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thagomizersshow · 8 months

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Apes are a kind of monkey, and that's ok

This is a pet peeve of mine in sci comm ESPECIALLY because many well respected scientific institutions are insistent about apes and monkeys being separate things, despite how it's been established for nearly a century that apes are just a specific kind of monkey.

Nearly every zoo I've visited that houses apes has a sign somewhere like the one below that explains the supposed distinction between the two groups, focusing on anatomy instead of phylogeny.

(Every time I see a graphic like this I age ten years) Movies even do this, especially when they want to sound credible. Take this scene from Rise of the Planet of the Apes:

This guy Franklin is presented as the authority on apes in this scene, and he treats James Franco calling a chimpanzee a monkey like it's insulting.

But when you actually look at a primate family tree, you can see that apes are on the same branch as Old World monkeys, while New World monkeys branched off much earlier.

(I'm assuming bushbabies are included as "lorises" here?)

To put it simply, that means you and I are more closely related to a baboon than a baboon is to a capuchin.

Either the definition of monkey includes apes OR we can keep using an anatomical definition and Barbary macaques get to be an ape because they're tailless.

"I've got no tails on me!"

Why did all this happen? Why did we start insisting apes are monkeys, especially considering the two words were pretty much interchangeable for centuries? Well I've got one word for ya...

This the attitude that puts humans on a pedestal over other life on Earth. That there are intrinsically important features of humanity, and other living things are simply stepping stones in that direction.

At the dawn of evolutionary study, anthropocentrism was enforced by using a model called evolutionary grades. And boy howdy do I hate evolutionary grades.

Basically, a grade is a way of defining a group of animals by using anatomical "complexity". It's the idea that evolution has milestones of importance that, once reached, makes an organism into a new kind of thing. You can almost think of it like evolutionary levels. An animal "levels up" once it gains a certain trait deemed "complex".

You can probably see the issue here; that complexity is an ephemeral idea defined through subjectivity, rather than based off anything truly observable. What makes walking on 2 legs more complex than walking on four? How are tails less complex than no tails? "Complexity" in this context is unmeasurable, therefore it is unscientific. That's why evolutionary grades suck and I never want to look at one.

For primates, this meant once some of them lost their tails, grew bigger brains, and started brachiating instead of leaping, they simply "leveled up" and became apes. Despite the early recognition that apes were simply a branch of the Old World monkey family tree (1785!), the idea of grades took precedent over the phylogenetic link.

In the early years of primatology, humans were even seen as a grade "above" apes, related but separated by our upright stance and supposed far greater intelligence (this was before other apes were recognized tool users).

It wasn't until the goddamn 1970s that it was recognized all great apes should be included in the clade Hominidae alongside humanity. This was a major shift in thinking, and required not just science, but the public, to recognize just how close we are to other living species. It seems like this change has, thankfully, happened and most institutions and science respecting folks have accepted this fact. Those who don't accept it tend to have a lot more issues with science than only accepting humans as apes.

And now, we come to the current problem. Why is there a persistent idea that monkeys and apes are separate?

I want to make it clear I don't believe there was a conscious movement at play here. I think there's a lot of things going on, but there isn't some anti-monkey lobby that is hiding the truth. I think the problem is more complicated and deals with how human brains and human culture often struggle to do too many changes at once.

Now, I haven't seen any studies on this topic, so everything I say going forward is based on my own experience of how people react to learning apes (and therefore, humans) are monkeys.

First off, there is a lot of mental rearranging you have to do to accept humans as monkeys. First you, gotta accept humans as apes, then you have to stop thinking in grades and look at the family tree. Then you have to accept that apes are on the Old World monkey branch, separate from the New World monkeys.

That's a lot of steps, and I've seen science-minded zoo educators struggle with that much mental rearranging. And even while they accept this to an extent, they often find it even harder to communicate these ideas to the public.

I think this is a big reason why zoos and museums often push this idea the hardest. Convincing the public humans are apes is already a challenge, teaching them that all apes are monkeys at the same time might seem impossible.

I believe the other big reason people cling to the "apes-aren't-monkeys" idea is that it still allows for that extra bit of comforting anthropocentrism. Think of it this way; anthropocentrism puts humans on a pedestal. When you learn that humans are apes, you can either remove the pedestal and place humans with other animals, OR, you can place the apes up on the pedestal with humanity. For those that have an anthropocentric worldview, it can actually be easier to "uplift" the apes than ditch the pedestal.

Too make things worse, monkeys are such a symbol of a "primitive" animal nature that many can't accept raising them to the "level" of humanity, but removing the pedestal altogether is equally painful. So they hold tight to an outdated idea despite all the evidence. This is why there's often offense taken when an ape is called a monkey. It's tantamount to someone calling you a monkey, and that's too much of a challenge to anthropocentrism.

Personally, I think recognizing myself as a monkey is wonderful. Non-ape monkeys are as "complex" as any ape. They make tools, they have dynamic social groups, they're adapted to a wide range of environments, AND they have the best hair of all primates.

I think we should be honored to be considered one of them.

#primatology #primates #phylogeny #sci comm #monkeys #apes

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hurtspideyparker · 1 month

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One night in the lab Peter finds an old prototype of the EDITH glasses and puts them on.

"Look Mr. Stark! I am Iron Man," he says with a deep voice.

"C'mon kid, that's the best impression you got?" Tony says before looking up.

He sees Peter with those rectangular frames and big grin. For a moment he thinks he's looking at old publicity photos of himself. A confident Tony Stark, tinted glasses and cocky smile, hair fluffed up and oozing manly charm.

Tony's easy smile drops a bit at the thought of Peter being anything like who he used to be.

"Oh sorry for talking over you Ms. Potts I just like the sound of my own voice more than hearing about the safety of our company. I'm too cool to apologize so I'll buy you a zoo for endangered species later honey," Peter tries again with the mocking deep voice.

Tony is quick to recover from the odd deja-vu feeling of seeing the teenager in the frame of a mirror, focusing back on his hologram.

"Yeah because I call the love of my life by her last name. And for your information it was an alpaca sanctuary, and she loved it." Tony corrects, pointing a pen at Peter in rebuke without looking up from his work.

"I chose to be respectful over accurate. Also I saw those alpaca photos and one of them was trying to chew on her skirt, she didn't look very impressed." Peter replies with a matter of fact press of his lips.

Tony glances back at the boy only to find himself unable to look away. He can't help but hear echoes of "I just wanted to be like you!" when he sees the boy wearing frames reminiscent of Tony's classic fashion sense.

Tony thinks about Howard, how he used to run laps to prove he was good enough, better than, worthy of being his son.

He was never enough for Howard.

"You're always better at remembering that kind of stuff than me anyways kid."

Peter is taken back by the earnest tone the older man suddenly possesses. His mouth opens but no words come out in reply, Tony looking at him as if he can see right through the spiderling.

"Now stop playing with my old crap and c'mere, we have some important decisions to make," Tony waves him over to look at something on his phone.

When Peter gets close enough he sees that it's a food delivery app, Tony's fingers hovering between an Indian and Thai restaurant.

Peter shoots him another grin, "I vote for samosas!"

Tony rolls his eyes but clicks on the Indian restaurant anyways.

Peter notices in the reflection of the phone that he still has the glasses on, reaching up to remove them before Tony puts a hand on his wrist to stop him.

"Keep em on, it's the first time you've ever looked cool enough to hang out with me. The tech in those is useless anyways, they're just a pair of sunglasses now."

Peter looks up at his mentor with such awe and admiration that Tony nearly melts like butter under the sun.

Tony may not do many things right when it comes to people, but he knows that even when he was still young and naive he'd known better than to ever look at Howard like that.

So maybe there's one thing he hasn't screwed up.

#peter parker #tony stark #spider man #marvel mcu #irondad and spiderson #iron man

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incorrectbatfam · 5 months

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Do the batfamily members ever get too into their undercover work? (Undercover in an office and theyre worried about spreadsheets, working in a warehouse and coming home complaining about missing parts)

Bruce: Status updates on your undercover missions. Dick, you first. What have you got down at the docks?

Dick: I haven't confirmed the Killer Croc sightings yet, but more importantly, our catch hasn't been measuring up to last year's. Tuna we're doing okay on, but the salmon population seems to be on the low end. I've contacted the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but it'll be another 3-5 business days before they can come down and check it out.

Bruce: At least you're doing something to help. Jason?

Jason: Class was okay. I think the kids are warming up to me as their substitute while Mrs. Maloney is out on maternity leave. The average on the last vocabulary quiz was 83.53% so either I'm doing my job right or they need to be challenged. I'm worried about Tristan Lancy, though. He's normally a good student but his grades have been dropping recently and his parents don't seem like safe people to tell. I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to pair him up with a peer tutor if he needs it.

Bruce: Also see if he has any alternate contacts besides his parents. Tim, any updates at the chemical plant?

Tim: If by updates you mean OSHA violations, I could go on all week. We got a batch of new recruits today and they were just thrown into the work—no PPE, no safety training, nothing. This is what happens when you place production over employee well-being. I'm gonna file a complaint after this meeting. Also, I think the union will have something to say about the manager cutting people's lunch breaks short.

Bruce: I see. Damian? Please tell me you found something volunteering at the zoo.

Damian: Depends on how you define "found." While I have not obtained evidence of a mutant larvae black market, I did help some of the animals at the sanctuary make progress with their recovery. Bobo the monkey is healing from his broken arms and we're gradually getting him re-acclimated to climbing higher surfaces. Suzie the black bear was born a little prematurely but seems to be catching up to her peers in terms of growth. Lastly, we got a grant for additional wildcat research and enrichment. As an aside, we are having an educational seminar on European mountain goats this Friday at 3:30 and I expect all of you to be there.

Bruce: I'll put that on our calendars. Steph?

Steph: It's not really undercover work for me, just work. Anyway, yes the newest Batburger location is being used for money laundering. But I really need to vent about the customers for a sec. We don't open until 10 and at 9:30 this morning some moron was banging on our door demanding Jokerized cheese fries. Then right in the middle of the lunch rush, Janie got sick so I had to fill in as the cashier and it was hell. After that, I had to step in between a fight at the drive-thru because the customer claimed we only gave him nine pieces of his ten-piece Robin nuggets and tried to beat up the kid who took his order. And to top it all off, an entire high school hockey team came in five minutes before closing.

Bruce: Cass?

Cass, blowing balloons: Can't talk. Arranging bat mitzvah.

Bruce: Duke, you're my last hope.

Duke: Margie's bringing a peanut butter chocolate cake to the bake sale. I swiped her recipe and we can easily beat her. Her ganache is way too watery and just runs off the top of the cake, which isn't even leveled. She's also trying to do something with a raspberry filling that isn't working at all. It's like she couldn't decide on what to bring. The bake sale committee also asked if we can bring some apple pies because the original baker has to go out of town for a family emergency. I think we'll win if we bring them with some ice cream and a touch of caramel, even though this isn't a contest.

Bruce: Thank you. At least our most critical case has been taken care of.

Barbara: ...I'll save my book launch for later.

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kcrossvine-art · 9 days

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haiiii dungeon delvers! This is a quick one, gratefully both the materials and the dish-type are very close to their real life inspiration :D

As we speak, my favorite catgirl bestfolk is getting introduced to the anime and you haven no idea how much self control its taken to not immediately jump forward to be in sync with her, but theres SO many good recipes before we get there!!!

We will be making a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet today!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet?” YOU MIGHT ASKIts made from the egg of a basilisk, which isnt a large chicken egg but instead a large snake egg. Oblong shape, soft leather texture, and no eggwhites just yolk.

A large daikon

½ lbs fatty bacon

Shallots

Garlic

Chicken eggs

Salt

Pepper

Arugula (for garnishing)

OPTIONAL; ketchup/hot sauce :)

You could try cooking this using actual snake eggs, but theyre hard to come by and reportedly quite bland compared to chicken eggs. I tried getting my hands on an ostrich egg for the pizzaz of it all. The zoo lady was kind in her dismissal.

AND, “what does a Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKOmelettes are standard fair but here we cook them like a french omelette and wrap it up like a burrito at the end.

Wetter eggs than im used to ( <- american)

Daikon and bacon r very tasty together

They end up having the same texture almost

Intensely savory. Heavy on the tummy

Chopped green onions would bring more levity to the filling

Ketchup pairs well

(but i prefer medium hot sauce)

Dark coffee pairs well

The acidity of the above 3 is what makes them work with this nutrient Dense dish

. In the show, decapitated mandrakes are more bitter than mandrakes left 'whole'. If you want that difference, using sweet/sour sauce on some of the daikon while it cooks will make the non-sauced daikon seem bitter by comparison. . Maybe ferment daikon too? . Adding a small amount of water with the bacon transfers the heat evenly, a small amount as to cook off before the fat/grease renders. Could also try cooking in the oven.

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"Consisting of a fluffy Basilisk egg omelet filled with minced Basilisk bacon and mandrake.If the mandrake used was killed with its 'head' still attached, it will be less bitter and more mellow" This dish is important as it marks the beginning of Senshi and Marcilles bonding, and the lead-up gives us our first glance into the school Falin and Marcille met at. Objectively the recipe is basic but it was challenging to write out.

Omelette making is muscle-memory, so having to learn the french variation and slow down felt like trying to ride a bike side-saddled.

It took about an hour and a half from laying out the ingredients, to eating the finished thing. I had to take a break in the middle of cutting veggies as my wrists are flaring up, so you could probably go faster unimpeded.

What would you rate this recipe out of 10?(with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

1 large daikon, chopped

½ lbs fatty bacon, chopped

2 shallots

3 cloves of garlic

3 Eggs

Salt

Pepper

Some arugula (for garnishing)

OPTIONAL; ketchup/hot sauce :)

Method:

Chop your bacon into roughly ½ inch squares. Cut off the ends of your daikon and cube the rest. Thinly dice your shallots and crush your garlic cloves.

Bring a cast iron skillet to medium-high heat. Once at temp, carefully add your chopped bacon to the pan with a very small amount of water.

Add your chopped bacon and stir-fry until almost cooked.

Add your shallots and garlic. Cook for about a minute or until the shallots have softened.

Transfer the bacon, shallot, and garlic mix to a bowl. Set aside. Lower the cast iron skillet to medium heat.

Place your daikon cubes in the cast iron skillet, you should still have enough bacon grease. Add salt and cook until lightly browned on each side.

Add roughly 1 tablespoon of water. Lower heat and cover. Simmer for 2 minutes.

Once your daikon are softened, transfer to same bowl containing your bacon, shallots, and garlic.

Crack your eggs into a seperate bowl and whisk for 2 minutes until 'frothy' with no egg whites visible.

Bring the cast iron skillet back up to medium heat. There might not be enough bacon grease left, so feel free to add butter! If the butter browns you've gone too hot.

Pour your eggs into the skillet. Use a spatula to spread the eggs, scraping down the sides of the pan. Sprinkle salt and pepper in, to taste.

Once your eggs are mostly solid, pour the bacon, shallot, garlic, and daikon filling into the center. If it starts to separate- stop touching and let it rest. Gently fold the edges of the omelette overtop the filling.

Lay a few pieces of arugula on a plate, and flip your omelette onto it :) enjoy!

#dungeon meshi #food recipes #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #digital art

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mionemymind · 20 days

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Lost in the Universe (Part 1)

Summary: Y/n is transported to a different universe and by chance, meets the Wanda that inhabits it.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Slight Angst?

A/n: I know I haven't written in a while. But recently I've been on a surge to start writing again. I hope you all enjoy and please tell me honestly how you feel about it. Hopefully, I'm not too rusty.

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Part 2

Y/n dropped into a new universe, barely landing on her feet. She scrambled to find balance as the portal above her closed. “What the fuck?” Y/n wiped off her hands as she looked around the unfamiliar area.

“Are you lost dekta?” Y/n spun around at the sound of her voice. A smile plastered on Y/n’s face when she saw Wanda. She took a couple of steps when she felt something was different with the girl in front of her. “Wanda?”

The brunette chuckled at the obvious confusion. “It’s me dekta.” Y/n still grew apprehensive. She looked around the location she was in. They were on a simple farm surrounded by acres of grape trees. There was a barn and home in the distance and sheep and cows grazed the plain. “I don’t think you’re my Wanda though,” Y/n said as kindly as possible. It was scary to be in a new world without a clue as to how they operate. Even though Y/n knew that the woman in front of her wasn’t exactly her Wanda, it still gave her some type of peace knowing there was a version of her here.

“And you’re not my Y/n.” Y/n’s nerves eased with the comment as Wanda broke the distance between them. “So let’s get you back to my home and figure out how this happened.”

“Make yourself at home.” Wanda took off her dirty boots at the front and walked to the kitchen. She took the kettle out from the drawer and filled it with water. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Is that your favorite in your world?”

“It is!” Y/n yelled from the front of the house. She took off her shoes and jacket, hoping to not get the house dirty. The entrance of the house led them into a decent-sized living room filled with various decorations and plants.

Y/n didn’t mean to snoop but she couldn’t help but look at all the photos framed on the wall and tables. The first photo that caught her eye was a picture of young Wanda and Pietro back in what Y/n could guess was their hometown. She picked it up and analyzed it in detail.

“I miss him,” Y/n whispered to herself. Wanda noticed this as she walked in with two cups of hot chocolate. “We were only five in that photo. I think we went to the zoo that day. Probably one of our better pictures when we were younger. Everything else is either him or me or the both of us crying.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Wanda nodded for approval, “is your Pietro still alive?” Wanda could sense this was a sensitive subject and gave Y/n one of the cups while directing her to the couch.

“Yes, my Pietro is still alive. Currently, he’s away on work.” Y/n gave a small smile, the feeling of missing Pietro grew inside. “I’m happy to hear that.” Y/n took a small sip of her hot chocolate, making sure not to spill the hot drink on herself.

“So your Y/n likes hot chocolate?” Wanda smiled in agreement. “Yes, my Y/n does like hot chocolate. She’s the only reason I have some. I’m just glad that part of her is with you as well. I hope it finds you comfort though because it must be scary to be in a completely different universe.”

“Well,” Y/n thought maybe lying would help ease her anxiety, but the presence of Wanda, even though it wasn’t necessarily her Wanda, made her want to tell the truth, “it is scary. I’m just hoping they find me. But you have been pretty calm for this whole ‘I managed to drop on your farm out of all the locations in this universe’ thing.”

“Your humor appears to be the same no matter the universe,” Wanda playfully said. “But the reason I’m not freaking out is because in this universe, I’m aware of my other counterparts. Luckily enough, you dropped into a universe where I have my powers.” Wanda proceeded to show off her magic, covering Y/n in red swirls momentarily.

“Are you able to drop me back home?” Wanda politely smiled, setting her cup down on the table nearby. “I’m sorry dekta. I unfortunately don’t have that type of power as of yet.”

Y/n sighed in defeat, her anxiety coming back with worried thoughts. Wanda reached out and grabbed Y/n’s hand in a comforting manner. Even in different universes, Wanda Maximoff cared for Y/n Y/l/n. This was a simple fact that would not change. “However, your Wanda is currently on the hunt for you.”

“She is?” Y/n placed her cup down, her hand still interlaced with Wanda’s. “The rules of the universe don’t allow any conversation to happen between each other but we can still feel each other. So when you dropped into my world, I could feel the slight imbalance. But, you just happen to be dating one of the most powerful people in the universe.” Y/n blushed at the compliment, already knowing that she was lucky to even date Wanda in the first place.

“And the perk of dating powerful people is that we can feel other things in different universes. Right now, I can feel her dropping into other universes, trying her best to find you.”

“What if she can’t find me?” Y/n pouted. Wanda smiled even more. It was refreshing to see that their love expanded beyond her world. Wanda cupped Y/n’s cheek with her free hand, “This is something I will share only with you.” Listening intently, “You and your Wanda have a special connection. Think of it as a tether. Right now, she’s tugging on that tether hoping that if she continues to pull on it, it will lead back to you. No amount of magic, power, or science can cause this tether to break. It might be a little tangled with how many universes you might’ve accidentally gone through, but she will reach you in time.”

“So believe me when I say this dekta, Wanda will always find you.” Wanda kissed Y/n’s forehead and proceeded to get up. “In the meantime, my Y/n is away on a mission. You’re free to stay here with me until all of this gets sorted out.”

Wanda walked back to the front of the house, putting her shoes back on. “Is there anything I can do to help out while I wait?”

“Wanna help me with the goats?”

After a long day of work, Wanda and Y/n lay in the hammock near the campfire, admiring the stars that the night offered. “When I looked at your photos, I noticed none of them were of just you and I, how come?”

Wanda blushed at the directness and was thankful that it was nighttime. “You see, my Y/n and I aren’t dating yet.” Y/n faced Wanda with a ridiculous look. “Are you serious? How come I haven’t confessed? If there’s a world where there’s a you and an I, then we must be together.”

“I’m not sure. We bought this farm together to get away from the city and have some peace time before they spring our next mission on us. Even then, she doesn’t seem to have the courage to confess.” Wanda sighed, her patience was running thin but she knew it was worth the wait.

“Do you need me to get myself together?” Wanda laughed at the offer, clearly imagining two Y/n’s talking to each other. “I’ll probably be the one to have to confess first if she doesn’t do it soon.”

“Just to be sure, does the Y/n here like you like that?”

“Oh, I’m more than positive that my Y/n likes me back,” Wanda cockily states.

“What makes you so certain? Back then, it took me forever to confirm that my Wanda even liked me.”

“Cause within our tethers, I can feel her. I’ve only ever felt her. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to tie me to her if she didn’t feel the same way.” There was more to the truth than Wanda could let on, because in every universe, Y/n and Wanda always fall in love with each other, no matter the circumstances, no matter the era, and no matter the time.

“I didn’t know the universe could be kind like that.”

They continued to star watch when a red portal in the sky opened up and out came two figures. One landed roughly as the other descended slowly onto the ground. Y/n and Wanda got up from their hammock and walked towards them.

“Wanda?” Y/n yelled out in the distance, hoping it was them and not an alien invasion. “Y/n?!” Wanda came rushing into Y/n’s arm, feeling her worries slip away as she finally was with her again. “I thought I lost you,” Wanda stated with worry. Today had been a long day for her and America Chavez. Hopping from universe to universe was hard, especially with a young teen that has no clue how to control her powers.

“You could never lose me,” Y/n stated confidently. Wanda pulled back from the hug and sealed a kiss, one that made both of their knees weak and minds numb with love. Pulling away slowly, pressing their foreheads against each other, Wanda said, “Let's go home dekta.”

Y/n nodded in agreement and intertwined their hands. They walked back to the portal but not before Y/n waved goodbye to this universe’s Wanda. “I hope she confesses soon!”

Wanda smiled back in return and waved. Telepathically, Wanda said, “Thank you for taking care of my Y/n.”

“Anytime, Wanda.”

Part 2

Taglist: @halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog @sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @shadowybailiffdreamer-donkey @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @second-try-stevie @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me @ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha @itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @isitallreallyworthit @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff @imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy @olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00

A/n: I just used the same tag list from Fake Memories. If you didn't want to be tagged, I'm sorry.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #fluff #lost in the universe #marvel #wanda maximoff fluff

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creatingblackcharacters · 1 month

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"It takes HOW LONG?" Black Hair is an Art (pt.2)

(This is part two of the hair lessons, focusing on writing/narratives. If you want to know how the styles LOOK, refer to part 1 and its addendum)

Now that you know what our hair actually looks like, we’re going to discuss incorporating that into your writing (original fic, fanfic, webcomics, anything with a narrative). You don’t HAVE to give us a dissertation on "how you studied 'The Black People’s Hair'" in your story. That’s not what I’m asking you to do. I’m just asking you to CONSIDER the effort and existence of it. The same way you put effort into discussing nonblack hair textures? Should be the sort of tenderness and care you put into discussing ours. It does not stand to reason that I have read thousands of stories describing "the silky, black/blonde tresses/waves that fell down their pale back as their lover ran their fingers through them", but Black readers have nothing of the sort to compare to without seeking our own authors out. Our hair deserves some loving and adoration too!

This is a very long post describing hairstyles and how they can correspond to your character's design and decisions, so I'll put a read more here. The sections are organized into 'Twist Out', 'Afros', 'Locs', 'Braids', 'Black Men', and 'Straight Hair' if you Ctrl F. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take your time to read all of this at some point though, as I put a lot of resources and explanation into this. I'm trusting you!

The History

As I discussed in the last lesson, our hair is incredibly important to us, and part of that includes the vulnerability and trust that comes along with access to it. This is due to a long history of oppression. There’s a racist history of making Black women hide our hair, as if it would ‘tempt white men’ away, regardless of it were due to actual attraction or the (more likely) rape of Black women. There’s a racist history of touching our hair, as though we are animals or zoo exhibits. We aren’t just going to let anyone touch our heads, so DON'T write that, unless you are doing so to show that it is a microaggression towards your character. Even now, cultural appropriation is rampant. If I were to wear cornrows with hoops, it'd be seen as 'ghetto' or 'gang-like'. Meanwhile, it is a fashion statement for white women. When Miles G Morales showed up in Across the Spiderverse, animators specifically chose cornrows for him, but many people mistakenly took it to me that he was 'rougher and tougher' than the original Miles. This was a racist perception! Hearing the Fade get hyped up in the news as the 'Travis Kelce', when Black men and especially NFL players have been wearing it for DECADES to crickets... it hurts lmao. Point is, you can describe and respect Black hair without being racist about it. Okay? Okay.

Vulnerability

YOUR CHARACTERS NEED TO BE CLOSE BEFORE ALLOWING THEM TO TOUCH THEIR HAIR!!!

It needs to be someone they TRUST wholeheartedly. Again, do NOT let a stranger touch their hair unless it’s meant to be an uncomfortable situation!

Consider CONSENT! Consent is ALWAYS beautiful! Have your other characters (Black or not) ASK to touch your Black characters’ hair! And not in the ‘Oh can I touch it?’ way. But if they’re really close friends or dating, have them ask to help do their braids, or wash their hair, or even just to stroke their hair and face! Or if your Black character is injured with a head wound, and they have to tend to them, have them ask! The asking shows a level of care and respect for your Black character and their body! At any point the consent may be revoked, and that needs to be respected! If they let them tend their head wound, but then smack their hand away after, that’s not ‘rude’- they’re allowed to do that, especially to signify that they aren’t at that level of trust yet. That's still angsty!

One great example of love from a Black character is doing their partner’s hair, or allowing their partner to do their hair. The ‘Hair-washing’ fic is a common thing in fanfiction; we all understand how that shows the depth of the trust in the relationship between the characters. How would you write about that trust with a Black character, if you don’t know what goes into taking care of their hair? If you don’t even know what their hair looks or feels like? The lack of awareness will show, and what should be a beautiful, deep moment will fall flat for Black readers. I wrote one once for my character with locs, and it honestly made me tear up because I realized that I’d never seen one, at least not in the majority white spaces that the fandoms I was in were.

Think about it- how often have you read a hair-washing fic with a Black character? Was it accurate? Would you know if it was accurate? Have you spoken to or heard anyone Black in your fandom space talk about it? Do you know anyone Black in your fandom space to ask? It’s things like this that we have to consider!

If you have a character that is nonblack in a relationship with your Black character, that honestly reveals even more trust because there’s a long history (again) behind that NOT happening! In life, we can’t go to the same places. I can’t go to a white hair salon or barbershop. They won’t know what to do! People are allowed to go through hair school without learning how to work with different, thicker textures. It’s not right nor fair, but it’s a part of the casual, systemic racism in our lives.

My feelings on what Lestat symbolizes aside, the scene where he plays with Louis’ curls in AMC's IWTV was an intelligent way to show that closeness, and how a nonblack character would affectionately play with a Black character’s hair! How he works with the curl in his fingers, rather than trying to pet Louis or run his fingers through- it was an intelligent move on Sam and Jacob’s part as actors to understand that THAT’S how that would go down!

If you have a character that wants to show a violation of your Black characters’ space, touching/harming our hair is cruelty on a very personal level that will generate an extreme reaction.

Think About Your Character!

When thinking about your Black character’s hairstyle, you need to think about your character themselves! What do they do every day? What are their hobbies? Are they Type A, Type B personality? Do they have a lot of time? Are they always in a rush? Are they noncommittal? Are they self-conscious? Artsy? Serious? Are they in a time period where the means to care for their hair are limited?

People make jokes and comments about how Black women don’t like getting our hair wet and dismiss our concerns. But it’s not out of ‘silliness’ or vanity. What you consider ‘just hair’ may have taken days of planning in advance and HOURS of our time! We put a lot of thought and effort into our hair, and it will easily shatter the illusion for your Black readers if you describe our hair poorly or create an unlikely scenario with it. It’s not a joke!

Some Terms:

Protective styles- a style that allows our hair to ‘rest’ with minimal manipulation

‘Tender-headed’- some people’s scalps are more sensitive to the tightness of styles, so it’ll hurt a little bit more and require some more gentleness (Regardless it’s still going to hurt for a bit after a fresh style)

Bonnets- a silk/satin cap of varying lengths that we wear at night to protect our hair and keep the moisture in

Loc Sock- same idea, but for locs

Durag- keeps short haircuts protected; can even help create the wave pattern that many Black men enjoy

Scarf- same idea as the bonnets, except scarfs can be used specifically for straight hairstyles to wrap them up to keep it straight and neat

(It'll seem real legit if you include your Black characters wearing their headcoverings at night! I remember laughing while reading Twilight because I knew that if Edward snuck into my room at night, he'd see me in my scarf or bonnet lmao.)

General Hair Care:

While I don’t completely agree with some of the advertising in this first one (it’s the internet. Can’t go nowhere without someone trying to hawk something) it’s cool in general to explain how our hair looks the way it does.

If you have Black children OCs, it’s important to consider that their parents have to do their hair, and how that will be its own experience! (It can be very stressful for Black children to get their hair done, as it takes a long time and can be physically uncomfortable. There are plenty of stories of burnt ears and tugged tangles and not very nice old women. Children are children! Keep in mind how they may behave while getting the style of your choice.

Moisturizing to keep healthy

Twist Outs

Cute twist out styles

Twist outs are a style that takes overnight to hold, or maybe even a few days! The cool thing is that the twists themselves can be the style! So the tighter you want their curls to be, the longer they’ll wear the twists in. If you want to describe your character with tighter curls, there needs to be a section of time where their hair remains in the twists! If your character has an event, and they want twists… this needs to be done in advance. Your character will NOT untwist them the day of, unless they want weak, limp curls (or you want the scene to compose of them having weak curls).

How long they'll last depends on the activity of your character! If all they do is work a desk job, or they don’t sweat very much, the twists can last some time! But if they sweat, or wear hats or caps, it’s not going to last long. Maybe a week.

Pros: Very versatile! If you have a character that loves trying new looks and enjoy being spontaneous, twist outs are for them! Easy! If your Black character is younger, or haven’t done their hair before, this is a great way for them to start working with their hair! Doesn’t take long (to do)! If your character is in a rush, and they do their twists, they can go just about anywhere. If they’re not self-conscious, this will be just fine.

Cons: It cannot get wet again, or the style will puff up back into your natural texture. It does not last long enough to say “oh my character went on a two year long fantasy adventure with this style.” If you want your character to have a twist out the whole time, they’re going to have to take time to do it. It would be cool if you incorporate a scene where they’re working on their hair, maybe in the background while everyone’s discussing plans or something. Just a reminder that their hair isn’t just staying magically twisted (unless they have the magic to do that).

Afros

Afro Style Guide, Style Guide for Men (works for any gender though)

Wash & Gos are just that- wash it (or really, condition it, you don’t have to shampoo it every time) dry with a t-shirt (to prevent breakage), put some oil and a light crème on it, fluff it up and you’re good to go! Maybe an hour at max and can be done while getting dressed in the morning!

Pros: Easy! If they’re doing a full, combed out afro, it’s not as simple, it will take more time. And at night it has to be plaited so that it maintains its length, otherwise it will tangle. But other than that, that’s still not all that hard. They can show off their curls! Black characters can and should have pride in their hair. It’s beautiful. This is the opportunity that you as an author can describe the pure texture of their hair, how it shines in the light, how the coils look, how soft it is! Romanticize Black hair the same way you do anyone else’s!

Cons: None really! Afros are wonderful! Just make sure that your character has a way to keep their hair from getting tangled. Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean there’s no maintenance! A pick, a bonnet, oil and water go a long way!

Locs

Five stages of locs

A person who does locs is a loctician.

Can be palm-rolled or interlocked/crocheted

I cannot emphasize enough that you do not want just anyone doing their locs! They can really mess up someone’s hair if they don’t know what they’re doing. I say that to say, for your character, if they don’t trust the person doing their hair… they should. They should not be walking into anyone’s place to get their hair locked; they’d do research first.

The time it takes locs to ‘bud’ (that is, to actually form the loc) depends on the texture of their hair. But it can take up to 3 months to even a year for them to actually ‘loc up’. So if your character just got locs, they’re not going to look neat. They’re going to be frizzy.

As long as they’re washing their hair, keeping it moisturized, and not using wax products (DO NOT HAVE ANY BLACK CHARACTER USE WAX PRODUCTS IT IS BAD FOR BLACK HAIR) it’ll last forever! Locs are incredibly strong, especially the thicker they get! It is recommended that locs are retwisted every six weeks, but if your character has freeform locs, doesn’t have the money or time right now, or they just aren’t that pressed, they can grow indefinitely.

Something cute to write in your stories: sometimes locs do just… fall out. Not the whole thing! But the same way thin hair gets everywhere… sometimes the ends of thin locs just… fall off! You’ll find little buds on the ground. This happens especially in the budding stage.

Pros: Very low daily maintenance! At most they’ll need a bonnet or loc sock, and oil/water mix to spritz and massage in. Strong style that can hold any look- buns, curls, etc. They can be dyed, though it will take a long time to do so. I say that to say, if you want your character to have bright green locs, go for it!!

Cons: Low daily, but HIGH wash day maintenance! So if your character has a fancy date or something to go on, they should not be getting their hair retwisted the same day, or at least not so close to. It’s going to be shiny, oily, and tight, which can cause discomfort. Give them the day to let the hair settle!

Locs are PERMANENT!! This isn’t a bad thing, as much as it is a ‘KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING BEFORE YOU DO IT’ thing. Technically they can be combed out, but that would take a very long time and very precise effort, and most people aren’t going through all that. They’re just going to cut them off and start fresh. If you have a character that would balk at such a choice, locs aren’t for them. If you have a character that’s picky and choosy, that likes versatility, that can’t make up their mind, do NOT give them locs unless they’re making the conscious choice to commit. (Again, this is subjective! Maybe they have locs because their mother died and it reminds them of her! Okay! That works!) If you have a character that’s vain, or at least doesn’t like looking awkward… unless they’re going to style up the awkward stage, they’re not going to want locs. (Awkward stage: the first two stages get considered awkward because the locs look messy. This is because they’re turning from curls to locs!)

Braids

Styles

How long braids can take depend on the style. Box braids can take 10-12 hours to do! Microbraids? You HAVE to have multiple people or you'll be there for damn near a day (and that's assuming you have a masterful braider!)

How long they last depend on your character! If they're like me as a kid, I didn't care how I looked, so my mom got me cheap braids and let me run free for two summer months. So if your Black character is a carefree child! Go for it. But if they're a teen or adult (or are very concerned about how they look) a month to six weeks is about how long braids can stay in before your new growth shows. A character that is usually trimmed and proper having loads of new growth over their braids may symbolize that they don’t have it all together anymore.

Pros: Protective style! Great way to let your character have minimal daily maintenance; oil and water and something to cover it. SOME braided styles allow for high activity and even rain without changing. It depends on the hair that’s been braided in, as well as the style. Incredibly versatile! They can have multi-colored braids, long braids, short braids, beads, trinkets… if your character is creative and bubbly and likes to experiment, the sky is the limit! That can symbolize their artistic expression, just by describing what they look like! So long as they have the time, they can have any look and style they want. No need to commit too long.

If your character is capable of doing their own braids (and locs, btw), they’re amazing. Like… that’s mad respect for them. If you describe your character being able to do their own braids, they’ve got amazing arm strength, patience, and skill. That skilled dexterity can be revealed as a trait of theirs through that alone.

Cons: They take a LONG TIME. Your character is not going anywhere. If they’re getting braids… they’re not going anywhere. If you write your character doing anything fancy the day of, depending on the type of braids, Black readers are not going to believe you. Even if it did get finished, it would be very tight. I currently have a poll going on, and so far, a good majority of the 10+ answers are braids! It cost MONEY. It is NOT CHEAP to get braids done! If your character is poor as a church mouse, they will be doing those braids with their friend in front of youtube. Because it can be in the hundreds of dollars. (Don’t get me started on hair culture right now; BACK IN MY DAY IT COST-)

Hairstyles on Black Men

I want to specifically give space and applause to these hairstyles on Black men, because we REALLY don’t give Black men enough credit for all the creativity they show with their hair! And again, with The Killmonger being the choice style in all these damn vidya games despite almost no Black man I know choosing it as a look… PLEASE LOOK! WE HAVE OPTIONS! Try describing how gorgeous these looks can be on your Black men characters! It would be very nice.

Straight Hair

Well, I was going to explain, but ol ‘Guest Writer’ here pretty much lays it all out! So just go ahead and read this article lol.

Just to re-emphasize, straight hair is NOT something that just grows out of our head that way! It takes effort! So if you have a character that doesn’t feel like maintaining straight hair, they shouldn’t have it! If your character has natural hair and lives in a rainy or humid city, they’re going to be fighting that weather to keep it straight- make sure that’s consistent with their personality!

My best friend used to wash and flatiron her hair every day. Like, laser focused on looking that good, Type A shit (she’s a top money banker now, so I guess it worked out). If you have a character like that, it’s fine! If they’re lazy any other time of the day, they’re not suddenly going to be waking up at 5am to flat iron their hair. It’s not consistent.

Conclusion

That’s pretty much what I have! I’m not the guru on all things Black hair, and I obviously cannot encompass every potential scenario you may have for your characters. Really, my intention here is to get you to think about how our hair reflects our character and personalities, and how when you write and/or draw a Black character, you have that ability! And when you’re able to incorporate that naturally, it makes your Black readers feel seen, like you actually cared about that character enough to give them just as much description as your nonblack characters. You don’t have to be a master at it! Just… occasionally the little things that we can go ‘oh, yeah!’ at would be nice. An equivalent effort would be nice.

Remember, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #black hair #black art #black characters #character design #black writers

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strawberrysturniolo · 2 months

Text

never grow up part two

summary: chris and sunny's friendship is put to the test as they navigate new changes between them, following them having sex

angstyyyyyyyyyy part 1 part 3

Every morning at the Sturniolo’s house starts the same. Chris and I are always the last out of bed even though we wake up before everyone else. We spend hours talking and laughing and avoiding interaction with anyone else. Even when we were just friends, we just wanted to be alone together.

Now, things are slightly different.

I woke up with Chris’ arms enclosed around my body. He never was the type to cuddle, but maybe it’s because he’s going back to LA in a few days that he feels like he should hold onto me until that time comes.

I had forgotten about that. The whole fact that he’d have to leave soon.

He shifts a bit beneath me, stirring awake. His eyes search for mine, looking for a sign that I’m awake too. I close my eyes quickly, but with a laugh beneath me, I know I wasn’t fast enough.

“I saw that,” he says. “What are you pretending you’re sleeping for?”

“You looked so cute, I didn’t want to wake you up. I thought if I pretended to sleep then you’d go back to sleep and I could admire you longer.”

He smiles softly, pulling me closer. “You’re adorable.” My heart races a little. “You liked that, huh?” he asks, feeling my heart against his chest.

I push myself off of him, rolling my eyes. “Shut up.”

Flashbacks from last night come rushing in like a storm cloud, preparing to strike me with every mistake we may have made. I don’t want to think that sex with Chris was a mistake, but I can’t let myself feel these things for him if he’s going back to LA, which is of course going to happen.

From the kiss, to the sex, to us cuddling after, every touch of our bodies felt like a rush of electricity until we were destined to burn out.

“You hungry?” he snaps me out of my daze where my thoughts started consuming me. “Mom’s making french toast. Your favorite.”

Mom. Because she was never just his mom. She was always a second mother to me.

“And yours,” I remind him.

He smiles, nodding in agreement. “That’s why we work so well together.”

Then, he kisses me.

It’s so natural like he hasn’t even thought about it. Like he didn’t have to. Like it’s everything he’s been wanting to do.

“I need to change. I’ll be down in a minute though,” I give him a half smile, realizing that I’m in nothing more than my underwear and Chris’ old t-shirt.

He kisses my forehead, then leaves the room.

I pull on a pair of Chris’ sweatpants and a hoodie, covering myself head to toe in his wardrobe. When I walk downstairs, no one says anything about me wearing his clothes. No one cares. This is how it’s always been, even before he was burying himself inside of me last night.

“Morning, Sunny,” Matt says through a mouthful of his breakfast. He washes it down with a swig of orange juice, barely looking up at me as he eats and tries to talk at the same time.

I sit next to him as Chris’ mom makes me a plate of food, sliding it down in front of me. Chris stands by the fridge, pouring himself some water from the dispenser in the fridge. I look up, catching his eye.

He starts to smile at me, the smallest smile that sends a zoo of butterflies scattering through my body.

“What the fuck are you doing!” Nick exclaims, tossing his arms up towards Chris as he looks down at the puddle of water on the floor he just stepped into.

Chris’ eyes go wide at the glass of water overflowing in his hand, dripping into a small pond on the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Dude, clean it up!” Matt adds, this time without his mouth full.

“I am dipshit!” he calls back, dropping a towel on the floor and swiping it on the tile with his foot.

Chris sits to the left of me at the island, eating his breakfast silently.

With some small talk being made as everyone eats, the only thing I’m focused on is Chris’ taps onto my foot with his own.

“Something funny?” Matt asks, noticing my smile and quiet giggles as I play footsie with his brother.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.”

—

“You’re lying!” I yell at him.

“I’m not!” he shouts back, inches from my face.

“You’re a fucking liar!”

“And you’re overdramatic!”

“You do remember, you’re just embarrassed.”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why would I want to remember me throwing up after I had my first kiss.”

I erupt into laughter as he finally gives into his embarrassing memory. He punches my arm forcefully.

“HEY!”

“I was 12 and scared! And I chugged like three sodas beforehand so yeah, I thought I was gonna burp, and then I threw up. Laugh it up.”

“Oh, I will,” I tease him further, watching him shake his head at me.

“Mmm,” he hums, nodding his head at me as he brings his face closer to mine, brushing our noses as our lips find each other.

I give him a quick kiss, making him whine as I pull away.

“More,” he says, his eyes closed as he smiles.

I peck his lips again, just for him to ask for more.

“Chris!” I scold him, laughing.

“What!” he shouts back defensively. “I’m making up for lost time here.”

I find myself giving in, just like I always do. I give into everything that screams his name. I give into anything that gives me some of him, even though now I have all of him.

Our lips press together like it’s everything that we’re supposed to be. His hand holds my face, and as the kiss grows from soft pecks to a heavier makeout, I’m eternally grateful that we came to my house. Two nights at his place would be too suspicious. We would always alternate houses as kids.

He sits on my couch in my new apartment that I share with my college roommate. Luckily, she’s at work. With him in Boston for now, we don’t have to worry about alternating houses. If he wants to stay here and sleep in my bed and hold me and kiss me while we sleep, we don’t need anyone’s permission anymore. That’s what I remind myself as I climb into his lap.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers against my lips.

Baby.

Not Sunny.

Not even my real name.

He calls me baby.

I can’t even kiss him for a second because of the way my lips curl into a smile.

He pulls back and looks at me, analyzing my expression. “What’s that for?”

“You called me baby.”

I feel his body release a casual shrug. “It’s nothing,” he says.

But to me it’s everything.

I smile into another kiss, holding him close. His hands grip my hips, shifting me slightly on his crotch. A gasp escapes my lips, just enough noise for him to break our mouths apart and lock his eyes on mine, watching the satisfaction rise through my body.

“I love learning what you like,” he nods, flicking his eyes all over my face. “I never remember ever having to learn something new about you. This is so refreshing. I love having more of you.”

My hips dip forward, searching for some sort of release of the ache as I feel my clit begging for attention. As I rock my hips on him, I find the strength between my staggered breathing to say, “I’m yours.”

He raises his thumb to my bottom lip, pulling it downward. His eyes are full of lust as he sucks his own lip in between his teeth, biting down on it hard like he’s holding himself back.

“You always have been.”

I just about melt into him, the kiss pulling us together like the strongest magnets. Even on opposite sides of the country, we’re destined to be drawn together.

He wraps his arms around my lower back, holding me tight as he pulls me into his body, picking me up slightly and laying me down on the length of the couch, all without letting his mouth leave mine.

“I don’t want to know a world where I’m not your number one girl,” I confess to him, the words slipping out of me as I know our events of last night could have changed everything between us.

“Well,” he starts to say, making me freeze. “Apart from my mom and maybe my future daughter, you’re definitely number one.”

Good answer.

His mouth dips to my neck, pushing his own sweatshirt on my body aside as he searches for the spot with the easiest access, but can also double as a sweet spot that will have me begging him for more.

As he places sloppy kisses on my neck and his hands push against my stomach, I have a random rush on panic in my body, like I need answers before I need him inside of me again.

“Chris?”

“Hmm,” he lets out a hum, trying not to break contact between us.

“We need to talk.”

He groans, but not the kind filled with pleasure. He sounds pissed off. “Right now?”

I nod. “Yes, right now.”

He sits up on his knees. “Can you give me like… ten minutes?”

I shake my head.

He lets out a gentle sigh, not one of annoyance, but rather an exhale after the rush of our bodies that we had been looking for until I stopped it.

He runs his hand through his hair, correcting the placement of his curls after I threw them off as we kissed and started touching each other. “What’s up?”

I struggle to find the right words to tell him what is going on inside my brain. How do I make him understand that I’m terrified of losing our friendship because of us having sex, or that I’m scared to ruin our friendship through a relationship, but all I’ve thought of growing up is what it would be like to know he was my boyfriend, and no one else's?

“I just – I think– Last night,” I struggle, but the words start to form. “I had a lot of fun last night. It was really good. And right now, I want to do that again… I just–”

Chris’ expression changes numerous times as I take him on a mental journey with me. He looks worried, then smiles, then looks worried again.

“We don’t have to have sex again right now,” he reminds me. “I just thought you wanted to because you got in my lap but I should have asked–”

“No,” I interrupt him, almost too passionate about the topic of sex with him, but hey, that’s years of pent up frustration coming out. “It’s not about the sex.”

“You sure?” he pushes a bit further, raising an eyebrow at me.

I nod. “It has nothing to do with the sex… entirely…” I’m ruining this by speaking. “I’ve liked you for so long, Chris.”

I watch him swallow. It’s like he’s nervous. He doesn’t say anything.

So I continue and hope that he interrupts me at some point.

“I’ve always liked you and I always wanted something more in our friendship but if that never happened, I was okay with that, because we were Sunny and Chris, and that was always enough. But after last night, and the way things have been going all day… I guess I’ve just been thinking about how things might be if we… you know… tried.”

“Tried what?” he asks me blankly.

I blink at him a few times, waiting for it to register, but it never does.

“A relationship,” I say simply.

His face contorts.

My heart just about fucking stops functioning.

“Why would we do that?”

I don’t bother hiding the fact that my face fell in front of him. I scoot back a bit, feeling uncomfortable with being so brave and outspoken. I shouldn’t have said anything at all, but as I juggle that idea, I remember that he started this. I have no reason to doubt what I thought he felt. He gave me this.

“We had sex last night,” I remind him, as if he could possibly forget.

“I know that. I’m saying… why would we start a relationship just because we had sex?”

He waits for me to say something back, but I’m at a loss for words. I’m treading water in the deepest of oceans, and all I want right now is to fucking drown and never come back up after this.

“It was just sex,” he adds.

That sucks me underwater, and I’m struggling to breathe.

Except in real life, it pushes me to stand up in front of him, taking control. “Just sex?!”

The scariest part of this is that he doesn’t even look like he feels that he’s said anything wrong.

“Sun–”

“I don’t just have sex, Chris,” I cut him off, the fear, anger, sadness, and sudden regret pour out of me. “And I would never just have sex with you. I had sex with you because I thought things were different. I thought you wanted me differently. And now that we’ve had sex, you’re just gonna go back to LA and we’re gonna what? Go back to not speaking on the phone and only communicating through meaningless Snapchats?”

He stares at the floor, not a thought leaving his head and entering his mouth, clearly, because he says nothing back.

“If you can’t figure this out on your own with that college brain, then I have nothing else to say to you,” he finally says. He grabs his phone and adjusts his clothing before he stands up and places himself inches from my face. “Figure it out and then call me.”

“What does me being in college have to do with this?” I ask.

“You know exactly what it means!” he says, his volume much louder than before, catching me off guard. “You act like you’re so much higher than me-”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” I interject quickly. “I was always the person supporting you and telling you to chase your dreams. I was always the one telling everyone that you were gonna make it big.”

“Right, but you don’t want me to go to LA.”

He starts walking away, and without hesitating, I run after him.

“This isn’t about LA!” I shout. “This is about you and me!”

He spins around on his feet, his face inches from mine as he yells back, “I know that!”

“It’s about you and if you’re ready to be in a relationship, and if you’re willing to do distance for us-”

“Are you serious? If I’m willing?” he argues, stepping closer to me. I step back. It’s like I don’t know him anymore. “I’ve been following you around like an abandoned puppy since the day we met and you’re still asking yourself what I want?”

I let my voice drop to a much lower volume, practically a mumble. “What do you want?”

“YOU! I WANT YOU!”

I fall silent. My eyes fill with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. He’s here. I haven’t lost him. We just have to get through this new part of us.

“Do you want me?” he asks, noticing my silence as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Of course I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and I always will.

I want to be your biggest fan, on the sidelines watching you succeed and achieve every dream I remember you telling me about as we colored with sidewalk chalk as kids until we skinned our fingers from rubbing the chalk into the pavement too hard.

I don’t know how long we’ve been in silence. I don’t know how long I’ve been having a mental battle with myself.

I want to be with Chris, but I don’t think we want each other the same way.

I want to have a relationship with him. I want to call him mine and know that he’s no one else’s. I want to look at pictures of us as kids and laugh, thinking about how things have changed.

He wants freedom, and he wants to have fun. I was there, and we didn’t give ourselves to each other. I gave myself to him, and he gave me the Chris that he gives every girl in LA. He made me think I was more than that to him. I should be more than that, and that’s what makes me hesitant above all.

When he goes back to LA, everything falls back to the way it was, and that’s the last thing I want. Yet, I can’t bring myself to beg for change, because I know it won’t happen unless he wants this too.

“Cool,” nods. He tucks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and slips his shoes on. He heads to the door and says, “I’ve spent my entire life chasing after someone who couldn’t give a fuck about me.”

Then, he leaves.

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#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #strawberrysturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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lunememes · 2 months

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🌙 * ― 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 ( a collection of date locations and things to do with your date. feel free to adjust the prompts as needed! do not add to the list. )

a relaxing date

quiet night. our muses snuggle up together beneath a blanket on the couch or in bed and listens as the other muse reads a book to them. bookshop. our muses go to a bookshop and pick out books for each other to read once they get back home. console. our muses play a casual and fun game on a console together, requiring teamwork and strategy. park. our muses take a relaxing walk through the park together to talk and get to know each other better. spa. our muses go to a spa to treat themselves to a day of relaxation and pampering. movie. our muses go to the local cinema to watch a movie together, where they can snack on popcorn and be transported to another world. beach. our muses go to a warm sandy beach, where they can soak up the sun and dip their toes into the sea for a swim or a splash.

a fun date

pins. our muses go to a bowling alley together, where they can play a casual game or aim to have the highest score. wheels. our muses go roller skating together, where they can race one another or skate hand in hand for a more relaxed date. rink. our muses go ice skating together, where they can show off their moves or wobble on the ice and tumble in unison. swim. our muses go swimming together, where they can playfully splash one another, go down the slides or brave the wave pool. shopping. our muses go to the mall together, where they can shop to their hearts content and find a new thing to take home. ride. our muses go horse riding together, either separately or together, and enjoy the sights atop their horses. hole-in-one. our muses go to a crazy golf course, where they must overcome obstacles and get the ball to its end destination. laser. our muses go to a laser tag event and test out their stealth and aim as they try to hunt one another down to tag them. paintball. our muses go paintballing together and form up to be a formidable team or test their skills against each other. rodeo. our muses attempt the mechanical rodeo bull, where one muse must hang on for dear life or try to stay on together.

a delicious date

restaurant. our muses go to a nice restaurant, dressed up and treated to vintage wine and delicious food. fast food. our muses go to a fast food place, where there are no expectations and the company is all that matters. café. our muses go to a homely little café, where they can enjoy a warm drink and homemade cakes. truck. our muses go to a local food truck, where greasy but delicious food is served up right in front of them. homemade. our muses have a home-cooked meal, where one muse cooks the other a delicious and intimate meal. baking. our muses bake something together, sending flour everywhere and bringing out the playfulness of one another. picnic. our muses go on a little picnic together, a quiet patch of grass beneath the warm sun. cold treat. our muses find an ice cream truck and decide to treat themselves to a cold treat. sweet treat. our muses go to a desert place where they can get waffles, crêpes and brownies.

a nature date

zoo. our muses take a trip to the zoo where they can admire all the various walks of life and get the special privilege to feed an animal. wings. our muses visit a butterfly sanctuary, where the air is filled with colourful wings and life flutters all around them. feed. our muses visit a park with a bag of seed on hand to feed the local wildlife, getting to see them up close and personal. sea life. our muses visit and aquarium together, where they can stand beneath a tunnel of water and see sharks and fish swim overhead. sun. our muses find a clearing or a good vantage point to watch the sunrise or sunset together. stars. our muses lay beneath the stars together, where they can try to catch a glimpse of shooting star or point out the constellations. garden. our muses visit a botanical garden, where vibrant colours and fragrant flowers bloom.

an entertaining date

play. our muses attend a play at a theatre, where music fills the halls and actors perform on stage. opera. our muses attend an opera hall, where classical music takes people back to a different age. ballet. our muses attend a ballet showing, where elegance and grace captivates the audience. sport. our muses attend a sports event with the best seats in the house, where they can cheer on their favourite team and have a beer or two. concert. our muses visit a concert together, where the crowd raves to the music and joins in harmony. amusement park. our muses go to an amusement park, where they can relax on a log ride or risk it all with a daring ride. night out. our muses go to a bar where the drinks never end and the party goes well into the night. prize. our muses visit the arcades where they can try to win as many prizes as they can or jump into a stimulation game. old games. our muses have a fun and competitive go at old board games, where it could bring them together or test the strength of their relationship.

an educational date

pottery. our muses attending a pottery class where one muse helps the other to make a pot, hands on. paint. our muses attending a painting class, where they can gift one another their painting or paint one another. dance. our muses attend a dance class, where they can learn a few new moves and share an intimate moment. axe. our muses go to an axe throwing class, where a professional teaches them how to throw axes. museum. our muses go to the museum, where they can learn the earth's history, admire the artwork or venture into space. castle. our muses visit an old castle, where history lingers and people can peer into the past.

a medieval date

renfair. our muses attend a renfair event, dressed up for the occasion and enjoy the festivities. joust. our muses attend a medieval restaurant where they can dine, watch knights joust and have a medieval experience. ball. our muses attend a grand ball, where couples take to the dance floor and let the music flow through them. masquerade. our muses attend a masquerade ball, where masks shrouds faces and scandals thrive. feast. our muses attend a grand feast, where jolly laughter and mountains of food await.

an adventurous date

climb. our muses attend an indoor climbing place or brave the mountains, to put their strength and resilience to the test. camp. our muses take to the wild and set up camp in the woods, putting their survival skills to the test. sail. our muses go on a cruise together, where they can kick back and enjoy a nice cocktail on the ocean waves. lake. our muses brave the brisk waters and go skinny dipping together for some naughty fun. rapids. our muses go canoeing in the treacherous waters of a fast running river sky diving. our muses take to the skies and go sky diving, either together or side by side, and experience the world from above. slope. our muses go skiing or snowboarding together, soaring past the snow covered trees and gaining air with ramps.

an unconventional date

heist. our muses go on a more unconventional date and go on a heist together to bring home a new, shiny and expensive addition. fight. our muses attend a fighting match where adrenaline is high and cheers fill the room. rage. our muses go to a rage room and smash things together, letting out pent up rage and stress in union. graveyard. our muses visit a graveyard at night, where they can try to scare one another with a scary story or visit the dead. ghosts. our muses try to find the paranormal in an abandoned place, where spirits are said to linger. hunting. our muses go hunting together, but what exactly will they be hunting? escape. our muses go to an escape room, where they will need to work together if they ever stand a chance of getting out. sacrifice. our muses perform a ritual with the intention of summoning something, but is it for fun or is it something all the more sinister?

#date prompts #valentine prompts #rp prompts #rp memes #rp meme #inbox memes #ask memes #rp starters

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agricaanzaaz · 2 years

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pinchofhoney · 6 months

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broken promises, part two

« part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warning: angst, feeling of being betrayed, heartbreak

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: it's for those few people who have read part one, thank you<33 i hope more people will crawl here like doctor gaul snakes after the film's premiere, so i'd like to ask: do you want a third part in which our lovely reader meets snow again after his return to the capitol? 🐍

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

Welcome to the Capitol.

The resonance of those four simple words echoed through your thoughts as you sat in the grand living room of your family's penthouse. The room was bathed in soft, golden light, a stark contrast to the surreal scenes that played out on the broadcast, straight from the Capitol's zoo.

After Coriolanus had greeted Lucy Gray on the platform, exchanging a few words with the young tribute, he turned to you, his eyes filled with determination as the girl was now walking away, heading toward a boy from her district.

“I should go with her,” he said with a sense of urgency in his voice as he glanced back at the girl in the rainbow dress.

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted in confusion, asking a question which redirected his gaze to you.

“I should escort her to her accommodation, I must show her that I am trustworthy,” he explained in haste and without waiting for your response, he stepped to the side and reached out to get the attention of one of the Peacekeepers by lightly touching the man's arm.

“Excuse me,” Coriolanus began. “I’m Coriolanus Snow from the Academy.” He nodded toward Lucy Gray. “This tribute has been assigned to me for the Hunger Games. I wonder if I might accompany her to her quarters.”

The Peacekeeper's gaze flitted over Coriolanus' shoulder, briefly meeting yours before responding, “That’s why you've been hanging around here all morning? To catch a ride to the show?” He granted permission for Coriolanus to join the tributes, adding, “Just you,” as he directed his attention to the transport truck destined for the tributes.

Your gaze followed the Peacekeeper's, and as you glimpsed the vehicle awaiting the tributes, your mouth fell open in surprise. Stepping closer to Coriolanus, you took his hand.

“You're not going to get in there, are you, Coryo?” your concern shifted from the truck to Coriolanus, your brows furrowing as you made a plea through your eyes. The transport before you resembled a wheeled animal cage, starkly underscoring the Capitol's dehumanization of the tributes.

“I can't leave her alone,” Coriolanus stated, briefly glancing your way before gently pulling his hand away and moving toward the vehicle.

“Yes, you can,” you protested, following closely behind him as the first tributes began to enter the cage.

“Everything will be fine, Y/N,” Coriolanus reassured you, pausing near the truck. He looked down at you and spoke calmly, trying to ease the visible anxiety on your face. He brushed tenderly a strand of hair behind your ear and held your gaze. “Go home and don't worry, I'll come visit you later, okay?”

“You don't have to do this, Coryo…”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face the vehicle. He made eye contact with Lucy Gray and not even a moment had passed when he was already climbing onto the truck.

You wanted to say more, to stop him from taking this step, but you understood it was too late. Coriolanus had already made up his mind, and he wasn't one to back down. You anxiously bit your lip, a silent witness as the truck's door slammed shut. A few moments later, the engine roared to life, taking Coriolanus away from you.

Anxiety weighed heavily on your heart as you stood there like a helpless spectator. As the vehicle departed, it stirred up dust, leaving you in loneliness on the platform. You played distracted with the strands of hair Coriolanus had so gently tucked behind your ear. The fading truck held your gaze captive, making it nearly impossible to look away.

Though it felt like an eternity, only a few seconds had passed since Coriolanus had left your side. You took a deep breath, finally releasing your hair from your anxious fingers. With fresh determination, you made your way toward the train station's exit, whispering reassuring words to yourself. You held on to the belief that everything would be all right and that Coriolanus would soon return, just as he had promised, to stand at your doorstep.

Now you were fixated on the television screen, preoccupied in the spectacle playing out in the Capitol's monkey house. Your eyes were following Lucy Gray closely while keeping an eye out for Coriolanus in the background. Your family, including your parents and sister, sat alongside you, intrigued by the broadcast as much as you were.

“What's he doing there?” your father asked, a furrow of confusion creasing his brow. Both your parents held a deep affection for young Snow, but your father had a particular respect for him. He remembered Coriolanus's father, a general during the First Rebellion, and believed him to be a positive influence on you.

“Seems like he's doing his best,” you replied, though your words carried a hint of uncertainty. You were well aware of Coriolanus's determination to shine in his role, to demonstrate to the entire Capitol that the Snow name always remained at the top. And you supported him wholeheartedly, but there was a distinct difference between assuring him of his abilities in the quiet moments and witnessing it all unfold.

After a moment, the metal door of the monkey house slid open, and Coriolanus's voice reached your ears. “Thank you for being with us today. Remember, this is Lucy Gray Baird from the Twelfth District. Drop by the zoo in your free time to say hello. I promise it's worth to meet her.”

Your lip was nervously bitten as you observed Coriolanus planting a tender kiss on Lucy Gray's hand, which she extended for a good bye. When his lips touched her skin, you experienced an unfamiliar sensation. You couldn't quite name the emotion or pinpoint its origin, but it left you feeling uneasy. You couldn't make sense of the emotion's complexity, but you knew you didn't like what you saw, which felt irrational.

As Coriolanus disappeared behind the closing metal door, you reached for the TV remote and switched off the device with a single click. You sank back into the sofa cushions, a heavy sigh escaping your lips, your thoughts in chaos.

Days after Coriolanus's first meeting with Lucy Gray, you couldn't escape the creeping sense of distance that was growing between you and the man who had once been your closest companion. It was as if a heavy cloud of isolation hung over you, casting a shadow on the bond you had cherished for so many years.

His devotion to the Games and his newly formed relationship with Lucy Gray was undeniable, and it began to overshadow the connection you had nurtured for what felt like a lifetime. It was disheartening to witness each passing day pull him further into the role of mentor, to see him dedicating hours upon hours to planning strategies, discussing tactics, and offering unwavering emotional support to Lucy Gray.

You yearned to remain supportive, to be the pillar that he had leaned on for so long, but an unsettling feeling gnawed at you, a feeling of slowly but surely being relegated to the outskirts of his life, as if your importance was diminishing.

Your thoughts on Coriolanus and his rapidly growing relationship with Lucy Gray were a storm of conflicting emotions. On one hand, you couldn't help but respect his unwavering dedication to his role as a mentor, his sincere desire to succeed, and his wholehearted commitment to the Games. Yet, on the other hand, a bitter mixture of jealousy and hate welled up within you. Your place in his life was steadily being eclipsed by someone new, someone unique and gifted. While you had never personally known Coriolanus's mother, you had heard numerous stories that depicted her as a paragon of gentleness and a lover of music��traits you found mirrored in Lucy Gray. It was no wonder that Coriolanus held her in such high regard.

This acknowledgment was a bitter pill to swallow, leaving a lingering taste of sorrow. It simply made you wondering where you now stood in Coriolanus's heart.

But the turning point came just few days after the tributes' arrival in the Capitol when the mentors and their pupils were granted access to the Arena. It was a rare opportunity for the tributes to gain insight into the brutal challenge that awaited them, and Coriolanus was determined to provide Lucy Gray the guidance she so desperately needed.

However, as the mentors and tributes wander into the Arena, a sudden wave of chaos shattered the peace. Two deafening explosions rocked the surroundings, plunging everyone into a maelstrom of fear and pandemonium. Coriolanus was one of the few injured, and he was hurriedly transported to the hospital, where his medical condition was taken care of by Capitol’s nurses.

The following day, he gradually woke up from unconsciousness. You had spend a sleepless night, filled with relentless worry, and now, as you sat by his bedside, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Relief flowed over you like a gentle balm, yet it couldn't wholly assuage the profound concern that continued to clutch at your heart.

When you heard what happened in the Arena, you had immediately asked your father to drive you to the hospital. You were consumed by nervousness for Coriolanus, and the misery he endured within the Arena's walls filled you with a sickening dread. The mere thought of it sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

As his eyes slowly blinked open, meeting yours, a soft and heartfelt smile graced your lips. “You're awake,” you murmured softly, your voice a blend of relief and worry. “How are you feeling? What happened?” The concern in your eyes was undeniable, reflecting the depth of your worry for his well-being.

“Y/N?” Coriolanus croaked in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat quickly and sought out the hand that belonged to you, gently squeezing it. “Hi,” he said with a forced smile.

The touch of his hand in yours was a silent promise of connection and comfort. You could see the remnants of fatigue and distress in his eyes, but the smile he summoned, even if forced, warmed your heart.

You couldn't help but lean in closer, your voice gentle and filled with compassion. “I was so worried about you,” you confessed, your concern unmistakable in your tone. “What happened in the Arena? Are you in pain?”

Coriolanus's grip on your hand tightened slightly, and he began to recount the harrowing events. He painted a vivid picture of the chaos, the disarray, and the sheer panic that had gripped them when the bombs exploded. His narrative was disturbing, and as he spoke, the weight of the trauma he had endured seemed to settle upon both of you.

After sharing his part of the story, Coriolanus momentarily fell silent, allowing the unspoken question to linger in the air. It was as if he awaited your inquiry about Lucy Gray, the unspoken thread that connected him to the tribute under his wing. But before you could voice your concern, he gently cleared his throat and, in a voice still laced with the remnants of his hoarseness, asked, “How is Lucy Gray? Is she okay?”

“I-I don’t know,” you answered honestly, your brow gently furrowing with concern. The truth was, Lucy Gray hadn't occupied your thoughts even once. In fact, you hadn't even considered your friends that were taking the place of the mentors, let alone the tributes arriving from the districts. Instead, it was all Coriolanus who had consumed your mind, leaving little room for anyone or anything else.

In response to your uncertainty, Coriolanus offered assurance, though it felt like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “She's strong,” he affirmed, the words laden with the weight of his concern for Lucy Gray. “She saved my life,” he added, and the profound gratitude in his voice was palpable, underscoring the remarkable bond that had formed between the two of them.

In the following days, you made every effort to stay close to Coriolanus whenever you could. The recent events in the Arena had deeply affected both of you, and the mere thought of something similar occurring in the Capitol filled you with dread. You genuinely believed, albeit mistakenly, that your presence could act as a protective shield, guarantee his safety.

Your intentions were sincere and born out of concern, but with each passing day, it became increasingly evident that Coriolanus was becoming increasingly annoyed by your constant presence. While at first he may have appreciated your support, the demands of his mentorship duties and the complexities of preparing Lucy Gray for her role in the 10th Hunger Games began to make your company more of a obstacle than a help.

Tensions, which had once been nonexistent, began to mount, and the nature of your relationship with Coriolanus was going through a sudden changes. You found yourself facing the reality that your kindhearted attempts to shield him were, in fact, pushing him further away when your intention had been quite the opposite, to draw closer.

On your special day, your birthday, you had looked forward to finally spending some quality time with Coriolanus. It was a day where you had hoped to enjoy each other's company, seeking a break from his intense mentorship and the relentless demands of the Capitol.

However, as the hours progressed, it became clear that something had shifted between you and Coriolanus. The atmosphere grew heavy with tension, and the warmth that had once defined your relationship seemed to have suddenly faded away.

In a moment of frustration, Coriolanus addressed you with an unusual severity, his words slicing through the silence like shards of ice. “Y/N,” he began, “I can't focus on my tasks with you always around. Your presence is causing disruption and complicating my already challenging responsibilities.”

His words hit you like a heavy blow, causing a deep confusion. It was the first time he had spoken to you with such detachment and coldness, and the realisation that you had become a burden rather than a source of comfort weighed heavily on you.

Puzzled by this sudden change in his behavior, you furrowed your brow and sought clarity. “Hm?” you responded, your voice reflecting your growing uncertainty.

Coriolanus's gaze remained unyielding, his demeanor stern and distant. This was a stark contrast to the Coriolanus you had known, the one who had always been warm and caring.

In an attempt to understand the extent of this transformation, you pressed further. "I don't understand," you began, your voice trembling slightly, “It's my birthday, and I had hoped we could spend some time together.”

The weight of his disapproval and your own sense of isolation bore down on you, as if you stood on the edge of a vast divide that separated you from the Coriolanus you had once known.

After a prolonged silence, Coriolanus finally spoke, his words carrying a chilly detachment that cut deep. “I have responsibilities to fulfill. You must understand that my focus needs to be on my duties as a mentor. Your presence is truly annoying, and I can't afford being distracted.”

Another pause followed before he continued, his gaze unwavering. “You need to grasp that the world doesn't revolve around you, Y/N. You are not the most important person here. You celebrate your birthday every year, but I only have one chance to win a scholarship, and I must seize it.”

The weight of his words pressed upon you, and you couldn't help but asked next question. “Coryo,” you said, your voice wavering with confusion and a deep hurt, “Is being a mentor more important to you than me?”

He met your gaze with an unflinching intensity and replied without hesitation, “Yes.”

The blunt simplicity of his answer cut deeply, leaving you stunned and grappling with a hurricane of emotions. It was as if the ground beneath your feet had shifted, and you were standing on unfamiliar terrain. You had believed that your connection was unbreakable, that your presence in each other's lives was irreplaceable. Now, the stark reality was that his ambitions and duties had eclipsed your place in his heart.

The words echoed in your mind, and you struggled to make sense of what had just come to light. The pain welled up within you, but you didn't cry just yet. Instead, you were left feeling disoriented and wounded, your heart heavy with a sense of loss.

“You need to understand that my future, my education, and my family's reputation all ride on this scholarship. It's an opportunity I can't afford to miss. It doesn't mean I don't care about you, but right now, my focus has to be on the Games and my duties as a mentor,” Coriolanus explained, his tone softer now as he realized the harshness of his previous words, words that you certainly didn't deserve.

You bit your lip, looking down at your shoes and fidgeting with your hands. “I miss you, Coryo,” you admitted, your eyes still avoiding his. “I miss the old you. I can't remember the last time you asked how I was doing, or held my hand. I'm the one worrying about you all the time, and it feels like you're treating me like... like someone you can just hire,” you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, searching for any sign of remorse for the pain he had caused.

But he remained silent, his lips tightly pressed into a thin line.

“I just feel like Lucy Gray has become more important to you than I am,” you continued, your disbelief clear in your voice.

“It's not like that…” he sighed finally.

“And what is it like?”

“Lucy Gray is... she's special, of course she is. She's the only path leading me to victory.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “If she's just a pawn in your game, then why do you look at her like you're falling in love with her more and more every day?”

The question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing down on both of you. Coriolanus's gaze wavered for a moment, as if caught off guard by the directness of your words. It was a question he hadn't fully considered, and the emotional complexity of his feelings was now inescapable.

“I can't explain it, Y/N,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “Lucy Gray is... she's unlike anyone I've ever met. She's captivating in a way I can't fully grasp.”

Your heart felt like it had been ripped from your chest, and you staggered back, away from him, unable to bear the weight of his words.

“So what are you saying now?” you asked, your voice quivering, as though hoping he could provide some clarity.

Coriolanus hesitated, his frustration giving way to a deep conflict within him. He ran a trembling hand through his almost white hair, a sign of the inner chaos that now consumed him.

“I'm saying that things have changed,” he said, his voice trailing off. “I can't deny that Lucy Gray has become a significant part of my life, and it's... complicated.”

The distance between you and Coriolanus had grown into an overwhelming chasm. You took another step back, increasing the physical space between you, though you knew it couldn't stitch the emotional void that now divided you.

“What does that mean for us, Coryo?” you asked, your voice quivering and your heart heavy with sadness and uncertainty. “Are we... Are we over?”

Coriolanus didn't respond immediately, his gaze distant as he searched for an answer in the distance. When his eyes finally met yours again, they held the pain of a man caught between two worlds.

“I don't want to say that, Y/N,” he replied, his voice full of anguish. “But right now, I need to focus on the Games. We can't pretend that things are the same as they were.”

As Coriolanus's words fell heavily between you, the room seemed to close in, and the storm of emotions within you reached a turbulent peak. Your voice wavered, a lump forming in your throat, while tears welled up, blurring your vision. Your heart ached with an amalgamation of anger, betrayal, and a searing sense of loss.

“Is that all, Coryo?” you cried out, your voice breaking, a mixture of anguish and fury lacing your words. “After everything we've been through, everything we meant to each other, it comes down to this? You're just going to cast me aside because of some girl from the Districts? I thought we had something special, something that overstep all this madness.”

Coriolanus's face mirrored your emotions. He extended his hand towards you in an attempt to bridge the growing chasm, but as your trembling form took one more step back, his outstretched fingers hung in the air.

“This isn't what I wanted,” Coriolanus said, the weight of the situation heavy in his voice. “But I can't change it, Y/N. I can't let anything threaten my chances in the Games.”

Your voice, now tinged with bitterness and a mixture of anger and despair. “You know what, Snow? I hope your beloved Lucy Gray meets an end sooner than you now expect,” you spat out, your words dripping with frustration and a sense of betrayal.

With those final, cutting words, you turned away, your shoulders heaving with the weight of your own tears. As you walked away, leaving him alone under the monkey house building, the pain of the crack that had torn through your relationship gnawed at your soul, a wound that may never fully heal.

Your intentions were far from those words; you genuinely wanted the best for him. Yet, in that moment, you realised that the fear of losing might have been the one thing that truly wounded Coriolanus.

part three »

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kteezy997 · 4 months

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The Candy Man- Part Five//W.W.

Information: lots of fluff Warning: adult (Willy) breastfeeding sorry not sorry, also mention of sex and sperm

You and Willy were definitely surprised when you gave birth to twins: a boy and a girl. It was only fitting to give them sweet flavor names. Your baby boy was named Mocha, and your little girl was named Maple.

Maple and Mocha Wonka. You were so in love and so proud to be their mom. They were both perfectly healthy, and dark headed like their daddy. You felt so blessed.

After the birthing session was over, you could tell that the whole “producing twins the first time he had sex” thing was really stroking Willy’s ego. “I can’t believe this, darling.” he said, holding one of the babies in his arms, he got close to you, whispering so the midwife wouldn’t hear, “Twins! Honey, I have magic sperm.”

You just laughed at him and shook your head.

Willy sat on the bed with you. Each of you held one of your babies, and you took some time, just admiring the little ones. Willy was in awe of how tiny and beautiful they were.

“They are so perfect, y/n.” he said softly, in total adoration.

“I know. We are so lucky.” you responded, teary eyed. You kissed Willy on the cheek. He, in turn, rested his head on yours.

……

It was not easy adjusting to life with not one, but two newborns. Your parents were supportive of your relationship with Willy, and they were over the moon when it came to being grandparents. They came over from time to time to help and watch the babies while you and Willy took breaks to nap, clean, and cook.

Even Willy’s friends volunteered to help. They had been with Willy from the laundry house to the chocolate shoppe, and now to help care for the Wonka babies. Willy's young friend, Noodle, started developing a special bond with the twins, and it made you both so happy. You were so grateful for all of them, you couldn’t believe the support system surrounding your family.

Besides your wonderful family and friends, Willy was the best with the babies, even better with them than you, you thought. Willy would disagree, but it was true that he had a magical way with them. He could sing them to sleep, even when they were crying. Even with them being so young, they could recognize Daddy's voice, and their little eyes would search the room for him.

Willy was a doting partner; he never left your side. You tried to make up a 'shift' system, where you'd take turns taking care of the babies while the other one slept, but Willy didn't abide by it much. "If you're up caring for our kids, and miserably tired, then I'm right there with you." Your man was truly one of kind.

In the beginning, you had trouble producing enough breast milk for the babies, so Willy would infuse some of his creations to give the babies enhanced nutrients, with giraffe milk as the base, of course. You sent your thanks to Abigail at the zoo. She was given as many Wonka mints as she could eat.

Eventually, the babies started to sleep for longer periods of time, and you started to feel sane again. You had more energy, and you had gotten the hang of breast feeding. It was routine for you and Maple and Mocha now, and they knew to latch on instantly.

Willy was putting away clean baby clothes in the nursery and then sat and waited for you to finish feeding the twins so you both could go to bed. "Willy, you can go on ahead, they should be done soon, and they will go right to sleep." you insisted.

"No, it's alright darling, I don't like getting in bed without you." he said. He was so sweet and honest without expecting anything in return. He didn't say it to get you to fawn over him. And that's why you loved him.

"Honey, I love you, but really, you can go to bed, I'll be there soon."

"Okay," he said with a reluctant sigh, he stood up, watching you feed the babies for a moment.

Your night shirt was unbuttoned, and your breasts were free. Your babies were eating and starting to get full bellies.

"Could I.." Willy began to ask something, and you knew exactly what it was. He looked away, so shyly, saying, "Never mind."

"No, it's alright, what were you going to say, Willy?" you needed to hear him ask it.

"Can I try some of your milk? After the twins are fed, of course, and if you aren't sore." his pretty green eyes were almost desperate as he looked at you so tenderly.

You and Willy hadn't been intimate in nearly three months. Sex wasn't in the question when you were heavily pregnant, unknowingly with twins. You could sense that he missed it, not just the sex, or even getting off, but just being close together and bonding with you. Your relationship had taken a back seat with your new additions.

"Sure you can. But don't go thinking that you can use it to put in your chocolate." you said firmly, giving him a look.

"Oh, no, darling. Of course not!" he assured you, frantically.

You giggled, "Go on to bed, Willy Wonka, and I'll be there in a moment."

"Yes, ma'am." he said cheerily, turning on his heels and heading out of the babies' room.

........

You got the babies to sleep in their cribs and joined Willy in your bedroom. You hadn't bothered to button up your shirt, you just covered yourself with the shirt, as you would have felt strange walking around the house with your tits out. Though you knew Willy wouldn't mind.

"Hi darling." you said, greeting your lover.

Willy grinned as you came over to the bed and climbed onto his lap. He gave you a sweet kiss on the lips and held you close.

You ran your hands slowly through his curls. You kissed him on the forehead.

"Aw, I love your kisses, baby." Willy cooed.

You smiled softly at him, caressing his jaw, "You can have my breasts now if you want some milk."

Willy's eyes lit up, and he uncovered your breasts. He held them for a moment. He squeezed your nipple, and some milk squirted in his face, making you both laugh. He then opened his mouth and put your tit on his tongue, closing his lips around it and sucking your milk out.

You rubbed the back of his head lovingly as he drank from you.

"mm, so yummy, baby." he said as he popped off your nipple and switched to the other one. He drank for a moment, and stopped to squeezed some milk out again, letting the drops wet his face. He marveled at what your body was capable of. He lapped the excess milk off of your nipple.

He fed off of you for a little bit, which was kind of relaxing for you. Then you got settled in to bed, snuggling. You were both pretty tired. He looked so darling, with his lips moistened by the taste of your milk and the look of pure love under his hooded eyes.

"I know I said I wouldn't use your milk while making chocolate, but what if it was just for my own enjoyment? Your milk is so delicious. I can't get enough, my love." he cooed, nuzzling his face into your cheek. His silky hair tickled your face. "Would you spare some for me?" he asked, his voice was soft and muffled.

You laughed, "Okay, you can make your own chocolate with my milk." you said, giving in. It was hard to say know to your sweet boy. "I can't wait for the midwife to say it's okay to have sex again. I want you so bad, Willy." You kissed his head.

"Mmm," he raised his head to peck your lips, "I know, I'm so ready to make love to you again. This time, I'm trying for triplets!" he joked.

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