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itsbuckytm · 4 months

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Catton's Little Puppet / Oliver Quick & Felix Catton

summary: Oliver had harbored a long-standing obsession with both the reader and Felix. Despite his discomfort at witnessing the two together, he saw it as a chance to strategically earn their trust in an unconventional manner. It was an opportunity for Felix to potentially welcome him into their partnership, transforming the dynamic into a trio where they would all be equals, yet each holding a unique role—masters entwined in the intricate dance of their own puppetry.

ps: English is not my primary language, so I apologize for any errors or mistakes. If you choose to use or replicate my work without proper credit, it may be subject to being flagged.

tag list: @bananzaa @sisgotdemons enjoy!

Oliver hated everything about you when you two first met.

Oliver hated the way your hips seamlessly moved to the rhythm of the music. Your smile captured the essence of every words from the songs you knew by heart. As you clutched the now-empty beer cup, poised to pour another for yourself, Felix's arm effortlessly wrapped around your waist. In a swift motion, he pulled you to his side, mirroring the smile Oliver had admired the first time actually meeting Felix. Oliver couldn't help but think that if he averted his gaze for even a second, Felix's and your lips would meet. The scene drew him back into the room later that evening, only for Felix and you to vanish until the sunrise.

Oliver hated when, the next day, you walked into class looking all polished and preppy. Although he knew that it was only an illusion, as you had once shared with him that it was simply a matter of practice. Even suggesting he follow suit that same morning. During Oliver's first week, you didn't have much information about him, like everyone. Oliver had found himself completely withdraw by your beauty upon entering on that same morning when you arrived late– clearly hungover from the homecoming of the school’s first day and an obvious amount of hickeys left from Felix. How Oliver wanted his to also be marked through Felix’s.

Oliver hated witnessing your interactions with Felix. Typically, he would pay no attention if it were any other girls, but there was something about you that intrigued him. It all truly began when Felix introduced you to him on the same evening after borrowing Oliver's bike. "So, you're the faithful hero who saved Felix. But in the end, who can resist such charm, am I right, dear?" That marked the second time Oliver had heard your voice, yet this time it felt genuine – natural and almost too angelic to let go until its last breath. “Oh, right! Where are my manners? I'm Y/N. And you?”

“Oliver, but you can call me Ollie.” He said without insistence, a departure from his earlier encounters with Felix in person. A surge of confidence enveloped him, particularly as you extended your hand for a proper handshake, a gesture Felix took delight in complimenting, deepening Oliver's infatuation. “And thanks to Y/N's wonderful parents for bringing such a polite daughter into the world.” Oliver, if he had the courage, would have agreed wholeheartedly, envisioning a passion and intensity in a kiss that rivaled Felix's. However, the reality weighed on Oliver, when he heard your beautiful voice once more. “Oh, stop it. Felix has a way with compliments smoother than butter. But I'll remember your gratitude, Ollie.”

And he did remember to. How you would lean in to give him a peck on the cheek. Not that he was special, considering the fact that you always did that whoever you had meet. Nonetheless, for Oliver it meant something more, something that he too would be able to feel, to feel that same love you have for Felix just as you would for Oliver.

Being in proximity to Felix and his circle of friends was coveted by many at the school, and an invitation to Saltburn was a sought-after opportunity. Unless someone had established connections within the group, receiving an invitation was usually contingent on existing friendships. Such was the anticipation for Oliver, who found himself in this situation when Felix enthusiastically proposed the idea of inviting him. It wasn't merely an act of gratitude; rather, it stemmed from Oliver's generosity in lending his bike to a stranger, who had now become a valued friend to him.

Upon your arrival, Oliver caught sight of you standing alone. From the outset, what captivated him was your independence; you didn't always rely on Felix's wealth, and you had a sense of self that wasn’t easily spoiled. “Ollie!” You exclaimed, swiftly kicking off your overly tight heels and dashing towards him. You cupped his face and planted quick pecks all over, leaving him delighted by the touch of your moisturized lips on his cheek. But quickly caught up by someone’s chuckle echoing in a distance. “Jesus, Y/N. You're going to suffocate the poor thing.” Remarked Venetia, welcoming the playful scene with a teasing tone. She observed Oliver's reaction to your enthusiastic greeting, as a way to make the new comer even more relentless of his own. As soon as you released from him, you excused yourself from the exuberance and headed towards the Catton's mansion. “She's a firecracker, this one. Quite surprising that she's into nerds. I wonder what Felix will think.” She mused with a smirk.

Felix's potential thoughts were the constant contemplation in Oliver's mind during the initial days of his stay at the Catton residence. Beyond that, he marveled at how effortlessly open and welcoming you were, despite having only briefly connected during your time in school. While he appreciated the sound of your voice and the way you interacted with him and Felix, it was observing you in quiet moments that truly captivated Oliver. This fascination grew into an unexpected and almost unbelievable obsession, especially considering his initial attraction to Felix. The idea of being paired with anyone else was inconceivable, yet, over time and thanks to Venetia's indiscretions, Oliver discovered that you and Felix were in an open relationship, a decision made to explore new dynamics. You had said. What Oliver didn't know, among the many selected for this unconventional pairing, was that he would be the chosen one.

“You think this is a good idea?” You questioned one morning, adorned in your favorite gown, a cup of coffee in hand, awaiting breakfast as a drowsy Oliver entered the room. “Don't worry.” Felix reassured, leaning in close with his lips almost grazing the crook of your neck. His fingers traced a playful path around your waist, eliciting a chuckle from you at his teasing. "Remember when you said you wanted to fuck a nerd this year? Well, he's all yours." Felix declared confidently, causing a subtle blush to tint your cheeks. “But also yours too, don't forget.” You reminded him. As much as Felix hesitated to acknowledge his feelings, he too harbored an attraction to Oliver. The catch, however, was Felix's love for control. Witnessing you with Oliver was, in fact, more thrilling for him than you might have anticipated.

Upon Oliver's entrance, a palpable tension filled the room as he observed Felix already standing close to you, a subtle fear gripping him that his presence might disrupt the connection you shared. Foolish man you are. Oliver would mutter to himself whenever he glimpsed the slightest hints of Felix's protective or controlling demeanor, not just towards you but anyone. Dismissing the notion, he decided to join both of you for breakfast, putting on a smile as he noticed the exclusive trio occupying the mansion today. “Where is everyone?” Oliver was the first to inquire, scanning the surroundings, even the garden, to find no one but the three of you. The idea began to dawn on you that this could be the perfect setting for something a bit more adventurous, something spicy involving all three. Innocently shrugging, you played along, and Felix couldn't help but laugh at your little game. “Haven't seen them, probably still in their beds, completely oblivious from last night's revelry. Wouldn't be surprised. What a shame to miss a beautiful breakfast with such lovely companions.”

What a shame, indeed, thought Oliver, his gaze penetrating yours as he found himself momentarily lost, only to be brought back by the server serving him a cup of coffee. He awkwardly thanked the server, prompting laughter from both Felix and you at his clumsiness. “You know,” Felix began, his confidence evident, especially when it came to matters of relationships and involving others. “Y/N and I have been... intrigued by you, you know? Perhaps attracted to how quickly you became part of our group. But a little bird told me that she's really drawn to you. Maybe if she had the courage to tell you instead of resorting to these daunting tasks.” Felix said casually, causing you to gasp in response to his unexpected comment. Despite your initial shock, you quickly realized he meant no harm or shame. In fact, Felix wanted Oliver to express his feelings – emotions that could harmonize with yours and eventually be shared behind closed doors.

"Do I happen to know this little bird?" Oliver quipped, his gaze shifting between the two of you with a hint of surprise. Even though he already knew who Felix was referring to, Oliver decided to play along, much to Felix's delight, as he too wanted to please his friend. Felix nodded in acknowledgment. “Certainly, and if I may say so myself, she has a penchant for the nerdy type. However, she seems to be enjoying this new side of him much more recently.” Felix admitted openly, his arm remaining securely around your waist. He was well aware of the complexities of a polyamorous relationship, but if it meant your happiness and the joy of seeing you smile, it was all he could do. Plus, it certainly added to Oliver's amusement in seeing a different facet of Felix.

"Keep it discreet." You whispered to Felix, who, in response, leaned in so uncomfortably close that your words seemed almost ignored. This added an enticing and thrilling dynamic to your relationship. At that precise moment, Felix rose from his chair and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. “Behave now. For me– and for Ollie.” He advised, leaving you feeling utterly defenseless in the hands of someone who had evolved into an obsession similar to the initial intensity when you both first met. Your pout, intended as a defense mechanism, only seemed to amuse Felix, prompting him to gently cup your face. He teasingly bit at your lower lip, evoking a soft whine before he kissed you. “If anything happens, call me, okay? I won't be far away.” He assured you with a softer and more passionate tone, shifting his gaze from yours to acknowledge Oliver with a nod. Ultimately, Felix's interactions with Venetia were not entirely unfamiliar to Oliver, especially when it meant being alone with the most captivating woman in all of Saltbun.

Oliver had carefully chosen his outfit for the occasion, opting for a stylish blue t-shirt that complemented his complexion. In an attempt to break the ice between you two, you remarked it so lively starting with the missing glasses. “I see someone ditched their glasses.” Noting his uneasy glances from side to side, as if hiding something. However, upon hearing your voice, his gaze softened, and he offered a gentle smile, reminiscent of the one he gave Felix when they first met. “Glasses are so last season anyway. Prefer the contact lenses.” He casually remarked, initially giving the impression of a more reserved demeanor than you had originally perceived. This perception lingered, especially during moments when it was just the two of you alone. However, recent events, including spending a night at Farleigh's room and Oliver recounting what he had witnessed, left you uncertain about whom to trust. Consequently, you rose from your chair and approached him. His adorable gasp was the only sound as he watched your sudden movement. “What... are you doing?” he asked, stuttering mid-sentence.

“Nothing…” You casually said to him although it was quite the obvious as you leaned to sat on his lap. His fingers trying his best to mimic Felix’s as you hushed him not to do so but to do it like how he did it to Venetia. Which at first surprised him because he began to think that you knew about it too– but you had said nothing to him since that event. After all– it was a game that Felix and you wanted. Turned out however that it was both Felix and Oliver who wanted you. To be their puppets as the masters take charge to their own demise, sadistic pleasure. Although contracting themselves perfectly, it was one of the many reasons why you had though Oliver to be fascinated in the first place. “Just admiring you.” Was what you said to him next, before continuing as you gently touched the collar of his shirt.

“Make me love like you never have before—a love you've been craving since you arrived here. I know your little game, Ollie. We all do.” You whispered, leaning even closer until your lips grazed his, your hand cupping the side of his jawline. In that moment, you took charge, reversing the dynamics of control. However, the atmosphere shifted abruptly when your final confession made Oliver tense. His muscles stiffened, and his fingers gripped your waist, guiding you onto the table, rendering your body completely at his mercy. Gently crawling on top of you, a cocktail of excitement, lust, and a desire to submit to him filled the air. “Then..” He said softly, lifting your lacy gown casually and placing a few kisses before continuing. “I'll make sure you don't have to remember it, Princess. I’ll fuck you until your screams for more are heard at an even distance.” His eyes barely left you as your head leaned back, moans escaping your lips. However, before you could fully respond, Oliver's gaze intensified with each kiss, and he uttered. “I want you to say my name, just like you do for Felix's. Say that you are mine and mine alone.”

“Yes, I'll do anything you ask.” You affirmed. Your eyes pleaded, craving to be cherished and made to feel like a loved woman once more. It wasn't that Felix wasn't providing that, but the allure of someone unknown, a complete stranger, added an extra layer of excitement. “Make love to me as if you've never experienced anyone before. Have me begging for you until the break of dawn. I want your marks all over me, Ollie.” You confessed. With those words, Oliver eagerly removed his shirt, hunger evident in his desire to kiss every inch of your skin. Starting from your inner thighs, you couldn't help but release a soft giggle as you felt his tongue slowly traveling down.

However, there was one crucial detail both of you remained oblivious to – Felix had meticulously orchestrated this entire scenario, intending it to unfold as an exclusive spectacle for himself. His curiosity lay in observing Oliver's actions when left alone with all of you. Yet, the setup lacked a crucial element: Felix himself. Mere miles away, Felix sensed a tightening sensation in his groin beneath his pants. His fingers delicately caressed the sensation, attempting not to draw attention to himself. Seizing the opportune moment, he approached quietly as your back remained turned, your arms securely wrapped around Oliver's neck. As he neared, Felix gently untangled your shoulders, skillfully removing every piece of clothing he could manage before eliciting a surprised gasp from you. “Fe—”But Oliver's lips silenced you, a deliberate move to divert attention. Even though Oliver feigned ignorance of Felix's game, he too realized it was just a matter of finally being alone together – a scenario briefly alluded to by Felix before arriving in Saltburn. “Shh, Princess. Remember, he’s all yours.” Had Felix said upon continuing to admire your fully undressed body.

In that moment, you realized you belonged entirely to both Oliver and Felix. They came as a combined package, a connection deeper and more intricate than anyone in Saltburn could fathom. Following the encounter at the pool, the three of you continued these clandestine rendezvous. Sometimes it was Oliver gazing into the distance, and other times, it was Felix. Yet, a constant remained – whenever you were out, they were with you. Over time, Oliver acknowledged, opening up to himself, that he truly felt at home, especially when you nestled yourself in a lacy gown between both of them, indulging in endless kisses until sleep embraced you all. This routine became a comforting ritual, repeated again and again.

#felix catton x reader #reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagie #oliver quick imagine #felix catto x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x you #saltburn imagines #farleigh x reader #venetia catton #jacob elordi #barry keoghan

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 months

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relationship hcs ; shadow milk cookie

requested by ; anonymous (24/01/24)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; shadow milk cookie

outline ; “So I am a little OBSESSED in love with shadow milk

So could I get some Shadow milk relation ship hc’s?”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

if there was a need to describe shadow milk cookie’s approach to your relationship, it could be done in just the one word: playful

whenever you’re stressed, he puts on elaborate productions of magic and puppetry to brighten your day and make you smile: funny voices, summoned puppets, plot lines that either touch upon your favourite tropes or make fun of the people that upset you — he never holds back with you

if you’re experiencing a low mood or crying, then he’s upping the dramatics and repeating all of your favourite puns and jokes to pull you out of it and make you laugh — he dresses like a jester all of the time, so it’s safe to say that the man doesn’t mind making a fool of himself for your sake

he’s extremely physically affectionate and can go from slow and passionate to cheeky and playful in a second — alternating between loosely wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you sit comfortably on his lap, and suddenly tightening his grip on your waist to stop you from getting away as he nips and kisses and tickles your skin until you’re laughing so hard you’re crying and clutching at your aching sides and trying desperately to squirm out of his grip

equally his kisses can be playful and cutesy or passionate and messy depending on his mood

most of the time they’re done for a sort of dramatic flair on top of his usual public displays of affection that usually get you stared at in confusion — consisting of him grabbing you by your shoulders or the side of the face before wetly kissing you on the lips or cheek whilst making a very unnecessary and over the top ‘mwah!’-esque popping sound (he may even stop at the last second and lick you instead just to make you laugh)

but there are times when that playful facade slips and his kisses become much more frantic, passionate, and hot — when the act slips and you’re left face-to-face with a more possessive, seductive, needy side of him that only comes out when he’s so desperate for your touch that he’d sooner slip into your skin with you than let you go, or when someone else has made him jealous

those kisses look a bit more like this: starting with him grabbing you by the waist or neck or sides and all but crashing your body and lips against his, alternating between biting and licking your lips until you breathlessly give in and part your lips for him, letting his hands wander just enough to send a message as you cling to him like a lifeline, and only pulling apart when you’re starting to struggle to breathe — separating by mere millimetres with a web of saliva connecting you both before he giggles, pecks your lips, and lets you go (leaving you breathless, aching, and somehow wanting for more as you watch him practically skip away to do whatever it is that he had planned)

your laughter is his absolute favourite sound in the world and he will do anything it takes to make sure that he gets to hear it for the rest of his life

he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to kill or torment someone for you if only you asked — hell, you don’t even need to ask, the second it’s clear that someone has made you upset, stressed, or uncomfortable, he’s finding their location and plotting to either take them out completely or forcibly make them a part of his act (it’s not too difficult to take control of someone, after all, and he’s certainly done worse for less… and what better cause is there for mayhem than protecting his partner’s honour and well-being?)

all of his pet names for you are as over the top and random as you would expect from someone like him, including all sorts of nicknames from inanimate objects to puns relating to your name and/or interests to random animals that remind him of you to the most disgustingly cheesy terms of endearment that he can think of, to anything in between — and he’s happy to respond to anything you choose to call him, no matter how ridiculous of a pet name it may be

he’s extremely quick to jealousy and has been known to lash out at anyone who dares to get too close to you for his comfort (unless it’s one of a few select individuals that he’s approved of being in your presence) — it’s actually the main thing you argue about when it comes to your relationship, but that’s not going to change anytime soon so you may just be better off accepting that side of him rather than trying to strong arm him into being a better person

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #crk fluff #crk x reader #cookie run fluff #cookie run x reader #shadow milk cookie fluff #shadow milk cookie x reader

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utilitycaster · 27 days

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@rowzeoli replied to your post “Do you think part of the D20 journalistic bias...”:

I rarely go on tumblr so sorry if you see me spamming your posts tonight, but I really enjoy your perspective and thoughts! I think I'm the journalist you're referencing in regards to the Fantasy High Junior Year article and unfortunately 1) journalists only get access to interview subjects at very specific junctions (usually press day before the series goes out or halfway through) 2) most publications are honestly Going Through It and cutting freelance rates and just not paying to cover AP

So I'll be totally honest - I post on Tumblr because I assume it is far more unlikely to be seen and so I can vent freely (hence the fairly harsh tone of the criticism in the original post), but I guess this is a chance to clarify. I don't expect anything to change, nor do I expect you to respond; indeed, I wouldn't blame you if you block me after this. But if readership is down (and who knows? maybe it's not and I'm the outlier), this may be illuminating.

The issue with your specific article - which I brought up relatively tangential to the larger point of "at this point I think Polygon's AP/TTRPG coverage is a waste of time to read" isn't really that it's only an early look at the series; and because Fantasy High Junior Year is at this time ongoing, it's honestly entirely valid that there hasn't been a follow-up. It's, well, the "surface-level and factually wrong" issue.

Dimension 20 was by no means the pioneer of remote recording as you claim in your article; that had long been the default of smaller recorded AP shows well before pandemic lockdown for the simple reason that if you're not a media company the overhead is very low - no need to have a dedicated space or even cameras beyond decent laptops. Burrow's End's puppetry? Critical Role's Call of Cthulhu: Shadow of the Crystal Palace did shadow puppets in 2019. They had diagetic audio on the main campaign as early as 2016. I don't even like Kollok, but that's had complex set design since 2019. Meanwhile premise of the article is yet another rehash of Polygon's "Dimension 20 is CHANGING THE GAME" constant drumbeat, while your actual pull quotes from Brennan Lee Mulligan are him musing that this is simply an entry in an ancient tradition of storytelling and isn't, in fact, terribly novel. The interview fails utterly to back up your point and indeed contradicts it; I get that the timeline was probably tight but this is outright incorrect in multiple places and your argument isn't just unsupported; it's outright dismissed by the very person you claim is proving it. If the premise came before the interview, it needed to be reworked afterwards, and if it came after the interview…I'm not sure what to say, really.

This isn't your article, and I'm putting it here to illustrate that this has been a pattern for Polygon's AP coverage specifically. This article about Worlds Beyond Number is perhaps my favorite example of "this is not serious journalism:" Rusty Quill Gaming, The Adventure Zone, Friends at the Table, and NADDPod are all theater of the mind long-running podcasts (RQG's campaign lasted a whopping 7 years of real time) and that's just off the top of my head; the idea of a long-running edited audio podcast being novel is laughable. RQG and TAZ both started at level 1; I'm not personally familiar with Friends at the Table. I don't actually think starting at level 1 vs. 2 is terribly important in storytelling in the first place other than that a few D&D classes pick their subclass at L2 and that choice can be narratively relevant, which it was in TAZ; however, some classes pick a subclass at L3 so you can still achieve this with a level 2 start (as Critical Role's second campaign does). Both Emily Axford of NADDPod and Griffin McElroy of TAZ have long been composing their own music and RQG is heavily sound designed. These are not obscure pulls, either; these are some of the more well-known names in the space.

At this point, Polygon AP/TTRPG articles - by multiple different writers - simply feel like madlibs: "(actual play show) is groundbreaking in its (thing that other shows have been doing for 5+ years); I especially liked (visual effect) and (incorrect understanding of TTRPG mechanics)."

The people I allude to in the post you responded to as having egregiously uncharitable and sanctimonious takes on Daggerheart (within, again, hours of its publication) are a frequent Polygon contributor and a Rascal editor and they further my mistrust of those publications: There is this constant insistence that everything they like be "groundbreaking" and "innovating" and they will claim this even when it's demonstrably not the case, as the above examples note. As Mulligan says in your article "it’s important to keep new artists with new experiences and backgrounds flowing in," and yet by focusing intensely on high production values (difficult for smaller indie upstarts to have) and by incorrectly claiming that a well-established media company within the space like D20 invented a number of things it flat out did not, this journalism is actively, if unintentionally, working against that goal. As I put it elsewhere, Polygon's bizarre pedestaling of Dimension 20 and simultaneous putdowns of Critical Role (which turn into wild contortions when D20 mainstays like Mulligan or Aabria Iyengar collaborate with CR; for that matter others besides me have observed that Polygon acts like Spenser Starke is two different people, the genius who created Alice is Missing and the knuckle-dragging moron who put out Candela Obscura and Daggerheart) coupled with the obsession with production values over story has the whiff of claiming they're the champion of the little guy for sticking it to the 700 lb gorilla in the space and then focusing on 500 lb gorillas while making it impossible for smaller monkeys to compete because most brand new shows without the name recognition of someone like Mulligan involved can't exactly hire Rick Perry to do their models or Taylor Moore to do sound design.

I suppose a good way to put this, since I've run into this in many spaces, not just AP/TTRPG or even journalism, is that bias on its own in a subjective medium isn't inherently bad; but if something is so nakedly biased against something I love, I will, naturally, turn to it with a far more critical eye, and if its arguments are not ironclad I'm going to start noticing every structural issue in every argument and every tiny mistake. Sure, as a fan of Critical Role, and as someone who feels that Kollok was nigh-unwatchable and that Burrow's End was promising in parts but deeply flawed, I disagreed with Polygon's nonstop mud-slinging towards the former and glowing, verging on fawning reviews of the latter two. But that's not entirely damning on its own; I do get that not everyone will like Critical Role and that some people will love Kollok or Burrow's End for valid reasons. What's damning is the journalism itself is riddled with factual errors and the analysis is so weak that to call the arguments a flimsy house of cards would be generous. The opposite is also true; if Polygon's lead editor were out here repeatedly misspelling the name of one of the main characters in Worlds Beyond Number (note: this has since been corrected) but the articles had compelling arguments, even ones I disagreed with, I'd be far more forgiving, but as is? It's offering me absolutely nothing: it's poorly researched, it's poorly structured, it's poorly written, it's poorly copy-edited, and it shits on things I like seemingly just for clicks. I'm done giving clicks.

I am deeply sympathetic to the pressures facing digital journalism and media and the arts in general; as someone who is fortunate enough not to personally face those pressures and has the income to be a patron, I would love to help in my small way (and I do, at least, financially support a number of the AP shows I love). But the quality of some of this journalism is truly so bad that I can't bring myself to support the institutions putting it out; it's "dead dove do not eat" until such time as someone whose analysis and opinions I do trust cites them (or, perhaps, until there is a sea change of lead editorship). I know that this won't help the crunch, and may make it worse, but I just can't because the quality is so poor. I don't have a good solution to how to write about something that takes a lot of time to watch and process and about which the articles pay very little in return, but the current strategy of bouncing between uninformed provocateur and utter sycophant depending on the show and creators; of drooling over such surface features as shiny production and falsely claiming everything is "groundbreaking" while getting the most basic facts wrong has driven me away.

#rowzeoli #i'm leaving this rebloggable but other people...try to be respectful i will turn off reblogs if need be.#long post

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difeisheng · 3 months

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重逢

Fang Duobing thinks he sees him, one last time. All light and motion that doesn't stir the breeze, perched at the edge of Fang Duobing's bed, cloaked in white like the moon shining on his form through the window. If he would have dared to look upon him just a moment longer, Fang Duobing would have seen him smile. Warm like jade, set there like a sculpted figure. More distinct than the silhouette blurred on the back of Fang Duobing's eyelids when he curls away into the cradle of lingering sleep, the steady weight of Di Feisheng at his back. The weight that, still asleep with even breath though a dagger reflecting the stars lays beside him, tells Fang Duobing whoever he perceives cannot be any more real than a dream.

They're the only places the people he calls ghosts can ever find him.

Ghosts they are, ghosts they will remain, slipping through his fingers no matter how he grasps, and so Fang Duobing closes his eyes against the not-presence of Li Lianhua. Against hope he's too bone-tired to stoke back to life, whether in the world of sleep or waking. It's easier, in the darkness, where he can tell himself he's made his peace with absence and the world cannot fold itself around empty shape before him to deny it.

A breath falls against Fang Duobing's ear, more than A-Fei can be. He doesn't feel the bed dip with one's movement, but he does, more than hears, the faintest exhaled note of laughter against his skin. He does not open his eyes.

Something more deliberate than air brushes at his hair, stroking a loose strand out of his face. It's the puppetry of his own exhaustion and the wind, however his subconscious has chosen to make sense of it, Fang Duobing thinks. A dream, or an illusion, or whatever you might call this, is an unreliable thing. The joke is that you never realize as such until reality reclaims its place.

The amused laugh comes again, more whisper than can be wind. And then, in a silent night, more voice than whisper. "Zai jian, Fang Xiaobao."

He's too close, too easy to believe in, words at Fang Duobing's ear. Too easy to reach for with the soft touch to his forehead, a moment's impression of a kiss.

It is the teasing cruelty of it, the sting of the short-lived, that forces Fang Duobing to finally open his eyes. Only the moonlight is there to greet him.

Only he is there to call himself, for the thousandth time and with no other words left, a fool.

(They're not the last ones Fang Duobing hears that night, though he barely registers the rest. Later, caught on the precipice between sleep and the final ray of consciousness, bleeding away.)

(Despite that, he does know, with as much certainty as he knows he lives and breathes, whose voice it was.)

(He knows what Li Lianhua said.)

(Dui bu qi.)

~*~

In the morning, something lays cushioned in Fang Duobing's open palm. A hairpin, fine in detail. Two lotus pods, twisted together at the stems, down a curved, entwined line.

Seeds of rebirth. Restart. A signifier of a new life begun, and so the old, the dead, must have said their farewell. The weight of this pin, once worked through another's hair by his own hand, is far more than its delicacy in Fang Duobing's hold.

He realizes with a start, the sun dawning on a day like any other, where he will find Li Lianhua again.

When.

~*~

Not in this lifetime.

~*~

The knowledge is, in its quiet ache, a comfort.

#i wrote this in one go because i was tired of writing nothing #晚安大家 #mysterious lotus casebook #fang duobing #li xiangyi #fanghua #fic #ashton writes fic

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quinns-shadowy-arts · 3 months

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Feel My Heart Beat Against Your Palm

Day 5 of @steddielovemonth‘s Steddie Love Month Event! Rating: T CW: Recreational Use of Drugs, Detailed Description of a Panic Attack, Detailed Description of a Nightmare. Tags: Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Living with the Aftermath of Trauma, Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Recreational Use of Drugs, Robin is Really Trying to get Steve and Eddie Together. WC: 2,198 Prompt: Love is being seen and known; Submitted by @acasualcrossfade

Eddie’s staying the night, as he does every Friday. They’ve started a tradition. Eddie, Robin, and sometimes Nancy, Johnathan, and Argyle go over to Steve’s every Friday to watch movies. They all take turns picking the movie. Tonight was sort of a group decision. Robin had spotted Labyrinth in the “New Releases” section of Family Video. The group would’ve gone to the theater to see it when it first came out, but they were all still recovering from Vecna. So they’ve only gotten to it now.

Robin thought Labyrinth sounded weird enough to satisfy her taste, Jonathan and Argyle thought it sounded fun, Nancy didn’t really have anything to say for or against the movie, Eddie wanted to see the puppetry and fantastical world, and Steve liked that David Bowie was in it. It seems that Steve has taken a liking to David Bowie more than he usually does, if Eddie has anything to say about it. Compared to the usual argument that would’ve unfolded, it seems that Labyrinth was the perfect pick for the group.

After the movie was over, everyone sorta hung around for a bit. After discussing what they liked about the movie and other general topics, Nancy left to drive Jonathan and Argyle home. Robin stayed to help clean up a bit; chatting with Steve and Eddie further. Then the phone rang.

“Hello?” Robin had answered the phone after a silent stare off between the three of them. She nodded her head, followed with a bundle of ‘yeah’s and ‘mhm’s. She hangs the phone back up and turns to the other two.

“So… My parents want me back home.” Robin says while twisting the ring on her middle finger.

“What, why?” Steve questions. Robin usually spent the night with Steve and Eddie after their movie nights.

“Um, something has just… come up.” Robin says while staring into Steve’s soul. She raises her eyebrows at him, trying to telepathically convey something to him. Steve furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. Eddie thinks he looks like a puppy dog. The thought makes something warm swirl in his belly.

After a couple of minutes, Steve’s eyebrows shoot up in understanding.

“Ohhhh, yeah ok. Here, let me walk you to the door.” Steve walks over to Robin. They walk to the door and hushed whispers spill after them. Eddie is nosy, always has been and probably always will be. He tries listening to them while mindlessly moving things around, trying to look like he’s busy and not eavesdropping on their conversation. But alas, they’re too far away for any words to be coherent enough for Eddie to understand. After a couple of minutes, Steve walks back into the room.

“Robin’s riding her bike home, something came up.” Steve says, walking over to walk some of the collected trash into the kitchen.

“Is everything ok?” Eddie asks, following after Steve. Steve stands with his back turned to Eddie,

“Yeah, her parents just need her for something” Steve responds, barely turning his head in Eddie’s direction while stuffing the empty plates and cans into the trash can.

“Oh ok.” Eddie nods. Sure, Robin makes things fun and he loves her, but Eddie is definitely not too upset about being able to spend some alone time with Steve.

After finishing up cleaning, Eddie turns to Steve with a mischievous smirk. He pulls a baggie with joints out of his pocket,

“Hey, want to maybe light up with me?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Steve, still holding his smirk. Steve smiles back,

“Yeah, dude. Why the hell not” Steve walks over to Eddie and plucks the joint out of his hand.

“Let’s go up to my room, yeah?” Steve asks while not looking back, knowing that Eddie is already following.

Once they get up to Steve’s room, Steve pulls open his window and stands against the ledge. He starts patting his pockets, trying to find his lighter. He sticks the rolled paper into his mouth, using both hands to dig around in his pockets. Eddie walks over and strikes up his lighter. He cups the end of the joint while lighting the end.

Eddie makes the stupid decision to look up, making direct eye contact with Steve. His eyes are absolutely devastating. The moon hits off of them, lighting them up. The chocolate brown of his eyes meld together with an earthy green and flecks of pure gold, creating an all encapturing sight. His eyes look like a mossy forest, deep and enchanting.

“Thanks, man.” Steve says, breaking the moment. He pulls a deep breath in, holding the smoke in before exhaling back out, aiming the smoke through the open window. Eddie blinks away, looking back down to put his lighter back into his pocket.

Steve passes the joint over to Eddie. Eddie grasps the joint in his fingers. Steve’s hand brushes against Eddie’s, his hand warm and solid. An electric feeling passes through Eddie. He shivers before taking his own hit.

They stay there for a while, sitting in a comfortable silence while passing the joint back and forth. They don’t technically need to share, Eddie has another joint in his baggie. But they share anyway, they always do. Soon enough the joint has dwindled down, they’re both high enough to hopefully have a peaceful sleep. Steve turns to Eddie, looking into his eyes before speaking up,

“I’m tired, man. Ready to go to bed?” Eddie nods his head. His eyes feel as droopy as Steve’s look. Despite staying over every week, Eddie always ‘just happens to forget’ his pajamas at home.

“Can I borrow some clothes? I forgot mine again.” Eddie tries to feign innocence by bringing his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. He can’t be blamed that much, though. He likes to feel close to Steve by wearing his clothes. He likes to pretend that he’s wearing them for different reasons, like maybe he belongs to Steve. That maybe Steve belongs to him, too.

“Sure” Steve says as he walks over to his dresser. He pulls out a set of sweatpants and a soft, worn T-shirt.

“Here, Eds” He says, tossing his clothes over to Eddie. He turns back around and starts changing into his own sleep wear. Eddie turns and starts undressing. He puts on the sweatpants first. They’re slightly too big on him. The length is fine, but the fabric hangs loose around his calves and thighs. They’re a light grey in color, soft and perfect.

Eddie pulls on the shirt. It’s a dark, navy blue. The front reads “Hawkin’s Community Pool Lifeguard”. It’s probably one of the darkest shirts Steve owns, ironic due to it supposedly being worn out in the sun all day. It’s soft and a bit on the thinner side from being worn for so long. Eddie’s seen Steve wear this shirt around the house quite a bit. Knowing that he gets to wear one of Steve’s most comfortable shirts makes Eddie’s face warm.

He turns back around, Steve already done changing and looking at him. Eddie smiles at him,

“Well, good night, Stevie.” Eddie says, wiggling his fingers in a flirty way as he turns to leave the room.

“Wait-” Steve says, grabbing onto Eddie’s bicep.

“Can you…Can you stay in here?” Steve asks. He looks at Eddie despite his hesitation.

“Yeah. I’ll stay with you, Stevie.” Steve softens at Eddie’s affirmation. He doesn't let go of Eddie, but instead pulls him towards the bed. Steve pulls back the covers and slides in first, leaving a side open for Eddie.

Eddie crawls in, grabbing the blankets and tucking them both in. He leaves a gap in between them. He wants to close the space, to cuddle with Steve and fall asleep wrapped around him. But he doesn’t. Instead he turns onto his side, the one facing away from Steve. It kills him, not being able to look at Steve; but he knows he won’t be able to go to sleep if he looks for any longer.

“Good night, Stevie. Have sweet dreams, don’t let the bedbugs biteee” Eddie chants, teasing Steve while meaning every word.

“You too, you dork,” Steve says. Eddie can hear the smile in Steve’s voice. Sleep soon starts taking over Eddie’s body. His eyes droop closed, his breath evens out, and he melts into Steve’s absolutely delightful bed.

He can’t breathe. The bats are after him. His legs sting as he peddles faster. He needs to do this. He needs to draw the bats away from Dustin. He needs to go. He needs to stand up.

He jumps off of the bike, throwing it to the ground. He swings back around and stabs at the bats with his spear. He tries holding up his shield, but there’s too many. They’re swarming him

. He falls to the ground. They bite into him. It hurts. They’re eating him. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t-

“Eddie!” Steve shakes him awake. His lungs hurt. He’s sweaty and panic is still stuck in his throat. His heart is beating too fast for his body, he’s going to die if it keeps going like that. He’s going to die-

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Steve says, still holding onto Eddie’s shoulders. His eyes shoot over to Steve’s. His heart is still beating too fast, he still can’t breathe.

“Here-” Steve says. He moves his hand down Eddie’s arm and onto his hand. Steve grips his hand and pulls it up. He presses Eddie’s hand to his chest, right above his heart.

“Feel that? It’s my heartbeat, we’re ok. Feel my chest, Eds. Follow my breathing,” Steve’s skin is warm under Eddie’s palm. Eddie focuses on the rise and fall of Steve’s chest. He tries matching his breathing to Steve’s.

Inandout. Inandout. In and out. In…. and out.

“There we go. Good job, baby. You’re doing amazing for me.” Eddie flushes at the pet name. He feels better now. He can breathe. He still feels taught, like a string pulled too tight.

“You remember where we are? We’re in my room. You’re in my bed. It’s Friday, remember? We watched Labyrinth with Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle? We’re safe, it’s ok.”

Right, right. It’s Friday. He’s in Steve’s room, in Steve’s clothes. He’s here because Steve asked him to stay. He remembers.

“Ok….I’m ok.” Eddie says after a minute. Steve moves his free hand up from Eddie’s shoulder and onto his face. He cradles Eddie’s face in his hand. His hand is rough from calluses. His thumb swipes away the tears on Eddie’s face. When did he start crying?

“You did so amazing, Eddie. You just had a nightmare, we’re ok.” Steve reaffirms. Eddie feels shame coil in his gut.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t wake you up, did I? I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, No. None of that. You don’t need to apologize, Eds.” Steve says softly, continuing to rub his thumb across Eddie’s face.

“No, I do. I know sleeps hard and I took that away from you-” Eddie tries to say, but Steve cuts him off again.

“Eddie, it’s ok. I know. I know what the nightmares are like, Eds. You went through so much, Baby. It’s ok to still be scared. I’m still scared too. You don’t need to apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.” Steve looks at Eddie with something so soft. It’s not demeaning, but genuine and light. Eddie wants to fight back, to convince Steve to let him apologize. But Steve makes him feel so safe. He can’t argue back, but he still can’t agree, either.

“Hey, I know that look. You have to believe me, Eddie. Do you know how many times you’ve helped me after a nightmare? So many times, Eddie. So many times.” Steve smiles at him,

“You always tell me it’s not a hassle. That I’m not a hassle. You make me feel seen, Eddie. I see you too. I see you, Eds.”

Eddie’s heart swirls. Steve sees him. Steve sees him for him. All the excitement and fun and liveliness of the day. All of the bad and pain and fear of the night. He sees Steve, and Steve sees him right back. Eddie nods this time; his walls have been tumbled down, Knocked over by Steve’s assurance.

“I love you, Eddie.” Steve presses his forehead against Eddie’s. His hand’s still holding Eddie’s to his chest. Eddie can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. Eddie can almost feel the love pumping through Steve.

Eddie’s face breaks into a smile. Steve sees him and loves him despite it, Because of it. A warm flourish blooms through Eddie. A tear runs down his cheek for a different reason, now.

“I love you too, Stevie.” Eddie says. The love they share is caught between them. The small space still there is filled with love. Eddie can’t deny it, he can only embrace it.

Steve’s skin is warm against his, their hearts beat together, and they love each other. Eddie sees Steve, and Steve sees Eddie.

#hurt/comfort #steddie fanfic #steddielovemonth #maybe this makes up for yesterday's post #CW: description of a panic attack #CW: descrition of a nightmare #steve harrington loves eddie munson #eddie munson loves steve harrington

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doomedpuppetyuri · 2 months

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Happy world puppetry day to all you puppet lovers out there

#survival street #my friendly neighborhood #welcome home #dont hug me im scared #hello puppets #sesame street #the muppets

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theofficialmoriarty · 2 months

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Happy (day late) world puppetry day everyone!!!!

#welcome home #welcome home project #welcome home fanart #welcome home frank #welcome home arg #frank frankly

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errantnight · 2 months

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Sephiroth wakes Cloud up in Gold Saucer so they can spend some quality time together. Just the two of them, an audience of robed men, and a song binding them together.

So I managed to put something together for 'world puppetry day'! You think next year we should try and make puppet week of prompts or something??

#ffvii #ff7 #fanfic #sephiroth #cloud strife #sefikura #puppet!cloud #fanfiction #ffvii rebirth #ff7 rebirth #ff7r #mind control #puppetry

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juliettedunn · 1 year

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Witches Before Wizards and The Collector Parallels

Witches Before Wizards is crucial to both Luz’s character development as a whole and foreshadowing for the Collector.

In the episode, Luz actually states her core wish of being understood that she only fully realized in For the Future. Just before her rude awakening, she says “I always suspected there was a reason no one understood my wacky antics back home!”That is quite cool that you can see her wish so clearly on!

Luz doesn’t understand why she is an outcast. She is lonely, misunderstood, and desperate for some kind of meaning to her life.

She is easily taken in by the saccharine, technicolor world that Adegast presents to her. It is an easy one. Everything plays out in a perfectly predictable and safe manner. She is misunderstood because she is the Chosen One, and now she can be surrounded by friends who cherish her as she goes on to complete her quest.

Only, they aren’t true friends. There is no depth to anything that happens. She has no real relationship with them, they only speak predictable lines. Contrary to her core wish, they can’t actually understand her, because they aren’t real people, merely…puppets.

Literally, as when Adegast reveals himself, he commandeers all the “friends” she had made, their faces melting into grotesque puppetry.

Mocked and isolated so many times before, of course Luz doesn’t want to be subjected to more pain. The real world holds grief and uncertainty. But it is also the only way Luz can have true and meaningful bonds.

She has to allow that vulnerability, that uncertainty. She has to embrace a strange landscape, one quite often grotesque and horrifying, to reach the messy, deep bonds that come with it.

And she has. Despite being beaten down, Luz has found friends and family who understand her, and made a place for herself in the Boiling Isles. She has now realized her core wish of being understood, and with that self awareness, she is more powerful than ever.

She doesn’t need a perfectly saccharine universe to find happiness. She can embrace the real one, including all the grief that comes with it.

This is the same lesson that the Collector must learn. The Collector lives in a world of puppets too, one of his own making. Every day, he plays out that saccharine fantasy, scripted and stiff. King told him about Luz’s adventures, and the Collector was enamored.

But he doesn’t know how to have such a genuine experience or bond, so he flattened the experiences, simplified and purified them into the “messed up version” of Luz’s life now going on.

It is a sign of Luz’s maturity that she recognized how messed up it was. She no longer wants a world that’s cute and feel-good on the surface, but on the inside is empty and cold.

And that is what The Collector’s life is, right now. It’s hollow. King is the only real thing there, and he forces King to play out the scripted performance as well.

The Collector may think he is happy, but he isn’t. He can’t find real happiness with such a life. He is lost, lonely, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t know how to have a genuine bond, and so he desperately tries to make it work with his puppet show.

At the end of Witches Before Wizards, Luz rejects her puppet fantasy. I am sure the Collector will as well. Likely, with Luz’s help, as she gets through to him and uses her own experience with loneliness and isolation, that wish for a perfect world that understands you, to show him a path toward true meaning and connection.

#the owl house #toh #luz noceda #the owl house luz #the collector #enzo gabriel #julietteanalyzes

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