off he’ll do it himself.

“Dustin’s gonna eat that whole pizza if you aren’t careful.” Robin sings at him and she gets up, tossing a wink his way.

“Not hungry?” You ask him through another bite and he catches a hint of deep pink under the pale. His thoughts race towards the unreachable, the warm pink hidden between your thighs and he wonders if the color is the same.

“Uh” his toes barely graze the bottom of the pool, his arms keeping him clutched to the side and floating “not for Pizza, no.”

Your giggle makes your nose scrunch under your big sunglasses and you hold your hand out, offending fruit held out at eye level for him. “Want a bite?”

The ever suffering sigh he suppresses rivals the eye roll he stops in its tracks. Of course he wants a bite. He wants to fit his teeth in the grooves you left there, taste your spit with the nectar and-

There’s no recovering from the show he’d give everyone if he got out of the water now so he just pulls himself even closer to the tiles. Squeezes his eyes shut tightly, tilts his head and shakes it quick. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Can I get you anything? Steve’s got a bunch of stuff in the house.” You scoot forward and that wrap inches up your legs and splits open to reveal one long calf.

“Could you get me another beer?” He says it a little too quick.

“Totally!”

He watches your hips sway the thin fabric around when you walk up towards the house and maybe he doesn’t hate it so much when it clings to your clammy skin. The swell of your hip holds the door open for Nancy and Eddie wishes it was his head pressed into your side.

He begins to wonder if it’s possible to be too horny.

There’s a jet of water at the back of his head suddenly and he turns to see Lucas holding a water gun.

“Quit sulking.” He jokes and Robin elbows him like she’s gotten him in on a secret.

You’ve obviously gotten distracted inside and he’s fine with that. Gave him time to calm down and roll his tongue back into his mouth after he obliterated Lucas and Robin in the water gun battle. He floats on his back under the midday sun, arms hooked over a float, positive he’s burning but too comfortable to care. The laughter at the other end of the pool is his white noise to drift off to until he feels a shift in the water and he’s being spun ever so slowly to face the steps in the shallow end.

“Sorry, I was talking to Max.” You come into view slowly, a smirk directed down at him while he blinks under his sunglasses.

“Thought you got lost in the mansion.”

You scoff and hold his beer up so he can see it. He lets out a small ‘oh!’ and holds out a hand for it. “Thank you.” He’s still spinning with lazy momentum so he only catches the tail end of your gaze before he takes a sip and almost gives himself a nosebleed. The rim of the bottle is sweet like a stone fruit and when he thrashes around to stand up in the water you’ve already made your way back to dry land.

The sky is painted in purples and blues and when the lightning bugs come out everyone wants the fire pit lit. Steve obliges, ever the host, and the ‘adults’ are left to yell at the ‘kids’ about not wasting all the marshmallows by throwing them at each other.

This close to fall the nights get cooler and you still haven’t put on anymore clothes. Eddie has been watching from his side of the pool, his safety barrier that Robin commented on.

“You’ll never get her from all the way over here, amigo.”

“I’m trying to not embarrass myself, hombre.”

From his post by the deep end he can see you shiver and try to wrap your thin coverup over your shoulders to no avail. Nancy offers her sweater and you roll your eyes and laugh, an obvious gesture between the two of you where you point out her tiny frame. Steve is in the middle of suggesting a blanket when Eddie jumps up from his lounge and yells about a flannel in his van.

“You don’t have to go all the way out front for me!” You holler after him and he waves you off. When he comes back he’s in his own hoodie, his old button up slung over his arm.

“See? No big deal.” He hands it over to you. “I needed my ho-oodie anyways.” He stutters hard when you stand to push your arms through and he can see your nipples pushing against your frankly too small swim top. The swell of your breast disappear from sight, along with the most important thing he’s seen all day when you tuck the flannel around you.

“Thank you so much, can’t believe I forgot real clothes.” You laugh and Eddie laughs and from behind him he can hear Robin laugh and his sandal covered foot reaches back and connects with her shin. You take the stack of graham crackers that Mike offers you before you pause and bury your nose into the crook of the elbow of his shirt. “Did you wear this recently?”

“M-me? Uh, I don’t-I mean-”

“It smells really good.”

Eddie laughs again and Robin yanks the back of his hoodie until he sits hard next to her in one of the plastic chairs.

“You sound like a moron.” She mimics his laugh while spearing a marshmallow.

“I don’t sound like that at all.” Eddie mirrors her movements. “I told you I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Well you’re doing a stellar job.” She gives him a sarcastic thumbs up and Eddie decides to just sit and listen. He roasts his marshmallow to a crisp, the s’mores he makes turning into a runny mess that he shoves in his mouth too fast. He can see Robin and Steve share a look and before he can reach over to give Robin a shove, your gentle hand is in his face.

“You got a little….” Your index finger runs along the side of his cheek, puffed out with half chewed s’mores, to wipe off the smear of chocolate there. “There you go.” A smile while you hold your finger in front of him and surely you don’t expect him to lick your finger.

His eyes glance nervously between your face and your proffered finger and never once do you waver. Is that a hint of a dare he catches in your look? Could he inch his tongue out to lap at the pad of your finger? One long lick and he could suck the whole thing into his mouth and really cause a scene out here in the encroaching dark.

A yelp makes both of you jump, a tussle breaking out between the boys and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief knowing every eye was not on him taking the longest pause of his life. You wipe your finger off on a towel and he mourns the loss of an opportunity to taste you again. That brief flavor that lingered on his beer still branded into his mind, the idea of you stealing a sip on the way out to him to deliver it making him grin. Payment in the form of a kiss to glass, at least that’s how he was looking at it.

From his side he can feel two pairs of eyes burning into his skull but he refuses to look at the Wonder Twins and their big dopey eyes they’re probably giving him. Instead he grabs another handful of marshmallows and sets to roasting them, loftily avoiding any questions that might get directed his way.

The night ends late and it ends with the only other available ride being asleep on his couch, face smooshed into Robins shoulder.

“You can see if you can squeeze in with Nancy? But she’s got all the kids.” She whispers at you while Eddie lingers by the door. He’s already said his goodbyes but stopped when he heard you ask about a lift home.

“Uh, well…”

“You can see if you can still catch Eddie.” Robin’s voice sparkles with the ‘sudden’ idea. “I didn’t hear his van yet so he’s probably still out front.” There’s a light snore from Steve that you both giggle at and Eddie tries to open the door as quietly possible.

“Do you think he’d mind?”

“Who Eddie? No, he’d love to. Always trying to help out.”

Eddie rolls his eyes when he gets out in the front step. Could she lay it on thicker? He’s grateful for her slight meddling though when he hears the door open again and your quiet “oh!”

“You haven’t left yet!” You jog to his van where he’s just unlocked the door to lean in on his seat so he can act like he didn’t just hear your predicament.

“No, what’s up?”

“Would you mind dropping me off? I’m a little out of the way but I can pay you for gas.” You start to dig around in your big tote bag and he reaches over to still your hand.

“Don’t worry about it, I got you.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He hops in so he can reach over and unlock your door, and you run around the front of his van.

“I really appreciate it Eddie.” Your movement inside brushes up the smell of woodsmoke off of his borrowed flannel and your sunscreen and he hopes the scent stays in his van long after you leave.

“It’s really not a big deal.” He tries to be smooth with his exit, one hand on the back of your seat while he reverses into the road. “More than happy to help.” He flashes you a smile and his grip almost slips on his steering wheel when he catches the heavy stare aimed at him. He swallows thickly and averts his eyes to the road, the silence settling between you two not uncomfortable but certainly weighted.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me now that I’m in your car?”

He’s happy there’s a red light he was already stopping for because he almost jams his foot through the firewall. “What?!”

Your laugh glitters in the dark cab and he can’t tear his eyes off you.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“No I haven’t. I helped you with the pizzas and I was talking to you in the pool.” He shakes his head at you. “You got me a beer!”

“Yeah and when I first showed you made a beeline for the kitchen.”

“I was…busy.”

“I’m sure.” Your smile is conspiratorial and he wishes he knew what you were thinking. “Do you know I went shopping for this bathing suit with Robin?” You tap his knee and point at the now green light before the cars behind him start honking.

“No.”

“Yeah, I went with her because we’d been talking you see.”

“As you girls are wont to do.”

“Hush, I’m not done. Anyways, we went shopping and she told me the funniest little thing. Really a coincidence.” The playful tone of your voice makes him vibrate with anticipation. “I’d already told her about my stupid little crush and she’s not very good a keeping secrets, not like that anyways.” He can see you leaning over to rifle through your bag, a scrap piece of paper and a pen held in your lap a moment later. “Really I thought she’d spill to you first but it seems I caught her on a good day.” You reach over and tuck the now folded piece of paper into his hoodie pocket and stay leaned in, face inches from his own. “But I picked it out for you. Did you like it?”

Did he like it.

Does he breathe? Does he blink? You’ve just uttered the words he’s been longing to hear for weeks now. For you. He wasn’t crazy and all of Robin and Steve’s elbowing was just bullying on their part. He tries to keep his breathing under control and spots your street sign in time to use as a distraction. “Uh, yeah it looks great.” He turns into your neighborhood and dials his music down and still can’t look over at your indulgent grin.

“Is that why you were hiding in the pool?”

“…maybe.”

“Oh that’s cute.” You’ve got a curl of his wrapped around your index finger, slowly spiraling it up till you brush his ear and he’s going to crumble to dust. Somehow he makes the turn onto your street while you’re breath tinted with beer and something sweet sweeps over his cheek. “Eddie?” Sugar could drip off of your words and he’d stick his tongue out for every last drop.

“Yeah?”

“I think you should look in your pocket.”

He jams his hand into his hoodie and pulls out the note now crumpled in his sweaty fist just as he pulls up to the front of your house. You don’t move while he unfolds it, his hair slowly unraveling from your finger. It’s your number and a little heart at the end, an ‘X O’ just under that.

“You wanna ask me out?”

It’s gum he realizes, that sweetness that floods his senses. So fruit and beer and gum and spit is what’ll kill him.

“Yeah I-I really do.” Later he’ll kick himself for how pathetic he sounds here but for now the deep smile you give him is all that matters. You let his hair go and grab your stuff to hop out of his van and he watches you walk around the front like it’s his own personal show.

“How’s Friday night sound? I get off work at 7.” When you lean on his rolled down window he gets a clear shot of cleavage between his flannel (that’s now yours, he’s never taking that back). His mouth waters and his eyes shoot back up to your face that tells him he’s been caught.

“I can do that.” He could also climb out of his window and maul you too if you wanted that.

“Cool.”

“I can pick you up at 8?”

You nod as you walk backwards towards the front steps of your house. “I’ll be ready.” The light flicks from the inside, someone keen to get you in. “You figure out dinner, I’ll just bring the legs again, deal?” You lift one behind you when you cross over the threshold, one last smile shot at him and it’s a bullseye right through his frontal lobe.

[damnedrainbows]

“Tea too hot, my dear? I’m sure if you wait it’ll cool down. No need to conjure a small blizzard over your cup.” It’s said in jest of course, because he always loves watching her at work. The ice crystals that circle the rim are as cold as the woman who wields them, and yet even in the tundra of her heart, there’s a small niche of warmth, that she reserves only for the two in her life.

He watches the fading crystals, talons curled to feel the mist as they evaporate. Was it for the better? He feels it was so. They’re together by circumstance and obligation, a Goetis law to sire an heir, of which they have. They’ve grown beyond that though, haven’t they? He still remembers the embitterment of them both, in their first days of knowing each other. Betrothal meant they had no choice, and it didn’t fuel the desire to want to be cordial, knowing their fates were sealed together. But he’d gotten to knowing her, the real Stella beyond the visage of ice. In time, he’d melted the ice queen’s heart…and he supposed she did something to his as well.

So instead of answering, an impish smile is given behind his own cup, and a talon flicks one of the floating snowflakes towards her face. “There’s somewhere I wish to take you. Is your schedule free for tonight?” She’ll get her answer then.

@damnedrainbows asked: “After love, no one is what they were before. “ (STOLAS FOR STELLA)

deathless ♚ sentence meme || 𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

"Isn't that a massive understatement?" Stella scoffed softly in amusement, swiveling her tea as a small, icy cloud danced about above the cup and shook a small pour of snowflakes down, little puffs of steam rising with impact. "You've metamorphosed me as though you possessed me, darling. That's no small feat."

Stolas broke inside of her and changed such.. fundamental aspects, enforced by parentals and sharpened by her brother. Not everything changed, but he was like a star existing in a cold system, melting the ice around his radiance and softening parts of her that would only be snug for both himself and their Via. Perhaps there was just a little compassion for others, the smallest form, but it was very hard-earned. "I certainly hope if I changed you, it was for the better."

There was a sudden halt in her content mood, and a quiet, worried glance in the corner of her eye to her husband at her side. Was it?

[callahanisms]

burnt out passions

because i watched the red shoes and this idea just popped into my head.

tashi duncan they can never make me hate you. i am a tashi duncan defender until i die. (sorry art)

character: tashi duncan

context: stanford. 2007 - 2008.

you and tashi understood one thing: passion was everything.

your lives revolved around your passions. for her, it was the sport of tennis. and for you, it was the dance of ballet.

your step-father was quite rich, bringing you and your parental figure out of poverty. it was through him that you started going to tennis matches. and you were a fan of tashi duncan.

she was meant to be a star. she was meant to go far. she was meant to have that grand slam career title that most, if not all, tennis players envied.

you always admired her from afar. but when you walked into class on your first day of class in your freshman year, you were not expecting to see tashi duncan.

the class was your typical writing 101 class, the kind that was meant to prepare students on research and how to write. within the class were workshops. after all, part of making a good essay was to proofread and have everything peer reviewed.

"you have a great voice."

your paper was dumped in front of you. there were barely any corrections on it. just a lot of underlining and side notes. looking up, you saw the woman that was tashi duncan.

"thanks." you hand her paper over to her.

tashi flips through it. she sees a lot of doodles on her paper that express your annotations through speech and thought bubbles.

"i also thought your voice was great. your passion for tennis really comes through. although i think having seen you play enhanced the reading experience."

"so...you've seen me play?" she crosses her arms over her chest.

"my step-father loves tennis."

"fun. i learned some new things in your paper. you really like ballet?"

"ideally i'd like to be professional. but who knows how stable that is." in comparison to being a famous tennis player. "which is why i'm here. to get a degree in...something."

tashi glances down. you're wearing red shoes. "so...do you wear red because of the movie you mentioned?"

"maybe. it's been a thing since i was a kid."

a small smile begins to curl on her face. "you wanna get lunch?"

"so you do ballet? do your feet ever hurt?"

"all the time." your feet hurt just thinking about dancing again. "i can't imagine my life without ballet."

"i can relate to that." she lifts her cup up and you gently tap your own against hers.

"you should come to the show. we're having one near the end of the semester."

"so soon? we just got here."

"i need to train. keep my muscles flexible and ready."

"you should try tennis. you might actually be really good at it." ballet took a ton of control and coordination. tennis would be a perfect sport for you. or, at least, a decent fit.

"i tried. i'm terrible at hitting balls with a racket."

"who said you had to be good?"

"i would like to think that if i'm playing with tashi duncan...at least i should be mediocre."

you became one of tashi's favorite people to hang out with. and you were also her favorite gym partner. your schedules just lined up perfectly.

every time you guys went to work out, you would lead the stretches beforehand.

sometimes, you guys would visit the dance studio and you would teach her some basic moves. when your finger tips grazed her arm, she would shudder. you were careful when touching her and asked her all the time if you could hold her waist.

"you don't need to ask (y/n)! we're friends." tashi has that soft look in her eyes. she always looked at you with those eyes.

"still!" you say. "don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"you won't! you could never."

you took a deep breath when she said that, trying to ignore the heat beginning to swirl in your body. your body so close to hers. her smile. her smooth skin. her voice. and her smelled.

she always smelled divine.

tashi never knew ballet could be so intense.

she came with art to the show, holding a bouquet of flowers. you had been working hard and she wanted to make sure your efforts were acknowledged and received by her.

you moved with such precision and fluidity. she swore you turned into a blur.

your body was nimble. and that outfit...well, she could see your body. she had a boyfriend. but you were right there and a lot more present than patrick, who was currently on tour.

she has to push the thoughts aside, not noticing the fact that art sees the way she looks at you.

"you were fucking amazing!"

you were surprised when you feel just how hard she hugs you. she squeezes almost a little too tight.

and yet, you accept it. you lean into it and savor her touch.

"thanks for coming tashi. i saw you in the crowd."

finally, tashi lets you go. she takes the flowers from art. you could feel your face heat up. "t-tashi...you didn't have to."

"nonsense!" she playfully hits your arm. "you worked hard. remember that breakdown you had?" a small laugh leaves you when thinking about it.

it happened at the dance studio in the gym. you guys were stretching and all the emotions from midterms, finals projects, and your upcoming lead role came crashing down.

"you deserve it. you were amazing. if you're not hired when you get out of college..." she shakes her head. but she cannot stop grinning.

you bought flowers for tashi. it was the first game of the season. her and art have been training for this. and you were excited to see her play not as a spectator, but as her friend!

earlier during the week, you had convened with art to try to pick out which bought to get her and exactly how big.

when you got there though, it was just art. you were expecting to see another white boy. and you sit on art's right. "so...what happened to patrick?"

you wanted to see for yourself who tashi duncan's boyfriend was. who exactly managed to bag tashi duncan? you wanted to meet him. not that you were jealous...

but you were.

art leans back in the seat. "he's not coming. him and tashi had a fight."

you frown and continue holding the flowers. "...he sounds like an ass."

"tell me about it."

when tashi tore her acl on the court, you swore you could feel the pain in your own leg. a sort of phantom feeling.

you were frozen, trying to determine if what you saw truly happened.

art was quicker than you, rushing down and even jumping over the net.

you're walking to the infirmary room when you can hear the argument.

"out! out!"

"listen-" says the guy with messy dark hair. he looks disheveled. and like shit.

"patrick get the fuck out of here!"

you've never heard art yell. ever. he never even raised his voice.

patrick seems defeated and he abides by them, leaving. his eyes meet yours. "nice flowers." he notices the card attached to a string.

For the best tennis player I know: TASHI ♡

"have fun. now's your chance too. but you should know. art's restless."

you clench your jaw and walk past him. art was right. he was an ass.

tashi glances at the door when your head pops in. she doesn't say anything, but her shoulders slouch a little bit. you take it as a sign to come in and walk over to her side.

she looks at the flowers and at the card attached to the string. "i don't deserve those."

"if anyone deserves flowers...it's you." you could feel your eyes tearing up. you feel her pain. you understand her frustration. and most importantly, you feel her devastation.

tashi takes the flowers from your hands, her fingers touching your own. she takes a deep breath and inhales their scent. it was nice. you chose a good bouquet.

little did you know that it was the death of her career. and you had brought flowers to her funeral.

your next role was a challenging one. it had you straining your legs every day while you trained, trying to get your tempo right. nothing seemed to work though.

the stress of midterms also didn't help. you had a lot of work on your plate. many papers, almost too many exams. you didn't sleep much. you couldn't sleep.

tashi felt some guilt towards you helping her. you were taking time out of your own day to get her back into shape.

you were her cheerleader. you believed that she could heal and return to the court. you helped her with her exercises, woke up early to go to her room and help her stretch.

her frustration continued to boil over when she couldn't do the things she wanted to do.

not only was she a failure, but she was also letting you down.

"are you disappointed in me?"

you look at her as you stretch her leg for her. it was bent beneath you and you're careful when adding the pressure. she's staring up at the ceiling.

it was still dark outside.

"i could never be disappointed in you."

"don't bullshit me (y/n)."

"i mean it tashi. i could never be disappointed in you." she looks at you. there are tears threatening to spill.

"...i'm afraid my only skill is hitting a ball with a racket." and that without it, she was nothing. you didn't need her to voice it. you could see it in her eyes, in her posture, in her demeanor.

"no. it is not. you're tashi motherfucking duncan. you're smart, you're gorgeous, and you're ambitious. you can write! you're great at organizing! you give awesome advice! and most importantly, you get shit done. if anything tries to stop you, you find a way around it. and you see to it that you have a way to participate."

her heart skips a beat.

"you're kissing my ass." a smile cracks on her face.

you wanted to tell her that you loved her. it threatened to spill from your tongue.

"i would love to."

tashi laughs, covering her face with her hands. she takes the opportunity to wipe away her tears as you pull her leg back into a resting position.

"today's dress rehearsal, right?" she sits up as you stand and grab some of the bottles of gatorade you put in her fridge to keep cold.

"yeah. you don't have to come if you're not up for it."

tashi gently rubs her knee before looking up at you. "i could use the time to rest."

"is art coming?"

tashi purses her lips. "art and i...aren't really talking anymore..."

you frown. "i'm sorry to hear that." you decide not to ask or push it. but part of you felt elated that he was gone. it always felt like a crowd with you and tashi. and art.

while working out and practicing earlier, you decided to ignore the throbbing pain in your hip. when tashi asks if you want to come with her for a break, you tell her that you wanted to keep training. you were close to nailing it.

you were perhaps overconfident when it came time to dress rehearsal.

at the climax of the shower, the music surging, your heart beating, your costume flaring out, you hear a loud pop. and when you land, you hear another pop.

it seemed that fate decided to fuck with you that night.

the pain in your right side was nearly unbearable.

tashi recognized that cry of pain. she heard it when she went to bed, when she reflected upon her life at night. she rises out of her seat, getting over to the stage as fast as possible.

you overexerted yourself, tearing your achilles and your labrum. at the very least, it would take you out of your role currently. at the worst, it would inhibit your movements for the rest of your life.

tashi was with you the whole time. you could only stare blankly at the x-rays.

without knowing, you're leaning towards her. until your head is against her body. she puts an arm around you, keeping you close in silent understanding.

you heard a knock at your door. ever since your injury, you had barely come out of your room, only for class and to eat to spend your dining dollars.

you groan, sitting up and carefully getting off the bed. you use your crutches and open the door. "tashi...it's late..."

tashi holds a bag of snacks and drinks. "you look like shit."

"that's because i feel like shit."

you guys were kind of matching. her in her brace and you in your splint.

you move aside to let her in and she closes the door for you. "i bought all your favorites." she says, putting the drinks into the fridge to keep them cold. she sets the bag of snacks down on your desk.

tashi watches you go back to your bed and set your crutches aside. you try your best to get onto the bed using your upper body strength, but your arms were failing you.

she walks over and gently lifts you up at your thighs while you push yourself up with your arms. it works, and you're able to sit on the mattress topped by a mattress topper.

"can't even...get on my fucking bed!" you grit your teeth. and you didn't have the strength to adjust the height of your bed either.

tashi frowns. "there's no shame in needing help." you showed her that.

"i know. i just..." you lick your lips, looking at her. "i wish i took that break. i wouldn't be in this position if i did." you sniffle.

tashi's eyes glance down at your lips before going back up. "i spend too much time worrying about the what ifs."

"i shouldn't. it's...stupid."

there's a comfortable silence between the two of you. you look at tashi. the way her hair frames her face. her big brown eyes. her lips that you desperately wanted to taste. she was still gorgeous even dressed down in her stanford sweater and athletic shorts.

she leans forward, her kiss soft and gentle.

your hand goes to rest on her neck, kissing her back.

tashi kisses you harder, her mouth moving in hungry motions. you match her pace, kissing her with just as much hunger.

you let her push you down onto the mattress so she could be on top. her hands begin to trail down your body, finding the end of your sweater. she slides her hand beneath, feeling your cool skin.

you pull away, your breathing heavy. "are you sure?" you didn't understand why tashi duncan would want to kiss you of all people. even if you wanted to kiss her.

"i'm sure." she kisses you again and you moan against her lips, letting her tongue slide past your lips and dance with your tongue.

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabbles: Resident Evil 4- New Years Kiss

Ada Wong

Ada doesn’t have time for random holidays and celebratory parties. She’s got time for only a few things and that’s working under Wesker and you. So when one night when the both of you are laid up in bed you ask her the question you’ve been putting off. “Ada?” She hums has her nimble fingers thread through your hair. You feel timid and shy even asking, but swallow the fear down and pick up your voice. “Can we celebrate the holidays this year?” You ask looking anywhere but her beautiful face.

The silence is all around the room as you wait for an answer. Adas thoughts race in her mind, she knew you would eventually ask. To want to celebrate the holidays to be thankful during Thanksgiving; jolly during Christmas, and ecstatic for the new year and all it may bring. But she was almost hoping you would wait until the new year, give her more time to decide what she was going to say to you. How she would react. Your eyes lead in a more innocent child-like way. There’s no malicious intent behind your sugar coated smile. The silence consumes you, and your panic flares under your smile. “Or we don’t have to… don’t worry about it Ada. We can forget I ever said anything.” You stammer out as you shift uncomfortably in Adas arms. She’s quick to quiet your stammering self down and pull you somehow closer to her side of the bed.

“Don’t be so quick to think the silence means no, my dear. You’ve got to give me a second to think about what you’re asking.” Always with the right words and just the perfect time. You hum against her and wait for her words to fall on your perked up ears. “Yes we can celebrate. Under one circumstance, that for every holiday and birthday you stay just as you are. Innocent and perfect.” You chuckle at her words. You are far more innocent in comparison to your Ada who lays beside you. A moment passes and you’re nodding your head in agreement and before you know it you’re sweeper up into her arms her lips gently pressed against yours. As the two of you meld together in a perfect sort of way. Moans lost in the middle of the both of you as you whisper gentle “I love yous” to each other. Then Ada is making a rather large promise one that might be broken the next time Wesker comes calling; “I promise every holiday we spend together will be like no other. Because I love you forever Y/n.”

Albert Wesker

The best Secretary of the Year award goes to you. Albert knows this, but showing it is a more arduous task. He could say "thank you" every day to you and still wouldn't cut it for the amount of bullshit you deal with for him daily. It wouldn't dare match how you've dealt with more than a few angry people in your time at the office or how perfect you are in every imaginable way. So why in god's name was Albert so stuck on you? You were his private secretary and worked with me day in and day out. Honestly, in the last few years, the two of you have gotten mighty close with each other.

There's no New Year party to be heard of through the ample office space, so there's reason for you to stay late the second night into the new year. Working on the first bit of steam you've got left from the holidays with family and friends. You're hunched over your desk, your head nearly shoved deep into your computer screen. Typing out another memo when you hear your boss's footsteps. You aren't sure what's awaiting you, but you keep working until his cologne fills the air around you, forcing you to look up at the blue-eyed, blonde-haired stud before you. "I see you're still here, Y/n." He says calmly. You nod, unable to think of a quip or something snarky to reply back with.

"I know we said no gifts, but I got you something anyway." Your cheeks grow red and hot with blush as you thank your earlier self for grabbing a present for your boss. You hurriedly take your fingers from the clicky keyboard and shift to grab the present stuffed away under your desk; when you come back up, Albert is more than surprised to see that you, too, hadn't followed the rules of your agreement. "You can open your gift first to Mr. Wesker." Your voice is like honey in his ears, and he wants to hear you say his name, not Mr. Wesker, whenever you see him in the hallways or when you come into his office. He wants other things, too. You hand the little holiday bag to him and when yor hands brush in the most nonitmate way your breath hitches and he hears it. He swallows down his pride and take to openign the gift instead. Albert pulls out a beautiful desk name plate. In comparison to Alberts old one this is ten times better. A whole soild peice of glass that has his name etched into it with a simple boss written under neath his name. He can't help but smile with pride as his thumb runs over the etched letters.

"I know you probably have everything you want, or you can buy everything, so I thought I would grab you something that might need replacing." You say sweetly as you try to look up at the tall, brooding man before you. He smirked, placing the item back into the bag, and then Alber grabbed your wrist, pulled your hand close to his lip, and pressed a fine-lipped kiss into your hand. Your cheeks have never felt so damn hot before, and without a second to conceal how you're feeling. Albert has you on your feet, pulling you up from the seat around the table and into his arms. Strong arms hold you close to his frame as one hand holds your back for support, and the other lands gently on your cheek. Knuckles rubbing paths through your burning cheeks. Albert doesn't have to ask permission to kiss you gently because your eyes already say yes. Partially begging him to let you have all of him. His lips aren't chapped, nor are they full. They are perfect, perfect slotting into yours with ease. Your lips taste of Bert's bees chapstick, and even if it tastes horrible, it's you, so Albert sucks it up. When the need for air consumes you both, and you have to release your hold on each other, you quickly realize how much your gift doesn't compare to Alberts. "Guess my gift doesn't match up." You joke. He only shakes his head.

Leon S. Kennedy (This is in slight conjunction with Day 22 Holly Jolly)

Leon has been keeping his promises better nowadays. He stays more often than not, choosing to get out of the confines of the government hold. He goes to work in a better way; he stays in the country and stays in the same state as you most of the time. He is barely ever late for dinner and always there for a date night. Take your dog Apollo out; he has been trained to do paw. The sadness that once consumed the house overall has been stuffed away in the dark corners where no one dares take a step.

Everything is perfect in your eyes, but Leon is a do-gooder, a try-harder type of person. He wants to be better for you, try harder for you, and be the best he can be because he knows he can be. He hates knowing that for so long; he made you cry yourself to sleep, but he doesn't mind sharing the bed with you and your puppy. He doesn't mind waking up to you instead of going for hours on only a few hours of sleep while trying his best to come home to you. The holidays are different after Christmas. He wants to do better by you, so for the new year, he sets all his phones, pagers, and equipment far under the pile of growing clothes inside your shared closet. He just wants one night of peace, and he's ensured he'll get it.

He sets you on your way to visit with your friends and mother for the day while he prepares things in the apartment. Some streamers fill the space above Leon's head. Freshly baked cookies that he knows if he doesn't get off the hot pans will get stuck, fussin' at him about the leftover crumbs. Little paper glasses that are spaced in the following year's numbers. He feels like a fool with the glasses on his face as he walks around the kitchen, grabbing two flutes from the cabinet and an unopened glass of champagne. He's got a special surprise for the new year and hopes you haven't found out about it. The box itches in his pocket, waiting for your return.

You return with two bags filled with food from your mother's, pressing a chaste kiss to Leon's cheek and patting Apollo's head before dragging yourself towards the kitchen to drop the leftovers off into the fridge. "You wanna watch the ball drop?" Leon's voice carries into the apartment as you walk in with a cookie shoved into your mouth, and you nod. You snuggle up against his side underneath the blanket. The clock is ticking, and before you know it, Leon is rushing off to grab the flute of champagne for a good glass for the start of the new year. "He pours quickly as the people and you start to count down to the new year. Your eyes are so set on the tv that you dont notice your boyfriend kneel down on one knee pop the black box open and wait for your gaze to be back on him.

The flute shatters on the floor, and then you cry, scream, and kiss his sweet lips. Groaning, you mutter a sweet yes into the kiss. The red-tinted chapstick leaves prints on his face, but he still slips the ring onto your finger. Care two shits less about the new year or the shattered glass until he remembers you have a clumsy dog, and he matches your personality. So, you better get the mess cleaned up before you've got glass in the bottom of your foot. You stare at the ring and snap a few shots at your friends and then your mother. It's a very good start to a new year for both of you.

Completed on: 12/24/23

Posted on: 01/04/24

Resi 4-

[stepswordsen]

【Magi】 Judar and JuAli 🐈‍⬛🖤 ❤️ 💛

JuAli WIP doodles 🖤 ❤️ 💛

Quick doodles before I head back to my assignments

Been a while since I drew Judar and Alibaba together… I missed them!!! I hope to draw them more~

You can see the rest under the cut~

I wasn't sure if I should post my sketches here since they're so messy but I thought I might as well

I'll copy paste my old rambles too since I have more to add this time

2024 vs. 2022

(2024)

Comparison (2022 ~ 2023)

(2024)

Comparison (November 2022)

For the kissy one:

Wasn't sure which one I liked more tbh

1st one fits more...

Though for the 2nd one, I think Judar looks more efforted ADHSHDHSH

Since I excel at drawing meow meow mf charas

3rd one I drew in November 2022. The expressions are still cute in this one so I still like it, but my brush strokes improved a lot since then

For the hanfu Judar one:

Recent versions (+ the old one from 2022)

I've been playing around with the eyes~ I like these ones best. The eyes are bigger in the 1st one, and the others have them a bit smaller. The 1st one has a more innocent look. The 2nd has more slitted eyes and a "seductive" look?

Judar has sharp (tsurime) eyes and rings in his eyes, which are really fun to draw hehe 🤗

I'll redraw the hair soon! I just drew it quickly in like 5 minutes. It's finals season for me. I'm not fully free from this semester so I'm still quite busy, but you'll probably see small doodles from me 🙏

I'm definitely seeing art improvement (improvement in brush strokes and anatomy and proportions)

Ohtaka deliberately draws hatched lines near Judar's eyes to represent his eyeshadow 🤭 ❤️

I drew the hair quickly, so I didn't pay much attention to the shapes of the hair spikes so it's not as soft. But even with the quick doodle, the hair has better weight now. Once I get to refine things properly, I'll actually pay attention to the way his hair spikes are drawn.

I was recently rereading my old dialogue scripts from my JuAli AU and revamping them! I doodled Judar and Alibaba SO much in 2022. It's the Fire/Ice duality and Black Cat x Golden Retriever ship dynamic 🖤💛🐈‍⬛🐕

I wanna draw JuAli again soon and redraw my old doodles. JuAli is my main Magi ship so ofc I wanna draw lots of them~ I haven't gotten the time yet, but I want to draw my ships like AliHaku, SinJa, and KouMor eventually, too 🙏✨

Inspiration

Based on this black and red (Judar colours) hanfu I got~

Judar rambles

I originally drew Judar wearing hanfu in 2022! Still one of my personal fave doodles ❤️ Judar is my fave (no one is surprised, I have the most obvious predictable tastes in the world LMAO). A meow meow mf perfect for my tastes.

Judar fits perfectly into the highly specific Sen-core niche that my top faves all tend to fall under - Meow meow mf. C*nty sen-core bastard cat who's violent, threatens people, and ok with murder. Bloodthirsty. Monochrome aesthetic colour palette.

Manga Judar has red eyeliner (?) and anime Judar has purple eyeshadow? Both are good, but I like Judar with red eyeliner since black and red are his theme colours! 🖤❤️ I like how the colours pop, the contrast against his design, and how it matches his red eyes.

In my HCs, Judar wears a type of hanfu called Ruqun (襦裙). Ru (襦) is the cross-collared top of a hanfu, and the wrap-around skirt is called Qun (裙). The coat jacket is called Da Xiu Shan (大袖衫).

I want him to wear black, white, red, gold, hanfu & hanfu earrings, with red eyeliner and black painted nails 🤗

I still need to pick my headcanon hanfu earrings for Judar... I imagine they'd be gold with red accessories.

I just have to refine the eyes, redraw the hair and hanfu, and then start doing the lineart for it! I love the expression tbh

Additional rambles

I miss my sons, I wanna draw my HC designs of JuAli (with Judar wearing hanfu and Alibaba with tanner skin, wearing Arab traditional clothes), as a fix-it for the obvious colourism going on in Magi's character designs of SWANA and South Asian inspired characters

I bought black and red hanfu back in 2023. I based my Judar hanfu doodles on it 🥺❤️ It's in Judar colours. Black red and white 🖤❤️🤍 I'm so HAPPY to get something that reminds me of my fave 🥰🤭❤️✨ I got it from the Hanfu Story~ They have such a large selection of hanfu and they're all so gorgeous~

Basically Judar themed hanfu~ I love traditional clothes, so it's my dream to collect them! Now I can use it as refs to draw him with the poses and lighting I want teehee. Hanfu & huafu look GORGEOUS to me. I also have Việt Phục like áo dài and áo tấc~

The colours are amazing!! I love black and red combo 😭💖 It's way too easy to fall into the fashion hole and collecting traditional clothes but I definitely want more in the future!

Magi: Ch. 110 - 111, Ch. 196 - 197, Ch. 239, Ch. 288

I love how Ohtaka stylizes and draws the shape of Judar's hair and braids. It's so clever how she simplifies the shapes. It just looks so good. It looks galaxy/tornado shaped… I love how the hatched lines above his eyes in Ohtaka's inking represents his eyeliner... ❤️

Judar's expressions from Ch. 110 - 111 are so unhinged… The Ch. 288 omake Judar is iconic. Fucking crazy ass LMAO 😭😂 Love you tho! 💞🫶

I'll be honest. I've thought about changing my PFP to this Judar again from the Magi omakes, like I thought of doing it as an April Fool's joke before, but I feel like no one would bat an eye cuz of how my faves are like LMFAO

Sen-core faves: Murderous, bloodthirsty, violent (or at the very least, has a disposition for violence), MAY eat people and/or their innards 🙌

JuAli core ship posts

And while you're at it, have the meme edit of them I made (1st image)

Anyways I made the 1st image's meme edit myself <33

Alibaba with tanner skin has such great visual contrast against his earrings~

I also wanna commission arts of JuAli at one point but I'd want to do it with my headcanon designs of them (Judar wearing hanfu and Alibaba with tanner skin wearing Arab traditional clothes)

Art rambles

When I sketch, I draw out the expressions and decide which ones looks best (I either do it once or a few ~ several times) depending on whether I'm satisfied with it. I like the two most recent 2024 versions I showed~ The old ones are still nice... But I prefer the recent versions, because I think it shows how my art style and proportions improved.

These sketches are super messy right now so when I get the time I'll refine them more! It's just to make it consistent with my current style. I'm a little insecure about my sketches, so I prefer to keep most of them on priv for mutuals.

Since I'm not really a fan of the idea of my sketches/WIPs getting posted around when I'm bound to fix/refine/improve on them later when I get the chance to refine them. Though thankfully with my 2022+ lining style, my sketches look more "aesthetically nice" or "post worthy" to me...

Perhaps in the future... I do genuinely like my art style and I'm very happy with my art improvement, but I want to keep growing as an artist first. I want to reach the point where I manage to become more technically skilled and confident about my works (even my sketches)

Though since I posted the rest of the sketches under the cut, feel free to reblog them if you want!

[fairlyabookie]

Roses

Author's note: back to our regularly scheduled spooky time

Content warning: implied death

Riddle takes a breath, letting out of his present anxieties. He opens his eyes to a table full of roses, neatly picked and trimmed for the occasion. All he needed was some time to assort these flowers to his desire. 

White roses, a symbol of innocence, signified Riddle’s approach to this profound change in his life. Lasting friendships from his childhood were a taste of what filial love was; friends sharing a common interest as they shared special moments together with warm smiles and banter. Riddle thought of Trey and Che’nya, his childhood friends who gifted him the present of sweetness and warmth for the time in his life. 

Red roses, a symbol of passion, symbolized a transformational period in Riddle’s life: a romantic relationship with [Reader]. To say “I love you” to someone besides his own Mom was something he couldn’t forget - from the way their eyes lit up upon him saying such words, to a bright smile thanking Riddle and exchanging the same words he had spoken just moments ago. His world turned upside down that day. 

His love bloomed like a rose, blooming beautifully from a budding friendship to something he couldn’t imagine. He remembered how the world stopped for just him and [Reader], how vibrant the roses were from the gardens as a strange sensation set his heart ablaze. Red roses, the same exact roses that he saw his beloved carry on the day of their union, their dress pale in comparison to the white roses in the gardens. 

The boy nimbly arranges the flowers, careful not to prick himself as he places each one of them into a vase, a cluster of red and white. He takes another breath, one that comes out roughly, his eyes glassing over with sorrow. As if to hold himself together, he presses his lips against his ring finger, where a gold band glints in the light. This was enough to ease Riddle to a quiet calm, his emotions in check for now.

“Are you ready, Riddle?” 

Soft taps sound against the door, following a muffled voice. The man clears his throat as he collects the vase. 

“Of course.” 

The door opens to reveal a somber Trey and Che’nya. In the feline’s hands, a picture-perfect portrait of [Reader] smiles at Riddle. His heart aches, an unbearable pain that comes second to his love for them. He swallows yet another bout of tears, his fingers trembling on the vase. 

“Let’s go.” 

He urges, walking side by side with Trey and Che’nya.

[rise-my-angel]

I hope you like long asks, Mimi, because this is going to be loooong

I like breaking things down part by part, so here we go. Oh, and some song recommendations that I got for this chapter: Family Tree (Intro) by Ethel Cain immediately reminded me of the best girl who’s always haunting Ned and the narrative—Lyanna Stark. And Margaret by Lana Del Rey if that doesn’t scream Jon, I don’t know what does.

First off, I have to say it’s so funny to imagine Ned watching a little chubby boy with curls falling into his face, red cheeks from the cold (or maybe beacuse of a little someone), nervously checking to see if his possible new friend will leave to see another day. Meanwhile, Ned’s standing there with hawk eyes, like serial kidnapper, maybe? Lmao. But seriously, I get what you mean. Jon will forever be Ned’s son, though Ned was always haunted by the thought that Jon could turn out differently.

Not because Ned believed Jon was born bad or could become a bad person—after all, Jon is still just a child, and Ned was well aware that surrounded by love (except for Catelyn’s, obviously), something as twisted as Rhaegar couldn’t emerge. But sometimes, no matter how far we run from who we are or where we come from, those traits can resurface. I once read the phrase, “Growing up scared to be with someone like your father, only to realize you’re just like your father.” That’s what Ned saw in Jon, and your comparison of Rhaegar’s gaze at Harrenhal with Lyanna to Jon’s gaze at Reader hits.

It’s heartbreaking to think that the fears Ned once had about Jon became Jon’s own fears when he learned the truth (Like Him by Tyler, The Creator playing in the background, around here, we ALL have daddy issues). How wonderful would it have been if Ned could have told Jon the truth himself and reassured him that no, Jon is not like his biological father—he’s like Ned and Lyanna. The difference that would’ve made in how Jon saw himself...

But Rhaegar doesn’t deserve to be remembered. Let’s talk instead about Lyanna—still haunting Ned so many years later. I can’t even imagine the pain Ned carried, knowing all she endured in the end. And having Jon so close was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he could see Jon growing into the kind of man Lyanna wanted—a true Northerner, like him and Lyanna in so many ways. But on the other hand, it was a bittersweet reminder of someone he’d never see or hear again. The similarities between Jon and Lyanna go beyond the physical. Their love for family, their protective instincts, their ability to hold everything and everyone together without even realizing it—I love them both so much.

On a lighter note, the little snippets of Reader and Jon through the years? Perfection! That’s exactly what I envisioned. I know exactly which shoes you’re referencing for Reader’s arrival at Winterfell, and honestly, I’d have the same reaction as the Starks.

Put my girl in a little cup and protect her from everything coming her way, please!

There’s something so special about seeing the main characters’ relationship through someone else’s eyes. Watching Ned recognize that Jon was completely smitten with Reader from the moment he saw her—it’s so sweet and also secondhand embarrassing in the best way. I’d die if that were me!

This “To Ned, you were like a daughter to him. You were a sort of daughter to him before he had his own daughters the way that Jon Arryn was a sort of father to him and Robert before he had a son of his own, born only just recently. You were a sort of trial for a girl, and by the time Sansa had been born, Ned was so elated for a little girl that the bells of Winterfell tolled from sun up to sun down"—Mimi, I am sobbing. It’s so sweet, and it hits that nerve where fluff is even harder to read than smut because it’s just too pure. I even laughed a little because it’s just so cute! Ned being a girl dad is everything.

I love how you wrote the bond between Ned and Reader. He was the kind of support for her that Stannis could never be. I genuinely believe that without Ned, Reader would’ve turned out to be a completely different person... He made such an impact—she was truly his first girl.

The details about how Ned watched Jon grow from a boy into a man while still holding on to those feelings for Reader—it’s so heartfelt. By the way, did you have something specific in mind for the letter Robb and Jon stole from Reader? I’m so curious about what could’ve embarrassed Jon so much when he read it

This part—“Ned was vastly too involved in his children’s lives in ways he wished he never was... In fact, it was rather sweet. Seeing his son a way no one but you ever did... he just so happened to be in the right place at the right time”—is such a bittersweet testament to how much Ned cared. Seeing Jon and Reader together, witnessing a rare moment of happiness and love through Jon’s eyes, must have meant so much to Ned. I loved how you showed that Reader helped Jon understand his worth. She made him see that he was just as important as any Stark, and that he was capable of being loved romantically, regardless of his status as a bastard (even though Jon didn’t believe it at the time).

And finally, this line: “There was a love in Jon’s eyes that was rare for any man to feel for a woman in a lifetime, and there it was in how he felt for you.” Mimi, I’m deceased. I have no words.

As always, you nailed it. This chapter was so beautiful, and I’m beyond grateful that you took my request into consideration. Thank you for pouring so much thought and care into this. You truly have a gift with words.

On that note—have you ever considered writing something outside of fanfiction? I’d absolutely love to read something completely original from you. You have such a way of drawing people in with your writing, it would be incredible.

Thank you again, Mimi! You’re amazing, and I can’t wait to see what you write next. 💖

I'm so glad you liked it, I was worried it got too off track from your original idea, but it just felt like the natural progression of the storyline to take. Framing Ned's emotional journey through his time watching you and Jon grow closer over the years.

I loved being free to weave Lyanna into the narrative this time, since the last Ned pov side chapter I did, we weren't quite at the reveal yet. But now I could go into detail, showing how much Lyanna had an impact on how Ned raised Jon. How it made Ned both love his son more, and make his love for his son more painful because the reminder of how Jon became his son in the first place. How much her presence haunts the narrative of the Starks no matter how long it's been since she passed.

It's also a fun time to write, because its so lighthearted and free and the reader is so much more naive and innocent in those times. Theres no angst or tension holding her back, just her and Jon and Robb as children and what that entailed.

And its almost more tragic now, becuse we can see how much Ned truly saw you as a daughter. You now spend many hours fearing Ned is disappointed in you, regrets his time with you, and how you will never know how he loved you as much as he loved his other children. How he took all the blame himself to try and spare your name from being dragged through the mud more then it already was. How he feared for your life right up to the end of his, and you will never know any of that.

You're left with the memory of a man who was like a father to you, but fears that you became everything he would hate. And your real father, who is alive, but has such a broken relationship with you that it might never be mended. You're forever missing what should be a father, the way Jon always felt he was missing a mother.

Also the letter was from Allard, Davos's first son and your personal guard. He 100% wrote you a letter for your name day and you knew if anyone read it, it would be embaressing because of how informal it would be, and how much the way he talks is teasing towards you and you didnt want them to know that. Let alone know it was your name day.

Guarentee anytime you were afraid the Starks would learn something embaressing about you, you feared it was Allard who would spill it. And for good reason. He's been your guard since you were four or five, and was your personal guard most days right up until Jon Arryn died. He has endless tales to tell people about you.

I'm happy you liked it though, there was a lot of emotion I wanted to explore from an angle that I can't in the main series because Ned is gone, so it makes me happy to know there is at least one person who is inetersted when I dive back into his perspective!

[bisluthq]

Yes! Exactly everything you said about matty and the comedian comparisons! I’m completely stumped about comedians I like atm lmao but I do like dark comedy. I think matty wanted to be like them but just isn’t cool enough or smart enough, or it’s cause he actually does believe the “jokes” he makes. But yeah, he’s shown who he is enough times now, and I think this has been the clearest he’s been where there’s no gag, it’s straight up shit.

Also I think he doesn’t want to be a better person or a good person, he just wants to be perceived as one the same way he wants to be perceived as a non snobby intellectual, but he just reminds me of Russel brand (excluding the very part about the allegations about Russel, I haven’t heard that sort of thing about matty). He seems to put so much effort into acting like he doesn’t care about fame and image and legacy but he sure knows how to go ‘woopsies i think I think I said something bad again? I’m not perfect :( but no one can be :) but I don’t want to be an asshole :( but I can’t help who I am and at least I am always true to myself :)’ i can’t imagine being a fan, it seems exhausting (i say as a swiftie lmao).

And yep, you really see what people think when they’re angry/ upset! I have this problem, only my problem is that I grew up constantly hearing the homophobic f slur (never actually used in context though because my extended family has a lot of LGB folks, and we had a drag queen family friend) but if someone stubbed their toe, encounter a bad driver, spill a drink, anything, they’d shout “fucking F…”! I struggled getting my key into the lock the other day and was busting for the toilet and said “come on you fucking f…” and it caught me off guard, because one I’m bi lol but it just came out so easily and without thought, but mostly because I felt uncomfortable when Jason Kelce said it a few weeks ago even though he was using the word that had been used against him. But talking about a key in the door, it obviously has no deep meaning or person attached, but I need to unlearn that as my “I’m so frustrated right now phrase” 😬 but in a more serious thing, we have had a lot youth crime and when they show videos with blurred out faces and the kids aren’t white, or it’s in an area that’s accepted a lot of refugees, the things people who weren’t even affected will say, and comments people leave on social media with their government name… so messed up! I read a book a few years ago about African Americans living in America and children of immigrants feel they need to be perfect and not get in any minor mischief or trouble like underage drinking because other people will paint it as a failing of their whole community. I can’t remember the name of the book now (maybe it was a blm podcast actually? If anyone remembers it please let me know) but it was something that I hadn’t personally seen/ noticed until after learning that. But now I see it everywhere, and especially with trans people atm!

I keep thinking about what you said about Vance being more dangerous than trump because he speaks well and I’m noticing it with the edge lord types who use big words or people who write a seemingly logical explanation about why eating too much red meat is bad and then they’ll just throw in some racist dog whistles and then within a few weeks they’re not using dog whistles but saying the racist shit unfiltered and because they made some accurate points and used big words and sounded eloquent, it just slides in there like ‘oh well this must be true too’

I got off topic from talking about what matty said but it feels like it’s all connected in some weird way. It makes sense in my head, I just can’t put the words in order.

I mean Matty saying what he said wasn’t really a joke - it was just a racialized threat. Obviously it was a jokey threat because I don’t believe Matty would fight Azaelia (also: he if he did, he would lose because she’s just straight up crazier than him). And I just have no patience for that? If he said “I’m coming to egg your house” that would be a weird thing to say but it wouldn’t be racist. If he said “next time you see your car, expect the tires to be slashed” that would be a threat of malice but it wouldn’t be racist. Even if he just said “next time I see you, I’m gonna smack you” I’d be like “… ok” but the wig thing coming in was just RACIST and there’s just no excuse for that.

Especially because he keeps doing it. He keeps being “accidentally” racist which like… bro is just a racist little man. And obviously that doesn’t make him about to go commit hate crimes or whatever but it’s also like??? Come on.

and I agree when you see people committing crimes is often when the hate comes out and it’s like idk man the hate was there and let’s be real, if you need a group to be perfect not to use slurs against them then you’re just bigoted? Like yes. You get shitty Black people, and shitty Muslim people, and shitty trans people, and shitty poor people. Having a marginalized identity doesn’t make these people better people. It’s also imo prejudiced when people make excuses for shitty behaviors “because” the person committing it is marginalized. Like no that person is just shitty. Maybe they have an excuse for it but just about everyone has an excuse for the shitty things they do because almost no one goes out with the express goal of being a bad person? But that person happens to suck. Okay. Says nothing about the group as a whole 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ People are just people.

I said this a while back out loud and this person tried to gotcha me by saying “but aren’t you anti cops and isn’t that just the excuse there that there are some bad apples” and the difference is cop is not an identity? It’s a job. And it kind of doesn’t have room for bad apples. I hadn’t seen that when I had that convo, but to quote Chris Rock again he has this whole thing about how if a number of pilots at an airline just… hated landing planes and preferred crashing them into things, we wouldn’t be like “oh no a few bad apples!!!” we’d be like “fuck that airline” and like no those people shouldn’t be pilots lol. People who like crashing planes shouldn’t be airline pilots. Maybe they can be stunt people?? Idk. Find a different job. People who like shooting people shouldn’t be cops. They should maybe be hunters? Idk. Some things should just preclude you from certain occupations. That doesn’t speak to your identity, you’re just… ill suited for that particular role in society.

which is very long and rambling but ties back to Matty and Azaelia fwiw to say that aspects of who they are as people should preclude them from a public presence. Pity. Because both are musically talented individuals. Azaelia tho fwiw hasn’t put out music in forever, I think she’s mostly just… causing shit. And it’d be okay if she was yelling into a void but people do pay attention and that sucks. And same for Matty. Like he just shouldn’t be a famous person with a platform. He’s a weird, over sensitive, shitty little man and he should be talking into a void lol.

[sonic-love-island-official]

Shadow (Bio/Character design ramble)

Behold, my sweet baby. Boy, do I have a lot to say about him. And some things I want to say about him can't really be incorporated fully into the fic, so what better place to infodump than here ?

Info under the cut x

Shadow is a 28 year old ex-G.U.N. agent. He was 'born' within the ARK, but moved to Westopolis later in life to rediscover his (then lost) identity. He joins Rouge on the Island with the intention of being her moral support.

Being a more reserved character, Shadow arrives full of scepticism, but with an indescribable, intricate set of standards. Shadow is the kind of man who knows exactly what he wants from a partner and a life going forward. He is stubborn to deviate from his plan of settling down and hoping to raise a family with someone who doesn't make him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Normally on edge or awkward, Shadow typically struggles to interact with new people, but once he becomes comfortable with someone, he lets his true colours shine (both to his benefit and detriment). He can be gentle, deeply caring, passionate, even. However, he can also be sly, sharp-witted and harsh at times. Regardless of how anyone perceives him, Shadow's strong sense of identity drives him to pursue what he wants to have in his future. But having something entails having something to lose…

External design choices !! (visual appearance - incl. formation of base sim, references taken, makeup choices, fashion style… etc.)

You will never know how much time I spent trying to perfect this man 😭 Again, I immediately took inspiration from his Sonic Adventure 2 character design because he is both so striking in appearance but also has this soft cuteness (which initially did not make it into his sim version, until later modding the game). Along with Rouge, for Shadow I had a distinctive creative vision and although I can never make a sim exactly how I imagine them in my head, Shadow's design came close enough that I can't complain too much.

The real tough thing with Shadow came down to translation. Shadow has incredibly sharp/angular features that replicating it accurately in the sims would destroy any realistic appeal for his character in a more human form. So, my compromise was to do the best I could, while still keeping Shadow's features relatively human enough so he wouldn't look like he crawled out of a nightmare. Of course, I chose to keep the angle of his eyes and brows, but softened the degree to something still recognisable and so it didn't warp any of his other facial features. I kept the red colour of his eyes too. I could have went down a more realistic route, but I just thought it was so iconic of his character that without them, he'd just look weird. Same can be said for his makeup, actually. I gave him a simple black liner that runs from the top lash line, into the bottom and through his waterline, pairing that with a subtle red eyeshadow that mimics the red, triangular accent in the outer corners of his eyes (looking at sim Shadow without either of those is jarring, believe me). His nose I made a little pointed, characteristic of all the male hedgehogs. As for everything else ? It was purely up to my interpretation and working within the limitations of the game.

I couldn't get anything that was similar to Shadow's upturned quills, so I went for a hairstyle with a little bit of volume, just so there was enough resemblance. The hair I used was from the Supernatural pack (which is notorious for ugly CAS items, in my opinion) and surprisingly I don't hate it as much as when I first picked it. The red streaks are in his hair, but a little muted in comparison to the reference pictures, due to the fact it looked ridiculously bad when I tried the accurate, bright red streaks. I also wanted Shadow's sharp features to carry through into the base structure of his face, hence why he has a more squared jawline than what is seen on some of the other characters. He used to have more prominent cheekbones, but that that feature was softened out significantly after the modding (again, another 'for the best' situation). Overall, Shadow version 1 (pre-mod) wasn't all that attractive but once we got that visual overhaul for all the characters, he looks quite Pretty (I call him 'babygirl Shadow' due to his softer features). His skin tone evened out heaps better than before and looks quite lovely in-game <3

Over time, I've come to really appreciate Shadow's sim version !! He portrays everything I wanted him to be. Displaying a lot of his iconic features, while also representing my further, more abstract intentions for his character. Occasionally he makes expressions that do make him look a little older than the other characters and depending on who he's with, he can look the total opposite and look sweet, gentle and youthful. Other times he looks straight up creepy and all of these things blend so well for his character to an extent where it's both joyful and comical to witness. Nevertheless, I adore him, could you tell ;-;

*I forgot to mention here that although Shadow's sim does not have many tattoos (again, the selection we're given in TS3 is horrific and impossible to work with), he does in the AU. The red triangle designs on his forearms and calves are carried over (except they're not solid, rather more detailed with fluid lines and coils), his/the symbol of the Black Arms adorns his chest and creeps up to his neck and he has a small flower tattoo in memory of Maria <3

Shadow's fashion falls under three categories:

Stereotypical 'bad boy' outfits (leather jackets, boots, torn up jeans etc.)

Outfits typical of the show (plain t-shirts, baggy pants, chains, sneakers)

Outfits I personally think Shadow would pick and feel/seem comfortable wearing (tidy button-ups, dress pants/straight leg jeans)

They're pretty interchangeable throughout the series but the idea is that Shadow morphs to the expectation of being a Love Island contestant and wears things to fit that, but over the course of the series, gradually drops the act and becomes more himself. In any case, it gives a lot of variety and opportunity to try different clothing styles on Shadow and that in itself is fun to play with. Sometimes we even surprise ourselves seeing what items actually suit Shadow and which don't.

Internal design choices !! (personality, characteristics, psychology)

I am such a nit-pick when it comes to how Shadow is characterised in both official Sonic media and in fanworks. The two things that annoy me most is:

He's stuck in this constant loop of reliving his trauma, finding a sense of closure and learning/moving on from it. Repeatedly. He learns these beautiful, relatable life lessons and then. Forgets it. And has to do it all over again. For no real reason. (06 made that annoyance seem not as bad, seeing as Shadow had moved forward in his life but still kept to his ideals… but of course, they had to go and ruin that for him, didn't they 😒 Leading into my next point-)

He's reduced down to Edgy and Has No Friends

I am so so sick of seeing both of these things ?? So, I'm mostly just serving myself by helping Shadow along in this AU to be neither of these things because it doesn't at all fit the premise of the series. Most of the characters are a wild blend of their portrayals throughout Sonic media, so shitty Shadow pops up on occasion (for justifiable reasons, though) but primarily I've cherry-picked his better portrayals to represent him in the series, like the more introverted, soft-spoken Shadow from SA2 and Heroes, as well as the more level-headed, matured Shadow seen in 06. Of course, I don't write all of Shadow's moments in the series, as this fic is co-written alongside my sister, but my best efforts go towards representing Shadow in a way that makes him seem like Just A Guy.

Shadow enters the fic in a completely different stage in life. He's put his past behind him and is looking towards a brighter future. Naturally, he hasn't let his past go entirely and more so made a sense of peace with it. Here and there, there are a few blips where that is not the case and shows some of his old wounds haven't fully healed, but that's to add the ✨realism✨. The idea for Shadow is that he was once in a far worse state than when he entered the Island, but he isn't perfect. He has his own arc to go through, but for once it's fairly disjointed from his canon-typical baggage.

Simply enough, I want to allow Shadow the opportunity to develop connections — to make new friends (Rouge is his one pre-established friend), to express love. He has so much potential to be soft and kind and selfless and loving, without being locked behind bars of Edge and past horrors. As an introvert, he expresses things in his own subtle way that isn't easily understood by everyone, but he's constantly making the effort to show he cares for the people important to him.

Fun facts / trivia :

Shadow is older than Sonic by three years in this AU purely due to the fact that Shadow's character is more lore-heavy than Sonic's. Additionally, they're both at different stages in life, shown by their behaviour and actions and that, I feel, should also be realistically represented in the ages given to them. There is so much discourse surrounding Shadow's 'age' (now retconned) and it's exhaustingg.

Shadow's time in the Villa reveals some interesting themes around social relationships, such as making/maintaining friendships as an adult (a topic I find incredibly real and unique to this project)

I couldn't fit this anywhere else, and it might be a little self-serving but I allude to the fact that Shadow is on the aro/ace spectrum, which is a wild contradiction from the expectations of the show. We've also kept the genders of his previous partners vague-ish. Firstly due to the Twitter Takeovers, where Shadow has never expressed a gender preference (I think that's correct ?) and that's a detail I wanted to remain loyal to. Secondly, I didn't want to tie him down to any specific gender preference ?? I thought it banging just to leave it as is, because it does give some moments within the series an extra impact. Nevertheless, Shadow specifically doesn't experience sexual attraction and rarely/infrequently experiences romantic attraction. Alas, there seems to be this mutual consensus that Shadow's a bit of a horn monster and… funnily enough, I agree with that too- So AU Shadow's sexuality is incredibly layered and somehow it all still makes logical sense :)

There is a lot of Shadow's lore that transferred to the AU in a creative/slightly more realistic way, but I can't talk about it here, else this post will be longer than what it already is

[aaternum]

"do you think this goes well with the suit i had picked?" it was rare that evan picked a day to go shopping for himself, as he always prioritized activities that she decided to do but considering the important banquet he had to attend, he felt like he needed something different from his usual array of colors, which was mostly black and red, that accented his skin, hair, and eyes rather well. but this time as he was in a shop for men's suits, sorting through the various ties they had—different colors, an array of subtle patterns, and so forth. he was already holding one that he thought may fit with the dark navy suit. "would you prefer this golden yellow one with a slightly raised floral pattern? or should i opt for monochromatic with this matched navy one?" he looked to her, his reddish brown eyes scanning her face for approval as if her opinion mattered the most in the world and everything else paled in comparison.

Finding an alignment in time within their work schedules always made her heart feel just a little bit lighter. It didn’t have to be for very long, or guided by a plan– all she wanted was to feel close to him. That was enough. It was always enough. And after a week or so of conflicting hours, they’d had some time to hang out! Ryu hums softly, fingers running along the expensive threads of dress shirts and pants that probably totaled somewhere close to her rent. She ignores the price tags; Evan’s refined attire had always been on the more luxe side of things. And she’d unabashedly squawked about the price a few too many times on the one-off occasions he’d been doing some personal shopping. Very much earning a few, swift cutting looks. She didn’t particularly care, but she didn’t want to embarrass Evan. Can’t make a fool of yourself in the fancy suit shop if you pretend you don’t see ‘em, right? 

She’d been holding up a wooden hanger with trousers hanging off the clips, a navy similar to the suit he’d shown her just a few short weeks back. Ryu didn’t really understand the nuanced differences between any of the ones in his wardrobe. The man had an outfit for every occasion imaginable – even the ones she didn’t believe existed! But they all followed his usual palette, the striking amber of his gaze always the star to his ensemble. He was predictable in that sense, or maybe they’d spent so much time together she’d just grown to know him so well. An easy, confused smile tugs at her mouth when he holds the two ties before her. Eh, well, mostly, predictable.  “   Yellow or monochrome?   ” She says with a stunned little laugh. “   What is this rebellion, Mr. Lu? You tryin’ to impress someone there?  ” The joke tugs somewhere strange in her chest. It’d been doing that a lot lately when she imagined him wanting the attention of another the way she wanted his. But her face never betrays her heart; she winks and gently reaches for the the yellow one with her free hand, thumb against the raised material as she whistles low under her breath. “   Is it bad that I want you to use this one, just because it's got the prettiest little flowers?   ” Another content little laugh follows, the pants she’d been holding now resting back upon the clothing rack so she could better inspect it. It was pretty enough– it’d probably go nicely with the suit, a bright contrast to the color. Ryu pries it fully from his fingers, reaching up to wrap the material around the collar of his dress shirt. Her hands smooth against his chest before working to tie it loosely. Ties weren’t her specialty, but she’d spent enough time watching Evan and asking him to show her how whenever he was getting ready to go out. It wasn’t perfect, but maybe one day it would be. She smiles, stepping back slightly to admire the full picture of her handy work. “   Not too bad, if I do say so myself.  ” Teal hues dart between his ever observant gaze and the tie. The slight golden reflection in the crimson of his eyes sealing her decision before she’d spare a glance to the other option.

“   This one. I think you should wear this one.   ”

[nuvomica]

an old fic im sharin with someone. ignore it

As Bella rests in her hospital bed, peaceful but so sickly, her father, Chief of Police Charlie Swan, can only wait. He has a job he needs to do, or at least have a good sleep to do well, but he can’t bring himself to leave. He sits in the corridor with the bright, unflinching white of the hospital lighting stinging his eyes.

Or, maybe his eyes are still dry, still red, from when he’d finished crying some hours ago. Short, sharp, painful as he looked down at his little girl clinging to life, the harsh, irregular beeps of the monitor at her side announcing her fight to live.

Stable, but only just. How can someone be only just stable? Charlie can’t leave, because what if that stability vanishes?

He doesn’t realise someone has come to stand in front of him until a solid, strong hand touches his shoulder, making him jump. His shoes squeak as they slide over the linoleum and he slips in the uncomfortable plastic of the chair, whole body flinching as he battles the surge of fight-or-flight.

“Apologies,” the cool voice of Carlisle Cullen soothes immediately, the hand retracting just as fast. “I’ve been calling your name. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No,” Charlie says quickly, then clears his throat, well-aware of how sandpapery he sounds. Feels. Especially in comparison to the crisp, alert doctor looking down at him with a patient smile. “No, I’m– I was, uh.”

“Lost in thought?” Carlisle offers. He’s watching, still gentle, still placating. Kind, in his own, cool way.

“Sure.” Charlie sits up straighter, blinking in a futile attempt to make himself feel more awake and grounded. He scruffs a hand over the back of his head, roughly massaging away the ache from leaning against the wall too long. How long has it been? He makes the effort not to wince, making eye contact with the doctor long enough to give a polite, thankful nod. He can’t make it last too long. It’s difficult with this man, and he’s not sure why.

Something about how calm he always is. 

Not a soft kind of calm, like comes naturally to the rainy, washed-out Forks, but sterile as the hospital he works in. Stone makes his face, his eyes, and he is unyielding. There are no stress-wrinkles or undereye bags on his face, and his job has to be about as stressful as Charlie’s.

And Charlie only has a few people in his life he loves enough to worry about. He couldn’t imagine having such a large family to care for on top of everything else. Worrying about Bella is enough to–

“As I was saying, Sheriff, I don’t think I’ve seen you eat once throughout the duration of your wait. I understand the desire to be near Bella as she rests, but you’ll be of more help to her if you take care of yourself.”

It’s not supposed to be manipulative, Charlie thinks, but he still feels a twinge of unease at the words. Right. Be of more help to her, because he’s been damn useless at that so far, apparently.

“Right, sure, cafeteria.” He stands up, nodding his head and readjusting his clothes, tugging at the belt loops as he straightens himself out. Not everyone can be perfect all the time, Doctor, he doesn’t say. 

“Ah, well, the cafeteria staff aren’t there at this time of the morning. Only emergency staff and nurses are on.”

Charlie feels sheepish. Of course. “Oh. Well, I’m sure I have something at home.” Like bread. Milk. It’ll be fine. He doesn’t want to leave, but he feels like a child, chided and cared for by the young doctor.

“Nonsense, Captain Swan. Charlie.” The first name sounds so nice on Carlisle’s tongue, like the plain name and plain man it belongs to are a comfortable thing, something more. It makes an already strung-out Charlie feel winded, suddenly. Tired, worn thin. “The reason I’m here is because I’ve finished my shift. I’m fine to drive, and I’m not sure it would be professionally responsible of me to let you drive yourself.”

“Nah, I’ve worked later shifts, I’ll be just fine.” Charlie refuses to be more of an inconvenience.

“As a friend, then. I’d feel terrible as your friend if I left you to drive alone, hungry and tired, after the events of tonight.”

Charlie takes a moment, foggy brain turning things over in his mind. The offer, the situation. Himself, Carlisle. Friendship.

“You’re so frustrating,” he says, not quite thinking as the exasperated, half-fond words slip out. It’s something he’d say to Billy or Harry, almost. Almost.

“I’m sorry?” There’s no offence in Carlisle’s tone, just polite surprise.

Charlie’s words catch up with him, slamming him into embarrassment. Now he has to explain himself. He never liked doing that.

“Just, I know being a doc isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but you’re always– I don’t know.” Charlie pauses, trying to find the right words. He rubs his hand over his mouth, his chin, as though hiding himself will get him out of the situation he’s created by not just taking the offer and doing as he was told. Damn. He can’t just say that it’s annoying how perfect Cullen is, can he? Even he has more tact than that. “Calm, I guess. All the time, no matter what happens.”

Carlisle gives a nod, then, and a gentle, “Ah.” It’s an acknowledgement of understanding and familiarity, which makes sense, because he’s probably been told that plenty.

“I know people in your profession see a lot of shit. So do I, you know?” They’re not in totally different leagues, just levels, where Carlisle sits in the high choir while Charlie scruffs around in the mud and dirt, both of them helping people, both of them with blood on their hands. Yet the two of them are so incredibly different.

“I know.” Carlisle has tilted his head, frowning in a way that shows thought rather than irritation, and Charlie nods, encouraging himself.

“You just never seem… tired. Worn down, like everyone else gets, and I know that even if you’re a perfect guy, it’s a lot. It’s a lot.”

Carlisle looks at him then, and it's a curious look from under his lashes, eyebrows raised. Not surprised, not quite intrigued, but something softly settled between. A single strand of blond hair has come loose, curling gently over his forehead, and it’s so definitely out of place that Charlie can’t help but stare at it.

“A lot of practice,” Carlisle says after a moment of still silence. “Restraint. Using any built up frustration, energy, in other places so it doesn’t wear me down. Useful places.” It’s a thoughtful answer that Charlie wasn’t ready for and he can’t help but stare. “Where the consequences are minimal, but each movement important. The intent doesn’t matter, but the understanding offered does. It’s a sort of rest that works incredibly deep.”

To Charlie’s exhausted mind, it makes no damn sense. Intrigues him, though. Maybe. Maybe another time. For now, he grunts and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, ducking his head and ignoring the dull ache behind his eyes at the sudden light strain on his neck muscles.

“Where d’you wanna stop to eat?” Not many places were open this time, Charlie realised. Even the fast food places didn’t get enough business to justify 24/7 access in Forks.

“I have already eaten, but we can decide as we drive, if you like?”

“Sounds good.” It really did, except for one very important thing. “Bella. Who’s, uh. Caring for her.” He almost hadn’t felt the way his worries had settled beneath Carlisle’s calm, but he noticed the weight easing off his mind a little now.

“The nurses here are exceptionally kind and attentive. I can promise you she won’t come to any harm; she will be comfortable, and she will recover quickly. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

Charlie believed Carlisle’s words save for the last few. How could he, when Bella was just a girl, his little girl, and she looked so small in that hospital bed? Maybe that was his curse as a father. To always see her as his baby.

He hummed, frowning at the itch in his eyes returning, and rocked on his heels. “Good. Good, okay.”

Carlisle slowly offered his arm out, as though Charlie might need the help walking out. Charlie shook his head quickly, then gave a short breath of laughter. He wasn’t that old, that emotional, just yet.

“If she’s not here to boss me around, fast food’ll do just fine.” One last look at the doors, as though he could see through to where Bella was unconscious, and Charlie turned to head out, patting Carlisle’s offered arm as he did.

He could trust in Carlisle’s treatment and his word. A trust he felt deepened after that night, as professional courtesy became a friendly acquaintance. Charlie’s frequent thoughts of Carlisle and his perfection stayed the same as they had been before.

BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK

“You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. We have a spare bed. Or, I can take you home.”

Charlie looked up from his plate, the last of his greasy, hastily put together burger leaving sauce smears on the perfect blue-and-white ceramic. He’d missed the stuff, the comforting sugarfatsalt that scratched an itch in his brain, and it did help settle him, he had to admit. Feeling less jittery, he found talking to Carlisle much easier now he had food in his stomach. Maybe he was tired, too, enough that 

..........

To cullen home.

Charlie think back, convo. Relax? how.

Charlie, quiet. Tries to imagine. “Sports?” Hm, baseball, apparently. He could see it. Is that what he meant? Or arts and crafts. He tries to picture carlisle doing scrapbooking, makin ghim go Hrnm. from upstairs, he hears a clatter. Jumpy man.

“Just edward,” carlisle assures. “He’s reading some sort of comedy, i believe.”

Charlie cant imagine it, but the less time spent thinking abt edward the better.

Jump. Book whatever. friend dies. Charlie struggling to keep it together, and he needs to. As the sheriff. As a father. Alcohol.

He is found by edward, who goes to get carlisle. It happens fast. Time must be weird bc of drink. Has to keep charlie awake, gives iv. S… smelling him? Apologises, when iv pricks he seems to bend down, smells. Sits up, and tells charlie it’s not high enough percentage to need oxygen or stomach pump. Charlie is like aight. I wanna sleep. No–

Charlie: do you. Do you fuckn ever lose your composure? How do you do it.

Carlisle: sometimes. In the right scenario. The right place.

Post-canon

Nonsexual bondage. Tie charlie up, and just sit with him. By his side. Carlisle is reading. The cool touch of his hand is nice. Charlie is sore, but says nothing. Winces when he goes to sit up, and carisle asks. Then gets… angry? No. something else. “I asked you to tell me if you got uncomfortable. Or in pain. You look in pain.” charlie shrugs. “Nah, im jus’ old.” “Charlie.”

[mystiika]

au where warren becomes a villain tho....

like it would follow the same general story line of the movie. he still helps defeat royal pain. he still does his best to save people who don't even like him. he still goes out of his way for others when it counted. but then their treatment of him is still the same. he can understand to a degree when he's still a bit of a hothead & people can't do a quick 180. but even so, he still thought something might change after a bit of time. sure, will's gang didn't avoid him quite so much as the rest of the population ( although layla & magenta seemed the least bothered ), but even they weren't able to actually trust him if he wasn't their last resort ( this is ofc the main split off from the canon where warren & will supposedly become best friends ). looking back he saw that it was through childhood naivety, but some part of him was still hopeful that maybe, just maybe people would think better of him after he helped save them all. 

so when its been nearly an entire school year of him just minding his business, the other students still anxiously turn their heads when they catch his eye. still whisper about the "obvious" likelihood of him following in his father's foot steps with rumours ( somehow even less unfounded from the impossibility they started the school year with ). still freeze up when he walks by like he'll burn them without reason. etc... it all grinds on his nerves more than it did before. he at the very least thought people would drop the comparisons with his father. warren loathed him, & the idea of being similar in any way was irritating beyond belief. & he did try to be more friendly. it was awkward & he was blunt but if all it did was make the person uncomfortable, how in the world was he meant to keep it up.

i feel like his villain name would be something like the scorcher maybe something with 'red' in it... yet to be determined

i imagine he gets even more angry & intimidating in the years following movie canon, completely isolated himself until even layla give ups. he wanted to bide his time, learn from the classes at sky high for what he can repurpose for himself later, even taking time to learn people's powers & weaknesses in case they later come to blows.

once in university he starts his villainous activities, completely unbeknownst to anyone & everyone around him. he makes an effort to change his image a bit at this point too, he's a bit older & a bit more mature & realises that if he sets himself up to look like a villain in his day to day then it will only make things more difficult for him later. so with the help of having a fresh start ( & a bit of practice ), he's soon enough able to lead a perfect double life. he smiles more, acts more friendly, offering help here & there until people decide for themselves that he's "reformed" & no longer a threat. he chooses not to be involved as a superhero despite his offensive power since the very thought of fighting alongside anyone as haughty & self righteous as heros were was enough to make him ill. instead he got a normal degree at a normal university for a normal job. this of course gave him some additional cover since it meant no one was really aware of the state of his powers/abilities — no similarities between his would-be "hero" & "villain" crime scene remnants.

when he finally allows himself the chance to drop the facade he's explosive & destructive. he makes the effort to cause maximum damage & casualties, enjoying the pain & fear in a persons eyes while he towers over them, & more than anything else seeing the wonderfully demoralised state of the heroes he was "friends" with while they're losing every fight & unable to catch him. i could see them coming to warren for advice since their powers seem similar enough that maybe he'd be able to help.

& yeah, maybe it wasn't fair to punish the world for the actions of a bunch of high schoolers, but sometimes that's all it takes for a villain's origin story. when you start to only see the worst in people, its easier & easier to lump the innocents in with them until there's no one on earth worthy of your mercy. besides, if people all his life only wanted to see his faults then who was he to deny them their long standing dream of him becoming the villain they'd only ever expected him to be?

this also would go CRAZY for the relationships he develops. not even just romantic, if there's ANYONE he finally lets in & cares for then he'd burn the world to the ground for them without a second thought fr