#who’s even left oh my god i’ve been typing forever…

[livvyofthelake]

yea i DO want an in depth explanation of how everyone relates to kit and ty

well this could be the longest post ever….. i talked about some of them already but i’ll give you some of my favorites rn and then probably go into the rest later <3

first i wanna talk about margaret of the map of tiny perfect things fame, i put her at the very beginning and the very end like bookends because that movie is about a timeloop and i thought it would be fun to like. begin and end the same you know… and then of course she’s just like ty because of how she let herself fall into that time loop as a metaphor for grief because she had this inability to let go of her mother and would have rather lived the same horrible day over and over again if it meant she didn’t have to live in a world without her mom. and she would have just made the map with mark and looked for all the small perfect moments within that day because she was too afraid of the bigger picture of life…. and then of course the whole movie is about mark trying to find a way OUT of the loop and he’s the one that helps her see the beauty in the ever changing nature of life and she’s only able to break the loop once she learns this…. like yeah well that needs to happen to my buddy ty!!!

another favorite is zombieland, i’m literally always saying that kit could do zombieland…. the thing about columbus zombieland is that well he’s a loser with no life and then it’s the end of the world and he survives by isolating himself from everyone. but he’s still trying to make it back to his family in ohio for one last chance at not being alone, and then he can’t do that but he finds a new family with tallahassee and witchita and little rock…. and well kit lovesss isolating himself as a way of protecting his heart but he still wants to be able to someday have a family, and he DOES now because he has tessa and jem and mina and jace and all the blackthorns…. also if you’ve seen the zombieland movies you’ll know that when columbus proposed in the sequel witchita immediately just left because she’s afraid of committing and her primary goal through the whole franchise has been to protect her sister so she used that as an excuse to run away from him… like. whatever. and then they killed a bunch of zombies together!!

little women is there because a) i was including as many things as i could think of that had multiple versions of the same characters. and b) because laurie’s whole deal is that he is so desperate to be a part of the march family that he would have married literally any of those girls. i’m not of the mindset that laurie only married amy as a consolation prize for losing jo, because i think he only wanted to marry jo because she happened to be his best friend and he wanted to be a part of her family. i think that laurie and amy were in love but i also think that it’s not like soulmate shit or anything they’re in love because they chose to be in love. i love amy’s speech in the 2019 adaptation about how she doesn’t think love just Happens and that if you just pick someone and commit to them that’s love enough to be meaningful. and i think her and laurie chose each other out of knowing that they wanted similar lives and could give each other something the other wanted and yes they loved each other as friends before they loved each other as more but it’s not necessarily a romcom situation with them. like they were in love but not because of some out of their hands fated romance deal you know. and i think there’s a similarity there to how kit and ty chose each other more so than it was fated. i know i’ve said a lot about them being like dated to be together although i don’t believe i’ve ever used that word. but i always mean it in the sense that they initially just picked each other and now they’re always going to be pulled together because of that. wow i just went on forever with this one huh ok moving on

some shorter explanations: twilight is there for the same reason little women is i think bella has the same thing wrong with her that laurie does. ari and dante get to be there because well we were all 15 together simple. allie and will get to be there because she’s the reincarnation of king arthur and we’ve all already established that kit is shadowhunter king arthur. do revenge is there for the toxic girl best friend-ism. enola holmes is there because it would have been wrong to not include literally the only sherlock holmes related media i have seen. benjamin is there because well he’s just like ty fr. handsome devil is there because when i watched that movie i saw my pal eddie dating amber be super annoying and i was like well i think he has kit herondale swag. and that was that i didn’t think about it beyond that. tangled is there for obvious reasons. fear street is there because sam and deena are insane about each other and also divorced and in a life threatening situation and also in love and well that is going to happen to ty and kit in twp

[edenmemes]

baldur's gate 3 starters (part 2)

part 2 / ? .

❝ i’m also worried about me, but i somehow seem to be worried about you more. ❞ ❝ you put the stars to shame. let’s sit here a little while - i want to drink you in. ❞ ❝ i’d tell you not to get in trouble, but i suspect it will find you whether you like it or not. ❞ ❝ well, this seems as good a time as any for me to stop babbling on. ❞ ❝ i just….need some air…clear my head. ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since i shed a tear. i don’t even know how long. ❞ ❝ i had a feeling you’d show up. it’s sort of our thing. like it’s fate or something. ❞ ❝ i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little. ❞ ❝ if that was an attempt at flirting, i should let you know i prefer the strong, silent type. ❞ ❝ no matter how far you come, you’re still on the road to ruin. ❞ ❝ i thought you a hunter. wrong. you’re prey - small. snivelling. pathetic. ❞ ❝ and what am i owed? what about the injustices i’ve suffered - am i not entitled to anything? ❞ ❝ i can’t help but feel the strangest twinge of disgust as i look upon you. ❞ ❝ i trust that you will continue to remember who is really on your side. ❞ ❝ better a short life built on truth than immortality woven of lies. ❞ ❝ i won’t make excuses. i can’t make amends. but i want to help, if you’ll let me. ❞ ❝ gods, it’s horrifying…and a touch fascinating. ❞ ❝ there are many names for you --- and all of them inspire dread. ❞ ❝ destiny is at your door; won’t you at least twitch the curtain? ❞ ❝ the gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. a hunger crueller than bloodlust. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ revenge sounds so sweet until you’ve taken it. then all you have is…no one left to blame. ❞ ❝ some mistakes can’t be resolved with an apology. some mistakes, you have to carry with you, forever. ❞ ❝ you’re plotting something, aren’t you? come on then - out with it. ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ think of all we’ve been through just to get to this moment. that wasn’t luck. that was us. ❞ ❝ feel like i should laugh but i’m just too godsdamned tired. ❞ ❝ there is something i lost…no, had taken from me. i want it all back. ❞ ❝ careful - you’re in very real danger of hurting my feelings. ❞ ❝ one thing i’ve learned - real saviours never label themselves as such. ❞ ❝ less thinking of bad thoughts, and more breaking of bad bones. ❞ ❝ i rather like interfering. it’s kind of my thing. ❞ ❝ evil is evil, even if it once was innocent. ❞ ❝ you know, i've been catching myself smiling more lately. i think that's your fault.. ❞ ❝ oh, i’m no innocent. but evil? you tell me. ❞ ❝ i still want to believe you’re better than that. but even i am having my doubts. ❞ ❝ i can’t afford to lose my nerve. safer to just not think, and keep forging ahead. ❞ ❝ when all this is over, will you stay with me? for good? ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ is there a reason you're always such an utter drip? do you have some sort of condition? honestly, it's like you hate good news. ❞ ❝ all of nature’s beauty pales in comparison to you. ❞ ❝ i can’t save you from yourself. it hurts terribly, but i can’t. ❞ ❝ if i seem suddenly flush with hope and soft feeling, you have only yourself to blame. ❞ ❝ is there good and evil within us all? ❞

❝ i’ve been watching you fight. your skills are improving. ❞ ❝ you know, for all the sense of dread and horror seeping through this place, i really feel quite at home here. ❞ ❝ and you? you’re wholly without vice or sin or the occasional lapse in judgement? ❞ ❝ i wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are. but i do. ❞ ❝ one might say you’re paragon of luck. i’ll be there when it runs out. ❞ ❝ i've always had a soft spot for the confident ones…they always disappoint though. ❞ ❝ i concealed nothing from you. i simply left out the details that were not pertinent. ❞ ❝ you’re an odd friend. but, i suppose, a friend still. ❞ ❝ i won’t let you do this. i won’t let you win. ❞ ❝ you are my puppet. make no mistake. without me, you have no value. ❞ ❝ well, this seems like a lovely little spot. the sense of impending doom aside. ❞ ❝ whoever your enemies are, they have good reason to fear you. ❞ ❝ this place is astonishing, a bard’s tale made real. ❞ ❝ i may not regret my actions, but i do regret that they were necessary. ❞ ❝ experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ if this adventure has taught me anything, it’s that there are things in this world more valuable than power. ❞ ❝ a wise man learns from his mistakes, and strives not to repeat them. ❞ ❝ no more hiding things from me. agreed? ❞ ❝ my friend. my companion. i adore you. ❞ ❝ your face is sour. by all means leave, if i am so distasteful. ❞ ❝ careful, it’s dark around here. would be a terrible shame to lose you forever. ❞ ❝ you startled me. i…i was miles away. ❞ ❝ you have to know who i was. you have to know who i really am. ❞ ❝ nothing special, of course. you’re only the first person who i truly care for. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ anything you ask, i’ll answer as honestly as i can. ❞

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 28, wc: 804] - sleepover : 10 hour flight

“HEY GUYS,” you wave, holding your bag full of your necessities and clothes for the night. that’s right, you’re staying over at your girlfriend’s place! which is also your cousin’s place. which is also minji, danielle, and haerin’s place. which also may or may not be the newjeans dorm. because your girlfriend is hanni from newjeans. 

wow, you still can’t believe that you’re dating hanni from newjeans, and you didn’t even meet as a fan—you met on some random day at the airport, strangers-to-lovers-trope type of shit. 

minji and hyein are the ones who answer the door for you, and minji immediately sighs, “you better not pull anything tonight.”

“you bet, MJ,” you click your tongue playfully and shoot a finger-gun at her, “no shady business that was planned.”

hyein gives you a hug, and- “oh my god, you got taller again!”

the younger girl is about to make a height comparison with her hands until you spot danielle who pushes her out of the way to give you a hug. “y/n! i haven’t seen you in forever, you’re so busy with school!”

a slight headache invades your mind for a split second when she mentions ‘school’. “i’ve got deadlines, a painting to finish, and a thesis to write, dani. don’t remind me…”

the australian shoots you a pitying look, before making way for hanni, who strikes a pose before strutting over to you. “hello, guest.”

oh, another thing you learned is that hanni can be pretty unintentionally funny at times. like how she’s greeting you like some sci-fi bigshot. “hello, your highness,” you bow, hovering your hand over your chest. 

she brings you in for a short peck on the lips, causing haerin (who just walked into the living room) to cover hyein’s eyes, and for minji to cover haerin’s eyes. danielle smiles and walks to the kitchen. “i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, han,” you smile fondly at her before she leads you into the apartment. everyone gathers in her room where you also put your bag of things in. 

it’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been to the dorm, but it hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen the girls—danielle was exaggerating. you just stopped by their practice room two days ago to drop off some food that hyein’s mom made for them. not that your absence has changed anything, the dorm is pretty much the same save for a big banner featuring their ‘right now’ characters. 

in hanni’s room, she’s moved around some stuff, like the record player that’s playing a mac demarco vinyl right now. there’s also a whole section dedicated to organizing the various supplies that you’ve forgotten while you were over the few dozens (maybe even hundreds) of times over two years. you’re pretty sure there’s even stuff you left in hyein’s room, whoops.

you climb up on her loft bed (which she’s been saying she’s gonna replace, but she hasn’t yet) and hang your legs over the edge. minji sends you a warning look from her place on the floor. hanni looks concerned, but joins you criss-cross on the bed, holding her ‘fluffy’ plush (yes, the one from despicable me) to her chest.

a few conversations start, like danielle bringing up sylvanian families and getting haerin very invested in the discussion, which led to the topic shifting to cats, and then your sketch of a cat you saw on the way here, and somehow sparking your flame of inspiration.

you slowly lean forward, trying to get a view of the girls that are sitting on the floor (or bean bag, in haerin’s case) because just a little more and you’ll have a perfect bird’s eye view.

hanni notices your movements and widens her eyes, “y/n, you’re gonna fall!”

“it’s not that high,” you try to reassure her, still inching off of the bed, danielle, hyein, and minji scoot away just in case you actually fall, which you probably will, based on their previous experiences with you. come on, you mostly stopped doing those stunts a long time ago, because you knew hanni would worry! it’s not like you’re gonna—

“y/n!”

…you fell. that kind of hurt. “uh, don’t worry guys. it’s just a sprain.”

haerin winces as she looks at your present state. “your arm is bent the other way.”

it is? you look at your arm and, oh. “i guess it is—oh shit.”

…

“i can’t believe i’m in the er with you. again,” hanni sighs heavily, poking at the cast wrapped around your arm.

you blow a strand of your bangs out of your face. “at least i didn’t break two of my ribs again. hey, wanna reenact our first kiss?”

your girlfriend stares blankly at you. you raise your unbroken arm in defense. “no? okay…”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : i miss u 10 hour flight

[beforeimdeceased]

WELCOME TO THE PARTY — ABBY ANDERSON ༄₊🫧➳

tlou2 is based on the israeli occupation of palestine, how you can help

pairing: ex!abby x reader

synopsis: you try to escape the thoughts of your ex with a little partying and she shows up to ruin it all.

content: oral (r!receiving)

author’s note: thank u so much for 1.2k i love this little community we’ve got on here! you guys make me so happy i can’t thank you enough <3

“I can’t even enjoy this stupid fucking party, Oh my god!”

You were currently spiraling in a far corner of the bustling house. Drink in hand with a scowl on your face. You take a sip of the liquid, letting it slide down your throat and settle into your stomach. You were waiting for the buzz to kick in and ease your nerves.

You’d just seen Abby, your ex, prancing in with another girl on her arm. A very pretty and smiley girl who you’d never seen before. You were wondering how they’d met and what they’d talked about when Dina came over to snap you out of your thoughts.

“You’re not gonna let her ruin your fun, right?” She gently rubs your arm and you’re so touch starved the gesture nearly makes you cry. It’s been a week since you’d parted ways with the blonde, and the lack of her presence was weighing down on you. You’d missed her smile, her kind eyes, and the way she always knew how to make you laugh.

But she wasn’t perfect. Neither were you, you couldn’t be. Tension grew in the relationship. You went from wanting to be around each other all the time, to avoiding each other at all costs. If you saw her post that she was at the gym, you were making an illegal u-turn in the middle of the road to avoid seeing her. That wasn’t a relationship, and it had to end.

Funny how you were still avoiding her.

“Dina I can’t dance, I’m gonna be sick.” You hold your stomach, tugging against Dina’s grip on your arm. She looks at you empathetically, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “Babe, Are you going to stop functioning properly because of her? Forever?”

Before you can respond, commotion ensues. Ellie can be heard cursing following the sound of glass breaking and a crash. “Okay, hold on. I’ve gotta stitch up my girlfriend.” She rolls her eyes before rushing into the direction of the noise. A crowd of people swallow her, keeping you from following her.

You decide you need to just wash your face off in the bathroom, and get your ass out there. Abby is just another girl that got away. She’s clearly moved on, so why can’t you? You weren’t going to let her sour your night. Plus, Dina was your ride and you had to wait for her to fix Ellie up.

You can’t get the bathroom downstairs open, and after asking about 7 intoxicated people you find safety in the basement. There everyone was either high, tripping, or both. More importantly, they were not paying attention to who was going into the bathroom in the far left corner.

It was big, which was unsurprising considering how large the basement and the house was itself. Incredibly clean and it looked like the perfect hideout spot. You decided you’d stay in there scrolling through your phone until Dina sent her usual “where r u?” text.

The familiar sound of the ping on your phone interrupts you mindlessly moving your thumb. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the first letter of the sender, and nearly throw your phone.

Abby ❌: Where’d you run off to?

Was that meant for you? Did you want to find out? You stare at the message letting your eyes unfocus. Biting your lip you ready yourself to respond, but you’re stopped by the three dots indicating she’s typing.

Abby ❌: You in the basement?

You wish the window in there was bigger, because it would’ve made escaping a lot easier. Instead of responding, you look for the easiest solution to your new found problem, which happened to be the door. You open it, and a presently surprised Abby is on the other end smiling at you.

“Oh, you opened it for me?” You walk back as she walks in and watch as she closes and locks the door. “You’re still so sweet.”

“Where’s your friend?” You ask, arms crossed. It was upsetting you that you were so jealous, but it made sense. The end of your relationship was rocky, but you’d still only broken up a week ago. The wound was fresh, and she was poking her fingers in it.

“I don’t know, probably making out with someone upstairs.”

Realization hits you and you’d never admit it but you felt relief. Abby can read you though, she knows you better than anyone. A wide smile spread on her stupid cocky face.

“Were you jealous?” She tilts her head a bit and it makes you bite the inside of your cheek. She’d always tilt her head while she was deep inside of you. Chuckle and ask “You like that?” As if you could even fucking answer with how hard she was fucking you. The memory sends a shiver through your entire body, and it delays your response. She takes note of that as well and your body language. Arms crossing and uncrossing while her eyes trailed up and down your body.

She was looking at you like she was struggling to contain herself. You could almost see her thoughts projected over her head. “I miss you. I miss fucking you.”

“Would it be wrong for me to be jealous?” You back up towards the sink, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Another memory of her with her hand over your mouth, pounding into you mercilessly, flooded your mind. She takes note of this before moving closer to you.

Her body is close enough that if you reached out, you would be touching her freckle speckled skin. You fear that if you don’t lean into her, you’ll tip over. That you’ll fall splat on the cold bathroom tile. That you’ll sink into the ground and disappear, if you don’t touch her right fucking now.

“I guess not.” She leans over towards you, and you think she’s moving in to wrap you in a hug, but she’s just pushing past to look in the mirror. She notices how your face falls at her movements, and turns to look at you.

“Someone has to be honest here. Want me to start?”

No was at the tip of your tongue before her lips crashed into yours. She cups your face and you almost don’t notice her backing you up against the sink. Your back hits the edge of it, causing it to arch and your head to lean back. Abby takes the opening, latching her lips onto your jaw and then your neck.

“I fucking hate you so much right now.” You close your eyes, body contradicting your words. You lean into her strong and firm arms. Pulling your body into hers. “I hate how I couldn’t go a week without you.” Is breathless and desperate as it leaves your tongue.

She’s on her knees now, positioned in between your legs. She struggles to remain composed enough to tease you. Lustrous desire causing her mouth to salivate. You help her get your pants off, kicking them to the side, before her fingers loop into the band of your underwear. “It wasn’t easy for me either.” She pulls them down in a frenzy. “I missed the way you moaned my name.”

She latches her tongue to your heat, swirling a harsh circle against your sensitive bud. You would’ve lost your balance if she wasn’t holding your legs open and up with her arms. fingers on the inner corners of your cunt, spreading you wide for her. There was no mercy, and no slowing down. Her mission was to make you see stars.

“Fuck.” Is all you can let out and she hums against you in agreement. The vibration sending a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You tangle your hands in her hair, grappling at it to keep her right where you needed her.

And she never fails to deliver. Tongue buried into your walls while her nose swipes against your clit. You bite back a moan which causes her to move her hand and squeeze your ass, pushing the sound out of you. It’s clear and melodic, music to her ears. If anyone happened to walk in she wouldn’t want to stop. She wanted to hear more from you. She needed to.

You can barely hold back your orgasm. With the way she has you spread completely open for her, entire face buried into you moaning against your cunt. You let the wave rush over you, eyes rolling back into your head as her name rolls off your tongue.

You shake a bit, overwhelmed from the high and her face still buried between your legs. Now is when you feel a bit disappointed in yourself. At how hard it was to stay away, how easy it was to give into her, and how you’re going to have to explain this to Dina.

Abby kisses up and down your inner legs, catching all of your juices on her tongue. It feels so good before you hear that damn ding from your phone once again. She reaches over to grab it out of your pants pocket and hand it to you. Speak of the devil.

Dina 💖: where r u?

[solarspringg]

I Love You — Starchaser minific — 936 words

James said “I love you” first.

It was a few weeks into Regulus and his relationship. They were laying together on James’ couch, James on one side, Regulus on the other, their legs intertwined. Regulus was reading while James was just sitting there, listening to the soft music playing in James’ flat that they had put on earlier.

Then, James said it. “I love you, Reg.”

Regulus quickly looked up from his book. His eyes were wide as he stared at James, who was lovingly looking back at him, softly smiling.

“I—” Regulus began, trying to form some kind of answer. He suddenly felt on the spot.

“You don’t have to say it back now,” James told Regulus. “I just wanted to let you know that I love you.”

The younger boy didn’t know what to do next. He sat there for a few moments, his eyes still wide, then soon nodded. “Thank you, Jamie,” he whispered, a bit relieved.

James continued to smile at his boyfriend. “You’re welcome.”

After that, James just kept on saying it. He told Regulus he loved him. That he was so in love with him. That he’ll love him forever. Every day James said some kind of variation of the word.

And each time, Regulus didn’t say it back.

It’s not like he didn’t love James. On the contrary, Regulus loved him deeply. He loved him so much it hurt. There was nothing he wanted more than to tell James he loved him, but Regulus just couldn’t say the those three words no matter how hard he tried.

Growing up, Regulus’ family wasn’t the affectionate type. The Blacks didn’t cuddle their children nor did they verbalize their love. He knew growing up and now that his parents cared for him and Sirius; they just wanted their children to be strong and successful. However, their ways parenting left more harm than good.

Regulus didn’t want end up the same way; cold and distant when it came to the people close to him.

A year went by, and then another, and Regulus still hadn’t said it.

James didn’t seem to mind at all. Regulus was worried that the longer it went on, the less James would love him, but that wasn’t the case. Each day that went by, each week, each month, each year, James just became more and more obsessed with Regulus. His love growing stronger.

Regulus finally decided that enough was enough. Their three year anniversary was coming up, and Regulus wasn’t going to let this go on. He was going to tell James he loved him.

On their anniversary, Regulus put effort into every single detail. He deep cleaned the flat they shared, he cooked James’ favorite meal, and he got James a gift that was the pièce de résistance: a watch. He had needed a new one, as James broke his old one. But, it was way more than just a watch.

After dinner, they exchanged gifts. James had gotten Regulus a book, a special edition of Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, a book he’s been trying to find for years. “Oh my God,” Regulus gasped when he unwrapped the gift. “James— How did you even find this?!”

James grinned. “I have my ways.”

After profusely thanking his boyfriend for the book, it was now Regulus’ turn to give James his gift. He grabbed the wrapped box and slid it across the table. Regulus tapped his fingers on the table, anxiously watching James open the gift.

“Oh, a watch!” James exclaimed, holding up the watch. “Baby, this is incredible. Thank you.”

Okay, this is happening. “Look on the inside. It’s engraved,” said Regulus softly.

James quirked an eyebrow, but grinned and turned his attention to the inside of the watch. As he read, his face morphed from all-smiley to stunned.

Inside the watch, it read: I love you. Forever yours, Regulus.

“I know I haven’t said it before, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it,” Regulus began, his heart racing so fast he felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. “I’ve loved you this entire time, and I’ll love you forever. I love you, James. I love you so much—”

Regulus didn’t get to finish because suddenly James cupped his face and kissed him. He didn’t even see his boyfriend stand up from his seat. Regulus’ eyes went large, but he wrapped his arms around James’ neck and kissed him back.

“This is the best day of my life,” James laughed breathlessly as soon as he and Regulus broke apart. “I’m never taking that watch off.”

“You’re going to have to take it off at some point.”

“Nope. Never coming off. I’ll have it welded to my wrist if I have to.”

“That is a very expensive watch. If you ruin it, I’m going to kill you.”

“No you won’t. You love me. You said so yourself.”

Smiling and shaking his head, Regulus looked up into James’ eyes. “That I did, yes,” he said. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

James quickly shook his head. “No, no, don’t apologise. I know you love me. You just showed it in your own, little special way,” he said, his hands still on Regulus’ face. “Although, three years is quite a while, love.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

“You got it,” James grinned, inching his face closer to Regulus’. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Regulus smiled. He then tugged on James’ collar and pulled him into a kiss, to which James happily obliged.

[steddiealltheway]

I’ve written something like this before but eh let’s write another.

Dustin manages to convince Eddie and Steve to accompany him while he uses Cerebro to talk to Suzie. It only takes convincing one of them to know that the other will join because Eddie and Steve have been inseparable since Hawkins was almost destroyed. They say it’s because they’re bonded with their matching bat scars, but really they just enjoy each other’s company.

And thank god they do because being around Dustin when he’s talking to Suzie is absolutely insufferable. Eddie tries to come up with nicknames that are worse than Dustin’s while Steve comes up with terrible pick up lines. By the end of the conversation, Steve and Eddie are outright cringing and complaining about love.

Dustin says goodbye to Suzie and starts packing up which cues Steve saying, “Henderson, never let me witness that again.”

Dustin scoffs, “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

Eddie and Steve exchange incredulous looks, and then Eddie dramatically drops to his knee and announces to Steve, “Oh, my sweet apple pie, my affections will forever be yours.”

Steve laughs and wonders why he’s feeling warmer than before. Must be the heat or something. He continues the bit and grabs Eddie’s hands. “How have I ever lived without you, my love?”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to feel a bit overwhelmed with some type of feeling. He’s not entirely sure what it is, but it’s making his heart race. He takes Steve’s hands and plants a slow kiss on the left. “I will never know.” He plants a kiss on the right. “But I swear that you’ll never have to know again.”

Steve’s hands let go of Eddie’s to cup his face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Eddie replies easily.

Steve and Eddie freeze. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Both their heads spin as they finally put a label on what they’ve been feeling for weeks now. The reason they never want to leave each other’s sight. The late night phone calls where they joke about being away from each other for too long - knowing that they had just hung out minutes earlier. The sleepovers where Steve has held Eddie or vice versa depending on whose nightmares are worse that night…

“Hey! We’re not that bad,” Dustin whines. Steve and Eddie break apart quickly remembering where they are and why they’ve said what they said.

“Come on, it’s getting close to your curfew,” Steve says, mind reeling with his realization.

Dustin goes on a rant about something he and Suzie were talking about, but neither Steve nor Eddie truly catch everything he’s saying. They’re too caught up in their heads trying to keep a respectable distance from each other while realizing how often they’re in each other’s personal space: all the time.

By the time they get to Steve’s car, Dustin has started a new rant, and thank goodness for how much that kid can talk so Steve and Eddie don’t have to. But the drive to Dustin’s is quicker than it needs to be because suddenly Steve and Eddie are alone together and simultaneously freaking out.

“So,” Steve says breaking the silence.

“So…” Eddie responds, fingers rapidly tapping where they rest on his leg.

“Dustin and Suzie are just…”

“Absolutely disgustingly in love?” Eddie offers.

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

In love. The boys start freaking out a little more.

“I wonder what that’s like,” Eddie says, voice a bit higher than usual.

“I wouldn’t know,” Steve replies quickly, hoping Eddie doesn’t hear how false that statement is even to his own ears.

Eddie just nods, stuck so deep in his own thoughts he can’t even register Steve manically twirling his sunglasses around while driving. Steve stops it as soon as he realizes he’s doing his nervous tick.

When the trailer park gets in sight, Steve takes a deep breath then asks, “What if I did know?”

Eddie glances over at him with a questioning look. Steve elaborates, “Know what it’s like to be disgustingly in love.”

Eddie’s fingers freeze as he finally looks at Steve who parks in front of Eddie’s trailer. He nervously licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair as he turns to look at Eddie. There’s absolutely no way. No way at all. But Eddie replies, “I think I know, too.”

Steve breaks out into a wide smile and leans across the car. “You’re talking about me right?” He asks as his nose brushes against Eddie’s.

“Yes,” Eddie says against his lips before they both surge forward into a kiss.

Later, they both agree to never let Dustin know that he’s the reason they realized their feelings for each other because that kid would never let it go. (Of course, he still manages to say that he’s the reason the two of them met and therefore the reason they got together, but Eddie and Steve will forever argue that it was their matching bat scars just to keep Dustin angry.)

[aphroditeinthesea]

If you are still open to requests may I request Thalia grace with femreader who was with Thalia when she ran away(childhood friends) and was till they reached camp. Reader is the type that won't stop talking and tries to make everything funny and uses humor in most things she does and would constantly make flower crowns for everyone and when Thaila was a tree she would constantly leave flower crowns there and tell jokes. when Thaila is back reader is a bit of a coward and just hides till found.

“ strawberry fields forever ”

thalia grace x fem!reader

a/n this might be a little off from the book bc i haven’t read the original series since 2021 so

tw none

⋆⁺₊𓇢𓆸 ⋆⁺₊

Thalia stood by where her tree stood. Although she was still trying to gain back the feeling of the air and wind, she focused on the flower crowns that littered the ground. Some of the flowers were even so crisp that they seemed as though they had been sitting there for years.

The person responsible finally flickered into her mind. Y/N.

She and y/n sat in the strawberry fields. Y/N was busy rambling about something unimportant, but Thalia listened intently anyway as she watched how the other girl intricately weaved the flowers together.

“And then Rachel broke up with Ross because he said that they were on a break, and she was like ‘well that doesn’t mean-’” she looked up, “Thalia?”

“Sorry,” Thalia laughed, “but, how do you do that? With the flowers?”

“Here,” y/n beamed, “I’ll show you.”

Thalia grabbed what looked to be the freshest flower. She examined the flowers that twirled around. She sighed and began making her way back to the cabins.

She finally was at the doorstep of y/n’s cabin. She took a deep breath as she knocked on the wood.

The door opened with one of y/n’s siblings standing there, “Thalia? Oh my gods, I-”

“Is y/n here?”

They shook their head, “no, she just left. She’s be acting off today, she didn’t even say anything about where she was going.”

She huffed, “okay, thanks anyway.” She rushed off and stood in the middle of the cabins. She thought about all the places where y/n could’ve been, and then it hit her.

She ran off to the strawberry fields, where to no surprise, y/n sat, weaving a crown.

“Y/N?”

The girl turned around, “gods.”

Thalia sat beside her, “I was looking for you.”

She looked down at the flowers, “I’m sorry, I was- uhm- here.”

Thalia smiled, “I got that.”

Y/N nodded, “sorry yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

She stayed silent.

“Y/N?”

“I’ve been scared of seeing you.”

“What?”

She finally looked back up, “I’ve missed you for years, and you’re back and I don’t really know what to do with myself. I mean, I don’t know how to talk to you. Well, I know how to, but not how to.”

“Like this.”

She giggled, “what?”

“You just talk and make your flower crowns, and I’ll just try to make out whatever words you're saying.”

Y/N bit her lip, “this is for you.” She placed the blue flowers on top of Thalia's head, her finger twirled a strand of the girl’s hair as she pulled her hand away.

Thalia laughed, “thanks.”

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the past six years.”

[mylifesjustacarousel]

the crow - part II

pairing: monty finch x fem!reader

summary: part two of the crow!

type: angst

CW: swearing, monty kinda trauma dumping ?

WC: 1.3k

part 1 | not proofread!

“None of this even makes sense.”

The long-haired boy, er… bird? Boy? You still weren’t a hundred percent sure what the hell was going on. The boy sat across from you at the kitchen table, after he had found his clothes and gotten dressed, of course, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

“Okay.” You sat up, still trying to process all of the things that you had seen and heard over the past twenty-four hours. “So, you’re telling me that your name is Monty, right? Your name is Monty and you are a bird, who was turned into a human by the crazy lady Esther Finch… then turned back into a bird?”

Monty nodded, his dark brown eyes finally looking up at you. “It’s been a crazy few months, to say the least. A lot of confusing emotions, a lot of heartbreak.”

You glanced over at the window, groaning as you saw the sun starting to peek through the trees. “What’s your plan, Monty? You’re a human… now what?” Monty just shrugged, his eyes darting around the room to avoid yours. “I haven’t really thought that far. I just can’t stay in this house forever. Not anymore. I’ll find somewhere to go, y’know? I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again.”

Your guilt was absolutely eating you up inside as you looked at him. Your heart broke for Monty, he just seemed… lost. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and held it out to him. “Throw some clothes in there, you can stay with me until you figure something out.”

“Are you sure, y/n?” he asked, taking the bag from your hands. You nodded. “My life seems to just be getting weirder and weirder by the second, why not? Hurry up, I wanna go home and take a nap. You kept me up all night.”

Monty quickly got up, making his way upstairs to grab whatever clothes of his that he could find. While you waited, you started to wander around the kitchen. Your eyes landed on the bird cage, which you assumed belonged to Monty. Or, at least used to belong to Monty. He wouldn’t have much use for it in his current state.

He soon made his way back downstairs, wearing a black coat over his sweater and the bag, now filled to the brim, in his hand. “Okay! Um, lead the way.” he said, throwing the bag over his shoulder. “Are you sure?” you asked, “Because you seem to already know your way to my place. You coming to my home is actually the reason we’re in this situation.”

“I’m sure.” He nodded. Monty looked over at you, feeling a pang in his chest. The sassy attitude, the quick wit. He knew it all too well. “Capricorn?”

“I’m sorry, what? How did you know?”

“Astrology never lies.” He followed behind you as you led him outside. You groaned, looking back at him. “Oh god, don’t tell me you believe in astrology. That’s just a load of bullshit that hippies push on you.” Monty rolled his eyes, an almost unnoticeable grin on his face. “Almost three thousand years of patterns can’t be wrong. Plus, if you didn’t have even the slightest bit of interest, you probably wouldn’t even know that you’re a Capricorn.”

“I’m gonna need to you stay quiet for a bit, Monty.”

Monty sat on the floor in front of your couch, quietly watching whatever you had on your TV before you left earlier that morning. You were in your teeny tiny kitchen, cooking up some breakfast. Although, you didn’t really have much of an appetite after what your did to that poor bird, er… Monty? You were still so confused.

“Pancakes, Monty?” you called out, peeking your head out from the doorway. Monty looked up at you, a puzzled look on his face. “A what?” he asked. You took a deep breath, your fingers pressing against your temples. “Right, you’re a bird. Um, are you hungry? I’m making food. You know what? I’ll just make you a plate.” You nodded, turning on your heel and going back to the kitchen.

He got up after a few minutes, taking it upon himself to take a look around your place. There wasn’t too much going on decoration wise, but it was cozy and felt like home. Monty picked up a picture frame, running his finger over the black frame. It was a picture of you and a younger girl who looked similar to you. “That’s my little sister, Daphne.”

Monty almost jumped out of his skin as he quickly set the frame down. You snorted, walking over to the coffee table and setting his plate down. “Didn’t mean to scare you, birdie. Um, I made banana pancakes. I don’t know what you like, so I just put some maple syrup on the side. I’m gonna go lay down, I am exhausted.”

“Wait!” Monty quickly said, his hand reaching out to grab yours. “I’ve, um… Can you just sit with me? I’ve been alone for… a while. I’m not ready for that again.” You slowly nodded, holding back any sarcastic or witty remark you had. “Alright. I guess I’ll take a nap on the couch.” you grumbled, sitting down and pulling down the blanket that was neatly folded on the top of the couch. Monty hesitated before sitting down in front of the coffee table, using his fork to pick at the pancakes.

“Monty, you never really told me much about the whole Esther thing. I mean, not in much detail. What happened?” you asked, curling up in your fuzzy blanket. He froze for a second, not knowing whether to tell you the truth or not. “Um… okay. Esther made me human for a revenge plot. There were these two boys, ghost boys, who she was not fond of, to say the least. She made me to help lure them in.” He took a deep breath, his fingers toying with the fork in his hands. You sat up a bit, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it if it’s a sore spot.”

“No, no. I think you should know the truth. I’ve been quite deceitful since we first met, haven’t I? Anyway, everything was going smoothly until I met… him. Having all of these emotions… it was a lot. I couldn’t do it, and she could tell. I also loved him, but he didn’t feel the same. Esther then deemed me useless and, before I could even process, I was myself again. The worst part was that I remembered everything, y’know? I can remember all of the heartbreak and tragedy like it just happened to me.”

“I’m sorry, Monty.” you whispered, tears threatening to bubble in your eyes. You knew that it couldn’t have been easy being the pet of Esther Finch, but what happened to him was horrible. “Human emotions are awful, I understand. But, that’s all behind you now. You’re starting fresh. I’m here for you, whether I want to be or not. Ya know where I live, so it’d be hard to get rid of you.”

He nodded, finally starting to eat his breakfast. He took small bites, eating like a bird pecking at a snack. You giggled to yourself as you watched him. “If I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t be surprised that you’re actually a bird. You’re like a bird in a human suit.” Monty groaned, setting his fork down. “Is it that obvious? I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Very, birdie. But, don’t worry, I have quite the experience being a human being.” you yawned through your sentence, curling up on the couch with the blanket wrapped around you. “Will you be alright if I fall asleep? I am literally so tired.” Monty looked back at you, a warm smile on his face. “Go ahead. I’m gonna keep enjoying… whatever these are. They’re delicious.”

You sighed, your eyes involuntarily closing. “Pancakes, Monty. They’re pancakes. I’ll, uh, be here. We’ll figure everything out when I wake up, okay? I’m, uh, I’m not leaving you… at least right now. But, if you keep chewing loudly I might throw you out of the window.”

“Sorry!”

a/n: sorry it was a little short, but i’m working on p3!! <3 LOVE YOU ALL MWAH MWAH MWAH!! also if you want to be added to a taglist lmk?

[unhappycylinder]

Gonna Be Trouble (Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fem!Reader) Pt. 8

wc: 3.3k

Warnings: Jake being an idiot, cursing, Gabby and Rooster being adorable,

Series Masterlist

“Gabby I just don’t know what to do,” you sobbed into the phone, “I know he said that stuff to push me away, I know it's not how he really feels, but what kind of person can say that to someone they love? He probably doesn’t even love me…”

“Y/n don’t say that,” Gabby’s comforting voice brought more tears to your eyes, “you know he loves you, we all do, but you gotta remember its Hangman we’re talking about. He doesn’t know how to love someone this much. He’s from Texas, he doesn’t know how to have feelings.”

You laughed, wiping away your tears that had pooled in the crease of your nose, “very fair.”

“I’m so sorry he did this…” Gabby stuttered, “I have no idea why. We talked to him just the same day he called you, like literally hours before, and he told Rooster that he believed in you guys…”

That only made you sob harder, “then which one is it?” You coughed, the emotions overloading you to the point you thought you might throw up.

“Sweetheart oh my god,” Gabby’s heart broke for you, and her blood ran cold thinking of Hangman and how he could hurt you like this, “I don’t think you should be alone right now”

“There’s nothing I can do about that Gabby. It’s a long weekend, I have no friends here who know anything about my personal life, I have no money to go anywhere, I’m stuck,” you ranted to her.

“Alright then I’m flying you down”

“What?” You squeaked, “Gabby you’re not doing that”

“Yeah I am,” she pulled out a computer and started typing, you just stared at her dumbfounded over the phone, “send me your TSA number honey, we’re getting you out of there”

“Gabby,” you ran your hands over your forehead, “a flight to San Diego would be like $400 this last minute, it's ridiculous. I’ll be fine, I’m not-”

“Y/n just hush. You’re my best friend, you need support, and I need to see you. Plus, my husband’s in the military, I get flight discounts, and I have access to his credit card and he’s gonna be away at sea so who’s gonna know”

“You’ve got this deployment thing down don’t you,” you laughed at her

“We’ve only been married a few months but I’ve been with this idiot for years, and not once has he questioned why thousands of dollars leave his bank account every time he goes away. Honestly I don’t think he’s smart enough to remember how much money he had before he left…” She rambled while she booked your flight, “Can you be at the airport at 6 tomorrow? Direct flight to San Diego at 8:30…Roo and I can pick you up?”

“Gabby, I mean this sincerely, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you smiled at her,

“Suffer…probably,” she giggled, making you laugh too.

“Thank you Gabby, you’re the best”

“I know I am,” she flipped her hair, “anyway I gotta go soak up some Rooster time before he leaves for forever…”

You giggled, “I don’t want to know details…I’ll see you tomorrow, love you!”

“Love you more, go get some sleep, and don’t forget about your flight please!”

You blew her a kiss before hanging up. Luckily, the emotions from Jake’s phone call had drained you for the day, and you fell asleep pretty easily after the talk with Gabby. After all, you had a flight to catch in the morning.

—

“You better give me a big hug right now,” Gabby said as she walked towards you, arms wide open, as you exited the airport and the warm California air hit your face. Your lip quivered at the sight of your best friend, your tired arm threatening to drop your duffel bag as you embraced her and let your tears flow.

“You’re okay sweetie, you’re here now,” Gabby comforted you as she ran her fingers through your hair

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” you sobbed out, “I’m so happy to be here”

“Awww, I know,” she pulled away and grabbed your face, the widest smile across hers.

“Ladies, this is cute and all,” Rooster yelled from the car, “but this is 5 minute parking and this pilot isn’t looking to get banned from the airport anytime soon…”

“Oh calm down pendejo,” Gabby grabbed your bag from you and threw it into the trunk of the car. 

Sliding into the back seat of the car, you caught Rooster’s apologetic gaze through the rear view mirror, the sorrow in his eyes nearly making you break down again.

“Still haven’t heard anything from Hangman?” He asked, the bronco slowly moving out of the line of cars waiting to pick up passengers.

“Ay!” Gabby exclaimed, slapping the back of his head.

“What?” Rooster threw a hand up in defense, hunching over the steering wheel to avoid his wife’s swing.

“Why the fuck would you ask that?” Gabby hissed before turning around to face you, “I’m sorry honey, Mexico did a number on his brain apparently,” she joked as she muttered curses in Spanish to herself. Gabby and Rooster had just returned from a short but sweet honeymoon in Mexico, of which you heard many….maybe too many…intimate tales.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, “um I haven’t heard from him.”

Gabby and Rooster shared a knowing glance.

“Not to keep making you guys play middleman but…have you heard anything?”

“Um…” they both said in unison while staring at each other.

“You can tell me, guys, I’m pretty sure I’d rather know than not.”

Rooster sighed before turning to his wife, who then turned back around to face you.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you this cause I didn’t want you to get anxious,”

Too late, you thought to yourself.

“Jake knows you’re here…”

“Oh?” You felt a punch in your gut, the feeling of anxiety creeping into your throat as Gabby watched you process, “does he-”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” Gabby placed her hand on your knee, “you’re here to relax, not appease him. We’ll answer any questions you have of course, but I want you to spend this weekend how you want to, no matter what, okay?”

You sighed, questions and concerns filling your mind, “Okay,” you shook your head. Relaxing was probably the last thing you could do right now.

—

“I think I need to see him,” you muttered as Gabby helped you put your toiletries away in the guest bathroom.

Gabby sighed, “okay, whatever you want, but do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know, is it? Did he say anything about wanting to see me?” You reclined against the bathroom counter, arms folding across your chest.

“Of course he did, Y/n, he feels like shit for breaking up with you, I know he regrets it. Rooster said his flying’s been off the past couple days, says he’s been extra dangerous, whatever that means.”

“Shit,” you panicked at the thought of him burning in, “yeah I need to talk to him”

“I’ll call him then, let him know to come by?” Gabby asked, waiting for you to decide where you wanted to meet him.

“I think I’ll just walk to his place,” you said mindlessly.

“Babe that's like a mile from here, why would you do that?”

“Give myself time to think of what to say? Time to abort the mission?” You sighed, leaving the bathroom to begin your pilgrimage to Jake’s.

“Alright, well, let me know if you need us to pick you up. I love you!”

“Love you too, wish me luck,” you yelled from the stairwell before departing.

—

Hovering your fist over Jake’s door, reality finally hit and anxiety flooded your body as you contemplated what the hell you were doing at Jake’s door three days before he deployed. 

“Y/n what the fuck?” You whispered, fist returning to your side as you promptly marched down his driveway, praying he hadn’t noticed you there.

He had.

“Y/n?” A groggy voice muttered from behind you, the Texan drawl of the man you loved barely identifiable over your own whispers. Stopping dead in your tracks, the anxiety bubbled up once again and this time threatened tears from your eyes. With a deep breath you turned around to see him.

Jake stood shirtless in his doorway, grey sweatpants clinging to his hips, his hair spiked and disheveled. The home behind him was dark, no blinds open to let in the midday sun of San Diego, and likely no ventilation for the better part of the last couple days. His eyes blinked rapidly as he adjusted to the light, the hand not clasping the doorknob shielding his green orbs as he trailed up your figure.

“Hey,” you croaked, tears beginning to slowly track your cheekbones. You didn’t move at all, you stood static on his driveway, arms crossed in front of you in a shallow attempt to comfort yourself.

“Come in baby,” he said groggily, breaking your heart to hear him call you such a loving nickname in such a tender way. The tears grew more frequent as you shook your head and walked towards him, arms still crossed until you reached the doorway and stood mere inches from him. 

He was impossible to read, but the one emotion you could identify was sympathy. Even Hangman, the hard-to-crack fighter pilot with confirmed kills, couldn’t stand to watch the woman who owned his heart stand in front of him shaking with sadness that he caused. You reached up to wipe away your tears, closing your eyes briefly, and just then you felt his strong arms around you. Jake pulled you close, nuzzling his face into your neck and stroking your back with his strong hands.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I’m so sorry baby,” he whispered into your hair. You cried harder, eliciting a grunt and sigh from him as the consequences of his actions finally caught up with his emotions.

“The things I said to you were-” he lifted up his head and stared upwards, searching for words, you remained nestled into his chest as you cried, “they were appalling. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything after Rooster told me you were here, I should have tried to see you. I just didn’t know what you’d want…”

“Jake-” you cut him off, peeling yourself off his bare chest to gaze into his eyes which were now also brimming with tears, “we need to talk about this stuff”

He nodded. You needed answers, he needed reassurance, talking was the only thing you could do. He let go of you and welcomed you into the house. Just as you had expected, he hadn’t opened a single window in the whole home, the air stagnant and dark, and the smell of dirty dishes beginning to creep through the building. You walked over to his couch, sitting down on the warm fabric that had obviously been the host of his body for the past couple days. He sat next to you, knees barely grazing yours as you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Jake, do you remember what you told me on the beach at the beginning of the summer?”

“That I loved you?”

The past tense stung.“No, the part about you burning in, about what Phoenix was saying about you being safer…”

“Oh,” he glanced downwards, “yeah I do”

“Jake, you told me that you were flying safe because you were scared of losing me, that you were scared you’d miss out on our life, on our memories. You told me you wanted to see where we end up, and that our love motivated you to be a better pilot,” you fiddled with his fingers as you spoke, “and Rooster told me you haven’t been flying safe lately,” your throat choking up the more you thought of him being careless, “and I just don’t get why,” you finally sobbed.

The sound of your voice breaking finally brought Jake’s attention to you, concern and pity filling his eyes as he watched you struggle to explain yourself.

“I don’t get why you push me away. I don’t get why you tell me one thing and then do another. I don’t get why you put yourself in danger for no reason, why you put your career and your life on the line….to what? To prove some point?” Tears pooled on your cheeks while your eyes searched the room for some semblance of comfort. “The things you said when you broke up with me hurt, they hurt me to my core, but the thought of you throwing your life away out of spite hurts even more.”

Jake was speechless, his green eyes glassy under scrunched eyebrows as he finally felt the pain you had been enduring because of him.

“The life I want is the life I share with you. And I went into this relationship knowing distance and deployment and all that shit would be a factor. You did too. I’m prepared to go through anything for you…because I want those memories, Jake. I want to hold you and kiss you and dream of you while you’re gone. I want to move into your stupidly undecorated house on base when I graduate and be here for you every night when you come home,” you gestured to his bare walls, eliciting a small chuckle and nod from the hard-to-crack military man who had tears dropping from his eyes.

“God Jake the love I feel for you is endless. I gave you my heart, I gave you myself, don’t give those things back to me.” You stopped talking, the emotions overwhelming you to the point where you removed your hand from his and tucked your knees up in front of you, bundling yourself into a ball while Jake processed everything you said.

“I think…” he began, his eyes searching every part of the room except where you were, “I think we should take some time to think about all this,” he slowed down as he said the last few words.

Your tears dried up, shock overtaking the sadness. You didn’t expect this, you didn’t expect him to mean the things he said, to mean that he didn’t want to be with you.

“So you meant it?” You questioned, eyes finally meeting his.

“What?” He asked quietly

“You meant the things you said. The things about us? About me?”

“No, Y/n. I’m sorry for the things I said to you. They were hurtful and wrong and downright disrespectful. You’re a sweetheart and I’m sorry. I just mean I don’t think it's smart for us to jump into things right now, not with my deployment and your school.”

“What are you saying,” you cut him off.

“I think maybe we should just wait to date or something, til I’m back…”

“Jake,” your voice cracked, “I can’t do that,” you sobbed.

“You don’t think it's a good idea?” He asked earnestly.

“I’m gonna be waiting for you either way. I’d rather be waiting as your girlfriend than just some girl who's heartbroken and doesn’t even know if the man she loves loves her back.”

“You’re not some girl, Y/n, you’re my girl,” he rubbed your arm.

Shrugging him off as the confusion overwhelmed you, “no I’m not Jake. You broke up with me, you told me we should wait. Those don’t exactly go hand in hand with being ‘your girl,” you stood up to leave, he stared at you bewildered, “I’m leaving. You need to make up your mind, I’m tired of being confused about how you feel about me.”

You walked through the dark house to his door, opening it and letting the harsh California light hit the living room where he still sat on the couch, eyes never leaving your frame. 

“Good luck on your deployment, Jake,” and with that you took one last look at him and left the house, closing the door behind him. As you walked away, you held out for the possibility that he would open the door and come running out with an apology. But he didn’t. You walked the whole way back to Gabby’s without a word…without an ounce of clarity…just confusion like you had never felt before.

—

The remainder of the weekend went by without a word from Jake. Occasional glances from Rooster after he got a text or got off the phone let you know that, per usual, you were the only person out of the loop when it came to your relationship issues. Nevertheless, going through this breakup without Gabby would have been impossible, and her support meant the world to you.

Monday came around and it was time for the pilots to leave. The debate of whether or not to go had lived in the back of your mind for the better part of the weekend, eating away at you when you tried to close your eyes. Ultimately, after lots and lots of thinking, you had decided not to go for multiple reasons. For one, it gave Gabby and Rooster time alone during a special moment…and it also gave you the upper hand over Hangman. Despite what he told you, you knew Jake, and you knew he’d expect you to be there to wave him off. 

“You sure you don’t want to come, honey?” Rooster asked you as he walked by the couch where you reclined in their living room, dressed in his flight suit.

“Yeah I’m sure,” you sighed, sitting up to face him. “I know he’s gonna expect me to be there. And I want to be there for him…but I can’t let myself keep getting hurt. I can’t let him know that he can keep hurting me and I’ll come crawling back…”

“You know, as much as I love Jake, and as long as I’ve known him,” Rooster began, “I think you’re doing the right thing. You’re showing him you’re prioritizing yourself, which is important. He’s an asshole, he needs to be put in his place.”

“He is an asshole isn’t he,” you and Rooster laughed together.

“Alright honey,” Rooster ruffled your hair, the nickname he always called you by making you smile, “I’m outta here. I’ll keep my lips sealed to Jake for a bit, but you know how to reach me if you want me to tell him anything, okay?”

He grabbed his bags, “or if you just want to chat, I’d like that too.”

“Bradley!” Gabby’s piercing voice ran out from upstairs, “we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry the fuck up!”

“Down here, baby!” He yelled back.

Gabby came running downstairs, “You’re ready before me?” She asked out of breath.

“Yeah?” Rooster said sassily, “why are you so shocked by that?”

You giggled at the couple, making Gabby sneer at you.

“Don’t you dare laugh with him,” she pointed at you, making you and Rooster laugh harder. She sighed before walking down and embracing her husband.

“You can’t wear this flight suit in the home, Brashdaw, otherwise you’ll be late to everything…” she flirted before kissing him, his hands gripping her hips.

“I love you, Gabby,” he kissed her again.

“Y'all are gonna make me throw up, go get on a boat or something Roo,” you pretended to gag as you got up from the couch.

“Bye Y/n,” Rooster said, letting go of Gabby briefly to give you a hug and kiss on the forehead, “don’t be a stranger”

“Back at ya.” you gave him a smile, “don’t like die or anything….Gabby would kill you”

Your friend laughed, giving you a brief nudge before opening the front door for Rooster. She shot you a quick wink before closing the door behind her, the sound of the bronco starting not long after. 

And with that, you sat back down on the couch, left with your own thoughts and the slightest feeling of regret and worry beginning…what if you never got to say goodbye?

--

Taglist: @dempy @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mightiestheroes @taytaylala12 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230

[solavita]

headlock (gojo satoru) — chapter three

pairing ; satoru gojo x fem!reader

words ; 3.1k

warning(s) ; mentions of character death, mentions of political uprising (coups etc), mentions of enslavement, satoru is mean, mentions of prostitution,

author's note ; this work will include dark themes like violence, enslavement, character death, psychological trauma, and references to torture. reader discretion is advised.

masterlist can be found here !

“What the fuck are you — oh my god, are you alive?” 

Your eyes immediately snapped open at the voice in your empty room. You were laying on the floor, much like a corpse that you would see on the street, with papers from your files surrounding you, their pale white surface illuminating in the now rising sun. Turning your attention to who spoke, you saw a woman standing in the doorframe holding a tray with a variety of different bowls and glasses, filled with different foods that you hadn’t eaten since you were locked away. You realized, with a pang of humiliation, how pitiful you must have looked. Your stomach twisted painfully, reminding you just how long it had been since you’d had anything remotely close to a real meal. 

The woman blinked, her wide eyes darting between your face and the scattered papers. “Seriously,” she said, stepping cautiously into the room. “I thought maybe you’d like . . . keeled over or something. You look terrible.” 

You sat up slowly, every muscle in your body protesting the movement. The hard floor had left you numb in some places and aching in others. “I’m alive,” you muttered, your voice hoarse from disuse. 

“Barely,” she replied, her tone sharp but not unkind. She looked you over, her brows furrowing. “You look like shit. When was the last time you ate?” 

You didn’t answer, unsure how to even quantify the time you had spent in your cell since the coup. Instead, you glanced at the tray she’d brought, your stomach twisting, this time not from hunger, but from the unfamiliar sensation of having something offered to you without some type of strings attached. “Who are you?” You asked finally. 

“I’m Hana,” She said as she sat down cross legged on the floor across from you, placing the tray in the middle for you to reach at. “Not that anyone around here cares about names.” 

You hesitated before responding, your voice still scratchy. “I’m . . .” You stopped, your own name catching in your throat. You hadn’t said it out loud in what felt like forever, and hearing it now felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else. 

“I know who you are,” Hana interrupted. “Everyone does. Or at least they did. I went to one of your rallies before when I was in University. Big fan.” 

You didn’t respond, taking the piece of fresh bread that was on the plate and popping it into your mouth. It was still warm. The silky taste of it coating your mouth and falling down your throat. Hana leaned against the wall in her sitting position, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and something that might’ve been pity. “So,” she said after a moment, her tone lighter now, “what’s the story with all this?” She waved a hand at the papers scattered across the floor. 

You swallowed, your throat still dry despite the food. “It’s my file,” you said, keeping your voice even. “The story of my life, apparently. Or what’s left of it.” 

She frowned, stepping closer to glance at one of the pages. “They gave you this?” 

“Gojo did,” you replied. 

Hana snorted, folding her arms. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Always playing games.” 

You looked up at her, studying more closely now. She seemed relaxed, casual even, but there was a tension in her posture that betrayed her unease. “How do you know him?” You asked. 

Her smile was thin, humorless. “Let’s just say I’ve been around long enough to know how he operates. He likes to keep people guessing, keeping them on edge. Makes him feel like he’s in control.” 

“Isn’t he?” You asked, your voice quieter now. 

Hana hesitated. “Maybe,” she said finally. “But everyone’s got their cracks. Even him.” 

You grabbed the bowl of some type of broth and put it to your mouth, almost sipping it before saying, “why are you telling me this?” 

She shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Because you’re new here, and you look like you could use a heads-up. Don’t trust anyone. Not him, not the maids, not me.” She gestured to the papers again. “And definitely not whatever story they’re trying to sell you with that.” 

Her words lingered in the air. You wanted to ask more, to push her for details, but before you could, she straightened up and headed toward the door. “Wait,” you called after her. “Why are you helping me?” 

Hana paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. “Helping you? I’m just doing my job,” she said with a faint smirk. But her eyes betrayed something else — an understanding, perhaps. 

Or maybe a warning. 

—

The next day, Hana returned with breakfast again, her entrance less dramatic than before. She slipped through the door quietly, her eyes flickering to you as she balanced the tray in her hands. You were sitting by the window this time, staring out at the world beyond, though there wasn’t much to see — only high, stone walls and the tops of trees in the distance. 

Hana set the tray down and cleared her throat. “Still alive, I see,” she said, her tone teasing. “Good for you.” 

You turned your head, your eyes locking onto hers. “I have questions,” you said, not bothering with pleasantries today. 

Hana let out a sigh, rolling her eyes slightly. “Of course you do. Fine, shoot. Just eat while you ask, alright? Makes my job easier.” 

You moved to the table, picking up a piece of bread, the crust slightly hard but better than the alternative — starving. You bit into it, chewing slowly before you spoke. “What happened after the coup? To everyone who resisted?” 

Hana’s expression tightened, her usual sarcasm replaced by something colder, almost emotionless. She leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her chest. She leaned against the wall, folding her arms across her small chest. “You mean, after Tokyo fell?” She asked. “Most of them didn’t make it. Ghetto didn’t waste time with things like trials or negotiations. Anyone who posed a threat was removed.” 

You swallowed hard, the bread suddenly tasting like ash in your mouth. “Removed?” You echoed, though you were sure you already knew what she meant. 

Hana nodded, her eyes darkening. “Executed. Publicly, mostly. They wanted to send a message. The ones who weren’t killed were sent to camps — labor camps, re-education camps, whatever they decided suited their needs. Non-curse users, mostly. Anyone who tried to resist” 

“And the sorcerers who didn’t join?” 

“They didn’t have much of a choice. You either joined Suguru, pledged loyalty on public television, or you died. Some tried to run, but Gojo . . . well, he has a way of finding people. You’ve seen what he can do. There’s nowhere to hide from someone like him. There were sweeps. Gojo and his men would track them down, make examples of them. No mercy, no second chances. Anyone who thought they could escape learned the truth the hard way.” She paused, her eyes meeting yours, her expression grim. “There’s nowhere to go, not anymore. They own everything.” 

You swallowed. Hard. It felt like the walls were closing in, the hopelessness of it all pressing down on you, threatening to crush what little resolve you had left. You looked up at Hana, her face etched with a weariness that seemed to go beyond her years. “How do you do it?” You asked, your voice breaking slightly. “How do you live like this, knowing there’s no way out?” 

She sighed. “You find reasons,” she stated. “Even if they’re small. My brother . . . he’s the only reason I’m still here. You find something to hold onto, something that matters, and you use it to keep yourself from falling apart.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you could do the same. Everything you had fought for, everything you had believed in, was gone. What reason did you have to keep going? But as you looked at Hana, you realized that maybe, just maybe, surviving itself could be enough, for now. 

The door to your room swung open abruptly, making both of you jump. The sight of white hair was unmistakable as Satoru Gojo stepped inside, his presence as casual and commanding as ever. His gaze flickered to Hana, then back to you, his lips curling into a small, almost amused smile. 

“I hope you’re not filling our guest’s head with too much unpleasantness,” he said, his voice smooth and deceptively light. 

Hana stiffened slightly, giving a small nod. “Just answering her questions, sir,” she said, her tone respectful but devoid of anything warm. 

Gojo’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, and then he waved a hand dismissively. “Right, right. Why don’t you give us a moment, yeah?” Hana didn’t need telling twice. She shot you a brief look — something between a warning and a silent apology — before she quickly exited the room, the door clicking shut behind her. Satoru Gojo turned his full attention to you. His presence filled the space, dominating it, even though he hadn’t moved from where he stood. His eyes roamed over you, taking in your disheveled appearance and the scattered papers still littering the floor. “Well,” he drawled. “Looks like you’ve been keeping yourself busy. Enjoying the trip down memory lane?” 

“What do you want, Gojo?” 

He smirked, that same insufferable, lazy grin that never quite met his eyes. “Straight to the point, I see. Fair enough.” He took another step forward, his presence somehow filling the room, making the walls seem closer, the air harder to draw in. “I’m here to extend an invitation. Tonight, there’s going to be a dinner. An important one. Suguru has personally requested your attendance. If you don’t, well . . . let’s just say there are far worse things than dinner with a few powerful people.” 

The threat in his words was unmistakable, a cold, hard truth that settled like lead in your stomach. You stared at him, refusing to look away, refusing to let him see the fear you knew he wanted to see. “Fine,” you said, your voice steady. “I’ll go.” 

“Someone will come by later to help you get ready. I’d suggest you cooperate. First impressions are important, you know.” 

—

The soft knock on the door came as the first sign that it was time. You were sitting on the bed, your back pressed against the cold wall, staring at the tray Hana had left behind earlier. The untouched remnants of breakfast sat there, mocking you. The knock came again, a little louder this time, before the door creaked open. 

A young girl stepped in, no older than twenty, with an air of exaggerated confidence that didn’t quite mask the nerves twitching in her movements. Her dress was revealing, garish even, the kind of thing meant to draw attention, and her makeup was heavy, her lipstick smudged just slightly at the corner. She carried a garment bag draped over her arm and a small case in her hand. 

“God, you look like shit,” she said bluntly, shutting the door behind her with her foot. Her eyes scanned you, taking in your disheveled appearance, the shadows under your eyes, and the bruises that were scattered across your arms. “Seriously, don’t they ever clean you up here? I thought this was supposed to be the fancy wing.” 

You didn’t answer, just stared at her as she moved further into the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She set the garment bag down on the edge of the bed and opened the case, revealing an array of cosmetics and hair tools. 

“Well, we don’t have much time,” she said, glancing at you. “Let’s see what we’re working with.” She motioned for you to stand, her tone impatient. “Come on, up. I don’t have all day. They said that you needed to look . . . proper.” 

You reluctantly stood up, almost towering over her. She was so small. So frail. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. “Oh, wow,” she muttered, her gaze drifting across your face and down your arms. “You’re a mess, aren’t you? Bruises everywhere and scars, too.” She shook her head. “They never make it easy, do they?” She ushered you to sit down on the chair by the desk, pulling the small case from her pocket, clicking it open to reveal powders. Without asking, she stepped closer, tilting your chin up with a light touch as she examined your face. “They really did a number on you,” she said, her voice softer now, almost as if she was talking to herself. 

Your gaze lingered on her face, unable to pull away from the hollow look in her eyes, the bruises faintly marking her neck. They weren’t the kind of marks that came from accidents. They were deliberate, the result of someone asserting power over her. She noticed your stare and gave a thin, brittle smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her tone surprisingly cheerful. “We all have our roles here. Mine just happens to be . . .” She trailed off, shrugging slightly. “Well, you know.” 

You did. It didn’t take a lot to know what she was used for around here. From the skimpy clothing, makeup that brightened her hollow features, and her hair all done up, it was easy to tell. “What’s your name?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. She paused, her hands stilling on the edge of the dress she was laying out. She looked at you, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to decide whether you were worth answering. After a moment, she sighed, her shoulders slumping just a little. 

“Yui,” she said, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “I’m Yui.” 

“How old are you?” 

Yui’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile — more like the ghost of one, something bitter and fleeting. “Seventeen,” she said, her voice flat, as if she’d repeated the number so many times it had lost all meaning. “I turned seventeen a month ago.” 

Your heart sank, the weight of her answer settling deep in your chest. She was so young — too young. You swallowed hard, forcing the question out before fear could steal it away. “And you are . . .?” 

Yui let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I’m a prostitute. They call us companions sometimes, but we all know what it really means. Force, trick, coerce . . . it’s all the same. You do what they say, or you don’t eat. You do what they say, or they hurt you worse than any of the clients ever could.” 

Yui glanced at you, her eyes softening just a little, her voice quieter now. “It’s not all bad,” she said, as if trying to convince herself as much as you. “I mean, there are some who aren’t so rough. And Satoru… he’s never touched me. He’s never asked for anything.” She paused, frowning slightly. “He likes to pretend he doesn’t care about anything, but… I think he draws a line somewhere. I just don’t know where that line is.”

You could see it in her eyes—the glimmer of something that might have been hope, a desperate need to see something better even in someone like Satoru Gojo. And maybe that was what scared you the most—that even someone who had suffered as much as Yui could find a way to see him as something less monstrous.

The tone shifted, and Yui began applying your makeup, helping you get on your dress, jewelry, and shoes. Once you were fitted with accessories to make you look presentable, Yui stepped back, her hands falling to her sides as she eyed you critically, her lips pursed in concentration. She gave a small nod, then reached for a brush and made a few light strokes near your temple, her demeanor shifting, the dark weight of her previous words seeming to lift as she forced a smile.

“Just the finishing touches,” she said brightly, her tone overly cheerful. “Can’t have you looking anything less than perfect for the big occasion.”

You nodded numbly, watching her as she moved with precision, her fingers adjusting the fabric of your dress, smoothing the wrinkles, adding small touches to make everything look just right. Her smile stayed in place, but there was a tightness around her eyes that betrayed the forced act. “Thanks, Yui,” you said softly.

Her gaze flickered to the door, then back to you. She leaned in slightly, her eyes locking onto yours, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Listen to me carefully,” she murmured, her tone urgent, her eyes scanning your face for understanding. “Tonight, at the meeting, there’s someone who’s helping the rebellion. He’s got something that needs to be moved—something the rebellion needs.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. “What do you mean?” you whispered, your eyes wide.

Yui glanced at the door again, her fingers brushing against the hem of her dress. “His name is Kento. He’ll be there tonight. He’s got information—something important, something that needs to make it out of the estate.” Her voice grew even softer, her eyes searching yours. “We need you to get it from him. We don’t have anyone else who can get that close.”

Yui saw the fear in your eyes, her expression softening slightly. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I know it’s dangerous,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “But we don’t have another option. You’re the only one who can do this.”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor. The thought of risking everything, of putting yourself in the line of fire, was terrifying. But the alternative—doing nothing, allowing the Republic to continue unchecked—that was unbearable. You looked up, meeting Yui’s gaze. There was desperation in her eyes, a spark of hope that hadn’t yet been extinguished. And in that moment, you knew you couldn’t turn away. Not when there were still people willing to fight.

“How will I find him?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

Yui smiled, her eyes glistening with something that looked suspiciously like pride. “He’ll find you,” she said. “Just be ready. And be careful. Gojo’s smart—if he suspects anything, it’s over. For you, for Kento, for all of us.” 

You nodded, the weight of her words settling in your chest. “I’ll do it,” you said, your voice steady, despite the fear that twisted in your gut.

Yui stepped back, her smile returning, though it was still forced, still too bright to be real. “Good,” she said, her tone returning to that same false cheeriness. “Now, you’re all ready. Just remember—keep your head down, smile, and don’t let them see you sweat.”

[therealslimshakespeare]

my dearest darlingest marina i need you to know you have broken me quite thoroughly and i might never ever forgive you for it as long as we both shall live ! ❣️

to clarify- ive been saving "let's fall out of love" to read later ever since you posted it cuz i didn't feel ready- didn't think i was emotionally stable enough to read it then. well, tonight ive been clearing out my list of unread fics from last year aND GODDAMN WAS I EVER RIGHT ABOUT THAT.!!!

started getting all weepy and shaky before that first courthouse bathroom conversation and i didn't ever stop 😭 sobbed so hard and for so long at the unfairness of it all (for both of them !) i gave myself an asthma attack and had to stop reading.. what really broke me was e's bittersweet and somewhat detached realization on the courthouse steps that all their kids had flocked to laney during the divorce. couldn't stop thinking abt how badly i would've wanted to tell jesse off for being sharp to his daddy, and the knowledge that elaine COULDN'T, that it wasn't quite over yet and she still had to save face for a bit longer despite how much it killed them both, despite being the only person who could truly understand just how deep elvis was hurting right then and having been the one who'd made a whole life out of loving him hard.......... the idea of him resigning himself to having lost that forever (false) and her having to go against everything in her nature to let him ache a while longer,, oh it just shattered my spirit to bits right then and there. oh god im gonna start crying again just thinking about how lonely they both made each other 💔💔💔

im literally inconsolable, even with the reasoning behind it/ knowing how it ends beforehand, and having those future timeline fics to fall back on did nOT SAVE ME like . dear GOD woman how is that even possible?!?? if i had any shred of humanity left in my body id wax poetic for three more paragraphs abt how that speaks to your truly absolutely outstanding talent as an author and worldbuilder, but alas i think i cried out everything that was keeping me sane sometime in the last half hour and now i have to go lie facedown on the floor in my hallway and die abt it all instead 👍 fantastic work as always i love all your work so much forever etc etc 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

ps: it took me the better part of an hour to type all this out since ive lost the water content of approxinately a small ocean w my tears and am doing physically poorly in response 🫠🫠 so thanks for ur patience in this trying time 😔🙏

I spun around in circles upon reading this like my poor coon dog when she had a stroke -jovially of course. Like this is the stuff every writer dreams of getting for feedback but holy smokes, your talent for screaming? Beyond my wildest dreams. I’ve always told you how much I appreciate your time and enthusiasm to tell your thoughts Mary Hope, and now is no exception. My babe and co-author @elvisabutler deserves the pleasure of reading what we’ve wrought, as well. I’ll be halving all your medical and psychiatric expenses with her. 😏

Tbh, despite knowing both imminent and longterm reconciliation was to happen after this segment, we were just as cut up about tearing them apart as you were to read it. In fact, it was worse than all the lead up fics where the passive aggressive accumulation of grievances came across as hurts but ultimately only aggravations. This is just…PAIN. Funny how what was untenable before a tragedy suddenly appears to have been idyllic after it. Anyways.

Thank you for reading, here’s some Kleenex, albuterol and do know the sequel to this divorce is in drafts, so not finished AT ALL but it is in the works.

Not that it’ll hurt much less than this one. 😈

[hourcat]

i’d like to share an au idea i had! i originally had this idea w another pairing in mind but piarles have multitudes and could fit very wellll. anyone who happens to see this feel free to use it…. 🥺

ok so. i go through these random short lived obsessions with so many things (it’s been 3 years with f1 so i don’t think she’s going away…) and one of those obsessions was figure skating. and i think piarles should have a figure skating au. listen. i’ve got it all planned out.

pierre is the extremely technical, jumping machine skater (think sasha trushova or something. sorry i only care about girl figure skating so idk the male equivalent). charles is the extremely artistic, spinning and twirling and whatnot over jumps, body line and angles obsessed skater (think yuna kim or kamila valieva or something). anyway. 

they have this long term rivalry of theirs going on. the olympics come around. these two are, obviously, the favorites for gold. they continue on, as the olympics approach, doing their… idk rival stuff and focusing on themselves. but then!! there’s drama. the good thing about figure skating is there’s always drama. especially if we’re trying to go sasha vs kamila type of skater because those two did have olympic drama so we can just copy them! but ofc there’s room for creative adjustments whatever anyone wants. either the conflict can be pierre (sasha) being the second fiddle to his coach’s other skater and in return his coach promises to prioritize him for the olympics but GASP! they don’t! they go back on their word! and pierre confides in charles! <3 OR! we can do charles (kamila) gets accused of doping and it becomes a huge scandal and the results take forever to come out and the media is eating him alive and he’s left in front of the media alone and overwhelmed and other skaters are being shady and mean and countries olympic committees or whoever is in charge (sorry my obsession didn’t get that far to know… details details) are trying to get him banned and he confides in pierre! (it’s obviously false, for the sake of the story and also fictional charles’ sportsman dignity) <3 or even both happen! or any sort of conflict the potential author desires. 

and somewhere along the way they carnally desire each other and kiss and have sex and somehow they both win the gold medal. maybe they can even both just be girls in this and we can get that lesbian piarles that was being spoken about on here a while ago…. yeah…

sorry for invading your inbox. i’ll just tag this post with… idk. 🎀 this emoji in case i come back.

HOLY SHIT? HELLOOOOOO oh my god please this is DELICIOUS where are my figure skating mutuals!!! i know literally nothing about the sport so i am totally the wrong person to be handling this but my god! i would devour tf out of this.

a rivalry turned alliance turned relationship! both drama plots are CRAZYYYY like charles supporting pierre during his team's internal fuckery....pierre defending charles from the allegations™....and of course they learn to desire each other carnally, they're OBSESSED w one another (to beat, of course...no other reason....) and suddenly that total shift in mindset....screaming crying throwing up etc etc. ur mind 🙏🙏

also 🎀 is perfect 🩷🩷 u are ALWAYS welcome back to talk more abt this or anything else u like bestie!!!!!!! THANK U ILY MWAH

[mystardustmelodyyy]

A tale of love, lust, & crime!

I’ve had this rattling around in my head for a while 💋

Thank you to my girl @remotewatch for playing editor this time! 🌹

Beverly Hills, 1971

Lieutenant Amato had been in the homicide department a long time. Eighteen years, to be exact- he’d questioned his fair share of widows. There was no doubt in his mind that Sabrina Van Ecken, the thirty-one year old housewife who was serving him fresh lemonade in her garden less than 48 hours after highway patrol found her husband belly up in the Pacific, was suspicious. But goddamnit, she was charming.

“These are heirloom roses, they’re much more fragrant than your modern varietal,” she chirped, handing him an iced drinking glass and a digestive biscuit. “You’re more than welcome to take some for your wife. How long did you say you had been married?”

Amato pushed up a grubby, coffee stained sleeve and accepted the treats. “It’s our silver anniversary this weekend.” He grunted.

“How grand!” Sabrina’s gold bracelets jingled like little bells as she clasped her hands together with glee. Then with an utmost seriousness, she removed her oversized sunglasses and looked him directly in the eye. “Lieutenant, I’m going to be straight with you. I’m glad Todd’s dead. But I didn’t kill him.

How brazen! Amato nearly choked on his biscuit. He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a nearby doily and composed himself. “That’s quite a statement, Mrs. Van Ecken.”

The young widow nodded and gingerly tucked some glossy strands of dark hair behind her ears., “I loved him in my own way you see. He wasn’t cruel or violent. But- and I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead so quickly- he was an ignoramus.”

“An ignoramus, miss?”

“Yes you know the type- doesn’t vote, leaves the toilet seat up, thinks Julia Child’s recipes are too exotic, that sort of thing.”

“I see.” Amato replied, thankful that years on the force had trained him to keep his cool even under strange circumstances like this one. “Do you know anyone who would want to kill him?”

“Oh plenty. Todd had a lot of enemies.” She nodded matter of factly, “His investor that he pantsed at a company meeting, all the country club caddies, servers he never tipped, I could go on. I don’t know what I expected, marrying into oil money.”

Amato scribbled furiously on his notepad. “What about his business partner that moved in recently? Jonathan Mollier?”

“Jonathan?” Sabrina’s expression softened “they had a complicated relationship as well. But it worked somehow. I can say with certainty, lieutenant, that if Todd had lived we would have stayed married and Jonathan would have been in business with him forever. Now that he’s gone… god rest his soul… we’ve both got a new lease on life.

“There has been talk of you two spending a lot of time together.” The lieutenant broached, raising his eyebrows. Sabrina just smiled.

“And they’re right! Jonathan has been helping me with the orphaned sea turtles foundation that I made through the company. Todd never was one for philanthropy, you see.” She took a long sip of lemonade. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but accidental death hasn’t been ruled out yet, has it?”

“It has not. As I’m sure you’re aware, your husband had enough DUIs that we are seriously considering that angle… by the way, is Jonathan Mollier from THE Mollier family? The ones on the east coast?”

“That’s correct. You’re a sharp one, lieutenant! I’d say you should question him too but he just went out paddle boarding. Perhaps you could come back later this week. I can arrange for some flowers to be made into a bouquet for your wife as well…”

⛵️⛵️🍒🍒🍒⛵️⛵️⛵️⛵️🍒🍒☀️☀️☀️☀️

Lieutenant Amato left with a box of biscuits, a carafe of lemonade, and a spring in his step. Gosh, if only someone had told Sabrina in her younger years that manipulating the police was so simple! She might have had a glamorous stint as a cat burglar on the French Riviera in another life.

“He’s gone?” Jonathan Mollier, fresh off the paddle board in an unzipped wetsuit trotted towards the rose garden where Sabrina was waiting for him, arms outstretched.

“Yes,” Sabrina beamed, “I made him my famous lemonade.”

“Excellent, my love. The sooner we can get them to rule it an accidental death, the sooner we can leave town.”

🌺🌺🌺🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

Beverly Hills, 1971, two months earlier

If you’d asked Jonathan Mollier as an expat what it would take to get him back to the states, Todd Van Ecken would not have been on the list. In fact, when he’d met up with his former roommate during his last trip to New York, Todd proposing they go into business together initially came off as one of his infamous pranks. Until he started listing off facts, figures, and lucrative stock options. Todd even said that Jonathan could continue working in Japan from time to time, although he did want him to be primarily based in Beverly Hills with him. Jonathan, who had admittedly been feeling rather unmoored abroad since the birth of his sister’s second child and the passing of his beloved uncle, saw no better reason to return. California for a business venture- the perfect mix of new opportunities and old stomping grounds. When Todd picked him up from LAX Jonathan felt light and open, although that may have been partly due to the qualuudes his doctor had prescribed for the international flight. Even Todd’s erratic driving and excessive application of Old Spice while en route to his Beverly Hills mansion seemed charming rather than tiresome.

“So you’ll be in the guest suite on the west wing,” Todd said, flicking a cigarette butt out the window of his Jaguar Roadster “it ain’t the Ritz or anything but it should be roomy enough for those funky surf boards of yours”

“Paddle boards..” Jonathan corrected as he gently dusted stray ashes that had fallen onto his new YSL sport coat, “thanks again for letting me crash with you for a bit. I know nothing about California real estate.”

“Sure thing, you’re saving my ass here. Using my folks oil seismographs for consumer electronics was all fun and games until I realized I needed someone who actually understood the technology.”

“Oil man turned calculator entrepreneur is certainly a leap.” He agreed. “But if I learned anything at Toshiba, it’s that there’s a massive demand for chip tech. Anyway, I swear I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sabrina’s excited to have someone else in the house anyway.”

“Sabrina?”

“Yeah, Sabrina. My wife, ya dill weed.” Todd laughed. “You would’ve known that if you came to the wedding instead of sleeping on the floor in Japan or whatever it is you do over there. We’ve been married six years now.”

So it was the same girl. Todd had caused quite a stir amongst their old Yale classmates when he married a girl he’d met in Vegas less than a month after meeting her. It was rumored to be a shotgun wedding and when a baby never arrived it caused even more of a scandal.

“The ADPhi brothers and their wives still avoid her like the plague for god knows what reason” Todd continued, seemingly predicting his reaction. “Kinda bullshit, if you’ll pardon my French. I mean, what qualifications does a wife need, right? But she’s a sweet girl, you’ll like her. You both care about animals, believe it or not! Although I’ll tell ya, she’s been on my ass lately about getting a dog. She won’t shut up about it! But I told her, ‘no way Jose I don’t want those mongrels in the house’. I mean really! You’ll back me up on that, won’t you Jonathan?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes; the qualuudes hadn’t worn off, but Todd’s charm was waning to say the least. He gave a noncommittal “Mmhhmm” before drifting off to sleep as Todd continued to yap his way through the roads of Los Angeles county.

♥️♥️♥️♥️⛵️⛵️⛵️🌺🌺🌺🌺🍾🍾🍾

The Van Eckens tried out a few rental properties before committing to buy when they’d settled in Los Angeles. First it was a high rise on Wilshire Boulevard, but the lack of greenery made them both stir crazy. Then it was a Pierre Koenig house in the Hollywood Hills, which to this day Sabrina maintained was stunning, but Todd was disturbed by the amount of right angles. Eventually they settled on a neo colonial style mansion with a rounded balcony, lush landscaping, and easy access to the ocean. When Jonathan exited the Roadster, the bracing sea breeze felt like a shot of espresso.

He’d packed modestly for his flight- just a trusty Hartman suitcase and the treasured attaché that belonged to his late uncle. Most of his belongings were set to arrive tomorrow morning. Jonathan took it upon himself to unpack and freshen up when he and Todd entered the house with no Sabrina in sight.

“She’s around, I’ll find her.” Todd shrugged. “Your room is up the stairs, second door to the left if you wanna get settled. The phone in there isn’t connected yet but we’ve got another in the kitchen. Holler if you need anything.”

Getting his belongings in order didn’t take long at all, but putting his to-do list together was another matter. He needed to call his folks now that he was back in the states; they’d be at the Martha’s Vineyard house this time of year. Then there was renewing his driver’s license, touching base with investors, replacing his shoehorn that broke in transit to California… It was dizzying. Oh, how he longed to take an impromptu dip in the ocean and forget all his responsibilities! Luckily the sun had begun to set, so kicking back in the leather Marsala lounge chair setup and turning on some music seemed like a completely reasonable course of action. Jonathan even indulged in one of the pastel mints that had been artfully composed on top of his flanged pillow, like icing on a lambeth cake. There was a stationary card too, featuring a message written in big loopy script.

Welcome back, Jonathan!

Below the message there was a drawing that could only be Todd’s contribution; a rendering of the Hanna Barbera character Hong Kong Phooey breaking a cinder block, with a word bubble above the cartoon dog’s head.

It’s about damn time! Hi-ya!

Jonathan politely folded the card stock in half so that only the first message was visible.

As he began to fiddle with the radio controls, he could vaguely make out a woman’s voice chatting with Todd downstairs followed by the sound of agile footsteps pattering up the staircase and an airy “I’ll be down in a jiffy!”

Jonathan, who was in no rush himself, settled on the USC radio station before strolling to the bay window, surveying his new digs. The rose gardens in the back of the house were even more stunning than the impeccably trimmed boxwoods in the front landscaping. He was thrilled to see there was a slight view of the ocean in his room, albeit partially obscured by what appeared to be the master suite. Man, those California sunsets really were something. Cotton Candy clouds dotted the sky as gold light flooded into his room, and for a moment, Jonathan felt an all consuming wave of calm wash over him. So much so that he almost missed the leggy brunette in tennis whites dash into the master suit and beeline for the closet, disappearing behind a buttery yellow curtain… the elusive lady of the house!

She does, indeed, change in a jiffy. Not even a minute goes by before Mrs. Van Ecken comes out clad in a Pucci mini dress and twirls happily in front of her vanity mirror, mane of dark hair bouncing around. Jonathan was transfixed. But, as she began to tie a matching scarf into her hair she paused, frowning.

What could be troubling such an exquisite creature?

Not even a nanosecond later, she darted back behind the curtain only to return in a plain, wool shift dress. She stared blankly into the mirror, arms akimbo, before throwing them up in frustration and retreating into her sartorial lab. It was almost comically in tune with the frenetic Beatles song blaring on the radio.

Ah, she's got a ticket to ride

She's got a ticket to ride

She's got a ticket to ride

But she don't care

The third time she emerges she’s in a fluffy pink bathrobe carrying an armful of options that were still on their hangers. A boho printed maxi dress? No. A frilly, wide collared babydoll frock? No. A slick ivory jumpsuit? No, no, NO. Each contender was held up to the mirror and discarded with increasing force while Paul, John, Ringo and George descended into musical cacophony.

My baby don't care, my baby don't care

My baby don't care, my baby don't care

My baby don't care, my baby don't care

This is when she sees Jonathan, who realized that he had gone from mild observation to fully studying the scene before him with rapt attention. Surely the long flight was to blame for him forgetting his manners? How uncouth of him! He scurries to the bay window drapery and quickly mouths “Sorry” to her, hoping the blush flooding his cheeks isn’t visible across the way.

She just smiles and gives a little wave as she mouths back “It’s ok!”

Jonathan nodded awkwardly, still flustered, and closed the drapes. He threw on a fresh cashmere polo and smoking slippers before heading downstairs. Given the time difference his parents would likely be in bed already, but maybe he could ring one of his sisters before dinner.

🍦🍦🍒🍒☀️☀️💋💋✨✨🐠🐠

TO BE CONTINUED 💋💕

[catilinas]

Hello! I’ve been looking through your terminal storytelling tag and the content consistently rocks, but what exactly does terminal storytelling mean?

hi! the phrasing of 'terminal storytelling' is borrowing (very extremely loosely) from rene girard's idea of sacrifice as 'terminal violence' ->

girard's theory of sacrifice has A Lot Going On but a key part is that the true act of 'sacrifice' is like. spontaneous violence, which is 'sacrificial' in that it ends an ongoing Cycle of violence. this could be though like. everyone involved being dead / violence so over the top that it puts an end to all future conflict. meanwhile the sacrificial ritual that might be what someone thinks of as 'sacrifice' is 'sacrificial' in that it is a substitution for this earlier act of violence, And in that it disguises the true nature of what sacrifice Is (terminal violence). or something.

but then if you get weirder and more into girard it's like. substitution and sacrifice are now the same thing. sexy takes on greek tragedy go here. is all representative Anything now sacrificial? probably not (although girard does have some insane and almost definitely wrong takes on the origin of language + undomesticatability of bears? idk). but i would say certain types of Narrative definitely Can be sacrificial In That they represent BadViolenceDon'tLikeThat in smaller / contained / controlled form e.g. ancient conspiracy narratives ->

(Victoria Emma Pagán, Conspiracy Narratives in Roman History)

like um. greek tragedy + sallust's bellum catilinae + every episode of scooby doo (ESPECIALLY every episode of scooby doo. girl help my monstrous double is being demystified) are all doing the exact same thing. to me.

anyWAY ok now ignore girard entirely. in a poem i have not read in full in plainwater anne carson writes 'who are they the storytellers who can put an end to stories' and it's like. what does it take for a story to tell itself once and then never Need to be told again. what does it take for a story to tell the definitive version of itself in a way that discourages any and all retellings / repetitions / sequels / whatever. if telling a story is like hashtag we are trapped in meanings that circulate like blood, what telling would act as Terminal Violence and just Stop forever?

or is that even possible! e.g. sorry i am always thinking about lucan but cicero (+ hirtius!) said that caesar's commentaries (incl. on the civil war) were written in a way that Deterred future authors from the same subject. caesar's bellum civile as Terminal Storytelling in that it positions itself as The Ultimate Account Of The Civil War (Don't Look Too Closely Btw) like ok maybeeee there was a civil war but caesar is In Control And He Fixed It so don't question his narrative ok. and to an extent it actually WORKED oh my god i hate the afterlife of caesar's commentaries almost as much as lucan, who dug up the corpse of the civil war and stuck it in a timeloop forever. unterminals your storytelling

there is some overlap in my tag w my tag for fate + being stuck inside tragic/narrative repetitions + stories left forever unfinished etc because imo you Do get stories that repeat forever More often than like. stories that self destruct at the end. and they also go together! you can try and figure out what makes storytelling terminal From stories / storytellers that are unable to stop.

but also hrgh stories that self destruct. antigone singing her own funeral lament. every single day i think about my friend ada's game meatspace ephemera (2021) that's made to be played once And Then It Self Destructs (Or Does It). literally perfect execution (haha) of the concept

[dazais-secret-smut-stash]

1 Thru 5 by SapphicPandaBear

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Spice: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: BakuDeku

Tags to Note: panic attacks, happy ending

Explicit? Yes

Words: 26,513

Status: complete

Summary: “Katsuki proposes a way for him and Izuku to get sexual relief while staying comrades, using a level system of one through five. Izuku agrees, but maybe shouldn't... after all, his affections are one-sided, and this can bring nothing but pain.”

My Review:

OH MY GOD I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC.

Most of the time when I look for fics to read, I don’t really expect to find healthy relationships. But that’s fine; it’s not what’s most important to me anyway. I’ve gotten used to unhealthy or questionable relationship dynamics at best (especially since I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers).

BUT THIS FIC? GUYS. It is ACTIVELY healthy. I swear, I could rant about this forever, but for some background: I’ve been in a fuckton of therapy in my life, a good portion of which was teaching about healthy communication and how to improve/avoid toxic relationships. So I’d say I have a pretty good understanding of that sort of thing, given that I’ve essentially sat through classes on it. I can tell you right now, this is the healthiest relationship I’ve ever seen in fanfiction. It’s not that the relationship is easy or without problems, it’s that the problems are addressed and they WORK ON THEM.

There was one scene in particular where (without giving spoilers) Bakugou got really frustrated and left to go on a walk to cool off. It was kind of a surprise to Deku when he came back, since in the past he had a tendency to run from his problems. But no, this was him stepping away from a situation that was escalating long enough for him to cool down and gather his thoughts, after which he came back and continued the discussion rationally.

HEALTHYYYYYYY!!!! THAT IS THE THERAPEUTICALLY CORRECT THING TO DO!!! SO PROUD OF HIM!!! And that was just ONE of the many examples in the fic! Their healthy communication and the way they address problems isn’t even really dwelled on that much; like, it’s just natural for them to do it.

Of course, the main conflict in the fic is miscommunication, but the way that conflict is overcome is through healthy means. The problems are addressed and worked on. AND it’s also addressed that there isn’t going to be a “magic fix” for the problems they continue to face- part of being together means working on combatting conflict when it inevitably arises. There is no such thing as a relationship without conflict. Every single couple in the world argues and disagrees at some point. The line between successful and unsuccessful relationships is how that conflict is addressed. And this fic captured that BEAUTIFULLY.

And all that is just ONE aspect of the fic that I love. The smut is also so incredibly well-done. At one point while reading, I started mentally making notes of how differently types of intimacy are shown. There are several sex scenes, but they all bring something different to the table. That’s range.

As a whole, the fic was also just generally well-written, in terms of stuff like characterization, plot development, and even grammar (which I can be really picky about).

Just absolutely fantastic work. I recommend this to anyone who will hear my pleas to read it.

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

for rico: 1, 2, 5, 7, 14

1. What is your character's biggest fear, and how does it affect their actions and relationships?

HOOOO. she is simultaneously terrified of being close to people (mortifying ordeal of being known is a kind of power she doesn’t want anyone to have over her) and also because then she’s got weaknesses that can be used against her (girl who is determined to never watch anyone she cares about die ever again and has resolved to accomplish this by not caring about anybody anymore.)(top ten methods that Don’t Work and also then she fucks it up anyway but that’s kind of a long story)

There are other Big Fears but I’ve been typing forever (did these in reverse order) so I will come back if any of them stand out in my brain as an “oh god how could I forget that one”

2. What is something your character is deeply passionate about, and how does it drive their goals and motivations?

Okay I don’t know if it counts but besides the obvious. Going all in on the Decepticon cause (twice!), most of her goals and motivations are driven by her need to Move Forward? She pushed really hard on the idea of defecting once she’d heard some of the arguments— less for the idea of Leaving the Decepticon army and not even a little for the idea of joining the Autobots but for the sake of Seeing What Else Is Out There! Her and the whole unit (not Dyker. That’s a different problem) had spent their entire lives so far in one (1) building and/or ship (I don’t know that we ever decided where this was set?), they were built for the war effort and they work for the war effort and she believes in what they’re fighting for wholeheartedly but also it seems like a good idea to get some Contexts so she can have that identity and also know what it means!

And then from then on she goes BACK to the Decepticon army to climb her way up the ranks (well. She goes back bc she’s lonely and that’s where the only family she has left is, which ends the Worst Possible Way It Could Have for Her Specifically, and THEN she dives into climbing her way up the ranks) and she gets like. A normal amount and then fucks it all up reaching for too much (thinks she’s high enough up to get away with trying to assassinate the guy that killed Reefer. She Is Not.) and goes all the way back down to the bottom and also beat half to death about it. But she is not discouraged! (Yes she is.)(She got a lot of issues from that whole shebang.)

And then the war she was literally built for ends. And she’s on the wrong side. And megatron renounces the decepticons and tells them to all go their separate ways. And she has literally nothing to do with her life anymore. SO. she decides that She Is Going To Restart The War And Finish What He Started RIGHT this time. This also. Does not end well for her. I forgot what the question was I think I’ve strayed pretty far from actually answering it but here’s a plot summary

5. Does your character have any hidden talents or abilities that only a few people know about?

She was a medic for a while!!! Token guy in the original unit who knows how to do first aid and then when they all defected and Reefer (her platonic/familial Other Half) died and she dropped Hadron (her younger brother who she never really got along with and whom she is blaming all of this on because it was technically his idea in the first place and the other option is blaming herself) off with the Autobots she fucked off to go find some like. do transformers have Doctors Without Borders. Something like that.

7. How does your character handle failure or setbacks? Are they resilient or easily discouraged?

OH BOY HOWDY. she’s basically a series of failures in the shape of a girl (in the shape of a backhoe) and she takes them all Really Really Badly but also she hasn’t died yet, so 🤷‍♂️ (her main coping mechanism is throwing herself headfirst into whatever new questionable decision she’s making so she doesn’t have to look at her complete and utter lack of self-worth)(this goes. About as well as you might imagine.)

14. What is your character's preferred method of self-expression? Do they have any artistic talents or creative outlets?

God that would go a long way towards fixing her, wouldn’t it. No she does not but Roughhouse HAS 100% made the squad do Paint Nights on multiple occasions. She’s not good at it and it haunts and vexes her.