#it's gonna be on the masterpost anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aquickstart · 5 months

Text

ok sure i'll talk about farleigh start. i'll talk about his tragedy of never being enough as it were and then having to deal with fucking oliver. sure. disclaimer: it's about class (and race) and the horrible reality of the rich. the horrible reality of living as farleigh.

another disclaimer: i'm white! and poc definitely pick up on everything i'm talking about here as it is, and better. i was and am specifically interested in farleigh vs. oliver but it's impossible to examine without considering race. definitely let me know if anything abt this sucks!

farleigh and oliver are similar. it's annoying because every intruder that is not himself is annoying, partly because felix's attention swaying from farleigh is dangerous; there is always a threat of being discarded, even if no precedent existed. the potential is terrifying.

but you'd think he's seen this before, every summer (if venetia is telling the truth) or at least often enough to learn to recognize it fast, so he should know this will pass. part of it is i think still the deep anxiety, and i think he hated every boy that was there before, and it is sort of routine.

but definitely a huge factor in farleigh's annoyance is the fact that he's a biracial (black for cattons, that's all they see) man in a white rich household. he's alert and exhausted all the time. of course he's angry at oliver, regardless of whether he's the first to crash at saltburn for the summer or the fifty-first.

but the important thing is this.

farleigh is very jealous of and angry and pissed at oliver because farleigh sees all the similarities between them. outsider, in financial trouble, whatever it is, in need of cattons; and yet oliver is preferred. and farleigh seems to be the only one to really consider it. felix does not pick up on the hint when farleigh brings up the birthday party vs. his mother. felix's clumsy "different or... anything like that" is as much about race as it is about class, of course. the "we've done all that we can" bit is felix absolving himself of guilt because surely they had, surely the mysterious collective cattons that he's not really part of had tried all they could do. to him, farleigh is different from oliver, because farleigh has been helped. felix is rich and white and twofold uncomfortable with farleigh, even if he's nice about it, even if he genuinely enjoys his company; he doesn't look too close at farleigh because he feels too guilty to come too close. and farleigh can't do anything about it. he can't nice himself into it. the fucking tragedy of him is that he's never enough in the world of the ultra-rich white, even if (especially because!) he's born into it.

farleigh is very pissed at oliver because farleigh also sees all the differences between them. you know who can be nice poor white enough to fit in? fucking oliver. felix says "just be yourself, they'll love you" when oliver first moves in. farleigh was also probably told the same thing, and felix also probably believed that farleigh could just be himself, but even if the cattons were magically not racist at all (impossible), it wouldn't make a difference to farleigh. he would still self-censor, keep in check, be in dangerous waters (because racism is not just about the individual, but about the system). we see that he'd won himself leeway by years of trial and error by the way he speaks to the family, but it's still within the boundaries of acceptable, built by the cattons. he's part of them because they allow it, and farleigh is very, very aware.

the annoying thing is oliver can be himself. like, truly, genuinely, he can just be. and farleigh can't help but envy that.

as a side note, oliver is obviously jealous of farleigh in the beginning as well, because regardless of the reality of farleigh's situation, he was born into it, and hence, at least in oliver's mind, has his position solidified. oliver's whole thing is unquenchable thirst and hunger for whatever and everything the cattons have (including themselves!). he wishes to have been a catton from birth. to oliver, at first, there's nothing farleigh can really do to lose it. and until he figures out the cattons completely, he can't help but envy that.

but i think farleigh senses something different about oliver early on. at least on the level of the text, we have "you're almost passing [for] a real, human boy", which is so important because farleigh is the first to point out oliver's weirdness. the next to do so is venetia in the bath scene calling him a freak, but it's too late. farleigh is too early.

and i like to think he clocks oliver too early because he sees the jagged edges that he recognizes in himself. i think that one other thing that farleigh envies is oliver's freedom to let go. freedom to let go is very similar to freedom to be, but not quite the same.

to be is about perception: farleigh knows he cannot fall out of line, but would like to, and oliver does not have to worry about it at all (i mean, he does, because oliver also performs for felix, but farleigh doesn't know that).

to let go is about the self: farleigh is too scared to even want what oliver eventually does, to even consider the possibility. oliver can let himself want. oliver can let himself act. oliver just can do things and want things. i'm not sure farleigh can.

and so in this scene, when oliver's wants and actions have landed him nowhere with farleigh, felix, venetia, the cattons, of course farleigh gloats. he can let himself do that, because if the cattons are slowly discarding him, farleigh can allow himself this one small victory. he's relieved because despite the dangerous similarities, oliver is, thankfully, not really the same as farleigh, right?

but like. this movie is a love letter to all things gothic. oliver is a white man. he prevails. the brief performance that oliver put on did eventually end up more effective than farleigh's lifetime of constraint. my heart fucking breaks for him to be honest.

the issue that remains is the fact of farleigh's survival. i like to think that oliver came to respect him. oliver is smart, but farleigh is clever. he picks up on everything oliver does (to refer back to the karaoke scene, farleigh immediately retaliates in the cleverest way, in the moment), and he's the only one to do so consistently (venetia, again, for example, comes close, but too late; oliver doesn't like that, there's nothing to work with). hence, stay with me for a little longer, the paradox: farleigh survives because he was never enough for the cattons, but he is very worthy of oliver's attention. in his own freaky way, oliver wants him. look at that.

so. farleigh. farleigh might come back. he always comes back. and i think oliver wants to try harder next time.

#saltburn #farleigh start #i think someone mentioned how the race commentary was fleeting in that scene abt his mom but i disagree #it runs thru the whole movie #because oliver is white and because they're pitted against each other #im not saying its the best commentary ever and also like the movie is not about it at all #but it's there and it's pretty prominent #also on a completely different note can we talk about how oliver correctly assumed everyone at saltburn desires him carnally #dude pulled all the bitches by being strange and off-putting. i mean i completely get it. completely get it. i'd fold so fast you've no ide #also while i was writing i realized that yes indeed both farleigh and oliver perform for felix and its so fascinating #and it works for oliver because of course it does because hes white #anyway! again! let me know if this sucks #in like any way at all #i needed a masterpost of all and every thought i have about farleigh #i think this pretty much covers it so i'll let it go now #HES SO. like do you UNDERSTAND #the DEFINITION of doomed by the narrative but i LOVE that he survives #as he SHOULD #emerald is so right. he does come back and quickstart just torture each other in that house forever. besties for life #god im gonna shut up now this is so horrendously long #mine #saltburn journaling

176 notes · View notes

useramor · 1 year

Text

wishing to be the friction buck/eddie | 97k | 9/9 | rated explicit

Buck and Eddie are straight best friends who start having no strings attached sex. Eddie has a hard time having sex with someone he doesn't trust, and Buck's tired of hookups after being with Abby. Besides, they're both comfortable with their sexuality, and there's nothing wrong with giving your friend a hand. What's surprising is how long it took them to fall into bed together, really.

What's entirely unsurprising is how quickly strings start getting attached.

or; the straight eddie friends with benefits fic

one: it's just past eight & i'm feeling young and reckless (9.5k) two: get all the sighs and the moans just right (7.3k) three: to the drinks at the club, to the bar (10.6k) four: kisses on necks of best friends (13k) five: i'm not going home alone (i'm not the desperate type) (11k) six: nothing comes as easy as you (11.8k) seven: my back has been breaking from this heavy heart (13.3k) eight: some secrets were meant to be told (7.4k) nine: you're the only place that feels like home (12.2k)

thank you @henswilsons for the gif header

#LOOK HOW PRETTYYYYYYY #HEHEHEHEHEH #thank you mia my love!#anyway this is gonna be the fic masterpost. i will be making a post for every chapter as well but this will be pinned :)#pinned and updated with a new link for every chapter ofc #also i need everyone to appreciate how specific and accurate my chapter titles are #i put THOUGHT into that #shout out fall out boy #bia.fic #straight!eddie fic #buddie fic #buddie #911fic

428 notes · View notes

zoetheduckling · 1 year

Photo

can’t stop doodling them

#buddy daddies #fanart #rei suwa #kazuki kurusu #miri unasaka #my art #bd #i was gonna make a masterpost of multiple drawings of them #but i'm impatient so i'll just post them all seperately #anyway i love them and want to see them happy

791 notes · View notes

angelpuns · 9 months

Text

TMNT:HME but its about friendship instead ( absolutely not I don't even know if I wanna make this canon )

This happened a long time ago but I still think about it sometimes :/

TMNT:HME Master post

178 notes · View notes

skitskatdacat63 · 11 months

Text

"The Boy With The Thorn in His Side"(x) - The Smiths × 2023 Strollonso moments + pundits' reactions

#baby's first web weave please be kind #frankly i could make a giant masterpost on my opinions on which Smiths songs fit which drivers/ships #i like their music a very healthy amount and I don't spend countless hours daydreaming to it...no....#but this particular song has been haunting me bcs i think it fits them super well!!#with their relationship dynamics and then the way everyone doubts their relationship #though its been hilarious watching the f1tv commentators kind of resign themselves to 'ah well ig this is what AMR/Fernando is like now'#went from being confused and shocked at their on track comradery to just accepting it for what it is #now theyre like 'ah yes lance dutifully lets fernando pass' compared to the previous ouright disbelief and denial #yeah thats right...theyre in love...what are you gonna do about it...#i think one day itd be fun to make a vid comp of all the times the commentators were ?????? at strollonso's lovey doveyness it is fun TO ME #it was really funny to look through shitty articles for negative comments #but the funniest part is that istg all of the articles just quote this one singular man who is hellbent on being a hater #i am in your walls peter windsor.#i think its silly when they bring in 'f1 experts' for their opinions ona drivers motivations and mindset #they act like such armchair psychologists like bruh your degree is probably engineering or journalism calm down!!#hehehe anyways happy with this!! i wrote it out on paper like a whole ass essay draft to brainstorm what to put #and then i scrolled thru the draft while listening to the song and im just EEEEEEE IT FITSSSSSSS #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #we do a little bit of f1 #lance stroll #fernando alonso #fa14 #ls18 #1418 #1814 #strollonso #alonstroll #normal posts that catie normally makes in a normal fashion

258 notes · View notes

cerise-on-top · 4 months

Note

Requesting gn reader wanting to go to a wreck room Valeria, Ghost, Gaz, and Laswell 🙏

I hope your little break was good! Hope you're doing okay, have a wonderful day and take as much time as you need! Love your writing btw ✨️

Hey there! My break was well needed, I got really sick during it as well, unfortunately! But oh well! I wrote the request today already since it's the only one in my inbox right now! Hope what I wrote is alright, I've never heard of wreck rooms before, we don't have those where I live!

Going to a Wreck Room with Gaz, Ghost, Valeria and Laswell

Gaz: He has definitely heard of those, but has never had enough pent up anger to actually go to one, it never particularly interested him. He breaks enough stuff as it is during work, accidentally or not, so he’s seen his fair share of broken wood, broken TVs, broken monitors. But when you ask him to go to one with you he won’t say no, thinking the idea to be very interesting for a date. If this is something you wanna do, then sure, but he’d have to get used to the idea of willingly breaking something that isn’t just a bottle. Gaz likes everything in order, and very much not broken when he can. His weapon of choice would be a crowbar, they don’t seem like much but they’re deadly enough to do some real damage. He’s used them before, he knows how to handle one well. However, his second choice would be a bowling pin since the idea of bashing in a printer with one seems hilarious to him. Once inside, he’ll go for the bottles first. While he won’t outright use his crowbar, opting for simply throwing them onto the ground first, he’d love to play baseball with you using some of them if you chose a baseball bat. Lets out a whistle if you actually manage to hit the bottle and break it. Loves just throwing stuff at you, but will ask you for your baseball bat at some point since he, too, wants to use a cassette as a ball. He always likes to think himself as an efficient man, but he has far too much fun breaking everything to be such. Loves taking turns with you while beating up the poor printer. He pries it open, you beat the everloving shit out of it. His one goal inside is to do a bottle flip and then hit said bottle, he just loves all the shards left behind. While a rage room may not do too much for him in regards to letting out anger, he does have a lot of fun and will ask you to come here again when you’re particularly mad about something.

Ghost: Oh, I can assure you, he’s been to wreck rooms before. His past was anything but pleasant, he’s had to deal with violent thoughts and sought an outlet for such. He’s since forgotten those exist as he’s calmed down quite a lot. So when you bring up the idea of going to a rage room, he’ll chuckle, but will comply. The memories that come back aren’t particularly happy, but as long as you get an outlet, that’s alright. He’d go for a baseball bat since they’re easy to handle but still very destructive. Considering Ghost is a very strong guy, he could break just about anything with just a few hits. He’ll watch you at first, maybe stand behind you as you beat a few picture frames, but gets to work soon enough himself. He wouldn’t even need to use his bat to dismantle a printer, but he uses it anyway. His strikes seem rather calculated. It isn’t as much fun to him as it is to Gaz, but he enjoys it anyway, especially if you seem to be having a lot of fun. If you struggle with breaking something rather big then he’ll push you aside and show you how it’s done by a professional. He picks up whatever large item it is, throws it onto the ground with a lot of strength, and then beats it up. Yes, he does simply want to show off, that’s all there is to it. He’s a big and strong guy, he could and would kill any printer for you. Even if he does also really like breaking the bottles. The shards on the ground are somewhat satisfying to look at. A bit unnerving since broken shards usually mean all kinds of danger, but still satisfying in a situation like this. As mentioned before, he’s calm throughout it all, and if you didn’t know any better, then you’d say his trained killer instincts are shining through. He isn’t particularly loud either, it’s somewhat impressive, and kind of scary. It’s a small glimpse into how effective he is as a soldier. Comment on it, and he’ll tell you that you have nothing to worry about. For the most part you don’t, but it’s quite obvious that he’s a dangerous man. However, he’s also a gentleman, so he’ll be the one to pay for the experience. He seems unchanged for the most part afterwards, but the slight grin on his face doesn’t exactly escape you.

Valeria: She’s always wanted to go to one ever since she learned of their existence, but never had the time to do so. Valeria is a temperamental woman, she has lots and lots of pent up anger she needs an outlet for. She shows it when she’s annoyed, but that’s not even half of what she’s feeling on a normal day. However, she does need to show that she’s in charge, otherwise all those people around her wouldn’t respect her. Her face would light up a bit as you make the suggestion, reminding her of her wish to see one someday. As soon as she has time, you can be certain you’ll be going to a rage room together. Her weapon of choice would likely be a sledge hammer. They’re heavy, they’re not that easy to use, but she needs you to know that she’s a strong and capable woman who can wield such a thing with ease. The bottles, cassettes, plates are just the warm up, her eyes are on the price: A car in the middle of the room. It wouldn’t have been her first time thrashing one in its entirety, but usually she’s more subtle about it, if she’s doing it herself. She’ll leave all the smaller stuff to you, but you can join her in breaking the car once you’re done with throwing mice at TV screens. She’s very violent about it, there’s no thought on how she’s going to break everything, she just does it. Her sledge hammer will hit the car in quick succession with as much force as she can muster. Her eyes show just the smallest glimpse of insanity that she keeps under wrap otherwise. No one would ever see her like this, so this is a sign of trust for her. By the time she’s done the car will be unrecognizable, just scraps lying about everywhere in the room. Panting a bit, with her arms sore from the weight, she’d turn to you and give you a dangerous grin. Don’t take it the wrong way, she’s just satisfied, that’s all. Valeria may not be the tallest woman out there, but there’s a lot of strength behind her blows, so don’t underestimate her. Afterwards she’ll pay as well and already make plans for the next time you’ll be coming here. It won’t become a common occurrence, but you will find yourself here again every once in a while. As a reward for bringing up the idea, Valeria will pay for dinner as well.

Laswell: She’ll turn down the idea at first, simply not interested. Breaking things just because you’re angry is said to be as effective as drinking alcohol when you’re sad. Laswell prides herself in barely having broken anything throughout her life, and she’d like to keep it that way. If you really wanna go to a wreck room, then why not take your friends there with you? You’ll have to be really annoying about it for a prolonged amount of time before she finally humors you with your little idea. But she’s still not very enthusiastic about it. Maybe, just maybe, if you’re lucky the day you’ll be going there will have been a rough day for Laswell and she’ll, ironically enough, break some more stuff while she’s there due to something having gone wrong. Laswell would likely go for something simple, either a bat or a golf club. While she would, at first, opt for watching you as well, eventually she will hit some glass bottles with her weapon of choice. Then she’ll do nothing for a while again, and afterwards she’ll hit something again. This goes on and on until she’s finally had enough of all the waiting and smashes the nearest mannequin she can find. You seem to be having fun, and an hour can be long if you’re just waiting for it to be over. Besides, the money would have been wasted if she didn’t smash anything. It’s not as fun to her as it is to Valeria or Gaz, but she’ll do it anyway. It’s a nice outlet if you really wanna be violent for once, but it’s not particularly for her. However, if you ask her to help you with breaking some of the wind chimes, then she’ll help you out a bit. She doesn’t do flurries of blows, she takes a glance at the object, figures out where its weak points are as quickly as possible, and strikes there. The quicker the object falls apart, the more accomplished she can feel. Laswell isn’t the youngest anymore, but her mind is still as sharp as ever. Once you’re done, she’ll thank you and politely tell you that this was nice, but she won’t bring up the idea of going there again on her own. While it may be easier to convince her to go from here on out, she won’t always immediately say yes. She still isn’t the biggest fan of breaking stuff just because you’re mad or want to.

#cod #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #I've been playing baldur's gate 3 as of late and holy heck it's such a good game I can't recommend it enough #my poor friend needs to always hear my ramblings about it but apparently he wants to play it as well now! big w for me!#I've also been wanting to play the OG MW games since I own the first and second one so I'm gonna do that during the weekend #but I also wanna play Madness Combat again since I do still love it and someone asked about it yesterday #I'm also considering uploading what I've written for MC and making a new masterpost for it #It wasn't much I wrote but there's a bit there for it regardless #thinking of becoming a multi fandom blog #I don't usually get as many requests anyway so I'm sure it's not too bad of an idea!#I'm also thinking of going back to my roots and writing for OFF again since it's a really good game but I'm not sure! so yeah #much to consider this time around! But if nothing else I wanna write for MC again!#You people have no idea just how much I adore White Hank! She's my wife and I love her ❤️

110 notes · View notes

sad-leon · 2 months

Text

I've found theres not much more cathartic for me as a creator than being able to admit to myself that I hate an AU I've made

Like- I'm usually one to hold my AUs close to my chest, so being able to let go and say I hate one is super freeing

And also creating out of inspiration and not obligation-- that's also something that surprisingly hard to do, but when I can manage to do it, its so much fun

Idk what the point of this is other than to say its okay to hate something you wanted to like. Its okay to stop working on something that doesnt bring you joy anymore

Realizing this could fall under the "create for yourself" advice.. Dont force it though. You can like the thought of a story, but if the actual creating process isnt fun, then dont force it. "Create for yourself" doesnt just mean the finished product- if the creation process isnt fun for you, then it may be time to drop it

#rambles #idk... someone probably needs to hear it #this is a not-so-vague post about me dropping finding home #i changed the masterpost but idk if im gonna make an actual announcement about it #might just let it fade into the background #i have a lotta feelungs about that au #and inly like... 2 if them are positive #anyways i gi sleep niw #its 2am and im eepy #also ignore the typos #my phone screen is ass and alsi i have a bandaid on one of my thumbs akfbskfjs

44 notes · View notes

wundrousarts · 5 months

Text

Mini Silverborn Countdown

If you’ve been around for a few years, you’ve seen me vaguely mention a “Silverborn Countdown Challenge” several times. It’s been delayed and changed as many times as the book itself, lol.

If anyone wants sort of a low-stakes, very chill and spaced out version of this ye olde never tackled challenge to complete in the next year before Silverborn, I propose what I’m doing:

Every 3 months leading up to the initial release, I am creating one thing based on each of the books.

January — Nevermoor

April — Wundersmith

July — Hollowpox

#nevermoor #nevermoor fanart #nevermoor fanfic #silverborn #silverborn countdown challenge #thank you theo for reminding me to post abt this on here. I am stealing the “mini” moniker (?) in return. lol.#this was in my drafts and I forgot to post it. happens a lot lol.#anyways if you’re reading this happy new years !#nine masterpost ver 1.0 dropping tomorrow evening prob bc I have had a headache all day and that’s the next time I’m free #now time to sleep. zzzzzz. perhaps I’ll have a prophetic silverborn dream. who knows.#I love giving myself set times to draw nevermoor things or just think about the series bc otherwise I go insane #literally thinking abt this stuff 24/7 it’s all I want to draw. But then I have to hold myself back + then end up never drawing anything lol #I have three big things planned for this like big pieces to work on over awhile and get myself out of my comfort zone #but idk what to draw for this first one. aahhhhh. excited for wundersmith and hollowpox though.#also I want to do a little animation for nevermoorian new years. which is on a leap day this year! how fun!!#I have an eternal nevermoor to-draw list that only gets bigger #sorry to the person that requested some Christmas stuff last year. I missed out and was gonna do it this year. then no time. so next year? 😅#also 🏆 to anyone that ever reads my ramblings in my tags. I am so insane about nevermoor especially. <333

42 notes · View notes

lackablazeical · 5 months

Text

To save my sanity the masterpost will be released half-done and just be updated as time goes on so I don't game over myself

#blaze's rambles #if u ever wonder why the masterpost has taken 2 years #this is why #and i know ppl still gonna be confused abt stuff anyway #so we ball

24 notes · View notes

hyperionwitch-art · 11 months

Note

Have you ever shared what your TES toons look like in-game?

I have not! I have many, many assorted playthroughs floating around in my 20 year history with TES (oh god) but I seem to either rarely take screenshots of characters orrrr the playthroughs are long gone.

That said, I have been dabbling in a recent re-playthrough of Morrowind to do research for writing Tev/Dren's story (maybe this time I'll actually get to Tribunal lol), so I DO have a screenshot of Tev! Not super exciting, but I DID make a custom face texture for her.

(I guess this is also a good time to mention I made her house as a mod for this playthrough too--here are some screenshots, if that's your thing! :P https://imgur.com/a/gtXVm6u)

#elder scrolls #morrowind #tevrani #gonna throw this in the masterpost because it's got tev and The House #(god the HoL brainrot I really wanted to put house in blue text)#anyway I saw this ask and was like #hmmmm let's see lamsi and anaia's morrowind playthroughs are long gone on my xbox in the early 00s #saynar nelanis and tsabhijira are in skyrim and I don't have it installed rn #and actually I think I did a tev playthrough in skyrim but...same deal #my lamsi oblivion playthrough is on a dead laptop #annnnd I never played as dren!#or evanil or qasna or garluk or bennum or binds-her-neck or morgayne or #but that's like so much more context than anybody needs #so in the tags it goes #ask

39 notes · View notes

fbfh · 1 year

Text

rocks at your window pt. 12 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year. additionally, ricky begins to desplay more symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy and has a good support system. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 5k

genre: mild hurt/lotta comfort, smut, feels

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: post show depression, more backstory for reader, brief mentions of gifted kid burnout and rediscovering your love for theatre, more fake texts, ricky is down ba-a-a-a-ad, classic Hot Boy Climbing Through Your Window moment, heart to heart convos, smut, body worship, clit sucking n fingering, penetrative sex, emotional 'i love you' sex, ricky begging <3, possible cliff hanger?? (BUT NOT BAD I PROMISE)

summary: it's late at night and you're reflecting on your experience performing high school musical the musical with all your fellow wildcats when someone shows up, throwing rocks at your window, and thinking the exact same thing.

song recs: rocks - imagine dragons, end of all things - panic at the disco, I hear a symphony - cody fry, fuck it I love you - lana del rey, tell me that you love me - victorious cast, where do we go from here - amelie obc, I can't handle change - roar

a/n: this is the last chapter of rocks. I got so emotional writing this and I sincerely hope yall enjoy. also before anyone asks YES I'm planning a sequel about season 2 but it's curretnly tba. I hope you cry when you hear rocks by imagine dragons and get flustered as FUCK when you hear tell me that you love me by the victorious cast because Ricky Bowen needs to be told I love you to cum it's canon Tim Federle told me so. Fangz again to Cici for proof reading and fangz to you guys for reading <3 send in Ricky asks lol

tags @yesv01 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @pikzel @demirunner @brinaslittlefreak @girlfriendwhoseawitch @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames @rainforest-daisies @sunshineangel-reads

The show is over, midterms are over, now it’s Friday night and you can’t sleep. It’s one of a handful of Fridays over the past few months that you haven’t spent at rehearsal, and no matter how many times they roll around, it still feels weird. You chalk it up to routine, muscle memory, but part of you still worries you’ll be late when you see it’s past 6pm. You miss the El Rey, you miss the auditorium and rehearsal room at school, you miss circle time with Miss Jenn and all your friends. Post show depression always sucks, but after everything that happened during High School Musical, how intense things got, the letdown is worse than usual.

Even all the fun things Miss Jenn had planned to keep everyone’s spirits up until the next show gets announced are all over. You’d spent a week with your friends learning a song about winter Ashlyn wrote and Gina and Carlos choreographed so everyone could do a flashmob for the new East High theatre department’s instagram page. Miss Jenn got everyone together to make some content in advance to post before the break, but you finished your last take of the flashmob after school today. New Year’s isn’t until later this week, so you’ve finally reached the wasteland between closing one show and starting another.

“Hey,” your mom says softly from your doorway, and you look up from where you’re sitting on your bed. You greet her quietly, flipping through your playbill from the show, still wearing your cast shirt. You have a few open hat boxes in front of you, adorned in light florals and other delicate patterns and designs. Each one of them is full to the brim with playbills, confetti, and other mementos from past shows, except the one in front of you, which still has some room left in it.

Your mom walks over to you, watching your expression closely as you flip through your playbill, not wanting to put it away just yet. She rests her hand on your back, rubbing her thumb affectionately before tucking the tag of your shirt back into the neck. You both know what’s coming. You think back to the deal you made with her after your dad left. You didn’t realize until months after how much you’d been struggling with everything. Your mom discussed dropping out of the show you were in, even though you were so close to opening night, and you’d refused. You’re not the type to drop out of a show you’ve spent months rehearsing for just because of some struggles in your personal life.

Your mom could see clear as day how you weren’t having fun like you used to, how burnt out you were going to get if you kept up like that. What kind of mother would she be if she just let you do that to yourself? Once you’d found a new house and a new job out in Utah, you came to the agreement that you’d take a break for the summer. After that, if you wanted to do theatre again, you could do a show at your new school - nothing high pressure, or competitive and catty, or overly professional. After that, if you still want to, you can return back to professional theatre after you graduate.

“So?” she says softly. Your chest squeezes, and you’re so grateful that you’ve been able to feel and see and do and experience every single thing you love about theatre so much. There had been no high stakes, nothing riding on you and your ability to perform. It was just fun. Passion. A passion you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to let go of.

“I want to do the next show.” You say, without a trace of reservation. She smiles softly, looking down at you. She hasn’t seen you like this, so much like yourself, in years. You’re glowing and at peace, and she has never, ever been happier to see it. After everything the two of you have been through, the divorce - and the events leading up to it - she remembers this is what she’s been fighting for, the goal she’s been working toward; seeing you happy and thriving. She had a hunch that high school theatre was exactly what you needed, and now she thanks her lucky stars she was right.

You don’t talk about what you’re going to do after the next show, it’s not quite time to worry about that yet. There’s no need to rush anything, especially when it comes to stuff like this. You’re sure that when it comes time to make a decision, you’ll know in your heart what the right one will be. But even just from looking at you, even if you don’t know yet, your mom has another hunch that you’ll be back in New York, lighting up every stage on Broadway at some point. She presses a kiss to your forehead, rubbing your back again as you finally, reluctantly place your playbill in the open hat box in front of you.

“Try to get some rest, sweetie.”

She goes off to bed, and now you really have nothing to do. You sigh as you organize your hat boxes back on the top shelf of your closet, in the order you usually keep them in. You look around, deciding to clean your room. You run down to the kitchen to get a trash bag, then return to your room. You dig through all the scented candles you’ve been hoarding and pick out a nice smelling one to light, then put something on Netflix for some background noise. You start by folding your laundry, then pick up any stray trash. Usually cleaning your room gives you time to think, but you’re not really thinking much of anything now. You’re grateful for the break.

You move from task to task, losing track of time as Netflix continues to autoplay. You pause what you’re doing for a second, trying to figure out why two characters are arguing. You’ve barely been paying attention, but are still managing to follow the plot for the most part. During that moment of stillness, you hear your phone buzz with a text. You pick it up, shocked at how late it is, how quickly the time got away from you. It also makes you wonder who could be texting you so late. It’s Ricky. That makes sense, you think. You wonder what he’s doing up so late as you open the message.

You set your phone on the windowsill, then head towards your closet to try and make some sense of it. You’re not sure how it got to be such a hot mess - in all fairness, it’s not really that messy. You just need a project to work on. You straighten up your hanging clothes, refold all your jeans and folded sweaters, then reorganize it by color. Or maybe cut. You’re not sure yet. You make a mental note to rewatch Tidying Up with Marie Kondo later for more ideas.

You decide to revisit that in a few minutes, instead turning to all the pillows and blankets hidden on the floor of your closet. You adjust them, remembering the first time you’d shown your nap hole to Ricky. Your mind wanders idly, recounting all the things that have happened since then. You really hope that in spite of everything, Ricky had a good time performing. A part of you really hopes he’s going to do more shows. He’s so talented, and he has so much natural potential. After what he’s been through, it would make total sense if he never wanted to do theatre again, but a part of you silently hopes that he’s grown to love it the way you do.

Thunk.

You turn your head suddenly, wondering if you’d imagined the small noise. You glance back at the window, and see you left your phone there. You figure it was a notification or something. When you press the power button to check, you’re met with the words no new notifications on your lock screen.

Thunk.

Something moves in the corner of your vision, followed by another noise, then another.

Thunk- crack!

Your brow furrows as you stare at the hairline fracture left in the glass of your window. You try to peer down, but it’s so dark you can’t really see anything. You open your window up wide, lifting the latch and popping out the screen. You lean your head out just enough to look down, but it’s still too dark. You turn on your phone flashlight and hold tight to your popsocket, angling the beam down, only to be met with Ricky.

He’s holding a small plastic bag and a handful of rocks to throw until he gets your attention. He waves up at you awkwardly, and you laugh, covering your mouth to not make too much noise. It sounds beautiful. Everything you do is always so beautiful, he’s not sure why he’s still surprised when you take his breath away effortlessly. His stomach twists for a moment, and he hopes he gives you butterflies like you give him all the time. He looks up at you, and leaning down from your window like this, he thinks you’d make a really good Juliet. He’s not sure if you’ve done any Shakespeare before, but he makes a mental note to ask.

You watch from above as he holds the plastic bag in his mouth and starts climbing up the tree next to your house. You lose sight of him for a moment, until he reappears on the lattice on the side of your house. He’s careful not to disturb the ivy slowly growing its way up in spite of the cold weather. You laugh in disbelief, watching him climb through your window until he’s standing in front of you. It feels like something out of a movie, and your heart is pounding in your chest.

“You could have used the door…” you laugh.

“Well,” he shrugs, “I wanted to shake it up a little.” He smiles at you, pulling something out of the bag.

“I brought you coffee.” He pulls a to go cup out of the bag, handing it to you. He’s hopeful it will make you happy, and the way your eyes light up when you accept the drink is worth the stranger looks he got from the barista for ordering espresso at 11 at night. He takes out his drink, throwing the empty plastic bag in your garbage. You look up at him with those pretty eyes and his stomach flips. You move closer, pressing a kiss to his lips, one he leans into.

“Thanks,” you say after pulling away, sending him the most blinding, dazzling smile. He’s been inside you more times than he can count, and your kisses still make his head all fuzzy. He lets out a soft laugh, feeling a little high from your attention. He sits on your bed, watching you as you sit backwards on your desk chair. You both sip your drinks, and it’s quiet for a moment.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask. He lets out a breathy laugh, surprised at how well you can read him.

“It… still feels weird not being at rehearsal.” he says, thinking out loud. You nod in silent understanding of everything left unsaid. You chuckle lightly.

“Yeah, post show depression will really kick your ass.” He laughs, feeling called out at your words.

“Yeah…” he agrees. When Nini dumped him, he felt like there was a sinkhole in his chest. Then after that, when she left, when she just walked out on him and his dad, he felt like he was going to cave in. Then he met you. You didn’t make him stop missing her or Nini, but you gave him something to lean on. You helped him realize he had something else to think about - the show. Now he doesn’t think about Nini nearly as much as he used to; that wound is starting to heal. As for the other thing, long as he doesn’t let himself think about her or Todd, as long as he keeps moving, he’s sort of okay.

But now he’s feeling a new kind of emptiness. He doesn’t like goodbyes, he never has, so even though he knew closing night would be hard, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much. He didn’t expect himself to grow so familiar with the soundtrack and the script, running lines and remembering blocking. He didn’t expect to miss being called Troy so much.

“I didn’t ever expect to love theatre, or love you, as much as I do,” he muses. You glance down, face flushed from his words. He gives you butterflies so effortlessly, it’s really amazing.

“I love you too,” you smile, taking another sip of your drink. He giggles - actually giggles - at your words.

“So,” you continue, “you liked it? Doing the show, I mean. I know there were some ups and downs but-”

“I loved it.”

He smiles, and you both laugh, light and bubbling over your shared adoration of each other and the experiences you just shared.

"I really, really loved it." He breathes, distracted for a moment as he remembers it all. "I just… I didn't expect to be so sad after?"

You spin a little in your seat, taking another sip as you listen.

"Like, I spent so much time learning how to become Troy, learning all the lines and blocking and choreo and now I'm never going to get to do that again."

"Yeah," you agree, looking down. "I mean, that's the beauty of theatre; it's always fleeting, but there's always going to be another show."

You can see him soaking in your words, really letting them in. It doesn't mitigate his sadness, but you don't expect it to. You get up from where you’re spinning side to side on your desk chair and sit next to him on your bed, placing your coffee on the night table. You wrap your arm around him, resting your head on his shoulder. You don’t say anything, and you don’t need to. Your presence is more comforting than words could be. Maybe it’s the sweet smell of your peachy perfume, maybe it’s the way you’re so consistent in his life, but he’s reminded in a rush of the first night you spent together. Memories replay like flashbacks in his mind, and after a moment, he turns his head toward you.

His face is so close to yours, and it’s obvious what he’s thinking from the bedroom eyes he’s giving you, flicking between yours and your lips. It happens so suddenly, your heart barely has time to pound before he’s pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. Ricky needs a distraction from the ache in his chest. He needs something else to do, something else to think about, something else that makes him happy. He can’t think of something better to focus on than you. He deepens the kiss as you hold on to him tight, loving the way you always melt under his touch. You sigh against him, giggling as he works your lips open, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

He climbs on top of you as his hands move down. He takes his time, feeling you up, obsessing over every part of you until he gets to your thighs. He gropes your pretty thighs that he wants so badly to put his face between, not missing the way you were squirming a moment ago, already needy for some friction. He slots himself between your legs as he presses kisses into your neck, adoring the pretty sighs and noises you let out. He squeezes your thighs in his hands, before pulling you flat on your back with him hovering on top of you. The sudden change in position makes your heart race, and you can feel your cunt getting hot and puffy with arousal. The expression on your face makes it so worth it, he thinks, watching it grow even more flustered as he moves down. He pulls off your shirt and presses kisses between your tits. He plays with them, squeezing and running his thumbs over your hardened nipples in little circles. No matter how many times he sees them, it always feels like the first time, when all he could say was Wow. Oh my god. Wow. You let out a choked noise at the feeling, one he reciprocates, moaning into the soft flesh he has in his mouth.

“Fuck, Ricky…” you breathe, watching him closely as he moves down, trailing kisses along your stomach, squeezing your waist and hips, finally tugging off your bottoms. He trails his fingers over your panties for a moment, taking in how pretty they look on you, how much he loves to see that little wet spot growing bigger and bigger. He throbs as he takes them off, and you watch with wide eyes as he opens your legs a bit more.

“There we go,” he says softly, and your pussy pulses in anticipation of his touch. He spreads you open, taking a moment to take in how pretty your pussy is, how nice you look all spread open for him like this. It’s a shorter moment than he would have liked, he just can’t resist you, he can’t wait to press soft kisses to your heat, to flick his tongue over your clit, to make you feel good. He won’t wait any longer, doing just that, listening to every noise that escapes your pretty lips like a breathtaking song. He traces a finger around your dripping hole, fluttering and desperate for contact.

As he works his first finger in, he can't help but feel like he's home. You're so tight around just one finger, he wonders how you're always able to take all of him. The thought makes his stomach flutter with anticipation. He pumps his finger in and out gently, feeling you get wetter around him as you get used to the sensation. He continues licking and sucking on your clit, pulsing in his mouth, as he does. You taste amazing, and he wants more and more.

"Fuck, Ricky…" you sigh, and it's like music to his ears. He pushes his second finger in, and moans against your clit as he feels your tight walls stretch and relax to accommodate him. You let out a sharp gasp, throbbing erratically against his tongue. He scissors his fingers, breath hitching as you stretch around him.

“Oh my god,” you choke out in a breathy sigh, “Ricky…”

He loses all his progress as you clamp around him, bucking into his mouth as you cum around his fingers. He pauses for a moment, dizzy from the sensation, that he did that to you, made you feel that good. You tug on his hair, and before you can even ask, he knows. You want more of him, want him inside you. He climbs up on top of you. You tear his clothes off, throwing them on the floor, not wanting to waste a moment. His cock throbs, almost painfully hard, and he can’t wait any longer. He needs to be inside you more than anything. He lets out a jagged sigh, pumping his cock in anticipation. He’s so ready, more ready than he’s ever been to be welcomed back into your wet, hot, tight embrace.

He finally begins to nudge his cock inside you. He chokes at how easily it goes in, how you seem to pull him deeper and deeper inside you. You’re ready for him, even more so than usual from how hard he made you cum a few minutes before. He can feel you suck him up inside you, gripping and squeezing him just right. Each time you let him inside, each time you let him stretch out your perfect, dripping cunt, it always feels unimaginably better than the last. Every single time, he thinks that this, you, have to be the best he’ll ever have. And every single time, he’s right. You feel so good, so indescribably good, a part of him wants to cum right on the spot.

“Fuck, I love you…” He chokes out, voice breathy. And he means it. God, does he mean it. He says it right as he pushes his cock inside you, filling you up in the most delicious way, knocking the breath out of your lungs in tandem. You try to say it back, you want to say it back, but his tongue is already shoved down your throat as he covers your mouth with deeper and deeper kisses. He’s insatiable, not ever getting as much of you as he needs to satisfy what he’s craving.

He starts moving, unable to wait, unable to stop himself from pistoning his cock as deep inside you as he can get it. He drags his cock against your gummy walls, the friction already making you both dizzy. He keeps going, rutting his hips into yours, moaning into your mouth. He cages you in with his arms, resting his hands on your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes. He’s so in love with you, so fucking in love with you. You’re… his world. You’re his everything. Everything he does revolves around you; he’s not the main character in his story, you are.

He would move mountains for you, overcome anything, travel any distance just for you, to be in your arms. He loves you so much it almost hurts, and he knows he’s never felt more relief than he did on opening night, when he finally, finally told you everything he feels for you. He was so sick of biting it back, of worrying about timing, if you would say it back, if he could even say it at all. He can’t remember ever being happier than he was when he finally said fuck it, and spilled his guts to you. Right here, right now, he can feel the little bulge he’s making in your tummy. He can feel where your bodies are touching and squishing together, and he can feel you wrap your legs around him to pull him even closer. He didn’t think he could be any more crazy over you than he already is, but all of this, all of you is driving him to even higher heights than he could imagine.

It’s overwhelming, and he moans, long and low into your mouth. There’s no other way to express what you make him feel than through his beautiful moans, like music to your ears, or telling you that he loves you every chance he gets, with his last breath he’ll be telling you again and again. He presses kisses to your cheek, moving down to your neck, taking in your sweet scent. God, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anyone this badly. He doesn’t think he’s wanted anyone or anything as much as he wants you. He’s so attracted to you, drawn to you in an almost primal way that leaves him rutting his hips into yours, grinding into your clit to get as close as possible, moaning shamelessly into your neck. It sends jolts of electricity through you, lighting you up like a powergrid.

His breath hits your skin in steady, warm puffs. He lets out another moan as you scratch your nails down his back. Your hand tangles in his hair and tugs it just right, making him throb inside you. He knows in this moment that no one can ever make him feel this good, no one else can do what you do to him. He can feel himself getting closer and closer as he sucks bruises into your neck, leaving constellations of love bites across your perfect skin. Even though he’s holding you as tight as he can, drawing noises out of you that no one else has had the privilege of hearing, and it makes his head spin, he needs more.

He finally pulls away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours. You lean up to kiss him, and even though he’s aching for you, he doesn't kiss you. Not quite yet. Instead, he looks into your eyes so deeply, so intensely, with such a burning hunger that you feel like you’re being fused together. He’s still panting, this time your warm breaths fan over each other’s faces as he really soaks in everything about you, how pretty you look in his arms like this - and fuck, you’re pretty.

“I’m close, peach,” he pants, sending even more heat to your core, making you squeeze around him as he presses a burning kiss to your lips; one you accept eagerly.

“‘M so close,” he says again between kisses, “Can- fuck- can you say it for me? Can you tell me? Please, peach, I need to hear it, need to hear you say it…” he rambles, drunk on you and p=-

You’re trying your best, but it would be a lot easier if everything he was saying and doing didn’t render you breathless and unable to do anything but moan and writhe beneath him.

“I love you, Ricky,” you choke out, desperate and sincere. You finally connect your lips, only for him to moan into your mouth. It’s loud and shameless and has you teetering on the precipice. “Love you so much, so fucking much,” you continue to babble as he buries his face in your neck, moaning so much he almost can’t register what you’re saying. He’s glad you’re saying it anyway.

He can barely register how close he is before he cums. It’s hard and sudden, and he’s barely able to hear your sweet words over the blood pounding in his ears. You let out a noise he thought only existed in porn, following closely behind him. Your legs shake around him as you grab him as tight as you can, desperate for something to hold onto. You squeeze him in a vice grip as you let out the most beautiful whines and moans, and it’s enough to make him dizzy. Just your noises alone are almost enough to make him hard again - which he probably would be, if you hadn’t just milked his cock completely dry. You stay like that for a moment, letting yourself be filled up with him, letting himself be squeezed tight by your throbbing walls. He can feel your heartbeat in your soft cunt, and he lets out a shuddering sigh at the feeling. He mutters sweet nothings into your ear, rambling about every good thing he feels for you. He doesn’t think he could shut up if he tried - he usually can’t when it comes to you. He presses more and more kisses to your skin as you mutter sweet nothings back, rubbing your hand over the red marks you’d left on his back, playing with his hair. You take your time coming down from this, letting yourselves be right here and now, in each other’s arms.

Eventually, he pulls out more reluctantly than he’s done anything. You manage to clean up enough to fall back into bed, into each other’s arms. In those few moments, you glance around at the several unfinished cleaning tasks you’d started earlier. You shrug them off, telling yourself you’ll finish them later. As you’re welcomed into Ricky’s warm embrace, you think this is way more fun than cleaning anyway.

You settle into each other, getting comfortable as he holds you tight against his chest. You can feel the steady rise and fall of each other’s breathing, your heartbeats gradually slowing back down, the warmth pooling between you. In the quiet air surrounding you, you can feel the calm turn into a sort of melancholy. You trace your fingers over his skin as he takes solace in you. Everything about you is so comforting, he can’t deny that you’re what’s kept him as centered as he’s been able to be.

“Where do we go from here?” he asks.

His voice is quiet, breaking ripples into the glassy silence surrounding you, but you can hear the emotion wavering through it. You’re quiet for a moment, considering. You’re not quite sure if he means him and you, him and his dad, or the next audition. It doesn’t matter, you realize, because you’ll have his back through all of it. And he’ll have yours.

“I dunno,” you start gently, and he holds onto your words, cherishing them like heirlooms, “but I do know one thing. Miss Jenn is announcing the next show in a few days, on New Year’s Eve. So, we should probably start thinking about audition music.”

Just the briefest mention of auditions has him smiling at the memories from a few months ago, bursting in late with his guitar. At the time, he had only ever expected to remember that audition as the day he won Nini back. He never could have predicted what a different, more significant weight that would hold for him now. The mention of New Year’s Eve brings something else to mind as well.

“Ashlyn’s having a New Year’s party, right?”

“Yes!” you exclaim softly, “I totally forgot about that…”

Ricky traces his thumb over your cheek as you discuss carpools and if you should bring drinks or cupcakes. He never knew he could feel this way, this warm, just from listening to someone talk. He doesn’t know what happens next. He doesn’t know what’s going to change, but he thinks he can handle it if he has you. He’s so wrapped up in you, so invested in the quiet little conversation you’re now having about sheet music and party outfits that he doesn’t notice his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans, strewn across your floor. After a moment it lights up with a new notification.

1 missed call from Dr. Robert (therapist)

1 new voicemail from Dr. Robert (therapist)

#rocks at your window #ricky bowen x reader #hsmtmts ricky #ricky bowen #hsmtmts #hsmtmts x reader #is now a good time to remind yall that I love you guys??#cause I do lol #<333 #also is anyone interested in a full rocks at your window playlist??#I'm probs gonna make a masterpost with all the parts and add links to the chapters once they're all up #or like... any shoplook outfits I made for writing inspo #i am a polyvore bitch at heart #anyway let me know any bonus content you guys wanna see lol

96 notes · View notes