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creative-caramel-coffee · 8 months

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I miss your writing😂 I need me some weems, now idk if you’ll consider writing age regression ? Bc I have another idea if you do.

So r is depressed bc they ran out of medication and forgot to refill it since they’ve become ill (me rn it’s horrid and messing with my head) no one’s seen or heard from r and weems has to do a welfare check. Here she finds a depressed and very sick reader. She knows of readers bad back ground (they are a shifter and was found hanging onto life after being abused in a facility like hydra for shifters) so when r becomes all clingy and very child like it confessed weems. R is so touch starved it’s insane, but with weems rn she’s like a child wanting and craving the affection just needing to be held. So naturally weems does that and that’s how she discovers the fever r has and that r ran out of her meds so weems nurses her better. Oh! Could also add r isn’t sleeping bc of nightmares due to their background?

Sorry for the long request and I’m not even sure it makes sense. I need my Damn pills lmao.

🕯️

A little sick

Pairings: Weems x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: you're sick and regressed.

TW: agre? Sickness, depression, medicine (prescription),

A/n I’ve never written this kind of thing before so tell me if any of its wrong. Cute request tho :) let me know if you like it or want to see more of this kind of thing.

Part 2

Waking up and feeling like your bones were made of lead was not the way you wanted to start the day. It took all of your strength to pull yourself upright. Standing on shaky legs you wobble over to your dresser pulling out the pouch of pills that helped you with the aftermath of the facility and the depression it left. You knew firsthand how bad it could be to be a shapeshifter. Hunted and experimented on. You drew a deep breath pushing the thoughts away and exhaling slowly and shakily.

Unzipping the pouch, you frowned. All the blister packets were empty. You were out. You slouched dejectedly. It was going to be a long day. Yoko had already left for classes and to be honest you didn’t really think you could make it to the wardrobe to get changed let alone all the way to class. You sighed dejectedly and hobbled back to bed and laid down on your back staring at the roof. The feelings were getting harder to push away.

Your chest felt hollow, and you choked back a sob. The last time you were sick … was back there and to be honest you had no idea what would happen if someone found out here.

You zoned out feeling a familiar fuzzy feeling swallow your mind. You tried to push it away which only seemed to make you headache unbearable. The pain was what made you slip. Dropping hard, you felt your body shift. Soon the bed felt much bigger as you curled into a ball and cried. You were tired but scared to sleep, the nightmares seemed to be ever persistent.

You had no idea how long you had been crying, small sobs wracking the tiny body on the bed. Soon a knock sounded on the door.

Weems had had reports all day that you had been absent. Knowing your history with depression she knew it was imperative to do a welfare check as soon as she could. Looking at her calendar she swore. She had a copy if the nurses schedule for meds and prescription refills. Yours were out and it looked like nobody had picked up more for you.

She finally signed off the email she had spent the morning drafting to the mayor. Closing her laptop she toed on her heels, opting to take them off to give her feet a break when sitting and stood smoothing out her skirt. She hurried out the door and to your dorm. Hearing small noises inside she hesitated before knocking, she knew you were in there was was slightly terrified of what she would find inside the dorm.

Hearing the soft knock on the door you wiped a small fist over your eyes and sat up still silent tears running down your cheeks. You waited and heard the door open.

Weems peered into the dimly lit room; the windows still drawn. She saw a small lump on the bed and slowly walked over. The closer she got the more shocked she became. Why was there a toddler in the dorm and why did she look exactly like … y/n?

Small sad eyes looked up at her and sniffled. Weems stood awkwardly not really knowing what to do. She had a suspicion. She knew you were a shifter like herself. She looked down at you and it clicked. It made sense with the amount of trauma you had. You had regressed both physically and mentally to a child. Looking down at the sad child, you looked up at her and extended your arms.

“Up?” You asked with childlike innocence. Weems felt her heart melt. Gently she placed her hands under your arms and lifted you onto her hip. Almost straight away you buried your face in her neck, and she let out a soft gasp.

You were face too warm. Gently she peeled your face from her neck so she could look you in the eyes while she bounced you on her hip. You let out a soft whine at the loss of contact and weems shushed you as she placed a gentle hand against your cheek then forehead.

“Oh honey. Are you not feeling too good right now?” She asked. “Do you feel icky?” She said and you nodded and sniffled, the tears slowing.

“Alright. Well, we are going to get you some medicine then we are going to come back to my place for some sleep.” She said and you whined.

“No sleep.” You pouted and Weems frowned. “Cuddles?” You asked.

“Ok sweet girl you can have cuddles but why no sleep?” She asked.

“Mean dreams.” You pouted and she felt her heart break. Of course, you had bad dreams, that was almost assured with what you had been through. Why didn’t she think of that. Patting you back she used a hand to guide you back to her neck as you put your thumb in your mouth.

Weems winced knowing it probably wasn’t clean but there wasn’t much she could do about it right now and she preferred it to the crying. Holding you on her hip with one arm and the other on the back of your head she saw a small white fluffy thing under your blanket walking over and pulling out the stuffie you brightened as she tucked it between you and her chest as you wrapped you free arm around it.

“Alright honey let’s go get some medicine for you.” She said and left. She knew the school week enough to make sure nobody would see the two of you, God the rumours would be endless if students saw weems with a child. Careful to avoid any class windows Weems made it to the infirmary. As a shapeshifter herself she knew that the doses of medicine would need to match the physical size of the body. Balancing you on her hip she looked into your eyes.

“How old are you sweetheart?” She asked and you looked at her shyly holding up four fingers and puffing your chest out.

“Im four.” You grinned.

“Wow. Big girl huh?” She asked and you smiled wider.

Weems pulled out the bottle of medicine labeled 3-6 and any other supplies she would need. Carefully making her way back to her office she slipped back into her own quarters to take care of you.

You whined as she set you down on the couch but stopped as she lifted you back into her lap. You sure were clingy like this. Measuring out a dose of medicine Weems coaxed you into drinking it which made you stick your tongue out in disgust after.

“Yucky.” You said. Weems chuckled.

“Im sure it was sweet girl.” She said and stroked your hair. You buried your face in her chest and fisted your hands in her shirt.

“Alright bedtime. I think someone needs a nap huh?” She said and you whined.

“Nooo.” You said.

“Alright how about some cuddles instead?” Weems asked and you smiled.

“Cuddles?”

“Yes. Cuddles.”

“Yay cuddles.” You celebrated.

“Alright sweet thing lets go to my bedroom and we can cuddle.” She said knowing you would fall asleep in no time. Curling into her chest more and wrapping you small arms around Weems she felt her heart melt again as she ran her nails up and down your spine. You shivered and enjoyed the touch.

After a few minutes you seemed to be fighting sleep, eyes drooping before flying wide open again with a small whimper.

“Honey whats the matter? Why won’t you sleep love?” Weems asked softly.

“Bad dreams.” You whimpered softly and weems patted your back running her hands through your short hair. It was much shorter than normal probably from the shift.

“Honey, you need to sleep, I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave your side, ok? Do you think you could be a brave girl and get some sleep for me?” She asked softly.

Burrowing your face into her neck you nodded and shuffled around to get comfy. Weems knew either way based off how exhausted you seemed you would be asleep soon regards of what you wanted.

And as predicted after about five more minutes weems felt your breath even out against her chest and heard small snores coming from you. She smiled softly down at you and decided then and there she would never let anything hurt you again.

MASTERLIST

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srslyscary · 2 months

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songs // hyung line

| Contents: SFW, tooth rotting fluff, reader is written as she/her and you, can be gn

soft/love songs I associate with skz hyung line and a scene I’ve pictured of the song with them in it. songs are based off of one’s I’ve listened to.

I searched up the meanings of the songs so it makes more sense if you know the meaning behind each song!

BANG CHAN // those eyes

“I close my eyes and all I see is you. And the small things you do.”

you looked so peaceful while you slept, wrapped in his arms. the sun shone onto your face, the soft rays of morning light broke through the soft curtains in the room. Chan looked at you with the softest eyes, a smile on his face as he moved loose strands of hair from your face. While one arm was tucked under you, the other rested on your hip as you faced him. Your soft snores along with the birds chirping made it feel like a dream, yet real. He rubbed small circles into your hips, cherishing this small peaceful moment of your sleeping face.

“My perfect girl.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. You stirred awake from the kiss, letting out a small breath as your eyes fluttered open. “Hi Chan.” You smiled at him, still very sleepy.

Chan smiled back, staring at your eyes for a slight moment. “Hi beautiful. Sleep well?” Your eyes were so mesmerizing to him, he couldn’t take his own eyes off of yours. They were like gems, or small stars in the sky. He loved everything about your facial features, from the shape of your noes, to your plump lips, to your jawline. You only looked at him, expecting to say more, and when he didn’t, you spoke up. “What’s on your mind babe?”

He was broken from his small spell, chuckling while shaking his head. “Nothing babe. Just takin’ in your pretty face.” And as he said that, your face became flushed. He only snickered at your attempt to try and hide your face. Times like this is when he knew, everything you did made him want to be with you for so much longer. Even if your attempts to show him love were small, such as holding his hand— or big, such as buying him presents and large items, he loved everything. When he closes his eyes, his every thought is of you. When he’s away from you, he misses you more than ever. And times like these, where you could be in each others arms, playing or holding each other in silence, leaving small kisses on each others faces, reminds him more of why he fell for you.

CHANGBIN // west coast

“On the balcony and I’m saying— Move, baby, move, baby, I’m in love.”

Why did you have to go on a trip and leave him behind? You could have just brought him with you. It’s not like it was an option though, he was sick and you didn’t want him to tire himself out. He was currently your every thought, and you wanted nothing more than to make a u-turn and head all the way back to your shared home, to take care of him. You knew he missed you too, probably more than you did. His constant texts had shown, he complained of you leaving on this trip last minute while he was sick. This was just a trip you simply couldn’t back out on though, and he had to understand that. But at the same time, you hated being alone, and you hated being away from your lover. You hoped this trip would at least go by fast, you wanted to get back to your own home to see your lover again. You wanted to take care of him, make sure he was feeling alright.

‘I miss you. Drive safe <3’

You felt that last little straw break, this was a terrible idea, even if you spent so much on this trip. You couldn’t bear it any longer, you had just gotten into the car not even 20 minutes ago— yet here you are, making a u-turn and taking directions right back to your shared home. You wanted to see him, show him love while he was sick. You wanted to kiss his adorable face until he felt better.

A strange thought popped into your head.. I’m really so in love. I want nothing more than to be by his side, and it shows now— more than ever.

HYUNJIN // ride

“I will put you in all my memories.”

Looking out the window, he breathed out softly as he watched the leaves in the trees flutter in the wind. You were currently taking a shower, while he was working on some art. You had bought him an art easel since he wanted to practice his water colors, and he was currently using it. He felt stuck, looking out the window with not much care in the world except for his art at the moment. The sun began to shine brighter for a split moment, filing the room with bright light. He was brought back to his senses for a small moment, taking in the atmosphere of the room.

It smelt like you, for some reason. It smelt like your vanilla bean perfume, or maybe was it your coconut hair cream? It didn’t matter to him, because it smelled good to him. This current space felt comforting and cozy to him, the scent of someone he loved filled his senses as he did his art. It made him think back to his art, smiling once he realized he had been drawing you both as a portrait. You were both holding hands, sitting in a grassy field with a large tree for shade. You always told him you were happy when he made those types of portraits, and little things like that mattered to him. You mattered to him.

The little things about this relationship mattered the most to him, he loved that he could sit here all day and paint pictures of the future you would have together, the moments where at times when he felt emotional, you would sit with him and show him love to make it all go away. Times like those is when he knew— you were his whole world, and you provide a sense of safety and belonging when he’s with you. And that means so much to him, much more than you will ever know.

LEE KNOW // p.s. i love you

“Keep making me wanting more. Girl, you are what I am looking for.”

At Peace is what he felt when he was with you. All his troubles just suddenly faded when you were both together. Sometimes he couldn’t express in words how much you meant to him, that no matter what would happen he would always have an undying love for you. You hold so much significance in his life, it’s crazy how you have him held in your grasp. It’s impossible for him to go anywhere, he couldn’t possibly leave you. No matter how many times he told you he loved you, or the times where words went unspoken— he simply couldn’t find the right words to emphasize that your presence meant so much.

He pledged to you that in every universe he would find you, and love you to the end. To him you were the cold breeze on a summer day, comforting him within the challenges of life and experiences of this relationship. To him you were as beautiful as the brightest star in the sky, never failing to bring light to the darkness he faced some days. No matter the circumstances or reality you both find yourselves in, the love he felt for you would remain constant and unchanging. He knew when you told him you would choose him in every lifetime, that you were the one for him. In that moment he felt a sense of destiny, or a rather soulmate connection to the bond you both formed. He knew he wanted to fulfill every promise he made, every wish you had, because he knew his love for you was serious. He loved you more than infinity, more than everything known and unknown in the universe. Nothing in this world could make his love falter, for the beautiful girl he fell for. Not anyone would change the feelings that came from deep down in his soul— the love he felt for his lover.

#skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids

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theneighborhoodwatch · 10 months

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submission from anonymous

Hello! I have one discovery and one theory.

The discovery is that…a lot of the food or plants in the “answer” videos looks rotten! This could be an artifact of the filter, however. Also, the brief frame at the start of some of the videos looks different from the rest, more than just having distorted colors, almost like a jump-cut.

My theory (if you accept those here lol) is:

Clown mentioned once on Tumblr that those who enter Home are immediately welcomed and that “it is like [they] have always been there”. This could mean that all the Neighbors were once human, and now they are remembering their old lives and want to get out.

i think that is just a side effect of the filtering, yes! there are behind the scenes photos of some of the food props used in the answer videos available on clown’s ko-fi (and soon to be on his portfolio site, according to his twitter) and while some stuff has definitely been painted over, i don’t think any of it was done with the intention of making it look rotten? that could change later, though. *clears throat and nods toward the “food does not go bad the way we expect it to” livestream quote from the trivia document*

as for the theory…… ehhhhh, i’m trying not to sound too harsh, but i’m pretty unconvinced for now. i feel like stories like these hinge a lot on the idea that the puppets (or whatever nonhuman entity the specific story centers around) were Always puppets, albeit ones under the impression that puppets and people were functionally the same thing in a world that does not agree. they come into the world with pre-determined roles set for them by other people, but they are capable of developing beyond them, both in terms of the self and in their relationships. a time will come in which they have to ask themselves how much of them is really them and how much comes from the people around them, what people have decided for them - and is that not a human experience in itself already? who’s to say they aren’t already human in this sense? do they really need to have once been Exactly Like Us to be considered as such, or for their struggles to have merit?

i do think it’s very possible that each neighbor has a specific relationship to their puppeteer/person or People that they were based on, if such people do exist (considering how often the jim henson company, an obvious real-world inspiration, did the same thing back when they were starting out) but i think of it as something closer to a symbiotic relationship between two separate entities rather than possession/transmutation/erasure of identity/what have you. i’ve written a few times that i think wally might be the exception to that rule, though, if this turns out to be the case.

of course, i’m biased - i say all of this from the perspective of someone who is also a fan of DHMIS and So Incredibly Tired of possession/Was Once A Man plot twists in horror that features some fake media franchise or another. as always, we’ll have to wait and see!

#submission #wh speculation #welcome home #findings

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the-rewatch-rewind · 1 year

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Three Cary Grant movies in a row!

Script below the break

Hello and welcome back to The Rewatch Rewind! My name is Jane, and this is the podcast where I count down my top 40 most rewatched movies. Today I will be discussing number 28 on my list: RKO’s 1948 comedy Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House, directed by H.C. Potter, written by Norman Panama and Melvin Frank, based on the novel by Eric Hodgins, and starring Cary Grant, Myrna Loy, and Melvyn Douglas.

Yes, I’m talking about yet another Cary Grant movie – I warned you there would be a lot of them. In this one, he plays Jim Blandings, an advertising executive who lives in a Manhattan apartment with his wife Muriel (Myrna Loy) and their two children. Tired of feeling crowded, and taken in by an advertisement, they decide to purchase an old house on a large property in Connecticut. They initially resist the idea that the house must be torn down, but ultimately get excited about being able to build one to their own specifications. However, this is not nearly as simple, or as affordable, as they anticipate.

The first time I watched this movie, it was late at night and I was very tired, so I remember almost falling asleep without really getting into it. But I enjoyed it a lot more the second time, and it’s grown on me over the years. I watched it for the first time in 2003, then twice in 2004, and then once each in 2006, 2008 through 2013, 2015, 2016, 2018 through 2021, and then twice in 2022. And while I could barely keep my eyes open the first time I watched it, now I find it difficult to tear them from the screen when the movie is on.

As I’ve said several times in previous episodes, Cary Grant was a brilliant comedic actor, and once again, he is very funny in this movie. Just watching his morning routine in the apartment at the beginning is hilarious. Jim Blandings is very sure of himself, even and especially when he shouldn’t be, and Cary plays that very convincingly and humorously. Myrna Loy is probably best known for playing Nora Charles in the comedy-mystery Thin Man movies, so it should come as no surprise that she is also very funny here. Muriel occasionally tries to rein in some of Jim’s recklessness, but also gets caught up in the dream of the house, and Loy portrays that flawlessly. Apparently critics thought these stars were too old for these roles (they were both in their mid-40s at the time), and that it would have made more sense to show a naïve young couple not knowing how to build a house, but personally I think it works better to show a middle aged couple who have every reason to believe they know what they’re doing find out that they have no clue. The movie also makes it clear that it’s only because Jim is older and more established in his career that he’s able to do this. At one point when he’s venting about how everything’s costing way more than they were anticipating, Jim points out that if he can barely afford it, there’s no way a young couple ever could. And looking at this movie from a modern lens is kind of surreal because like, imagine a single-income family of four being able to afford a house! To put things in perspective, Jim Blandings was making $15,000 a year in 1948, which is the equivalent of approximately $190,000 in 2023, and the final cost of his dream house was $38,000, or approximately $480,000 now. It certainly costs a lot more than he initially thinks it will, but it’s still doable for him – although he does nearly lose his job at one point – whereas it would not have been for a young couple just starting out. And again, Cary Grant and Myrna Loy are so delightful to watch that I cannot comprehend wanting to replace them.

The acting and the writing encourage the audience to laugh at both Jim and Muriel while still finding them sympathetic. There’s a rather beautiful poetic justice in the story of an advertising executive, who spends all day figuring out how to convince people to buy things they don’t need and can’t afford, getting convinced by an ad to build a house he doesn’t need and can’t afford. And yet, we still want him to succeed, and share his frustration when things go wrong. Muriel’s extremely specific demands for the house can be ridiculous, but we still want her to get the dream house she desires. Perhaps her greatest moment in the film is when she spends several minutes describing in detail the exact shade she wants each room painted: one should exactly match the color of fresh butter, one needs to be white – not a cold, antiseptic hospital white, but not to suggest any other color but white; another should be practically an apple red, somewhere between a healthy Winesap and an unripened Jonathan, etc. When she finally gets distracted and walks away, one of the painters says to the other, “You got all that?” and the other replies, “Red, green, blue, yellow, white.” It’s very funny, but also maybe a little bit sexist, in a “These silly women and their ridiculous obsession with detail” way, but at least the movie makes fun of Jim too. He’s constantly taking charge of things he doesn’t understand and making them worse – from illegally authorizing the old house to be torn down to inadvertently instructing builders to rip out their work. So rather than making fun of Jim and Muriel specifically, the movie is really making fun of the gender roles they feel obligated to fulfill, and the way society has made basic needs like shelter immensely complicated to obtain. And while some of that is rather painful to face, this movie manages to make the overall experience mostly enjoyable. It’s thought-provoking without becoming too upsetting.

While a lot of what I love about this movie comes from Grant and Loy, I also love Melvyn Douglas’s performance, and his character, Bill Cole, is probably my favorite. Bill narrates portions of the movie, and introduces himself to the audience as “Jim’s lawyer and quote best friend unquote.” He’s kind of the voice of doom regarding the dream house project, pointing out all the ways Jim gets taken advantage of along the way and repeatedly advising him to give up, but far from being a stick in the mud, he has an excellent sense of humor, and goes along for the ride only slightly reluctantly. There’s a trope that’s especially common in movies from this era of a married couple having a male “friend of the family” who is interested in the wife and kind of waiting for her to either leave her husband for him, or at least have an affair with him. The character of Hank Entwistle in Monkey Business is like this, and there’s a character in the movie I’m going to talk about next week like this. Bill Cole is almost like this, and Jim certainly sees him like this for a good chunk of the movie, but the way I see him, he’s not actually interested in Muriel that way, and is, in fact, if not canonically queer, certainly queer-coded. We do know that he dated Muriel in college. At one point when Jim asks Muriel why Bill’s always hanging around them instead of getting married, Muriel says it’s because he could never find another girl like her, but this doesn’t seem like it’s meant to be particularly serious. When Jim objects to the fact that Bill always takes his leave by shaking Jim’s hand and kissing Muriel on the cheek, Muriel dryly inquires if Jim would prefer it the other way around. There is also a running joke about Jim and Bill getting stuck in a closet, so modern audiences might interpret that to mean that they’re secretly gay, although I’m pretty sure the closet metaphor wasn’t commonly used in 1948. Bill doesn’t seem to really show any attraction toward either Jim or Muriel, so of course I’m inclined to headcanon him as aroace. We do find out that Muriel somehow ended up with both Bill’s and Jim’s fraternity pins – which the Blandings daughters find along with her old diary in the process of moving into the new house. When Jim then confronts Muriel about her having been in love with Bill, she laughs and responds with, “Of course I was in love with Bill! In those days I was in love with a new man every week!” She considers her time dating Bill to be relatively meaningless, and currently sees him as a good friend. Most of Jim’s bouts of jealousy in the movie seem to be misplaced frustration with the way things are going with the house and/or his job, rather than in response to any of Muriel or Bill’s behavior, which is part of the film’s effective commentary on how gender roles leave men feeling like they can’t express their emotions honestly.

Anyway, one evening, when Jim is working late because a slogan he’s been struggling to come up with for months is due the following morning, Bill stops by the new house to visit Muriel, and there’s a major rainstorm. A neighbor informs Muriel that her phone isn’t working and a nearby bridge is out, so her children can’t get home from school, but they’re staying with a different neighbor on the other side of the bridge. This also means that Bill can’t get home, so he’ll have to spend the night in the house alone with Muriel. When he half-jokingly gasps, “Think of my reputation!” Muriel responds with, “Don’t worry, Snow White, you’ll be just as pure and unsullied in the morning as you were the night before,” and he says, “That’s the story of my life.” Now, I feel like there are a couple different ways to interpret this. One way – the allo-heteronormative way – is that they would like to sleep together, but she’s happily married, and he respects that, so they resist. I’m not saying that’s an invalid interpretation, but something about the way they deliver those lines, and the way they interact in the rest of the movie, doesn’t quite feel like that to me. Another interpretation is that they don’t want to sleep together, and they just want to make sure they’re on the same page about that. Think about how much better it makes the scene if Bill is asexual, and his “Think of my reputation!” is his way of making a joke out of not feeling comfortable with the situation, and her response is reassuring him that she understands and doesn’t see him that way either, and his “That’s the story of my life” is him trying to pretend to be disappointed because an allonormative world tells him he should be, but he’s actually relieved. This could also be because Bill is gay, or straight or bi and just not attracted to Muriel, but even then, the point about defying social expectations still stands. Since long before I knew the terms “aromantic” or “asexual,” I have been drawn to stories about people who are expected to fall in love and/or sleep together and then don’t. It has always felt so encouraging to see adults maintaining close platonic relationships, even when society tells them they shouldn’t be platonic. So I love that Bill and Muriel are friends who can spend the night in the same house without becoming overwhelmed by passion or whatever seems to usually happen in situations like that.

Of course, in this particular case, due to production codes there was basically no chance that they would commit adultery anyway, and all of this is probably definitely me reading way too much into something that’s barely there. The following morning, when Jim makes it back home – after giving up on the slogan even though he knows he’ll be fired – and finds out that Bill spent the night, there’s a bunch of other stuff going on with the contractor telling them about more expenses they’ve incurred, but Jim is particularly upset about Bill being there. Then one of the workers shows up at the house and declares, “There’s a matter of twelve dollars and 36 cents” and Jim loses it, going off on a whole rant saying things like, “Why stop there? Just take everything I have!” until the worker clarifies, “No, I owe you $12.36.” Suddenly Jim’s anger melts away, and he also loses every trace of jealousy and suspicion. This certainly supports what I said earlier about Jim’s jealousy really being misplaced frustration, which I also think supports the idea that Bill is asexual, and that even if people didn’t use that term at that time, at least on some level both Jim and Muriel understand that Bill is not a threat to their marriage. Jim is only jealous because he feels like he should be, and it’s a convenient and socially acceptable outlet for his real feelings. The last shot of the movie is of the Blandings family enjoying their front yard, with Jim reading the book the movie is based on. He looks up and says to the audience, “Drop in and see us sometime” and then Bill moves into frame and adds, “Yeah, do that, won’t you?” implying that he has been accepted as practically part of the family, and that if he is aroace, he’s certainly not alone, and I absolutely love that.

I’ve mentioned before that part of why there are so many Cary Grant movies in my top 40 is because I have a multi-day marathon around his birthday every year, and Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House is almost always part of that. I tend to watch this one on his actual birthday because the only specifically Cary Grant-related item of clothing I own is a long-sleeved t-shirt I got for Christmas in 2007 with a quote from this movie on it, which I will probably wear every January 18 for the rest of my life, even though I kind of have mixed feelings about the context of the quote in the movie. The slogan that Jim gives up on during that fateful stormy night is for a product called Wham, which is a brand of ham. He spends all night trying to come up with an acceptable slogan, but they’re all terrible. I would like to point out that he’s working on this with his female secretary, which means he has even less reason to be jealous of Muriel spending all night with Bill, but that’s not really important. I also feel the need to tell you about my favorite bad slogan he comes up with: “This little piggy went to market, as meek and as mild as a lamb. He smiled in his tracks when they slipped him the axe; he KNEW he’d turn out to be Wham!” The extremely concerned look on his secretary (played by Lurene Tuttle)’s face when she hears that is so perfect. But anyway, he finally gives up and goes home, and after all the drama of finding Bill there and owing more money but also getting a refund, the maid Gussie (played by Louise Beavers) is serving breakfast, and when the girls ask if there’s ham, she replies with, “Not just ham; Wham! If you ain’t eatin’ Wham, then you ain’t eatin’ ham!” And Jim does a double take and then exclaims, “Give Gussie a $10 raise!” and then we see a magazine ad featuring Gussie’s face and this slogan, and I have some questions. What exactly did he mean by a $10 raise? Ten dollars per hour? Per week? Per year? Also did he actually give her credit for coming up with the slogan, or did they just use her words and likeness without her really getting anything out of it, apart from this ambiguous raise? Part of me likes to think that she got hired by Jim’s advertising agency after this, but I feel like the more likely explanation is that a white man took credit for a black woman’s work. So again, I have some mixed feelings about my shirt that has a picture of a ham on it with the words “If you ain’t eatin’ Wham, then you ain’t eatin’ ham!” But despite its weirdness and its flaws, I mostly have positive feelings toward this movie. And I will never forget the joy I felt the one and only time someone who hadn’t watched this movie with me recognized the quote from that shirt, so shout out to my 12th grade history teacher.

Thank you for listening to me discuss yet another Cary Grant movie. I do apologize if you’re getting tired of hearing about him, but at least each of the four Cary Grant movies I’ve talked about so far has been from a different decade, so hopefully that has added enough variety to keep things interesting. Next up is another 1940s movie, although Cary Grant was not in it, so you’ll get a break from hearing about him, for now. In previous episodes I’ve ended with a single line from the next movie, but for this one I have to quote a three-line exchange between two people, because it’s my favorite part of the movie and I can’t help myself. “And then I heard a noise, and then I saw-” “What kind of a noise?” “…Like a sound.”

#mr blandings #mr blandings builds his dream house #cary grant #myrna loy #melvyn douglas #aroace headcanons #rewatch rewind

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squidkidnerd · 1 year

Text

Operation Atlantis Notes - “Squid for Hire” (chapter 4)

Hey! So, if you’re here from Chapter 4, you get the gist. These notes are gonna be a place for updates, rambling (lots of rambling), and maaybe the occasional insight into my writing process. I hope you enjoy reading them as I much as I did writing them lol (rest under the cut!).

Anyways, this chapter was pretty hard to write.

Much like chapter 1 actually, I knew exactly where I wanted “Squid for Hire” to end. Three getting hired at Calamari Coffee is, of course, a major plot point that affects basically everything going forward, and it’s been in the works since the very beginning. However, getting there... getting there was more of a struggle. Funzone, Mihoto Records, and Grateful Grocers all had to be built practically from the ground up for this chapter because before that they straight up didn’t exist. It was daunting, at first, figuring out all the locations and making up a reason as to why Three wasn’t hired there. This gave me some writer’s block that slowed down my progress. But hey, here we are. I made it.

Of course, the chapter itself wasn’t the only problem I encountered. A good chunk of my already-sparse free time was dedicated to another fic, “Valentine’s Day Blues.” During January I suffered a tired spell that made it infinitely harder to write at all. AND, apparently I can’t catch a break because of course my left ear had to act up right before February break. So, yeah. Life got in the way. But hey, I’m here now. On with the notes.

Opening poem: Hoo boy, I think this one is one of the favorites I’ve written so far. I took a lot of inspiration from the Mr. Grizz mem cake poem for this one, which I think has some similar ideas to what I delve into this chapter. Specifically, I wanted to highlight the sense of personal duty and “looking the other way,” that comes with having a job of Atlantis.This is something we’ve only really scratched the surface of so far and is sort of a larger theme within Operation Atlantis. If there’s one thing Kamabo likes to do, it’s putting people into boxes. What happens to them in those boxes? Who knows.

Small character interactions: Yay, more Calamari Coffee gang banter! I missed writing that in chapter 3. Anyways, Miyo, Gregory, and Madame Katrina all get a little time to shine here. With Miyo, I’m trying to be careful that “teasing Eight about Three all time” isn’t her whole personality... can’t say she doesn’t do that during this chapter, but hey. Don’t worry, her character will eventually be explored in more depth. Same with Gregory. The small scene with the wipes was a little bit of a spontaneous addition I put in because, why not? Writing their language barrier was interesting here. And then, Madame Katrina. Her tidbit actually went to Miyo initially, but I changed it because it felt more in-character for her to do that rather than Miyo. She doesn’t know much about the octarians’ *ahem* situation, but hey, she knows enough. Certainly more than Eight at this point.

The diner scene, the Octarian Society, and Eight’s memories: More Iso Padre! The man is incredibly hard to write, but I tried my best. Anyways, Eight’s original plot for this chapter was actually the Octarian Society meeting Iso Padre mentions here, but it seemed like too much for now (and too much it would’ve been—this chapter is the longest yet!), so I moved it later on. Anyways, Eight has a lot of feelings regarding her past, and I wanted to show them here. It’s hard, and certainly confusing, to lose all your memories and thusly, your entire sense of self. It’s even harder because your memories often give you a sense of belonging, a belonging especially important to the octarians given their circumstances. So yeah, Eight hasn’t even gone there and she already feels left out :(. We’ll see how that meeting goes...

Job hunting with Cap’n Cuttlefish: And here, we get to the bulk of the chapter! Yeah, Cuttlefish is... one of my favorite characters to write, honestly. It’s a shame he doesn’t get used more often, because I think he’s a really great foil for Three in a lot of ways. The paragraph of reflection I wrote after his lines about Calamari Coffee is probably my favorite passage of this entire chapter, and I tried my best to fit in logically. Anyways... Funzone. And Merriweather’s. They don’t show up for very long, but I still wanted to give them distinct character and flavor. Atlantis is a city after all, just like Inkopolis. And if there’s one thing cities have a lot of, it’s distinct places. So, that’s why I included them.

Eight’s eavesdropping: This was a more recent addition, actually. Anyways, Teo, and to a lesser extent, his grandma, are both characters that appear later on, so I thought why not and decided to drop hints here. Yeah, there’s a lot of hints here. I am quite proud, in fact, that I revealed what DOHU stands for in Teo’s dialogue as fluidly as I did. Trust me, they are... relevant later. They’re not antagonists, per se, just perhaps a little misguided.

Six: Six!!! Another little hint. I’ve always found it very strange that the ramifications of the Deepsea Metro (aka: at least hundreds of people getting blended into a smoothie) are never really explored in fanfics. I mean, they must’ve had no idea! They thought they were going to the surface, for God’s sake! And of course, their loved ones wouldn’t even know! The angst potential is off the charts! And yet, I’ve only seen it explored like once. Once. And I've read a lot of Splatoon fanfiction. So yeah, Six is my attempt to rectify that. Trust me, we’ll be hearing a lot more about him later 😏

Mihoto Records: Remember that records shop I mentioned very briefly in chapter 2? I do, because surprise! It was Mihoto Records! Yeah, this was a fun setting because it’s so different to Funzone and Merriweather’s. Definitely more octarian roots. I liked writing Nikko, even though I didn’t really get to write him because Three couldn’t understand most of his dialogue anyways. Oh, and because Three’s in an octarian-dominated space, I of course had to bring up her whole (very understandable) anxiety about that. Poor Three. It will get better eventually, I promise. Eventually.

Calamari Inkantation: Hoo boy, I WAS WAITING TO MENTION THIS ONE. If you couldn’t very obviously tell, I’ve been using the Inkantation as a sort-of motif (hehe, ‘cause it’s a song) for Eight’s memory loss and resulting lack of direction. Unlike Three, who has very clear and well-defined motivations, Eight at this point has no idea who she is or what she wants. Given that the Inkantation plays in the very beginning of Octo Expansion (and Cuttlefish mentions hearing Eight hum it before they wake up), it makes sense to assume it’s the only thing she can remember. And she doesn’t even remember the whole song! It’s like getting one part of a really annoying song stuck in your head, except you can’t even remember where it’s from! Thusly, I think the Inkantation represents how Eight currently feels about her memories in general: she can’t remember them and it frustrates her beyond belief. She can only hope that Iso Padre is right in that it will all come together in time.

Grateful Grocers: Oh, would you look at that! The belonging theme is back again! Yeah, this scene was initially intended to be more along the length of Mihoto Records’s, but hey. More characterization to the denizens! Given how isolated everything in Octo Expansion is from the outside world, it only felt reasonable that the native residents themselves held isolationist views. It’s something we’ll see more of, of course, with the DOHU and even Tazo’s character.

Biscuit Baking: Yay, my favorite part of this chapter! I got the idea for biscuits specifically because it's mentioned somewhere that Cuttlefish likes eating them (and crab cakes as well), so I figured it'd be something Three has made a lot. So much she knows it by heart. So, I used a biscuit recipe online as reference for this lol. I come from a family of avid bakers, so I had to used some of that knowledge in this fic. And by knowledge I mean learning what a pastry cutter is because the recipe I looked up mentioning it. Anyways, the Eight and Three interaction.The Eight and Three interaction. Aka my favorite part of pretty much any chapter. By this point Eight’s feelings are supposed to come off more as “this person is so cool I want to be friends with them” then “gay,” but hey. Gayness is the direction we’re heading, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

“You’re hired”: What a way to end the chapter, huh? Yeah, Three getting hired at Calamari Coffee was the plan since the beginning. The very beginning. Fun fact: very early on Three and Eight actually worked at a weapons shop instead before I realized 1) COFFEE SHOP AU and 2) I would have to headcanon how weapons work. So, yeah. Three can’t escape from her destiny now >:)

So, that’s a wrap! As mentioned in my note on the fic itself, I am unbelievably excited for chapter 5. I’ve been looking forward to writing it since I first started. I already banged out a (quite detailed actually) outline the other day (if chapter 5 ends up being the longest so far I wouldn’t be surprised), so... hopefully I can get it by the end of March? Beginning of April? We’ll see.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this. Have a good rest of your day/week/month/whatever!

#ari's updates #writing notes #operation atlantis writing notes #(thats the tag for these now on)#chapter 4

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cowandcalf · 2 years

Text

NaNoWriMo 2022: 21 days done, 42′500 word written. I feel the strain, guys. This year’s NaNo is tough, relentless and there’s not freakig time for a breather. My friend and I have a buddy-system. Never letting the other down, no matter how late, or how tired we are, we get the damn word count done. And we comment on each other’s story. I write about 5k a day with the comments and all the crazy thoughts we exchange. I feel it. Seven more day. We got this.

McDanno WIP, I ended up writing again a longer story. What’s new? (laughs hystercially). Be Your Very Best In The Darkest Time - snipet from today’s writing (Soul Swap AU - Spirit Shifter) - In this scene Steve has merged with Danny’s soul, he’s inside Danny’s inner space.

"Do you, really, Danny? Have you ever had a sister, kidnapped by the worst, most brutal men on Earth? Huh, they treat women like animals and my baby sister is in their hands and I need – " "No, I haven't, Steve and I'm very sorry you have to go through this terrible experience and I'm so sorry for Mary, too." Danny senses the bone-deep fear Steve tries to keep under wraps. Instead, he stokes the inner fire to change the fear into rage and the flames are burning high and hot. Danny lets him but tries with the soft vibration of water and earth to calm Steve's inner havoc and to keep the flames at a minimum level. "We will get her back, Steve. I do whatever I can to get her back with your team. I'll promise, I'll give all I've got and that's a lot. You're with me but I can't let out, not like this. You have never trained to be inside someone else's body and you have no idea what you're doing. How to move and adapt. You're using more the Godzilla-style, to be honest, and I can tell you it's not pleasant to feel that." Now, Steve gets even angrier. "Then show me! We have enough time until we need to get ready." "No, Steve, it's not something I can teach you in a few hours. It's so much more than that . . . and there's no need to get angry. And stop jerking around so hard. It's not a boxing bag you can hit whenever you feel like it. I know you always aim for being the best but I have my hands full to make it as pleasant for you as possible, okay? I can't just give you a crash course. I'm not doing it. And you can't make me. I'll take care of everything and – " For the first time since they merged Steve wants to retreat, and create some distance between them. "Don't give me the damn speech about how everything will be okay, Danny. Don't insult me. I know what we're getting into and I know that Mary will need a fuck-ton of treatment, physically and psychologically once we'll get her out. And we will get her out. There's no other possibility. Okay? I need her to be okay." Steve's fear gushes hot into Danny’s inner space and Danny hopes he just can catch him enough to make it bearable. "I know, Steve, I'm here for you."

#h50 #mcdanno #wip #nanowrimo 2022 #cowandcalf writes

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bleachbleachbleach · 1 year

Text

2/6-12/23

I am so painfully tired, which has translated alternatingly into feelings of both rage and despair this week. It is going to be a long next four weeks.

Anyway, I’ve said before that I love Hitsugaya best when he is being as boring as possible, and this week I really got to luxuriate in that, because in this part of Hinamori’s chapter she is basically letting Hitsugaya talk at her about all of the things that annoyed him about the captain’s meeting just got back from, including:

Central 46’s emergency management strategy

wartime rush-graduated shinigami

the dangai

Mayuri taking about the dangai

Mayuri

Kensei

rice tithes

And what is more gloriously entertaining than thinking about ghost FEMA and uh idk ghost NAFTA? Well, thinking about ghost budget archives, obviously, which is what they spend the NEXT part of the scene doing. Hinamori is a Real One.

Something I’m working out now is how I want to describe the budget annotations. My vision for why these budget sheets are annoying (besides being written by some yahoo 10th captain emeritus from several hundred years ago) is that the language they’re written in is super old school, even by shinigami standards.

I’m basing the way they’re written off of kanbun, which is a way of annotating Classical Chinese, and back in the day was used for poetry translations but also reports, newspapers, etc. as a way of condensing writing. I’m trying not to get too in the weeds about that, because the point is creative verisimilitude, not historical accuracy; this is a GHOST BUDGET SHEET. I just want the shriveled old budgets to be written in a way that is frustratingly not the norm now, for misery’s sake. But I need to decide how I’ll describe that in a way that 1) is true to Hinamori’s POV, since she knows what she’s looking at (mostly) and doesn’t need to belabor the point, but 2) makes enough sense to the audience to not derail anything.

As far as verisimilitude goes, part of me is sitting here refuting my own budget sheet headcanon like "this idea doesn’t work because THEY DEFINITELY STILL WRITE GOTEI REPORTS LIKE THAT. The reports never modernized!" Because, really, why would they? The arguments I can think of in favor of my desires are 1) The SC is written in modern Japanese, 2) I don’t think you can T9 kanbun on a flip phone, Hitsugaya, and 3) they only have *six years* to learn how to be shinigami, how much time are they going to waste teaching these illiterate fucks how to read and write in TWO different forms? (Counterargument: Joe Shinigami has infinite time between grunt work and seated report-writing work to learn kanbun if he wants that sweet promotion.)

Bearing in mind that all this writing system talk is right before Hitsugaya and Hinamori talk about statistical modeling and the way research-based duty release works in the Gotei, so any description of *the history of writing systems in Soul Society* is not entering into this tabula rasa, and there’s already a bunch of off-hand, in-the-weeds Work Talk weighting the scale, LOL.

In any case, Hinamori and Hitsugaya are on the brink of running out of math to talk about, at which point they will have no choice but to talk about feelings. (As though all the math wasn’t also about feelings).

#stories for the sea

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leejeann · 1 year

Audio

Anyone want a nice little late-night demo? I made a playlist recently called “3am, but like in a good way” full of just really pleasant songs for those late nights where being awake at 3am is comfortable and calm, so I guess that vibe has just been on my mind lately. I was in a mood to write a cozy little song and I haven’t written a song on guitar yet. I decided to see what I could come up with!

This is a really rough very-first-draft type of recording. I didn’t even bother plugging my guitar in lol. Just needed to get it out really quick so I don’t forget the melody. No idea what I’ll call it yet, and I’ve already reworded several of the lyrics, but here are the lyrics in this version:

No matter how I sleep the sun will rise. And I can watch the day break with my own eyes And maybe, just maybe, it’ll be a lovely sight. No matter how I feel I’m still myself Even if reflections start to look like someone else And maybe, just maybe it’ll be a welcome change. So when the days start to crawl and I’m stuck in my room by all the baggage in the hall, the first thing that you have to learn is how to safely fall. Hands off of the wall. And if I try to hold my breath soon there won’t be any bit of oxygen left How can I expect to move if I’m not staying fed? And get out of my head. and I know I may not believe every word when I wake up but at least I’ve gone and said this once.

Think of it like a reminder from my stable self to my depression/anxiety self that even when I wake up heavy and tired and in that moment I don’t really believe in the optimism I felt the day before, I believed in it once so it must still be there somewhere, right?.

Does that make sense? Sound cheesy? idk how else to word it lol

#I have no idea what the chords are #i just started messing around with what sounded good plucked #and I don't know enough guitar chords yet to just know what they ended up as #But I'll sit down and figure out what they are eventually #alright I really need to go to sleep night guys #songwriting #music #lee speaks

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missroserose · 2 years

Note

2&10 for unpublished fic asks, fic(s) of your choosing

I apologize in advance—I know Stranger Things/Harringrove isn't really your fandom, but right now, When the Waters Start to Cross is taking up almost all the air in my writer brain, so that's what I'm answering for...I suspect you understand the feeling 😂

2. How did you get the idea to write this?

I answered that question here!

10. If unpublished, can you show a sneak peek of what you've written?

Ooo, excerpt time!

For context: this is just after the weekend of the Snow Ball (end of S2). Steve and Billy have spent a couple of nights together, Billy's confronted his father and been violently kicked out of the house, Steve has rescued him from something nasty in the woods, and Billy's refused to stay with Steve, instead lashing out at him and leaving him alone. They haven't seen each other since Sunday morning; Steve's gone to school largely in hopes of finding Billy there.

---

“…said she rounded a corner and found them there. Just like that! In public and everything.” The voice is sticky-sweet as the bubblegum the speaker is audibly chewing. “God, it’s like he has no shame.” Steve, about to close his locker and head to class, pauses at the sound of Laurie Henderson’s voice. The associations are hardly unpleasant—she’d taken him down like a pro at a party a year or so ago, her long hair sleek beneath her fingers as she proved her tongue nimbler even than Nicole’s—but they haven’t spoken in a while.

“She told me that at first she thought Megan’s dad had just got himself a hooker,” Amie Dietrich puts in, and Steve’s brain once again throws up images—seven minutes in heaven, awkward wet kisses and fumbling in a darkened closet, new-grown breasts soft beneath his hands—

“He was on his knees, y’know, and all she could see was the hair.“ Laurie again, then a pause, as she presumably gestures, and the girls all giggle at the image. “But then she noticed his ass in those jeans, and she knew.”

Steve knows, too, in that moment—knows without a doubt who they’re talking about. He shouldn’t listen, it’s not his business—and yet the draw is irresistible, and he finds himself busying his hands, tidying a shelf, dropping a sheaf of torn-out notebook pages covered in red ink, letting them flutter to the floor like so many dead leaves.

“Knew what? That it was him? Or that he was hooking? Because I’m not sure she’d be smart enough to put it all together,” Amie snarks. Steve’s gut does a flip-flop—of course, it makes sense. He can practically hear Billy’s voice, I’ll figure something out—

“He does have great hair, though.” Laurie’s voice, thoughtful. “Almost as good as Steve Harrington’s. I’d thought about going out with him just to see if he’d tell me what shampoo he uses.”

“I went out with him a couple of times,” Beckie pipes up. Beckie Collins, who’d been so insatiable she’d tired him out, who’d looked up at him with a tear-streaked face as she’d begged him to pull her long black hair as he fucked her—he ducks, as much to hide his expression from passersby as to pick up the pages—

“You’ll go out with any guy who’s got two legs and a car,” Amie points out, a casual swipe underpinning the friendly jibe.

“Mmm, one of the legs is optional, if it’s a nice enough car,” Beckie responds, thoughtful. “But that’s my point. I was right there, I was down for it. First time he completely blew me off, said he didn’t do shit on the first date—“

“God, what guy doesn’t even try for first base?” Laurie’s voice, presaging another flurry of giggles as Steve scoops up the papers. “…and then the next time, like, he touches me? But then we’re making out, and I swear he was the least enthusiastic kisser I’ve ever met. So I climb up into his lap—not easy in a Camaro—and start grinding my hips a little, you know, trying to get the party started. And I swear, not a twitch.” Another short pause; Steve can picture the way she’s mock-shuddering. “So I’m like, hey, do you need a hand there? And he gets all flustered and tries to make out like it’s my problem, all ‘guess it doesn’t like needy bitches’.” Her voice does a mocking imitation of Billy’s growl. “I should’ve known right then and there he was a—“

The warning bell rings, drowning out the end of Beckie’s story, vibrating against the slight flutter in Steve’s gut. He shoves the papers into the back of his locker and slams the door—only to come almost face-to-face with Laurie and her side ponytail as she rounds the corner, Amie’s feathered hair and and Beckie’s curls in tow behind her.

“Morning, ladies.” He pastes on a grin, hopes it doesn’t look as sickly as he feels, as the green vinelike thing slowly unwinding in his gut feels. Watches as their carefully-made-up faces grow similarly artificial smiles, hothouse flowers carefully cultivated. “Any big plans for Christmas break?”

They look at him a moment, then at each other; then they giggle, that strange ambiguous sound girls make that could be in appreciation or in condescension. “You always did have a lot of nerve, Harrington,” Amie comments, but Laurie flicks a hand, and they go quiet as she gives Steve a once-over. He keeps his smile in place, posture firmly casual, and awaits her judgement.

“King Steve,” she finally says, voice almost a purr. “Been a long time since you said boo to us. Thought you were all about that brainy Nancy these days.”

The name sends a pang through Steve, which he covers up with a toothy grin and an open-armed gesture. “Psh, Nancy’s old news. And I’m no longer King, remember?” Steve gives an eyeroll, exaggerating the movement, conveying how little it all means to him before he drops his arms. “Just plain old Steve Harrington.” He gives a quick once-over to the group to see how he’s being received; Amie, aloof, won’t meet his eyes, but Beckie returns his smile.

Laurie is still eyeing him, chewing her gum (grape Bubbilicious, mingling with her perfume—Yves St. Laurent, maybe?) thoughtfully. “Well, Plain Old Steve Harrington, we missed you at Kristie’s party last week.”

“Yeah,” Beckie puts in, suppressing a snicker, “Hawkins parties aren’t the same without taking bets on who’ll be seeing King Steve that night.” She flicks her gaze boldly to his crotch before moving it back up to his face, and the other two laugh, not entirely unappreciative.

“Now, now,” Steve says, posing slightly under their attention, “I have it on good authority that Hawkins has a new king. I’m sure he’d be happy to provide you an evening’s entertainment.”

Amie only titters. “Maybe if he were interested,” she says, meaningfully, and the three of them laugh as they sail past into the rapidly-emptying hallways. Or two of them do—Laurie trails behind, still eyeing him speculatively.

“What can I do for you?” He keeps his voice smooth, but he’d be lying if he claimed that the attention wasn’t a nice change from his recent pariah status.

“Just wondering which Steve Harrington is the real one. The one who acts like he owns Hawkins High, or the one who haunts the hallways from the sidelines?”

Steve sidles a little closer—not looming over her, but getting intimate, enough that he can put a hand against the locker and lean in. “I guess that depends. Do you prefer the Steve who gets with girls at parties? Or the one who babysits a bunch of nerdy kids?”

Her smile grows a little wider. “I wonder which one we’ll be seeing this week?”

He lets his grin grow pointed. “I guess we’re both going to find out.”

Her smile drops, but she looks smug, her calculations having come to a satisfactory conclusion. “Should be interesting.” An expert rollaway, and she’s walking down the hallway, leaving a trail of artificial grape and Opium in the air behind her. “See you soon, Plain Old Steve Harrington.”

Steve stands there, looking after her, for just a moment—until the tardy bell rings, and he sees that the halls have emptied around him.

#harringrove #stranger things #my writing #when the waters start to cross #askbox games #unfinished fic asks

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babsvibes · 2 years

Note

maybe bts with local flour outage? I love your fics btw!

Local Flour Outage

Behind the scenes under the cut!

In some ways, power outages held a type of charm.

As I have made abundantly clear, I am from Texas and WOULD have had no idea what a power outage during winter is actually like. Except, lucky for you all, our state government is full of a bunch of cucks and we had that winter storm last year that lasted longer because of our shit electrical grid, so I got to be very familiar with what stands out when you’ve been cold and without internet for a few days.

Determined not to let that ache in her chest control her

Almost every poem I’ve ever written has been about story and nostalgia and the pain of fond memories. I think if I leaned more into that, I could maybe try writing more prose, but don’t worry I’ll keep the heavy dialogue going for now lol

Now, moving into the fourth day, Louise noticed the frayed edges and fading vibrance of her perfectly curated furniture.

There would be absolutely no sense of what Louise’s apartment looks like if it wasn’t for my beta Gemgirl28 who said “have you considered describing a setting?”

“But I’m not walking out in the freeze to help you kill yourself.”

“Just this once?”

I love that this became the summary, but it was originally supposed to be Louise kicking Logan out of her apartment:

“Are you really that naive?” Logan bent down to her height and whispered, full of spite, “Every person you have ever been with has wanted to be the little spoon. Wanted to wear you like a backpack, and it’s just a fact of life.”

“Here’s another fact for you,” Louise said and started to shouldered him towards the door. “Freeze to death in your own apartment. I’m tired of your goddamn attitude.”

Without permission, he directed himself to the couch and plopped down, claiming his favorite spot closer to the arc lamp he would swing back and forth when bored.

My favorite activity is sneaking in a million different ways that these two Know each other and seeing which ones my readers latch onto. This one didn’t land, but I think everyone was too distracted by the make out scene lol.

“-an Aunt Gayle original from her anus period.”

The greatest string of words I’ve ever put together.

They swapped stories about their most terrible presents received, and he again reminded her of how much he loooved his melon baller and the ton of action it got in the very back of his utensil drawer.

I think one day I’ll rewrite this piece. I’m so grateful that people like it, but bits like this seem rushed to me. Of course, the first fic I ever posted was 4k words about a 10 minute car ride, sooo that might just be my desire to slow the fuck down and actually LIVE in this conversation lol

“Uhhh,” she scratched her chin. “I have scrabble?”

With how hard he jolted and shook his head, she was surprised his neck hadn’t cracked.

“Absolutely not.”

Tom Bush saying “it’s you-know-what night” when referring to him and Cynthia’s Scrabble Night changed me as a person.

“Oh my god,” she said, concealing none of her astonishment. “Did you not know you can use gas during a power outage?”

Ripped from the very real experience of my current partner not knowing you could use gas in a power outage. The winter storm taught us a lot about each other.

“I have a heat source. You go shiver in the living room.”

Nobody cared that they got pranked three times, and I am POUTING about it. (I posted a pirate fic for the the shiver prompt, I posted a more conventional shiver story the day after, AND I put up 8 fics instead of 7). I feel like that deserves sooome “oh you old so and so!” But no. Everybody’s distracting by the ✨kissing✨

She stilled as a pair of arms wrapped around her hips. Through their multiple layers, she could feel him all the same pressed against her back. Neither moved. He had even stopped breathing.

👀👀👀 ooooooo, lol I love Logan taking risks romantically. He basically has to because Louise would never without like a toooon of narrative influence and introspection, but he’s also very stubborn and (in my headcanons) worries about being loved. It leads to him ALSO not wanting to take the first step, but anytime a character goes “actually, wait, no, yeah I’m gonna do it” my heart does little flips. Awkward characters arent my cup of tea, and, while he may be an idiot, Logan’s confident about it.

“You didn’t know? You lose a lot of heat in the neck,” and he punctuated the thought with what could have been a kiss, but all she could focus on was the breath ghosting over her pulse point.

Have y’all seen The Waitress (the movie)? There’s this scene where she’s in the kitchen and the doctor is kissing her neck, and the whole time I’m like “more of this always and forever”

Grabbing the handle, Logan didn’t bother with a bowl and scooped straight from the pot.

King of dumbass bachelor behavior

That still didn’t give him the right to come into her apartment with his words, and his face, and his arms and-

A line that I can hear lol

“I don’t care.” Logan stuck his nose in the air. “I know what I’m worth, and it’s at least ten minutes of being little spoon.”

Fucking love this whole exchange about being the little spoon. This is where the fic originated (an idea of Louise and Logan arguing about who was going to get to be little spoon), so it kind of read like it’s the heart of the fic. To me at least!

“I hate how beds are cold when you first get in,” Louise said to the ceiling, “and you have to lay there for a bit until it warms up.”

“That’s most things though, isn’t it?” Logan shrugged and shuffled to also talk to the ceiling. “You have to jump in then adjust.”

What is this? Literary devices maybe? Dramatic irony perhaps? I may be laying it on a bit thick, but I was excited for this part because it’s like “yeah it’s new and that’s different but it’ll be good if you give it a chance. And if it never warms up then you jump out, but like wouldn’t you rather try to be cozy if that’s what you want anyway?”

He whistled, and she tilted to find him staring at the wall where her hwandudaedo was mounted.

Trying to find a sword for Louise sent me on an hour long quest where I absolutely got distracted and starting watching “rusty sword restored” type videos. The ones that kinda sound like asmr? Yeah those. I retained NONE of the sword knowledge.

She was wearing his shirt.

The wearing of another character’s clothes in my writing is a pretty good indication that something sexy is about to happen in the next ten lines or so.

His hand slipped under one, and the chill of his fingers hit her bare skin. Much like the dripping faucet, it shocked her but in a way that made her feel alive.

Connecting a line later on back to the intro is something that can actually be so personal

“What?” Logan asked then nosed under her beanie, his cheek brushing against her ear. “Jeez!”

She jerked away at the sudden noise, turning to glare at him. “Ow! Be careful, that’s my ear you’re yelling in.”

If you’re worried about writing sexy, write something unsexy to put in there. It eases your own nerves, makes it feel more realistic, and give your characters something to joke about (and humor is very very sexy)

The “Oh fuck” fell out of his mouth like it had been waiting on his tongue for too long. His hand agreed, shooting up from her waist and into her hair, and pulling her to him for a kiss. Her similar habit of not backing down led her to deepen their passion until both were left breathless.

Again, they parted with matching shudders. Logan’s choke for air halfway made it out of his mouth before he swallowed it back down. He angled his chin in tiny measures but didn’t come closer even as his lips stayed parted with all the wanting and hoping neither could verbalize.

This bit came to me while I was in the shower. I have never once interrupted my showers for anything, not god, king, or country, but I damn near bust my ass slipping out of the bathroom to write this down.

She angled to give him more room but let a whisper escape her. “So good.”

Stuck just before another bite, he stilled.

“Again,” he said, rough and desperate.

Me, chanting and beating on the table: praise kink, praise kink, praise kink. But then also continuing to play with the power dynamics by having him make a demand while being horned up? (Double tucks my hair) not so bad if I do say so myself

The power came back at eight that night, but Louise and Logan decided they wanted to pretend for a little while longer.

They didn’t fuck btw. I know I know, but consider the horrible wonderful build up to their actual sex scene? Hm? Anyway, loooved how this ended, and I hope y’all did too!

#babsbles #asks #fic #thank you for sending the ask!! it amazes me that people want to know this stuff and I am genuinely so grateful #you are so sweet!! 💕💕#halfway through the asks gang 😂😂

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currantlee · 2 years

Text

Be My Guest

(Ao3)

After meeting up at Quadratum and showing her the city, Sora decides to invite Kairi to his apartment.

~ 2.2k Words. Rated G (General Audiences). Written for SoKai Week 2022.

Author's Note: Can you believe SoKai Week is already over again? It was such a blast this year! My huge Thank You goes to the organizers @sokaiweek and of course to all the wonderful participants. You guys are amazing!

This one is for all of you.

“So,” Kairi asked, “where are we going next?”

They would have to stay at Quadratum for a while longer, seeing as they hadn’t figured out a way to return to their own reality yet – and they still had things to do here. Apparently Riku was here too, looking for him, but they both hadn’t seen or met him yet. Hopefully he was doing okay, but then again, it was Riku they were talking about. Sora was sure he was alright. They just had to find him.

There was something else, but… Sora wasn’t sure how much sense it made to pursue this. Maybe he was just chasing ghosts, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It always came back to him, no matter how hard he tried to forget about it.

For now, he had decided to show Kairi the city in hopes of running into Riku somewhere, however, it was getting late. “We should probably find some place to sleep.” At least for her. He could just return to his apartment…

Wait. He had shown her the entire city, but not the place he lived at yet. He couldn’t let it remain that way! “There is one last place I’d really like to show you though.”

“Okay,” Kairi smiled. “I’ll follow you.”

He returned her smile and took her hand.

The building wasn’t too far away – maybe a fifteen minute walk. They wouldn’t even have to take the subway. Sora’s feet were a bit tired from walking pretty much all day, and he guessed Kairi’s were too, but the subways were usually pretty stuffed at this hour. He much preferred the fresh air and the warm light of the early evening sun over a crowded, tight, loud space. Not that he hated subways – they were amazing, at least if they weren’t too crowded, and Sora enjoyed taking them to get around from time to time.

“So, what exactly are you going to show me?”, Kairi asked.

Sora debated if he wanted to surprise her – he kind of wanted to, but then again, what if she felt uncomfortable with the idea? He sighed. “I… I’d like to show you the place I’ve been living at ever since I came here.” His cheeks felt warm – he was probably blushing. “Is that… Would that be alright with you?”

To his surprise, Kairi smiled widely. “I was hoping you’d show me your place eventually,” she confessed. “I just wasn’t sure if I should ask… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Realizing that they both were still a bit shy around each other, Sora giggled. “Glad to know I’m not the only one of us who is still a bit… You know.”

Sora didn’t know how exactly to describe it. He was so happy to have her around now, after a whole year spent apart. At the same time, what was between them now was still so new… And it had happened so fast, almost unexpected.

He was still processing their first kiss that happened earlier at a park, when they had been alone hidden behind some bushes. They both just didn’t want to wait any longer. They couldn’t. And so, they had exchanged a quick, shy kiss in secrecy, hidden away from the public, but still at the risk of being caught. It had been exciting in a way, and now they had something that was only theirs. A little secret they shared, at least for now. He wanted to do that again.

Yet, Sora still wasn’t sure what that little kiss made them now. Were they still friends, or something else?

“Hello, earth to Sora!”, Kairi laughed and waved her hand in front of his face.

“Huh?”

“In which direction do we need to go?”

“Oh.” He bashfully scratched the back of his head. “Come on, this way.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the building that the apartment was located at. Sora was sharing it with a young woman named Strelitzia, whom he was sure Kairi would become fast friends with.

They were both tired of walking, plus the apartment wasn’t on one of the lower floors. Therefore, they decided to take the elevator, which they fortunately was already on the ground floor as they entered the building. Sora couldn’t wait to get back to the apartment, relax a little bit, maybe cook something for the two of them, and… Oh. She still had to find a place to sleep. That probably meant she wouldn’t be able to stay for long.

He sighed, pressed the button for the 13th floor and the elevator doors closed.

Sora turned back to Kairi. “There is a bed and breakfast down the street.” He had never stayed there himself, but Strelitzia worked there part-time. “It looks cozy, and the prices are pretty reasonable. Maybe you could stay there for now?”

“Sounds good,” Kairi said. “I’m gonna check it out later.”

Sora only noticed now how close they were standing to each other again, and in particular how close their faces were. The elevator was fairly small.

Quadratum made a lot of colors appear washed out, but Kairi’s eyes not only retained their beautiful indigo color that Sora wanted to sink into, but seemed even more vibrant. The cold light in the elevator made them appear more blue than usual, like the deepest, peaceful sea. Just looking at them made Sora feel calm and relaxed.

They had some privacy here. If he tilted his head a little, then they could…

Sora carefully touched her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb, kind of testing the waters. “Can we kiss again?” He felt a bit stupid asking, but he wanted to make sure that she was alright with this.

Kairi took his hand into hers and smiled. “I’d love to.”

Sora couldn’t help but smile too when he heard those words. He leaned in, and once their noses almost touched, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t wait to feel her lips on his aga-…

Ding!

The elevator held, and the doors opened.

Well, apparently their kiss would have to wait a little longer. Sora intertwined their fingers. “Come on!”

He led her from the elevator to the door of the apartment. Strelitzia should be home at this time of the day. Sora couldn’t wait to introduce the two of them to each other, he was sure they would get along. Kairi was kind, and just the kind of person Strelitzia would grow to feel comfortable around.

One advantage of being a Keyblade wielder was that he never had to fumble with his keys and look for the right one. Instead, he could just looked around quickly to make sure they weren’t being watched before summoning Kingdom Key and point it at the apartment door to unlock it, even on this side of reality. It opened with a quiet click .

Sora pulled the door open for her. “Be my guest?”

Kairi giggled. “Sure!” And with that, she took his invitation.

Sora followed her into the apartment and closed the door behind them. “Welcommph!”

He had barely turned around when Kairi grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him down, smashing their lips together. Auugh, why couldn’t she have been more gentle… But Sora couldn’t care less once he felt her warm, soft lips moving against his, and one of her hands moving up to his neck, while the other wandered down to his chest, right where his heart was. Well, apparently she was just as impatient as he was. Not that he would complain about that – quite the opposite!

Sora closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her, and let himself melt into the kiss.

Their first kiss back at the park had been magical, but also shy and reserved. This one was completely different – raw, messy, and longing.

Kairi flicked her tongue against his lips, and Sora opened his mouth with a sigh. Yes. Yes, he wanted her in there so badly, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that.

He let out a quiet moan when Kairi started exploring his mouth, and pulled her closer as he let her continue. Gawsh, he was enjoying this! He had missed her so much, but this… This more than made up for it.

Sora wanted this to continue forever, so when Kairi pulled away ever so slightly to catch a breath, he let out a quiet whine. Why couldn’t this last just a little bit longer?

Kairi started to gently massage his scalp, and her fingers tangled in his hair. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he gasped. He hadn’t realized how out of breath he was until now. “Kairi, I missed you so much…”

Sora leaned in for another kiss – he couldn’t get enough of this, and enough of her. He wanted to know what she felt and tasted like, and Kairi opened her lips for him to find out. He carefully ran his tongue across her lips before he slipped inside.

This kiss turned more gentle than their last, but it was just as good. Kairi lovingly rubbed her tongue against his as she let him explore her mouth. She still tasted like the ice cream they had shared earlier, but there was another kind of taste that Sora couldn’t quite define. It was Kairi’s very own unique taste, and Sora couldn’t get enough of it.

He moved one of his hands to the back of her head to deepen the kiss, as Kairi gently started to push back a bit, and the kiss turned into more of a playful, experimental fight.

If Sora was to be concerned, then this could have gone on forever, but unfortunately, they both still had to breathe. He gasped for air as they parted, a thin string of salvia still connecting their mouths.

“… Wow,” Sora murmured, still a bit out of breath. He was at a loss for words to describe what he had just experienced. “Just… Wow.”

Kairi wrapped her arms around him, nuzzled her head on his chest, and sighed. “I liked that,” she said. “Do you want to continue?”

“Uh, Sora?”

He turned around and saw Strelitzia standing in the hallway.

“Who is this?”

“Er…” Well, that was awkward. He let go of Kairi, and bashfully scratched the back of his head. He had almost forgotten about Strelitzia being home. “This is Kairi.”

“Oh, so you’re Sora’s girlfriend?”

“She’s not my…”

Sora sighed. He had told Strelitzia about Kairi before of course, but he hadn’t expected her to draw this conclusion. He didn’t even know if Kairi was alright with being referred to as his girlfriend, or if she would prefer another term like ‘partner’. There was so much they still had to work out about their relationship together… But for now, he just wanted to express what she meant to him.

“She is someone very special to me,” he explained.

“And he is someone very special to me,” Kairi said warmly while taking his hand, squeezing it lightly. “And who are you?”

“I-I’m just his roommate,” Strelitzia stammered, clearly trying to make herself seem less important than she was. Maybe she was worried that Kairi might be jealous. “My name is Strelitzia.”

“She is also a very good friend,” Sora added. “But yeah, we’re roommates.”

“Yes,” Strelitzia nodded. “Now, uhm, if you’ll excuse me…”

Before any of them could say anything more, she had already dashed into her room, locking the door behind her. Sora sighed.

“She’s pretty shy, isn’t she?”

He nodded. “She is. I’m sure she’ll come around again eventually though.”

“I see,” Kairi said. “Let’s give her some space for now.”

“Yeah.” There wasn’t any use in going after Strelitzia – it would only put pressure onto her.

“So,” Kairi said, “you two are sharing this place then?”

“Yup!”

Even though it could never compare to home, Sora was pretty proud of it. When he had arrived here, the apartment had been furnished pretty spartanically, safe for Strelitzia’s room, but in the past few weeks, they had turned it into a very lovely space together. Some of the furniture they had bought second-hand, some had been given to him by neighbors who didn’t need it anymore, and some they had newly bought in a collaborative effort. They still weren’t done completely, but Sora already loved coming back there after a long day of fighting monsters on the streets, or a longer trip outside of the city. He was excited that he finally got to show this pace to Kairi, and maybe his other friends too someday.

Also… He should probably be a better host. “Let me put your coat away for you,” he suggested as he reluctantly loosened his hug, not wanting to let her go again. “And oh, can I offer you something?”

“Thanks,” Kairi smiled as she turned around so he could take her coat off. “A glass of water would be nice.”

“With or without gas?”

“Without, please.”

“Alright.” Sora hung her coat on the wardrobe before kneeling down to take his shoes off. “Just sit down and relax, okay?” This was going to be an amazing evening.

#Kingdom Hearts #KH Fanfiction #Sora #Kairi #SoKai #SoKaiWeek #SoKaiWeek2022 #KH4 #KH4 Spoilers #Fanwork #Fanfiction #KH Fanwork #Reading #Currantlee here #Currantlee writing

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solar-halos · 2 months

Text

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo: the weird stuff

mk. this reminded me of the west side story discourse where someone said it was really disappointing that characters like anita really wanted to assimilate because it showed how they were putting whiteness on a pedestal. but can i tell you a secret?

i can’t think of anyone on my non-white side of the family that doesn’t put whiteness on a pedestal. the first thing my dad did when he came here was assimilate. when you’re told that anything other than whiteness is weird and strange and undesirable, you’re going to do everything in your power to distance yourself from that. obviously, my dad and the rest of his community is at fault for perpetuating that attitude—for actually believing that whiteness inherently has more value than their actual identity—but let’s not ignore the root of the problem: in the US, white people—especially wealthy white people—like you more of if you assimilate. that’s not to say that they’re gonna respect you, or even be fucking nice to you, but i think it’s very understandable why people like my dad or fictional characters like anita thought that assimilation was their only option to live the american dream. i know im not explaining this very well, because i have no idea what its like to move to another country and immediately get picked out as “other,” so this is just me saying what i’ve noticed from observing people in my family

with that being said, it absolutely makes sense why evelyn repressed her cuban heritage for so long. monique is a separate issue, because i think the author wrote her very poorly from the get-go (like, seriously? killing off her black parent but then keeping in the white patent is such a tired trope, but it might even be something she did subconsciously bc she’s obviously not going to be familiar with writing the dynamics of a biracial family other than the very basic blurbs of “everyone disapproved of my parents relationship” that was regurgitated throughout the entire story)

anyway. back to evelyn. it was really disappointing that her cuban identity was consistently only mentioned in passing throughout the entire story. i thought we were gonna be building up to something—anything—but all that happened is that evelyn moved to spain. which is another thing that’s so fucking crazy to me. dialects can be tricky, and the author certainly acknowledged that, but i have friends who grew up with mexican spanish being their first language that cannot understand different dialects from places like argentina and (you guessed it!) spain. and then saying “mexican spanish” and “argentinian spanish” is an oversimplication in itself, cos there’s plenty of dialects within that.

i don’t know. i guess what i’m trying to say is that, at first, in the 50s, it really makes sense why evelyn completely ignored that side of herself. i thought it was bc she couldn’t afford to think that way, but now it’s just obvious that the author had no idea how to develop that storyline bc she’s not cuban, she’s not hispanic, she’s just a white woman writing a cuban character. and, honestly? im not going to claim that i’ve exclusively written what i know, because ragging on her for writing a character she’s not exactly like would be so hypocritical of me. i write annie cresta as a woc all the fucking time, even though i’m white passing, so i’m not going to sit here and say that the author should only write people that look like her. but the stuff i include about annie that i’m not personally familiar with is either based on experiences i’ve witnessed or feelings im familiar with (like the feeling of not really fitting in to either side of my family, or even feeling like i “belong” too much to a certain side), so i think that maybe she should have tried to put more effort into that. i’m not sure how, because i know studying something doesn’t atomically mean you know have a personal connection to it, but i feel like it could have made evelyn’s experiences feel more organic. she kind of reminded me of rita hayworth, except, yk, rita hayworth was kinda just white mixed with white. but it was the 50s! anything that wasn’t all-american was somehow a threat, so maybe she could have gone down that route? like, yeah, rita was still white, but she still got a whole chunk of her identity erased. like im not sure what specific type of white the author is but maybe that would be more in her ballpark

also. i tried not to read other people’s thoughts on this bc i didn’t want it to heavily influence mine but i saw someone say that she catered completely to the male gaze with her relationship with celia. and as a queer woman, im gonna say i don’t think so. like, there was a weird moment where evelyn said that celia’s obsession with her tits mirrored all the straight men she’s been with before, but i took that as a 1950s-not-really-concerned-about-the-nuances-of-sexuality thing. but reading other people’s opinions i will admit that maybe that wasn’t the authors intent when writing that, so maybe it was just a happy coincidence that she wrote something like that in a very hostile time period so that she could just use the “but it was the 50s!!” excuse if someone started questioning it. also, someone said that the last thing on a woman’s mind when kissing another woman is how different they are from men, but i think we’re gonna need the older sapphics to weigh in on this. like, again: it was the 50s. evelyn was fucking scared. she had no idea what bisexuality was. and then she’s suddenly kissing a woman. she’s kissing a woman, even though she “should” be kissing a man (1950s rhetoric), and that’s scary and celia is so different than anyone (men) she’s kissed before, but it somehow works? like she’s softer and has a more feminine figure and is nothing like a man, but that doesn’t matter to evelyn bc she loves her anyway. that’s what i got from her immediately comparing celia’s figure/physique to don’s. she wasn’t necessarily comparing it to say which one was better; she was pointing out how, despite all those differences, the kiss still felt right anyway. it felt good anyway, even though everyone (aka the homophobes) said it shouldn’t

so i guess what im trying to say is that evelyn ignoring her heritage and making homophobic comments seemed more like a product of her time and internalized hatred that she needed to work through. for me, the problem arises when she doesn’t work through it because the author had no idea how to approach the issue. and im sorry maybe this is internalized queerphobia on my part, but i really didn’t have an issue with how evelyn and celia’s relationship was portrayed. like i mentioned in my first post, the stuff they said to each other was genuinely so romantic. i’m not saying the portrayal wasn’t flawed at all, because i could certainly tell that the author probably wasn’t queer while i was reading it, but i’d take this to “love, simon” any day. like i know that author is bi, so i did enjoy “leah on that off beat” in middle school, but her writing about gay men gave me the same vibe as the author of this book writing about sapphic lovers 😭😭 like it was cute i guess (from what i remember) but you could tell that this was uncharted territory for both of them

however, i do understand that a white woman writing poc into her stories is taking away platforms for woc women to write woc characters. people are always like “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” which i don’t think is true. like i said, writing annie cresta as someone who isn’t white passing even though im white passing myself is kinda the same thing as what this author is doing, but i think something that makes or breaks how u do this is writing about what u personally know, even if it’s just a little bit, so you have something to build off of. (i’m also adding a disclaimer here saying that even though i am writing what i know, that absolutely doesn’t mean there isn’t room for nuance. what im doing is flawed in itself, too. there’s no defending that, either. it’s just more authentic to me than writing about an all-white family, bc id have no idea where to start. but this isn’t even about me sorry im just trying to say that people acting like its impossible to write characters that aren’t exactly like you in a way that’s still authentic isn’t really true, it’s just harder)

as i was saying, the author is writing about what she knows, too, but since she’s just white, she’s not gonna know much unless she goes out of her way to try. i just don’t understand why she didn’t go down the rita hayworth route. it’s the approach i personally would have taken. because, even though i dont know what its like to be spanish—this author probably doesn’t, either—the experience of being Othered bc of very minor deviances of anglo saxon beauty is something i can relate to. i never say “my hair is too light” i always say “my nose is too big.” that’s not exclusively a nonwhite problem, and i think that’s where the author messed up. she shouldn’t *only* write what she knows, per se, but she should definitely be writing about things she’s familiar with. and i know im talking about myself way too much, but i just think it’s weird that even though im someone who isn’t technically only white, i still would feel more comfortable writing a person from more modern history that is (annie being in panem gave me a lot of leeway), so i don’t know why she felt comfortable writing a person that isn’t

uh oh. this post got very very long. but i guess what im trying to say is that evelyn’s struggle with her identity was less authentic as the story progressed, and that was solely because the author didn’t know how to make it feel organic, which is super unfortunate. also, new talking point: no fucking way would harry and evelyn be like “welp. the only way for us to have a bio baby is to raw dog it.” like WHAT? again i’m sapphic and i like men but if that were me we’d have to figure SOMETHING out, im not having actual sex with someone when i have a girl. like idk just the thought of putting the work in is nauseating to me, she literally just needed the sperm so harry could have jacked off or something. tbh i don’t rlly wanna think about this. maybe it’s the asexual in me

conclusion: if i’m having these thoughts, as someone who is kinda white, how much more severe is it for people who aren’t? like atp the author needs to just stop writing hispanic characters it’s like a theme for her and no one is ever fucking happy about it

#dear diary #long post #probably the longest ever #it was just on my mind #bc it sucks that the whole time i was reading it i was like #this is fine. but it could have been really good #and i’m not even talking about the writing bc god knows i have no place to talk #it was just the fact that the author was trying to act like the CEO of issues like racism and homophobia as a straight white person #like girl…

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huggingkoalas · 5 months

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Hiii it’s starysky on my main <3

How about Vanessa and reader in very gentle, soft smut? Maybe just some snuggles turn to something else. If u want to ofc

If u want ofc, your writings really good from what I’ve seen!

𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 | vanessa shelly

pairing — ‧₊˚ vanessa shelly x fem!reader

summary — ‧₊˚ vanessa comes home after a tiring day of work. the both of you spend time snuggling and decide to take the relationship to the next level.

word count — ‧₊˚ 1.5k

warning(s) — ‧₊˚ smut, fluff, vaginal fingering, oral sex, pet names, praising, teasing, top!vanessa, bottom!reader, established relationship

authors note — ‧₊˚ i’ve never written smut before, so please forgive me if it’s not what you expected <3 i tried to do gentle, soft smut at first but i might’ve gone a little too crazy in the end :’)

As the moon hung low in the night sky, casting a gentle glow over the town, Vanessa trudged wearily through the front door of the shared, cosy apartment. the day had been long and demanding, filled with the challenges of police work. Fatigue clung to her every step, but the thought of coming home to you, her loving partner, fueled a spark of warmth within.

The aroma of a home-cooked meal lingered in the air, a thoughtful gesture from you eased the exhaustion that etched across her face. The soft light of the living room revealed you waiting on the sofa, sitting in a comforting sanctuary of cushions and blankets.

You looked up, concern etched on your face as Vanessa closed the house’s door. “Rough day?” You asked, your voice a soothing calm.

Vanessa managed a tired smile. “You have no idea. But seeing you makes it all better.”

Without a word, you rose and enveloped her in a hug, the day’s weariness momentarily forgotten. the weight of the police uniform seemed to lift as your arms wrapped around her.

“I missed you.” You whispered, planting a gentle kiss on Vanessa’s forehead. Even if you couldn’t relate to what she was feeling, the least you could do was be there emotionally for your girlfriend.

“I missed you too.” Vanessa replied, her voice filled with gratitude.

You got onto one knee, helping to untie her shoelaces and loosening the cuffs around her shoes. She hummed a ‘thank you’ as she stepped off her boots, flexing her tired feet on the floor. You picked up the black boots and placed them on the shoe rack beside the door before returning to Vanessa.

The both of you settled onto the sofa, with Vanessa’s back to your front. your fingers gently traced circles on her back. The quiet hum of the town outside became a distant murmur, replaced by the calming heartbeat of the shared solitude.

You could sense the need for comfort and pulled the hair tie from Vanessa’s hair, her blonde hair falling to frame her face. She let out a small sigh as your fingers gently massaged her scalp to ease her tiredness.

“Tell me about your day.” You encouraged.

Vanessa sighed, the fatigue evident in her voice. “It’s just one of those days, you know? The kind where everything seems to be harder than usual. I was called to stop a drunk man from shooting another customer in a bar during an argument. it was hard to pin him down because of how big and tall he was. he even called me a ‘small lady’.”

You pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “It’s alright, Nessy. Eventhough he called you a ‘small lady’, you have the biggest heart I know. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. I’m proud of you, you know. The work you do is important, but so is taking care of yourself. Let me help you unwind, alright?”

They settled into a gentle rhythm of conversation, interspersed with moments of quiet understanding. Your fingers continued their soothing dance, gently massaging Vanessa’s head, nape and shoulders to ease her exhaustion. As the night wore on, the fatigue that had clung to her like a heavy cloak began to loosen its grip.

In a tender moment, Vanessa turned to her side to nestle her nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “You always smell like home.” She mused, a smile playing on their lips.

You chuckled, the sound a soft melody in the quiet room. “Well, I’m glad my scent has that effect on you. Must be my secret weapon.”

Vanessa lifted her head, meeting your eyes with a playful grin. “Consider me enchanted then. You’re my favourite scent in the world.”

You blushed, feeling a flutter in your chest. “And you’re mine.”

As the night unfolded, the day’s weariness faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of shared love and the simple joy of being together. In the embrace of their sanctuary, Vanessa began to pepper kisses on your neck, her hands playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Nessy?” You whispered, letting out a small moan as she bit on your pulse point. She smoothened the bite with her tongue before giving a final kiss on it.

“Hmm?” Vanessa teased, her fingers going under your shirt to scratch her nails on your stomach. “I just want to show you how much I appreciate you. From cooking me meals everyday to being there for me when I need it the most. Let me show you how much I love you, please?”

You were momentarily speechless, taking time to register her words. The both of you had never gone ‘second base’. It was because Vanessa told you she wanted to take her time with you and that she ‘wasn't ready yet’. You had agreed, saying that you were also not ready to take the next step in your relationship.

“Alright.” You rasped, your cheeks turning a bright red.

You switched your position from sitting on the sofa to lying horizontally, your head resting on the sofa’s handrests. Vanessa straddled your thighs, looking down at you with an endearing look. “I love you. If I hurt you, squeeze my arm, alright?”

You merely nodded, letting her take control. “I love you too, Nessy.”

With a smile, Vanessa began to loosen the black tie around her neck. She pulled the tie off and placed it on the coffee table. She slowly unbuttoned her blue dress shirt, your heart hammering in your chest as more of her chest became visible. Your eyes dropped to her rounded breasts, covered in a black lacy bra. This wasn't your first time seeing her half-naked, but it still made your heart flutter everytime.

You felt lightheaded as Vanessa’s eyes locked with yours, a playful smile on her lips. She gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your body. She shifted her body lower, pulling your pants off your legs. You whimpered as she did so, your bare skin being exposed to the cool air.

“Mmm, are you wet for me?” Vanessa murmured, her eyes resting on the wet spot on your panties.

She bit onto the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down as her eyes locked onto yours. You couldn’t hold back a moan at that gesture, your chest beginning to rise and fall quicker from the heat of the moment.

Vanessa grabbed your thighs to spread them apart, your glistening heat shining from the lighting in the living room. She looked up at you for final confirmation.

“Ready?” She asked, squeezing your thighs. You nodded in confirmation, straining your neck to get a better look at her.

Vanessa began licking on your clit enthusiastically, the sounds coming from her action made her seem like she was a feral cat that hadn’t drank in days. Your hands gripped onto the sofa as you let out soft moans. She wrapped your clit with her mouth, lapping up your juices. Your moans became louder, your grip on the sofa switching to hold the hair on her scalp. Your hips jerked up in time with her licks, your hands on her head guiding her movements. Vanessa let out a hum, sending vibrations to your clit.

“N-Nessy, stop teasing me, please.” You strained out, your voice full of need.

At your words, Vanessa released her right hand from your thigh. She let go of her mouth from your heat and inserted two fingers instead. your hips buckled up in response, and your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you closed your eyes tightly.

“Look at me.” Vanessa commanded, moving up your body to lay hickeys on your neck. You glanced down, your eyes darkening at the sight of her. “You’re so wet for me, little bunny. You’re being such a good girl for me.”

It was the first time Vanessa was as rough as this with you. You couldn’t deny that you liked this newfound part of her, though. Your back arched off the sofa, seeking more contact with her body.

“God, keep going Nessy, please.” Your voice came out as a whine as you felt your orgasm nearing closer.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, scratching her back as you felt your legs tremble. Vanessa pressed her fingers to the sweet spot inside you and rubbed your clit faster.

“Cum for me, bunny.” She grinned, leaning in to press her lips to yours as you came on her fingers, soaking them. Your grip on her back loosened as you came down from your high, feeling breathless.

Vanessa removed her fingers from your heat, wiping your juices on her clothed thigh. She let out a nervous smile, giving your cheek a quick kiss. “Are you okay? I hope I wasn’t too rough on you.”

You returned her smile, sighing in happiness. “I’m alright. you were perfect.”

In that moment of connection, Vanessa lifted her hand to gently cup your cheek. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned in, closing the small gap between both of you. Her lips brushed against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The room was filled not only with the scent of the shared passion but also with a quiet understanding that their connection had reached a new, intimate level.

“I love you, Nessy.” You whispered into the kiss.

“I love you too.” Vanessa replied endearingly, smiling into the kiss.

#lumi’s fics!#vanessa shelly #vanessa afton #vanessa monroe #elizabeth lail #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf vanessa #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fanfic #smut #wlw

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life-of-clexa · 10 months

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Let me just say that this is the first time I’ve ever written something like this, I’m not the best writer but I am proud of it and wanted to post somewhere. Please give me some tips on how to improve it, and also don’t be afraid to tell me if you don’t like something.(Sidenote: Clarke is not dead, I know it seems that way, but she’s not I swear. Also it won’t turn out to just be platonic I promise) I’d love to continue this but it would require me having some help from somebody. If you’re interested or have any ideas for how to continue please let me know!😊❤️

THEN: The first thing she remembers is blue. Just blue. The kind of blue that artists paint the oceans with, or crystal clear water. So much blue she thought she could die right there, staring at a complete stranger with luscious blonde hair, and deep blue eyes, a woman whom she had never met before, but felt like she had known her entire life. A hand reached out to shake her own "Clarke. Nice to meet you." "Lexa, nice to meet you too. Have you been here before? I feel like I know you..." Blue eyes stared back at hers with a glint in them. "No, but I get that a lot, I think it's the eyes, people tend to find comfort in them I guess." "That makes sense" Lexa responded, "Well I guess we better get to work then huh?" she questioned. All she got was a small, but polite smile in return. From then on they were the best of friends. There wasn't a single day that they weren't together, and there was nothing that could keep them apart.

NOW: Tired green eyes cracked open to see the sun peeking through the window, they explored, made note of the dresser across the room, the familiar face in the lone picture frame. Blue eyes squinting with happiness, smile so wide she could swear she saw it touch the ears of the beautiful blonde subject of the photo. They shifted over to the old sketchbook sitting on the edge. Memories came flooding back of sneaking glances just to see the beautiful drawings that the artist created. They jumped to the nightstand next to the bed, the phone that sat on it, quietly buzzing. A long arm with quite a unique tattoo climbing up the bicep reached out to grab it. "Hello?" a hoarse crack in the words. "We're going out tonight, be ready by 10!" A voice shrilled from the other end of the line, "Anya I really don't feel like it. It's just too soon." she rasped and hung up the phone. It rang again. She ignored it. This went on for about twenty minutes until she finally picked up the phone again. "Alexandra Hope Woods!" Her sister berated her for hanging up, "It's been a year, you have to get out there at some point." "Exactly Anya, it's been a year, exactly one year since my life was torn to shreds. Like a tiger devouring its meal." Lexa reminded her. Anya sighed and shook her head, though the other girl couldn't see it, she knew what she was about to say. "If you don't at least try, you're never going to get back on your feet..." she whispered. "Anya I don't want to! I was happy then, and that was taken from me, so unless you can reverse time and draw my past back to the present, I'm never going to be able to get over it! The only reason I stayed is because I made a promise, and I'm not breaking a promise to someone that isn't even here to defend it." She hung up the phone again. Lexa felt bad for yelling at her sister, so she decided to shoot her a quick text. "I'm sorry. I'm just not ready yet. I don't know that I'll ever be. I just need time." And that was the end of it.

#clexa au #clexa #clexa fanfic #lexa woods #clexa ao3

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heytherejulietx · 3 years

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him - jughead jones

read on ao3 here

↳ a / n - inspired by a prompt that i found on pinterest that was based around the idea of a trauma reveal. this is like the most angsty fic i’ve written so enjoy ajshwjsj

↳ content warnings - violence, implied violence, depictions of torture, swearing, angst, also i’m terrible at endings rip

↳ 4.6k word count

↳ masterlists

@bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @literarygetaway21 @justanotherkpopstanlol @firewhiskey-kisses @amberritonicole @freezing82 @mullysmyheart @3rrrr0r @alllthingsart @luvhann join my tag list

“we got them.”

the text from jughead had caused a relieved sigh to pass her lips as she started walking towards the whyte wyrm, where the gang were. there had been someone riling up the serpents for a while; trashing their bikes, leaving threatening messages, calling the cops on them, etcetera etcetera. it had been happening for a good few weeks to a month at that point, and the serpents had all been losing hope in finding whoever it was. most if not all of the serpents thought it was an old member of the ghoulies; it wouldn’t make too much sense if it was someone else.

y/n allowed herself to breath out a relieved sigh as she opened the doors to the whyte wyrm and stepped inside. now that they had caught this guy, hopefully everything would stop. the bar was empty when she had stepped inside, and she assumed that the bar had been cleared out to keep a hold of and question the asshole. she had noticed outside that fp’s bike was nowhere to be seen, and realised that he didn’t know about what was going on. if he did, there was no way that he would have let jughead do it alone.

when she had stepped inside she could hear shouting around the back, and hugged her jacket tighter to herself as she went through the doors at the back to get to the storage room, where she realised they were holding him. she didn’t particularly like seeing her boyfriend in interrogation mode, as he barely ever shouted when she was with him, but since being in the serpents she had seen that side of him more and more. jughead didn’t scare her, shouting made her nervous, no matter who it was from.

toni was stood by the door when she got to the storage room, and she gave her friend a small smile as she approached.

“were they a ghoulie?” she asked, and toni shrugged.

“i don’t know, jughead said he thinks he recognised him but he’s not certain.” the pink-haired girl shrugged with a sigh. having someone constantly harassing the serpents had taken its toll on everyone, and y/n could see how tired they were. she hoped it all was about to end.

y/n nodded and gave toni a quick hug before she pulled the door open and stepped inside, bracing herself for whatever was about to happen. all of the boxes in the room had been shoved to one wall to make room for the chair that sat underneath the light. from where jughead was stood she couldn’t quite see the guy’s face, though she took note of the duct tape that had him bound to the chair, and was relieved that he didn’t have a chance to get violent. if he really was a ghoulie, it was a precaution that had to be taken; they were pretty well known for their violence. sweet pea leaned against the left wall and fangs was stood beside the door, and she gave the boys a small smile as she shut the door behind her again.

“who’s this?” the strained voice from the middle of the room sounded strangely familiar, but she didn’t have time to focus on it too much as a groan filled the room when jughead kicked his leg. hard.

“shut your mouth, “ he warned, and when she glanced up at him she could see his blade glinting underneath the light. “you’d better start answering our questions.”

jughead started pacing the room then, and once he was out of the way y/n could see who was in the chair. and her stomach twisted almost painfully when she met his eyes. he was staring back at her as jughead started talking again, and when she saw the sick twisted hint of a smile at the corner of his lips she wanted to throw up.

she didn’t know his name, or where he was from, or anything about him at all. all she did know was that for just over a week, she had been held at his mercy as a favour to penny peabody.

it had been just before riot night, when jughead and penny were practically at war. jughead had explained to her after everything that penny knew she was his weakness, and used it against him. although she had never seen penny when she had been held captive, she had seen his ghoulies jacket whenever he came to see her. she didn’t even know where she was being held; in an abandoned building somewhere, so that nobody would accidentally stumble across her. for eight days she had been handcuffed to an old pipe in the freezing cold room, and subjected to the worst amounts of pain she had ever experienced. when the serpents had finally found her, she spent the week after in hospital. and then fangs was shot, and then jughead was beaten within an inch of his life, and then the harassment of the gang started back up again. after everything that had happened, it had been kind of easy to move on from her own torture, as she had countless amounts of distractions to keep her from thinking of it. though stood there in front of him, with his eyes locked on her like they did when he was about to hurt her, it all came back with a painful stab in her stomach.

she had started shaking when his smile grew into a grin, and for a moment she was scared that he would hurt her again. her vision had grown blurry with unshed tears, and she barely noticed the next time jughead had yelled at the guy.

“hows it going, y/n?”

she could see all three boys tense up when the guy spoke, and a noise that resembled a strangled whimper made it out of the back of her throat. when they had saved her, she mentioned the ghoulies jacket and briefly explained that she was hurt, but she didn’t let on to the extent of it all.

and now they were about to know everything.

she could feel their eyes all on her as the trembling grew worse and the tears started slipping down her cheeks, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from him.

“excuse me?” jughead was glancing between them, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet her boyfriend’s eyes.

“long time no see-” the man cut himself off with a grunt when jughead punched him in the stomach, and she could hear him wheeze as he dragged a breath back in. she was aware of the feeling of being winded, and could almost hear her own wheeze inhales of breath from when he had kicked her into a ball against the pipe.

fangs was at her side and she knew that he was talking to her, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. it felt like her head was underwater, and the only clear thing she could hear was him.

“you’re jughead, right?” he wheezed as he looked up at her boyfriend, and her knees almost buckled when she realised what was coming. “she begged for you.”

sweet pea had pushed himself off of the wall at that point, and she watched as his blade practically touched the guy’s face. “how the fuck do you know her?”

“she must really love you, y’know,” he was still talking to jughead, and she choked back a sob as her chest heaved. “she didn’t stop begging for you, not even when i slashed her own knife across her throat.”

her hand had unconsciously lifted to rest over her neck, where a small though noticeable scar was. he had taken her knife off of her when she had tried to defend herself, and in some sick twisted metaphor he used it on her to hurt her. when she still had a fight in her, he’d cut her neck with the blade; not enough to kill her by any means, it was only a little sting. it was to serve her a reminder that he had the power to kill her if he wanted to.

her stomach dropped the next time she felt jughead’s eyes on her, because from that statement alone they all would know exactly who he was. and now they would have to know everything that happened.

“what did you just say?” jughead spoke quietly, which in a situation like that was worse than him yelling. he always got quiet before he completely lost his shit.

“i’m saying,” the guy glared up at jughead, before he glanced back at y/n, who could barely keep herself stood up. “that i’ve probably made your girlfriend scream more than you-”

jughead punched him again, and she had started shaking so much that fangs had grown concerned enough to try to guide her out of the room, though her feet had rooted to the floor and she was completely stiffened in place. she wanted nothing more than to have run home and hidden away from everyone, but she physically couldn’t move.

“you wanna know what i did to her?” he spat blood towards jughead’s shoes, and her bottom lip quivered as he looked back at her once more. “i-”

“please don’t.”

her voice was quiet, and if she was in a normal atmosphere she probably wouldn’t have even been heard. but as soon as she had spoken the room was so silent she probably could have heard a pin drop. all of them were looking at her, and fangs had started trying to guide her out of the room again, but she still couldn’t move. the guy, who still had his eyes locked on hers, leaned forwards in his seat, and at the movement it was almost natural for her to flinch back into fangs with a stumble, and he had to hold her upright when her knees had finally given out.

he had grinned at that, and even when sweet pea had yanked him back in his seat by his hair he was still grinning. “still scared? good girl-” sweet pea had placed his knife to his throat at that, and she still couldn’t meet jughead’s eyes when he had looked over at her.

“get her out of here.” jughead’s voice was thick as he had spoken, and fangs had to all but carry her towards the door. he had wrenched the door open with one hand, and just as toni had appeared with panicked questions as she helped fangs pull her out of the door, she could hear him saying to “check her leg for my work” before he grunted again with the force of another blow.

the door had shut behind them with a loud bang, and y/n sucked in a huge breath through the sobs she was still holding back. she could hear toni ask what had happened, but everything sounded muffled through the ringing in her ears. fangs was still gently holding onto her arm, but as the memories from what had happened started filling her mind and she had a vivid image of his hand on her arm instead, she flinched away so harshly from fangs that she ended up stumbling backwards into the wall.

“shit, y/n.” fangs had stepped forwards to help stable her but she flinched again, and he rooted himself to the spot.

“i need-” her voice cracked and her chest heaved again with the will to cry. “i need to go- i need to go home.”

“okay, i’ll drive you-”

“no,” she shook her head, and clamped her hand over her mouth for a moment when the nausea came flying back with the memories. only once it had passed she removed her hand to speak again. “no, i need to walk- i can’t-” her breathing had grown heavy and as she stepped backwards again she almost fell over. toni stepped towards her to help but she stepped back again, right into a chair, and had just about managed to stabilize herself before she slipped. “i’m fine.”

she could hear fangs and toni calling for her as she walked towards the exit of the bar, and her breathing only got heavier once she had pushed the doors open and got outside. the air was cold and it didn’t do anything to help what she was feeling. she had gotten over it all; the distractions provided recently helped her move on quickly, and she barely had any time to think about what had happened to her. but seeing him again just brought it all back, and it felt like the night she had been saved all over again.

fangs and toni were still calling for her, and she sped up when she could hear their footsteps following behind her, though she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings and ended up walking right into somebody. she flinched and almost stumbled backwards on her own feet, though hands on her forearms kept her upright and she looked up with a slightly relieved feeling to see that it was fp stood in front of her.

her parents went away a lot for their work, and they were away for the time that she was recovering from what had happened to her, so once she had been discharged from hospital jughead and fp had let her stay at the trailer. she had always gotten on well with fp, though in the time that she was living with them, they had gotten close, and fp was pretty much a second father figure to her. sometimes she went over to the trailer when jughead wasn’t there, and she’d spend some time with fp while she waited for him. so she trusted him, as much as she trusted the rest of the serpents. so she didn’t pull away from the older serpent as he held her upright, though she did shrink a little under his gaze as she was still trying not to cry.

“y/n?” he asked, and she could see a concerned frown appear on his face. jughead had the exact same expression when he was worried, and the thought of him in there listening to what had happened to her caused a strangled sob to escape out of her throat. fp didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug then, and as soon as he’d held her close she gripped onto his jacket and completely broke down. she could feel his palm as it gently moved over her back, and she gripped onto him even tighter. if he minded, he didn’t say anything.

she could hear him conversing with fangs and toni, a lot of “what happened” and “is she okay?”, but for the most part she tried to block out the conversation. she didn’t want to hear their explanation, or hear fp’s reaction to it all. she didn’t hear most of it, but she knew when he had found out what happened because she could feel his grip on her grow tighter, more protective. it reminded her of jughead again and she just sobbed harder.

she didn’t know when their conversation had ended, but soon enough she could feel fp move and his arm had moved around her back, tucking her into his side as he lead her across the parking lot. he was talking to her but she couldn’t quite hear him as she continued crying, so she just stumbled along beside him until they had reached his truck. she was glad he didn’t have his bike instead. y/n watched as fp unlocked the door before he helped her into the passenger seat, and she was still crying when he gently placed his hand on her shoulder to get her to look at him.

“i’m just going inside for a few minutes then i’ll come out and drive you home, okay?”

she shook her head, and just ended up having to clamp her hand over her mouth because she couldn’t stop crying enough to form the words that she wanted to say.

“what?” fp frowned, and she felt his grip gently on her shoulder. “are your parents home?” she shook her head and he nodded. “okay, you can stay at the trailer, alright? you have things there, don’t you?” she nodded and she watched as he forced a smile. “alright, i’ll only be a few minutes.” he pressed a kiss to her forehead (that made her cry harder at the gentle action) before he stood up and gently shut the cab door behind him.

she watched him walk back towards the bar - meeting toni and fangs halfway - before they all walked back into the bar. she curled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, sobbing so hard that her chest hurt and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. now fp would go in and hear exactly what happened too, and they would all know in detail what she had been trying so hard to forget. now she would never get away from it.

true to his word, fp was only in the bar for a maximum of five minutes, and afterwards he drove her to the trailer. she hadn’t asked about what jughead was doing (he had simply told her he would be home soon), she hadn’t asked about her friends, and she most definitely hadn’t asked about him. fp kept glancing at her during the drive there, and she knew he was worried, but he had simply turned the radio on and drove in silence, which she was thankful for. she was still crying when he had gotten into the truck, and she wouldn’t have been able to stop for long enough to have a conversation.

he had helped her inside and as she changed into some of jughead’s clothes, he made her a mug of hot chocolate that he had left on jughead’s bedside table for her. thankfully, he had left her alone after that, and somewhere in between sipping the warm drink and getting comfortable underneath the covers of jughead’s bed, she had calmed down enough to stop crying. her eyes were sore and her face was flushed, and she hadn’t stopped shaking since she had first seen him, but it was a start.

around half an hour after she had gotten to the trailer, she could hear the rumble of a motorcycle outside, and with a sick feeling when she could hear the front door open she realised jughead was home. the volume of the tv out in the living room increased to mask the noise of the conversation happening, and y/n couldn’t be more thankful to fp for how he had helped her that night.

her shaking had increased whilst jughead and fp spoke in the living room, so much so that she had to put the mug down in fear of spilling any drink on jughead’s covers. would jughead want to talk to her about what happened? she didn’t think she would physically be able to say anything without breaking down again if she was honest. she just wanted to fall asleep with him holding her, and forget that anything had ever happened.

there was a gentle knock at the door before it opened, and she frowned underneath jughead’s gaze once he had stepped into the room. it had been easier the night that she was rescued; she was just so thankful that they had found her that she didn’t care that he was seeing her in such a fragile state, she just was happy to have him hold her again. but it felt different, because he had to listen in detail to what had happened. she didn’t even want to know what his reaction had been once she had left. had he stood in horrified silence and listened to the recount of her torture, or had he gotten physical? she took a glance at his knuckles as he shut the door, and once she saw the red and bruised skin there she had her answer.

jughead sighed as he walked over to the bed, and she watched with teary eyes as he slipped off his jacket and took off his hat. “y/n-”

as soon as his hand had moved to rest on her arm comfortingly she started crying again. she felt pathetic; she’s only just stopped crying for fuck sake. jughead had immediately sat down beside her once she started crying and pulled her into his embrace. she gripped onto his shirt tightly as she cried, and pressed her face into his shoulder as he held her.

“it’s okay, love, he won’t hurt you anymore.”

she wanted to tell him that she wasn’t crying because of that, and it was because everyone now knew everything that she had tried so hard to forget, but she couldn’t stop crying, so she just shook her head as she gripped onto him tighter.

jughead sighed, and she could feel his lips against the top of her head. “i’m so sorry he was there, i shouldn’t have text you. he-”

“i- i don’t want to- to know.” her chest heaved as she spoke and jughead just nodded as he held her closer.

“okay,” he whispered and sighed. “okay, sweetheart.”

she continued to cry for the next ten minutes or so, and jughead didn’t let her go for the whole time. he had constantly kept his hand rubbing her back, and littered kisses along the top of her head as he whispered soft promises of his love for her. it did help, no matter how little, and even once she had calmed down a little she refused to let go of him.

“i’m-” her breath hitched, as she still wasn’t completely calm, but jughead just waited patiently for her to finish. “i’m sorry.”

“why are you apologising?” he whispered, and when he had kissed the top of her head she almost burst into tears again.

“i didn’t want you to know what he-” her stomach lurched, and she had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. “-what happened, and you had to- you had to hear-” her voice had broken as the tears slipped down her cheeks again, and she could hear jughead mumbling apologies into her hair as he held her closer.

“shh, love,” he whispered, and y/n gripped onto him tighter as he pulled her into his lap so that he could hold her to his chest. “you’re working yourself up too much, you’re gonna make yourself sick,” she could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, and gripped onto his shirt in a fist as her chest heaved again. “it doesn’t matter that i had to-”

“yes it does!” she sobbed, and she forcefully dragged in another breath as he gripped onto her. “i didn’t want you to- now everyone knows!”

“y/n you need to calm down,” she could tell he was concerned through the tone of his voice, and how his grip on her subtly tightened. “take in a deep breath for me, love.”

y/n tried, and failed when she just continued crying, and by the time he had lifted his hands to her cheeks so that he could tilt her head up to look at him her chest was burning and her eyes were sore again. he kept one of his hands on her cheek to keep her looking at him, and she could feel his other one gently lift her hand to rest on his chest. “breathe with me, okay?”

she nodded as she flattened her palm against his chest, and her hand still shook when he had flattened his own over hers. she could feel his heartbeat drumming through his shirt and against her hand, and tried to focus on the rise and fall of his chest as she closed her eyes. it took her a few tries and a few whispered encouragements from jughead, but after a few minutes she had managed to match her breathing to his, and effectively helped her calm down.

“how’d you-” she hiccuped, and it hurt her already sore chest. “-how’d you know how to do that?”

he dropped his hand from hers and cradled her to his chest again as he leaned back against the headboard, and she closed her eyes as he held her. “when my parents used to argue and it got really bad, jellybean got panic attacks,” y/n frowned at the thought of his little sister in such a state, and let her hand gently rub his side. “i’d take her outside or into my room and it helped calm her down.”

y/n nodded against his shoulder, and sighed softly when his lips pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead. they were silent for a few moments after that, and it allowed her to calm down further. she still trembled in his arms, though aside from the occasional sniffle she had stopped crying. after everything she just felt exhausted. she just wanted to go to sleep and forget everything.

“y/n?” jughead’s soft voice broke the silence, and she nodded though she didn’t look up at him. “you can say no, but uhm… can i see your leg?”

she stiffened in his arms, and immediately he had rubbed her back and mumbled apologies into her hair. knowing what was on her leg and how it had gotten there hurt, but she knew that jughead would see it eventually anyways, whether she showed him then or not. so she slowly untangled her arm from his waist and with a shaky hand pulled up the edge of the boxers that she was wearing, to reveal the scar on the top of her thigh.

‘K. G’, it read. not only had he cut her neck with her own knife, but a few days later he had used it on her again. she could remember him saying it was so she could “never forget him” as he cut his initials into the top of her thigh, and at just of the sight of the letters embedded into her skin her eyes filled with tears once more. jughead hadn’t said anything for a moment, and when she glanced at his face his expression was unreadable. he sighed as his hand came to rest on her leg, and her bottom lip trembled as he gently ran the pad of his thumb just underneath the scar.

“i’m so sorry,” he was whispering, and she closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her forehead. “i should have been there to protect you, and i should have found you sooner. i’m so sorry he hurt you,” he was crying too when she looked up at him, and as he leaned in to kiss her their faces were wet, and the kiss tasted salty with tears. “he’ll never hurt you again, nobody will. i promise. i’d die a thousand times over before i ever let something happen to you.”

her lip trembled again and she nodded, unable to form any words as he held her close to himself again. her arms locked behind his back so that she didn’t have to let go of him, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to relax into him. he had started whispering loving things into her hair again, and as he rubbed her back it allowed her to relax somewhat. she had fallen asleep like that; listening to his soft words as her head pounded and her stomach continued to lurch. she wasn’t okay, in fact she was far from it. but with a hopeful thought as she started falling asleep in his arms, she would be.

#amber’s writing #riverdale #jughead #jughead x y/n #jughead x you #jughead x reader #jughead fluff #jughead fic #jugheadjones #jughead jones #jughead jones x y/n #jughead jones x you #jughead jones x reader #jughead jones fanfiction #sweet pea #fangs fogarty #toni topaz #fp jones #violence warning

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