#just have to get through to May and I will be free

[feralparsnip]

okay i love this movie and it also lives rent free in my head but this is SUCH A FUNNY TAKE because okay get this

the central theme of this movie, right, the one they hammer home over and over and over from the protagonist's occupation to her family history to the GOO MADE OF HUMAN TISSUE THAT EXTENDS YOUR LIFE

is this: THE OPULENCE OF THE RULING CLASS IS A MASS GRAVE

and the movie doubles down on this and doubles down on this and doubles down on this and then. and it REALLY wants to discuss the incentives for becoming a collaborator. the protagonist has the life of her mother dangled in front of her like "give us everyone else and we will spare her [lying]" and "you'll never have to personally see the mass death" etc etc and she rejects royalty and she rejects their bribes to become a collaborator and she kicks their asses and at the very end, when the protagonist has (temporarily) defended her claim to the earth and therefore staved off the execution of every single person on the planet

the movie is like teehee! rollerskating werewolf boyfriend scene! end of movie! and the tonal whiplash is SO GREAT i think it was this director just slapping the entire corporate checklist at the end as she is wont to do in her current era of work

my friend and i were talking about like corporate censorship and this reality we live in where like. every piece of art w/ a budget that is not made in a socialist country has this threat of the corporation itself changing the very heart of the narrative if that narrative is threatening to the structures that the corporation's power is based within

and it's sort of like the bury-your-gays era, right? like if the ending is a sharp enough disconnect, your audience may be able to SEE THE REAL ENDING THROUGH IT, like if you notice the dissonace, and think "this isn't the real ending to this story" in a very real way you have uncovered the uncensored ending. and i think about the trust it takes as a director or writer or whatever, to trust your audience to look at the art hard enough to see that. you know?

so it is funny to me to have a read of this movie that is like. only and entirely about the aesthetics of the film. like yes the aesthetics fuck like hell but the political content is the actual real cool shit you know?? and in this movie, for basically every part of it except the very end, they are working in CONCERT. and they're in such harmony that i think the disconnect at the end is intentional

and every time i watch it i'm like BITCH YOU NEED TO BE EXPANDING YOUR INDUSTRIAL CAPACITY. THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU WITH SPACE MAGUFFIN KNIVES. YOU ARE THE SITE OF IMPERIAL EXTRACTION AND YOU HAVE TO HUSTLE OR EVERYONE IS GONNA DIE

Here’s the thing about JUPITER ASCENDING, literally the greatest movie ever made. Is it “good,” or is it, more probably, garbage? I really don’t have the capacity to say. I’m not Saint Roger Ebert, olav hasholem, over here. I took one film class and it was about whether real stuff is, like, real, or is there even such a thing as, like, really real, man, you know?? (There isn’t. I got an A.) I’m not here to tell you if it is good. I am only a woman with eyes and ears and joy centers in my brain. Here is what I will tell you. Look at my icon. As daeontherun so rightly pointed out, my icon was both of our faces for the ENTIRE DURATION of this movie.

Do you need to know any more than that? Do you need to know any more than that you will be flooded with pure, innocent delight for two hours? Here is my feeling about this movie: it is your garbage. It is garbage for you. “Is this how straight dudes feel at the movies all the time????” I hissed at daeontherun SEVERAL times during this movie. “Like someone carefully noted down your early pubescent fantasies and then threw 100 MILLION DOLLARS at them?” 

I would describe this feeling as, like, a combination of arousal, joy, and fond knowing chagrin. “Oh you,” you find yourself thinking at Jupiter Ascending as shirtless Channing Tatum gruffly but torturedly checks his weaponry, while Sean Bean voiceover rumbles in his beautiful Northern growl about how tortured and loyal shirtless Channing Tatum is and how he needs his PACK. Ten seconds before this, Channing Tatum and Sean Bean were sexily punching each other while yelling about their emotions. “You know what I like, you crazy beautiful bastard,” you say to Jupiter Ascending, shaking your head fondly.  Mila Kunis wakes up in a beautiful dress, blinking slowly with her long gorgeous lashes. “Feel my skin,” naked Tuppence Middleton purrs at her [REDACTED 4 SPOILERS]’s clone, Mila Kunis, gently caressing her bare arm. Gugu Mbatha-Raw stands over Channing Tatum and sexily taunts him. There is a 20 minute Henson-evoking sequence about [REDACTED 4 SPOILERS BUT TRUST ME THAT IT’S AMAZING]. Eddie Redmayne flutters an elegant hand around while hoarsely gasping out sociopathic, vaguely incestuous promises in a fucking SEQUIN TITS OUT DRESSING GOWN with ARM WINGS in his EVIL SPACE CATHEDRAL THRONE ROOM!!!! “DO U LIKE DIS?” Jupiter Ascending asks, glancing shyly at you. “I MAKED IT.” “Of course I like it,” you say, overcome by joy and wonder, kissing Jupiter Ascending on the forehead. “I’ve never liked anything this much, and I love you more than anyone in the whole world.” I don’t want to be controversial, but if I had to choose between Jupiter Ascending and Citizen Kane I would immediately travel back in time, murder Orson Welles, and walk away whistling. I would cheerfully burn the entire Criterion Collection to the ground for this movie. Go see Jupiter Ascending. You’re welcome.

[teaboot]

Hi, this probably isn’t your usual ask, but you’re honestly someone I look up to a lot. Do you have any what do if all of your friends just aren’t putting effort into the relationship anymore. I have some friends (7) and enjoy their company a lot. But for a few months now it’s felt like they don’t really like me anymore or rather not talk to me. I’ve grown tired of having to start conversations or have to constantly beg to hang out. These people also tend to flake on me a lot or be late to things I organize (my birthday or things like that). Sorry to bother!

Oh yeah, this definitely happens a lot. It sucks, but if you can find a way to gently mention that you feel you’re doing all the work, or that you’d appreciate if they invited you to things or arranged things sometimes, that’s your best bet.

(You could also ask and see how they’re doing, if this is a sudden or recent development-“, to see if maybe they’re just at a difficult time in life where they have a lot going on, not much money, or little free time to make plans.) As a bit of a recluse who does enjoy getting out on occasion, I LOVE meeting new friends who drag me along to things or invite me to go places, but I’m also fine if they don’t. So until one of those friends mentioned how tired they were from planning, it didn’t really occur to me that her “spontaneity” was so deliberate and energy-consuming. Now I put in the work to plan things with ing my ability, and we kinda take turns.

If you have that conversation- and it’s certainly not an EASY conversation- and still see no outreach from their end, I’d consider maybe just letting that relationship settle the way it does. Invite them to stuff if you want, plan stuff if you want, but don’t burn yourself out. Sometimes that just happens- and you can stay friends, ou can still be friendly, but consider that maybe you could also just be settling down apart from each other.

Stuff like this isn’t insurmountable. You can work through it together and stay super close friends! But if you’re the only one putting the effort into maintaining the connection, AND they’re taking it for granted and yanking you around? And they’re unwilling to give back? I’d say that’s less of a problem of its own, and more of a symptom of a deeper issue- that they don’t appreciate or respect you as much as would be ideal.

And if that’s the case, you may have to evaluate how much energy you want to invest in keeping them so close in your life.

[theladybrownstarot]

𝜗𝜚 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ?

|𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ִֶָ |𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝-𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ִֶָ |𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 ִֶָ |

|𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ִֶָ |

HOW TO PICK A PILE ? Take a deep breathe , close your eyes after your open them up choose the pile where your sight goes first in calming inner silence . If you are called up by more than one pile you please feel free to choose them.

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

The month of July is going to be about forgiveness and acceptance. You may let go of some opportunities you waited for because they didn't turn out to be as expected. You are moving towards those choices that are aligned with your plan. I can see that you are becoming more spiritual than a material person. Basically, you have realized yourself and your goals, which won't let you take choices that are less for you or do not support your long-term plan. I can see some long travel this month; some people may leave their home. The energy of this month for you is very still because you are calm and controlled, almost like a siren. This is a good month to do charity also. The theme of this month is more self-reflection and searching for higher emotional ground, understanding them. You are developing inner strength. You will be lifting many heavy karmic energies. There is a divine plan for you, which you are following, so do not fear or get scared if things do not go your way. I can see Gemini energy, which can indicate that there could be the possibility of it having misunderstandings this month or being delusional too. Something from your past will be repeated. For monthly messages, it is coming that there is an old pattern rising up in you, and it's time to deal with it and release it for good. You know what you need to do, so don't delay it any further. What you need is courage and one step at a time. Also, don't let yourself feel unloved. Trust your intuition. Be assorted because you are ready for the great miracles of this month because divine trust you at the same time thatyou think that you may continue what was started in July within the next few months.

🌸Here's my link to personalised readings - link

🪷 You may even donate to suppport me - link

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

In the month of July for pile number 2, you people will need to make a decision between what you love and what is your priority, but how you will make this decision will depend completely upon you. Some people may need to make specific decisions regarding their love life or with any current person they are with right now. This is an ethical decision that needs to be made. It is possible for a few people to meet someone romantically this month. You will need to take care of your routine this month because I see anxiety over some things, which could possibly result in you having bad sleeping patterns as an effect. There could be a period of tension, but anyhow, you will come out of it successfully ending another cycle of karma or karmic cycle. You people may go through some Venus transit or Venus dasha. For Oracle guidance, look beyond your current situation, raise your vibration, focus on love, and always remember that where your eyes cannot see, your heart will definitely see it. Don't allow your ego or doubt to play games with you; just stay calm and keep your eyes open towards what you want. You people may start tarot readings or any occult studies too. I sense here that people may connect with some spirits, basically a beyond-human-comprehension type of thing. You may have to face a major downfall, and this will lead you to interact with them. Listen to and believe in your intuition. No matter what happens, there is always a peaceful solution for everything. Some of your expectations might not be fulfilled, which is only to protect you.

🌸 Here's my link to personalised readings - link.

🪷 You may even donate to suppport me - link

𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑 ! 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

From what I am getting, somebody will betray you this month, and I feel that you know who this person is, so trust your intuition. People may act against you out of jealousy, hatred, envy, aggression, or retaliation. You will definitely grow up this month, but you need to keep your eyes on the people because they will definitely try to bring you down, but anyhow, you will get them back down out of revenge. Whoever this person is, they are younger than you. You are someone of importance; remember that. Do not overthink this month, and keep your hopes high. Apart from this, the month will go by connecting with your inner child, healing your trauma, and understanding your feelings. You will daydream a lot this month. This is childlike energy here. You can expect some romantic confession this month through someone. Allow your creativity to surface. You're definitely going to make some major decisions this month regarding your life, like you are going to change everything, but of course, as I said, you will rise, but people will try to get you down, so you need to protect your energy and trust your intuition. There is a possibility you may get sick this month, but you will improve. This is a perfect time to start something, but you need to look for some sign, which is the sort of protection too from negative energies. Don't rush; just follow the signs by asking God.

🌸Here's my link to personalised readings - link .

🪷 You may even donate to suppport me - link

[zhenyakon]

I appreciate the frustration but the major failure of the education system is that it doesn't generally teach people to *learn*, which in itself is a skill.

Say someone wants to learn about the Russian Revolution (using this example because I know it). Say they go to a bookstore and find 15 or 20 books about it. Which one do they pick?

The choice in itself might stump some people, if they aren't sure which source is best, don't know how to evaluate a source, and consider inaccurate or incomplete sources not worth their time. But that's more thought than most people would put into it, I think.

Let's consider what happens when a person does pick up a book about the Russian Revolution. We have to keep in mind that ~20% of US adults are illiterate, and ~50% read below a 6th-grade level. There's no guarantee that this person can read the book well enough to understand it.

And if they do understand the words, but were never taught to think critically about what they read, they may take every word for objective fact. What if they book they picked was written by a descendent of the Russian nobility? What if it was written by a US neocon during the cold war? What would this person really be "learning" in these obviously biased cases?

If I were trying to educate someone on the Russian Revolution, I would tell them to read a relatively neutral overview (e.g. Richard Pipes, Sheila Fitzpatrick) and supplement with the diaries of people who lived through it, including revolutionaries like Nikolai Sukhanov, more conservative types like Zinaida Gippius, members of the royal family, etc. By triangulating all that, you get a pretty balanced, nuanced picture. But what are the odds someone who barely learned to read can figure that out on their own?

"Your phone has access to every major published work in history for free." It sure does. That's a LOT of works. To learn something from these resources, one must be able to sort through them, read them, analyze them, critique them, and cross-reference them. It is not nearly as simple as "opening a book".

This goes double for anything political, of course. Revolutionary movements in developing countries are led by people who are passionate about educating others on political topics. They curate information and help others understand, and they're building off a revolutionary tradition of doing so. (Note, there are people in the US who do this too.) To act like this is trivial is to do them an immense disservice. If you just tell an American to read a book about socialism, there is like a 90% chance they will pick some garbage book and come away thinking "socialism" means George Orwell's 1984.

People actually do need guidance to learn! That's why socialist states throughout history have made education a pivotal priority.

we need to legalise learning for adults

[revelboo]

May I humbly request anything with the Rescue Bots! I love the bots in the show so much! Plus Heatwave is voiced by Steve Blum who has a wonderful voice!!!

Hope you are taking care of yourself wore yourself!

Sure! 🔞 🌶️

Guilty

Heatwave x Reader

• Slowing down to park in his altmode, he knows this is beneath him. That if any of the others, especially Chase, find out where he keeps sneaking off to, he’s never going to hear the end of it. Sun warming him until he’s fighting off recharge, you finally come out of your house with a folding chair tucked under an arm, a bag over your shoulder, and dressed in a loose, sheer garment with butterflies on it and flip flops. This is exactly what he’s been waiting for, your daily ritual. Settling on his shocks, he watches you bend and unfold the chair, flashing soft skin to make him groan.

• And you’re pulling off the coverup to reveal that tiny little scrap of cloth that’s the only thing standing between him and all your secrets. Luckily the street is dead today, hates when your neighbors are out and see too much of you. That’s only for him. Watches you squirt something in your hand before slowly rubbing it into your skin and he can smell the sweetness even from across the road. Addicted to that scent now because of you as your palms slick that stuff on yourself and there’s glitter in it to leave a faint flush of color to your skin. Every time he comes out here, he swears to himself it’s the last time. That he’ll leave you alone.

• Instead he finds himself right back here just in case you come out if he’s not on duty. You’re becoming an obsession. Watching you lay in the sun and wanting. He could transform, walk over and say something. Anything. Be smooth and romantic. He’s seen Kade flounder enough times to know exactly what not to do. And you’re digging a book out, rolling onto your belly to read, legs swinging in the air. Imagines striding across your yard, kneeling and cupping your face in his hand. Kissing you. Except, you’d probably scream. Growling in frustration at himself, he rocks slightly on his shocks. Because this is so fragging stupid. Why can’t he just talk to you? Why keep pretending he’s just a dumb robot?

• They’re back. Stealing a glance at the firetruck as it slowly rocks, all you can imagine is two firefighters going at it inside. Probably fucking nasty to get a vehicle that big moving like that, too. Maybe they’re voyeurs fucking while staring at you through those tinted windows. Oh. Ew. Immediately wishing you hadn’t had that thought, because now you can’t get it out of your head. And you’re standing up with your book and heading into the house, weirded out. Because that truck is always there.

• Don’t. Don’t do it. Transforming to lunge and grab your coverup, he immediately transforms back and books it to base. What if someone saw that? Maybe you saw. You’re going to think he’s a creep and a thief now. Heading inside and transforming once he’s home, he manages to avoid the others and locks himself in his room, sits on his berth and mass shifts. Pressing the thin, soft material to his face he vents in the scent of you and that sweet stuff you use. Laying back venting against your coverup, he frees his spike and slides a servo over the head then teases down the underside before fisting himself. Imagining you sprawled on your belly naked as he covers you. Pumping his spike as he thinks about how you’d feel wrapped around him. Soft. You have to be and he’s gritting his denta as he wraps that silken material around his spike and works himself in hard strokes. Wondering what sounds you’d make under him as he claimed you. Head back as his hips lift slightly, he gets rougher, rutting against that soft cloth until he’s shuddering and overloading. But the release is hollow when what he really wants is right down the road waiting for him. Frag him, but patience has never really been his strong suit when he wants something.

[fumiscripts]

hello dear! i luvvv ur writing and cheered when i saw that u opened reqs!!!!! may i request yoichi x reader cooking together? just something fluffy overall. tysm in advance n feel free to ignore this <33

I hope this was to your liking, anon!

✦ STIR-FRIED

Isagi thinks he's really, really lucky to have scored a generous roommate who loves to cook. He gets eat food you whipped up, from familiar dishes to new recipes you wanted to try. He loves being your taste-tester.

And now, you offer to show him firsthand how you work in the kitchen.

Clatters and clinks, wood against stainless steel. The smell of cooking onions and garlic wafts through the room. Isagi looks down into the pan, carefully shifting the ingredients around so they don't burn.

“I think that's good, I'm gonna put the vegetables in,” you remark from behind him, and he stepped aside, watching as you add in the broccoli. He's almost mesmerized, watching you cooking, entranced by how in-element you look while doing so. Even when it was something as simple as stir-fried vegetables.

He was looking at you the entire time, nodding, listening. He was an eager learner, to say the least, mentally taking notes about wait times and how you should add in the vegetables that cook the slowest first so that the dish won't come out with some of them nearly being burnt and the other ingredients being hard to chew.

Isagi smiles at the finished product, proud to see how he understood your instructions. “You’re a great teacher!” he says, taking the first bite, blue eyes lighting up at how good it tasted. Of course it'd be amazing, it's your recipe, after all.

“You're an even better learner. I guess it also applies when you're off the field,” you reply, chuckling as he ate up his meal. You're glad he enjoyed it. “Next time I'm craving stir-fried food, I'll tell you to cook it, okay?”

He nods his head, chewing. And you think he looks so cute when he's eager. Especially with the little cowlick ahoge on his head.

Maybe you'll ask him to cook stir-fried sprouts when the time comes.

© fumiscripts 2024-2025. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[sirfluffletin]

Cuddling Hc Mafioso x iTrapped x Chance x Reader

I don't know what you did to get these three into bed with you, but whatever it was...Nice.

They all make a make a conscious effort to not leave you without an option for company for the night, but it happens sometimes. They’re all used to the nightlife, but when their trio becomes a quad they don’t want to assume it’s the same for you. So iTrapped tries not to isolate himself when Chance is busy, and Mafioso tries to be home at a certain time, that way you can get some affection when you feel the need. That said…it happens sometimes. Try not to give them a hard time they're trying.

Dates with the four of you are a bit of a goodiebag. iTrapped always wants some extravagance, so he really likes it when you, chance and Mafioso go big for him. The slight smile on his face when he takes in a beautifully decorated dinner table in the star-touched sky, in the luninous skyline is really something. Chance is far easier to please; he’s happy to do anything that involves some action. Mafioso on the other hand is harder to read; although he does has a fondness for the finer things in life, he also enjoys soft moments like walks through the parks and he's always looking for sibling for his fur baby so take him into a pet store, see what happens... If you accommodate their preferences, they make an effort to meet yours as well, regardless of price or difficultly to provide.

By the end of it, its up to what side of the city you are all on to determine who's bed you all fall into. Mafioso has multiple homes rented all over Robloxia, while Chance if he's not residing in one of his casino suites he's most likely in a hotel room for the night. iTrapped is the only of your lovers with a permanent residence, his safe haven and base of operation that he's so graciously allowed you all to take residence in is a spacious pristine- serial killer type clean (it's a bit scary it doesn't even look lived in) loft. Be greatful, and leave your dirty shoes at the door.

Bedtime cuddles will be the norm even when all of them aren't present, so feel free to snuggle up to whichever one of them you need to regulate your temperature at night. Mafioso runs hot, like a giant hairy heater, but iTrapped runs a bit cold while Chance is a good equilibrium between the two. Although Chance kicks off the blankets a lot, and iTrapped steals them, so expect all the sheets to migrate to one end of the bed throughout the night.

Although the attendance of your lovers may vary, sleeping positions will remain a constant through the relationship. It's a bit of an unspoken rule that Mafioso will only sleep on the edge of the bed so he is always ready for action and can spring out of bed whenever he needs to. You've come to the conclusion that it's a Mafia thing, that he has a overbearing need to protect 'his' people, there is always an arm outstretched over you and chance cradling you both into his chest whenever you're both in bed. iTrapped also sleeps on the edge of the bed but not for any sentimental protective reason, no, he just prefers not to be touched, well- of course there's a more tactful deeper reason behind this as well. He's prone to slipping out of bed in the dead of night, Mafioso is a very light sleeper so more often then not the two share very deep intimate talks, well more like iTrapped vents and rattled on about trivial affairs Mafioso listens. Quite attentively.

Then there is chance, he's the poster boy of going with the flow. Oh it's just you and him tonight? He'll be big spoon unless you want otherwise. iTrapped doesn't want to be touched tonight, cool, I'll sleep with my back to him. Chance can sometimes seem- for lack of better words 'One track minded' always betting, making predictions and sometimes it just seems he's in his own world but he's very attentive and perceptive, he has to be in his line of work. There would be multiple times in your relationship where you have an offhanded comment about needing to do something and he out of the rest of your partners would be the one to remind you.

Cuddling... Whoo!

I hope you enjoyed, as a little tid bit for anyone who cares enough to read this, I will be putting myself on a schedule mostly because

1. I am lazy and I will not write unless I'm literally holding myself at gunpoint

2. Because I often start new works without finishing previous ones

So my schedule will be as such.

Wanwood x Reader (Genesis) Jun/28

Chance x Reader (Coin Slot) Jun/29

Two Time x Angel! reader (Spawn Sent) Jun/31 @missspop (you are seen and heard I am working on it)

[joluvsfinnick]

Letters Left Behind

f!reader x finnick o’dair

summary - a box of letters, penned by Finnick to his lover, words of love, hope, and dreams of a wedding that may never come. through ink and tears, a love lost to time whispers between the pages, aching and eternal.

warnings - mentions of finnicks death and capitol life.

a/n - i’ve had this in my notes for a while and finally managed to finish it. it’s short because it hurts🗿 also, i’m such a sucker for letters if u couldn’t tell.

You don’t expect to see Annie at your door.

Not since the funeral. Not since the salt-slick morning you stood beside her on the shore, both of you wearing black and silence.

But there she is. Windblown. Pale. Clutching something carefully to her chest, a small wooden box wrapped in fraying fishing twine. She doesn’t say anything for a long time. Just holds it out to you like it weighs too much.

“He wanted you to have this,” she whispers. “He… he started them when we were kids.” Your fingers graze the twine, confused.

“Started what?” She blinks back tears.

“Letters. He started them when he was sixteen, said he was writing to the girl he’d fall in love with one day. I teased him, told him she’d never put up with him.” A soft, cracked laugh. “But he didn’t stop. Not once.” You glance down at the box. Your name isn’t on it. But somehow, you know it’s yours.

“He didn’t know who she was for a long time,” Annie says with a slight pause. When you pinch your eyebrows in confusion, she continues. “The girl he was writing too. But once he met you… he started calling her Pearl.”

You freeze. That was his name for you.

Soft as sea foam. Whispered into your hair at night. Scrawled across everything. Spoken like a secret when the rest of the world had taken too much. Annie places the box in your arms like it’s something holy.

“He made me promise. If he didn’t come back… I’d find you. I’d give you the words he never had time to say.” And then, without another word, she’s gone.

You don’t open it right away. You couldn’t. You sit on the floor of your tiny house, the sea whispering outside your window. You run your fingers over the lid like it might bite. It doesn’t. It only trembles. Finally, you undo the twine and lift the lid.

It smells like old salt and worn-out hope.

Inside are hundreds of letters. Folded neatly. Stained slightly by time and touch. Each dated. Some sealed with faded red wax. Others just tucked closed, as if he wrote them fast, needing to spill something before it vanished from him completely.

You lift the first.

The date hits you: he was sixteen. Still barely a boy, but still broken.

“To my future wife,

If you exist, God, I hope you exist. This is for you.

I don’t know your name. I don’t know where you live. But I think about you all the time.

Today I’m headed back to the Capitol for a short stay, so I’ll write to you again when I come back.

I hope you’re kind. I hope you’d know how to hold someone like me.

— Finnick”

You press a trembling hand to your mouth. It’s too much. And yet, You keep reading.

“To my future wife,

They dressed me up again today. Put me in gold. I smiled so hard my face hurt.

One of the Capitol women called me “the boy with the perfect mouth.”

I wanted to scream.

I hope, someday, you kiss me like I’m more than what they see.

—Finnick”

“To my future wife,

I dreamed of you last night.

You were laughing. Your hair was a mess. You didn’t care who was watching.

You touched my face like I was something soft.

No one’s touched me like that in years.

— Finnick”

Your tears come quietly. You’re not even sure when they started. Letter after letter, he reaches toward someone who didn’t exist yet. And then,

He meets you.

You feel it the moment it shifts. The letters stop saying “To my future wife.”

They begin with the nickname that shatters you.

“Pearl,

I think it’s you. I think I met you today.

You called me out when you were in line behind me and you heard me flirting with the grocer just to get some free bread.

Then you smiled at me like I wasn’t a weapon.

That’s never happened before.

— Finnick”

You pull another.

“Pearl,

I touched your hand today.

I didn’t mean to. I brushed against your fingers while passing you that stupid book you wanted me to read.

And I swear to God, I felt it in my throat.

I can’t stop thinking about it.

— Finnick”

“Pearl,

You hugged me today.

You hugged me.

I don’t think you even knew what it meant to me. You were just cold.

But you wrapped your arms around me like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And I almost cried right there.

Because no one hugs a Capitol boy unless they want something.

But you just held me.

— Finnick”

“Pearl,

I kissed you today.

I didn’t plan it. I panicked. You were laughing and the sun was behind you and you were saying something ridiculous about how you’d never marry a man who eats oysters.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I kissed you.

And you kissed me back.

My hands were shaking for hours.

— Finnick”

The light outside fades. District 4 slips into evening. You’re surrounded by pieces of him, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. You wonder if it ever will.

Finally, you reach the last letter.

The paper is newer. The handwriting shakier. The date? It’s from the week before the mission in the Capitol. The week before the tunnel.

You already know what it is. And still, you open it.

“Pearl,

I’ve been writing you letters since I was sixteen.

Can you believe that?

I used to think I was writing to someone imaginary. A soft place in a hard world.

But it was always you. It’s always been you.

I don’t know how this ends. I hope I come back to you. I hope I get to see the way your nose scrunches when you laugh, and the way you fake being annoyed when I flirt with you in front of people. I hope I get to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.

But if I don’t,

Please know this: I wasn’t afraid to die. I was only afraid to leave you behind.

You were the only thing in this world that felt untouched. Unbought. Mine.

I wanted to marry you. No, not wanted, I want. If I come back, I will.

I’ll say something stupid at our wedding. I’ll cry halfway through my vows as I talk about how much love I have for you, and how you’re the only person in my life who makes me feel at peace.

You’ll make fun of me, I can already see it. You, laughing through your tears as I confess my undying love for you.

I want forever with you.

But if forever isn’t mine, then let these letters be.

Let them be the parts of me I never got to give you.

Yours, always

— Finnick”

You fold the letter slowly. Carefully. You press it to your chest, and this time, when the sob breaks out of you, you don’t stop it.

He’d been loving you even before you existed.

He loved you across time. Across pain. Across the lines that people like him weren’t supposed to cross.

You lay the letter back in the box. Tie the twine shut with trembling hands. And whisper the only words you have left to give:

“I love you too, Finnick. I always will.”

[riemanifests]

You can achieve anything.

If you knew you would 100% succeed at anything, what would you do? what would you manifest? what skills or hobbies would you get into? write it all down. write down every single thing. every idea, every goal, and every achievement you want to complete. and don't overthink it or filter it, write it from the soul no matter how small, big, unique, or crazy it is. this is for you being true to you, so do it. to make yourself think from a free perspective, ask yourself this: "if i knew i could 100% succeed at anything, what would i do?" the reason i bring that question up is because it's easy for us to find many excuses to hold ourselves back. one of the common reasons is fear of failure, which is something i have gone through terribly over the years. however excuses are just excuses, and there's nothing that can truly hold us back but ourselves. see we're not our identity, our labels, or even our history, we're just beings. unlimited beings at the core who are everything. who has access to any and everything. so your true self does not have any limitations at all, they can do whatever it is they want at anytime and succeed. so when you go back at that list i want you to know that you can succeed in doing all of those things. maybe you won't be perfect and maybe it wont be 100% successful, but you have the chance to do it. another thing is, well not knowing how to even execute your ideas or get into those things. they may seem like big mountains that you're just not trained to climb at all, but that is why you start with baby steps. start studying those who are into those things, the people who have mastered those things or done them, and learn from them. find inspiration. i think you can find inspiration in everything so start surrounding yourself with what it is you want to achieve, and it'll become more normal to you. take little steps to get there, something is better than nothing. sometimes you just have to start things and figure them out along the way. sometimes you need to do a bit of trial and error to learn before you find your flow. but that's okay, because you have the ability to do it. if you persist and never see failure as an option, you will achieve what it is you want to achieve. there is no true failure in my opinion, there is just trial and error. the only thing that could happen is you give up, but that's a choice. never failure, it's not real. for a long time my soul has silently suffered because i am not doing the things i want to be doing or expressing myself as who i am freely. it's not even that i want to be a master at them or that i don't know how i can do those things, but i still hold myself back. so don't do that to yourself because your soul deserves to shine. it doesn't matter if you end up doing it and you're average at it or not exactly doing it the traditional way, as long as you're happy then it's worth it. time is never a waste when you're doing the things you want to be doing. with manifestation we can cultivate a mindset that aligns with where we want to be in certain things and even manifest our success in those things. but again you're everything. there is already a version of you within who is a master at those thing. so remember, the true self can do everything and has already done everything. you are an unlimited being. and if you fear judgement? don't. find a way to be authentically you and not care about what others think. sure you might lose some people but that means those people were not meant to be around you. there are so many others on this planet who will love you for you. you should give your soul the freedom to express itself freely not try to be an altered version of you for anyone else, that's a prison and you are not a prisoner. you are an unlimited being and there are those out there who will love the true you. some people may never know the real you but if you do and you're allowing yourself the freedom to be that person, then you are already doing so much more for yourself. so remember, think with your possibilities not your circumstances.

[thankyoulovely]

always there (arthurtv)

no matter what, he's there to celebrate your accomplishments

got inspired by this tiktok i saw (@ addieeraymond) and i knew i had to write about this >:) also the timeline may be skewed but for the purpose of this story it happens the way i wrote it AND if i have not written the UK uni shenanigans correctly then my bad!.

angst, ~2k words?

After many years, your graduation finally happened.

You had been academically struggling. You knew you wanted to go to university to get a degree in something you love, but life always got in the way. In that time, your passions changed and your uncertainty grew. Finally, you found your way to Leicester. After four years, with one year abroad in the Netherlands, you got your degree. You had split up with Arthur during your first year.

Arthur had moved to London to keep working with his law degree. You had moved to Leicester. The initial plan of long distance worked. As your first year was ending, the relationship crumbled to nothing.

You knew Arthur would be insanely busy, but he promised to make an effort - to either travel to Leicester to meet you, or you staying over at his place in London. And that's how it was for the first couple of months. But the silence started growing.

Sometimes, he would air you completely for days, and you were rightfully worried. He would tell you that everything was fine, promised to call that night and fall off the face of the Earth for two days again. It became a vicious cycle.

You visited him in London for the last time about two months later. You made an effort to have a couple of days free to visit him.

"My door's always unlocked for you," he would say. And it was.

It was an incredibly bittersweet night. Arthur pleaded you to try again, but you couldn't. Not anymore. Kissing him for the last time, you slept on the couch as Arthur tried to keep himself together in his bed.

The next morning was awkward. Your train wasn't leaving until the late afternoon. You two held a civil conversation, knowing this might be the last time you see each other for a while. As you packed up your last knickknacks that you'd left at his place before and stood at his front door, you faced him. His eyes were red from the emotional rollercoaster you both had gone through. Your heart lurched at his pain, but there wasn't anything you could do. You wanted to be close to him, but you couldn't do that to him. Or yourself. This had to end.

"I guess this is it." you murmur out, not really trusting your voice to hold any confidence.

Arthur just nods. You can tell he doesn't want to say goodbye.

"I love you."

Your eyes fall at your feet, "Arthur..." you sigh out.

"I'm not saying it to win you back. I just want you to know that I love you."

He wipes his face with the sleeve of his black jumper. Tear stains are already present in the exact spots.

You brush your hand through your hair, taken aback by his words. You know he means them. It sucks that you feel the exact same way, but it wouldn't change anything. All you wanted to do was pull him into a hug.

So you do, pulling him close with one arm behind his back and the other at the back of his head. His head falls in the crook of your neck, crossing his arms at your waist.

His touch is starting to feel cold. Incredibly bittersweet.

As you pull away, Arthur exhales a deep breath.

"I want you to know that I am and will be so proud of you no matter what. Even if our paths don't cross, I want you to succeed. I know you will."

His confession makes you tear up again, knowing that you have to leave now.

"I wish you the best of luck, Arthur." Your sentence is short, not knowing how else to express your feelings. There is so much more you would want to say, but more words may complicate this. And that's all you say.

Arthur stands back, watching you walk out of his flat. You hear him sniffle just before you close the door.

Throughout the next three years, he became a comfortable memory. The ending hurt your heart every time you thought about it, but it just became more comfortable. You learned to live without him.

It wasn't easy. Sometimes, you really wanted to text him when you were struggling with memorising some terms for an exam. He'd always volunteer to help you when you guys called, making it work somehow. You guys could always make it work somehow. How come not that time? You wince at the memory. You take a sip of your water and wake up your laptop to continue writing your last term paper.

Your friends at uni helped you along the way. Accidentally 'embarrassing' yourself in front of a group of people at a random party earned you some pretty close best friends, and a tightknit group of friends you often met up with during times of leisure. You'd confided to them about Arthur during a study meet, and they all tried to be as comforting as possible.

One of your friends later told you that he recognised the guy you had talked about. This had taken you by surprise, but when she told you that she knew him from Youtube, your shock was through the roof. You almost didn't believe her, even when you were watching one of his 90-day fiancé videos.

This set you back for a week. You watched some of his older videos and managed to catch newer uploads as well. Gathering from the comments and what he himself had said in videos, he'd quit his practice to do Youtube. This really surprised you. As long as he is happy. That's all that mattered.

You tried dating. Emphasis on tried. One guy looked eerily like Arthur and the night felt weird. You did meet a nice guy, but you guys stayed as friends instead.

During your last year, you barely thought about him. All you focused on was your degree and future possibilities. Your nights were either spent behind your laptop or at a pub with your group of friends. And things were okay.

------------------

Many sleepless, hungover, busy and procrastinating days and nights led you to here - your graduation. As you accepted your diploma, you shed a few tears. You felt incredibly proud of your progress during your last four years. The graduation itself passed by in a blur, and next thing you knew, you were standing outside, hugging your family.

All your friends and family from your hometown came to congratulate you, and you felt immense happiness. Seeing everyone you appreciate and love sharing their love for you made you tear up even more. Your hands were full from the amount of flowers that were gifted for you.

One of your uni friends had made their way to you, hugging you. As you look behind him, you see him.

Arthur.

Your heart drops, frozen hugging your friend. He pulls away and notices your expression. Looking behind him, he sees him as well. He turns back to you to congratulate you more as he scurries away from this interaction.

All you can do is stare.

You hadn't kept up with his business for so long. Suddenly seeing him, standing five feet away from you leaves you breathless. He looks older. He obviously is older, but he's grown more into his features. His stubble and grown-out curly hair makes him look handsome. His brown eyes stare into yours.

Looking down, you notice he's holding a bouquet of red tulips. You also notice that since you looked away from his eyes, he's started moving closer to you. Looking down at your hands, you realise your hands are empty all of a sudden, not feeling your mum take them off your hands.

Soon enough, he's right there, standing in front of you. You find the courage to look up at him, and you offer him a genuine smile. He smiles just as genuinely back.

"Hi." Arthur says, finding his words.

"Hi, Arthur." is all you can reply. Your breath is shaky, unsure.

He immediately pulls you into a hug. You can feel his hands hesitate behind your back, not knowing where to place them. They're on your lower back before he flinches to place them upwards. Quickly and gradually, he slides them lower. Like he used to back in the day. The hug isn't awkward anymore - it's familiar. His cologne takes you back to the days in his apartment, fooling around around the flat as you wore his hoodie. If this situation wasn't insane enough, you would swear that it was the exact same scent.

He nudges his head so his lips are closer to your ear, "I'm so proud of you." He says this softly, his warm breath tickling your ear. It's quiet, knowing that this is only meant for you and no one else.

Incredibly bittersweet.

You tear up instantly, swaying from side to side with him. It's impossible to pull him any closer than he already is. You know that you've probably earned some weird stares from your relatives, but quite honestly, you couldn't care less. Arthur is right here, hugging you after four years. All that mattered was this. The past four year silence meant nothing right now. As if this was always supposed to happen. As if he had never left you, and he'd been there all that time. But you could only pretend.

He finally pulls away, handing you the bouquet. It's so pretty.

"Thank you, really." You tell Arthur, choked up.

He still gives you a genuine smile, "You deserve it. Congratulations."

You smile back at him. He stands back a bit as another friend approaches you for a hug.

You lose track, again. You can see Arthur standing back with your family, talking with them with a grin on his face. You can only glance at him as you're forced to take more pictures.

Finally, your family starts to escort you to your car to leave. As you reach them, you look for him, wanting to thank him again. Scanning across the nearby area, the hard reality faces you. Arthur is gone.

He left.

Your eyes fall onto the tulip bouquet he gave you. You feel like you've been crying all night, but this saddens you further.

In the car, your mum speaking pulls you out of your consuming thoughts.

"Can you believe Arthur came all this way here? He sat with us during the whole graduation. It was so lovely to see him after all this time! The fact that he even came here.."

And the rest drowns out.

He was there for the entire graduation.

Not thinking straight, you pull out your phone. You scroll your contacts, finding his name.

You:

thank you for coming, arthur :)

you really surprised me

His reply is instant.

Arthur:

Just wanted to support you :)

You stare at his text, smiling. This feels okay. This doesn't hurt. You hold his bouquet closer to your heart. Maybe this is what you needed.

------------------

i don't like the ending but im leaving it like this.

i might write a follow-up to this 🤫

[lmaster37]

I just finished Medea in the Garden and it has left me disquieted in a way which I do not think I can describe, except to say that I fear a door has been opened which may be difficult to bar again.

extremely unprofessional/unorganized thoughts about the first few paragraphs below the cut ↓ might return to this later with something akin to proper analysis when it's not 1 a.m.

The story opens on the men—their absence sets the stage. Only Adam, Di's husband and presumably the youngest of the men, is still present (though asleep). An early indication that Adam and Di do not do things as they ought to; the other three husbands have gone home to their beds where they belong.

By midnight all the men were asleep. My Kenneth was upstairs in bed, Bert and Joe had each gone home, and Di’s husband, Adam, was out like a light on the love seat.

I am struck, on rereading, by the way that social obligation pervades the text. The narrator meant only to get snacks and instead finds herself returning with cognac and pistachios on impulse; she does not consider this action worthwhile or reasonable.

This [the narrator sharing her expensive pistachios, gifted by her mother for Christmas] was one of those subversive impulses that flash and stun without warning. The sort which when you’re young compel you to blurt “I love you” when you certainly don’t, as a kind of insane courtesy. The happiness you spread never offsets the cost.

This is then immediately contextualised as part of her marriage dynamic. The pistachios—precious and personal to her—have so far only been shared with her husband, but even that was not a decision freely taken. Instead, it is now an active threat from her husband which compels her to share, with their children as a means of exerting control over the narrator.

Until now, I had shared the pistachios only with Kenneth, and that just since two years ago when he discovered them in a hatbox under the bed and threatened to rat me out to the children.

symbols which strike me (here and throughout the poem)

- children as an object of fear, a threat, an obligation. yet this is how the conversation ends, once the secretive dream-share-space is disrupted:

“I’ve always wanted children,” she said, gazing directly at each of us in turn.

“So did I,” said Leah.

“We all did,” I said.

“We’ve talked about having two,” Di said.

“How wonderful!”

“You won’t regret it,” Leah said. “I never have.”

“Nor I,” Caroline said. “Quite honestly.”

“Children are the future,” I said.

We all smiled then, the way women do.

- the pistachios: something gifted to the narrator by her mother, personal, precious. 'freely' given to the people around her. her husband finds them and threatens her into sharing; on impulse she shares with her friends, but finds that, though there is a reward in that, it does not outweigh the cost. carolina's little pistachio drama, mixing full and empty shells to sift them through again. leah's slow, measured calm, her preference for closed shells which these are too high-quality to have. carolina thinking about the closed shells through the lense of drama, presentation; leah instead describing it as stigmata, marks of guilt; "Nothing this pleasurable should be guilt-free". leah shattering a nut.

(- along similar lines, the cognac, offered insincerely)

- mothers and daughters and mothers and daughters. the pistachios gifted by her mother. di, forty years younger, sitting there like the narrator's daughters, sitting there as the narrator once sat. di's mother's nightmares, replicated in the narrator and leah and caroline. "God knows, we don't want to take ourselves that seriously. The whole point of Di is to lighten us up". indulgences. placation.

- letters to the president. symbolic action without power. dreams of power, of retaliatory (?) violence against children.

- the unquestioned identification of adam as the driver; when it becomes clear he is unable to do it, "Someone else must have driven". no mention of di driving

- leah—oldest, most in-control—and her physical imposition. "Nobody scares the Fat Lady". there's such a thing as being too thin

fuck what a poem

in 2024 master craftsman jincy willett posted an absolute barnburner of an uncollected story, "Medea in the Garden," on the internet for anyone to find. i do think you should maybe have to be over 40 and/or absolutely confident in your choices or choices-to-be around childbearing to read it lmao, but what do i know!!!

anyway she is just one of THEEE writers of all time imo ("actually it was me.") and the best thing david sedaris ever did was introduce people to her and yet somehow whenever you meet anyone else who loves jincy willett it's a surprise to both of you. our greatest living artists are turning out perfectly acceptable little serial killer novels and then doing Art on the internet for free. please read jenny and the jaws of life

[puck-luck]

hii miss andy i have two drink orders i hope you will enjoy experimenting with and perfecting as you do <3 moving forward could i also be 🌙 anon ?

order one: may i please order a peppermint mocha (angsty fake relationship with lines blurring perhaps?) for sweetie boy tz with cinnamon (body worship) on top of some whipped cream (slight sub!m, bit of an apology vibe to it? like words won't be enough to him so he wants to make up for it with actions), and a layer of cold foam underneath ("i wanna be good for you, please let me be good for you")

thank you !!

thank you so much for sending these asks in different submissions! it makes things just a little bit easier for me <3 you may be 🌙anon! feel free to stop by anytime for a little chat :) this is also a great ask because i have been in SUCH a sweetboytz mood lately. i had fun with this!!

“This isn’t working, Trevor. Maybe we should just end it before everyone finds out,” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your face and shaking your head. 

You’re alone in one of the rooms adjacent to the reception hall. You’re pacing back and forth in front of Trevor, who sits in a chair and watches you. His hands cover his mouth. This was supposed to be a convenient night for the both of you: you’re both single, freshly out of relationships, and neither of you wanted to deal with the probing questions from your acquaintances. You decided to spend the night together– entering together, sitting, dancing, and dining together, and leaving together. You contracted a few kisses, a few sensual touches, but you didn’t think so many people would be so giddy at the sight of you and Trevor together.

It’s a lot of pressure. You’ve been here a few hours already and you’re stressed. Every time Trevor talks to another woman, you feel like people are watching you. Their eyes creep over your skin with pity. There are a couple of drinks coursing through your system, putting you even further on edge. 

“Relax,” he says softly, catching your hips when you pass by him next. Trevor anchors you in front of him, sliding a hand under the slit in your black dress and stroking your thigh. “No one knows.”

“Trevor, you keep flirting with these beautiful women when I’m just across the room,” you reply. “People are looking at me.”

He coaxes you closer, pressing a kiss to your clothed hip. “I’m sorry for making you nervous,” Trevor says. “I won’t talk to the girls again unless you’re standing next to me and holding my hand.” 

You place your hands on his shoulders, heart thumping a little harder when Trevor kisses the spot where your slit starts, where your skin is just revealed. 

“We can do this,” Trevor tells you. He places another gentle kiss on your smooth thigh. “I want to be good for you. Please, let me be good for you.”

Trevor’s green eyes stare up at you through his long, dark lashes. He looks handsome in his suit, hair brushed back in pristine, princely portions. His hand is warm against your thigh, cupping the back of your upper leg and holding you intimately. He holds you like he would hold his real partner.

The air changes, more charged now.

Trevor slides his hand up a bit further, testing the waters. He’s nearly gripping your behind now, accentuated by an itty-bitty excuse for underwear. His other hand squeezes your hip. His lips part, although it’s a few seconds before he speaks again. 

“I’ll be so good for you,” Trevor promises in a low voice. He slides from his chair and gets on his knees, kissing from your calf to your upper thigh. He looks up at you once more before nosing beneath your slit and leaving a wet trail along both of your inner thighs. His gentle hands help you find his chair, turning your bodies so that his back is to the door and you can stare at it, keeping watch just in case. 

Trevor slides your panties down your legs, the flimsy fabric pooling around your ankles. He spreads your legs as well as he can, throwing your free leg over his shoulder and nuzzling against your core.

He uses his tongue to part your lips, to lavish your clit. Trevor moans against your entrance and you picture his eyelashes fluttering prettily as he laps at your pussy like he’s drinking the nectar of the gods. 

His index finger is quick to fill you and your manicured hand finds his perfect hair, fisting it as he curls his finger inside you and pets over your sensitive inner walls. 

“Let me taste you,” Trevor begs, smacking his lips before diving in for more. “Fuck, baby, I want you to come all over my tongue. We’ll go back out there and I’ll taste you on me all night, no one will know a thing. They’ll think we snuck away for some private time–”

“Which we did,” you gasp.

“Mhm, and they’ll never doubt we aren’t together,” Trevor finishes. “It’s the perfect plan and a treat for me, babe. You taste so good, I don’t want to taste anyone else. Come, baby, please come for me. I need it, need you.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, thighs squeezing Trevor’s head. He moans loudly. You’re not sure if he’s over-exaggerating or if he’s really enjoying it this much and you’re really not sure if you’re playing the fake dating game anymore with Trevor suckling your clit like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do.

[sulliedgracee]

I NEED MORE ELLIOT X READER ON THIS PLATFORM WAAAAHHH/ nf

Well then, you came to the right place. Sorry this took so long for me to get to, though...😭

This takes place pre-Forsaken by the way.

You never thought you'd end up with the son of one of the Builder Brothers. Yet, here you were. You were on your way to visit your boyfriend at work, like always. It didn't take long before you got there, it was busy like always. You looked around for your boyfriend, seeing if he just so happened to be working the cash register today. As soon as you saw him, you couldn't help but smile.

He looked up from the cash register, immediately noticing you. His face lit up the moment he saw you, like always. You had been doing this ever since you two first started dating, yet it never got old. You two both got so excited to see each other every single moment you could.

It felt like forever, but you finally were next in line. He was waiting eagerly for you to place an order. And by that, it meant talk to him until his break time. Thankfully, nobody was behind you. You have definitely angered some people by holding up the line by talking to him. But you couldn't help it, you just wanted to talk to your boyfriend!

"May I take your order?" He said, with a big grin on his face. You smirked, "Are you on the menu? Because I wanna take you to go." You said, giggling knowing very well that you were just playing around. Elliot's face went red, "Oh shh!! You're making me blush!" You did it on purpose, you couldn't help but tease Elliot to make him blush. You thought it was adorable whenever he got rosy cheeks over something you said to him.

"I'm about to be on break, would you like me to get a pizza we can share from the back?" One of the many perks of dating the son of a pizza shop owner was the amount of free pizza you got. Thankfully for you and Elliot, you two never got sick of pizza. "I'd love that." You softly smiled at him, making his heart flutter. "Alright! You go pick out a place to sit, I'll be right back!"

As he rushed to the back, you couldn't help but admire how hardworking he was. Elliot did almost every job at the pizza place. Not all at once, of course. You wouldn't be shocked if he tried. You shortly went to go find a seat, you always choose the same one though. One right by the window, with the perfect view of outside. The sun shined through but not either of your eyes so it wouldn't bother you. The seat was perfect.

You sat down, eagerly awaiting your boyfriend. It didn't take long before he came up to the table with a pizza box and two drinks in hand. He placed it down on the table gently. "I hope it's good! I made it myself...like always!" "It always is, Elliot. Your pizza is always amazing!" He grinned, he absolutely loved to cook for you. Even at home he cooked for you. You never got tired of his cooking, especially the pizzas he makes for you.

"Hey, uh...I know this is random but..." Your head tilted, awaiting what he was going to say. "Thank you for coming here everyday to see me." He gently held your hand. You couldn't help but blush. "Of course, Elliot! I love seeing you on your workdays, it's the highlight of my days honestly." "Really?" You nodded. "I love you so much." He said, cheeks as red as a cherry. You couldn't help but adore how sweet he was. "I love you too, Elliot."

You two finally started to eat your pizza, as you did you couldn't help but stare at Elliot. You caught yourself staring at him a lot, admiring every little thing about him. You soon got lost in thought thinking about him, daydreaming about places you wanted to take him...and lucky for you, he was doing the same.

[ateotdwinchester]

ꨄ︎ can’t save everyone

a/n: was watching an episode of spn (can’t remember exactly which episode?) where they mentioned that they can’t always save everyone, and that gave me the idea for this fic and i was desperate to write something about dean :)

also.. a part 2 may or may not be in the works

pairing: dean x reader

summary: you weren’t dealing well with how a hunt went a couple of weeks ago and dean is there to try and comfort you — even though it doesn’t go the way he expects

warnings: mentions of death in a previous hunt

word count: 2.5k

✩ ✩ ✩

You’d been on hunts before.

But never one like this.

It had been almost a year since you joined the Winchesters with hunting. You’d met through a mutual friend of Bobby’s and helped each other out on a case. Which went so well, you decided to team up as a trio.

You’d been on countless cases where things got nasty. Fighting spirits, demons, vampires… you name it, you’d fought it. All sorts of weapons were used, and you always had each others backs and always protected those that you could.

The job of being a hunter came with its risks and downsides. Any one of you could get hurt, any of the victims might not make it out alive every time. You knew that.

You’d worked cases with Sam and Dean where one of them couldn’t save or protect someone. It had happened multiple times, and you’d gotten through it.

Only… you’d never been there to witness that.

Everytime a victim had been killed, it was when Sam and Dean were with them while you were doing other things. Such as finding a body, or salting and burning bones.

This case was the first time you’d been set on the task of protecting someone. A girl around your age, which a demon happened to be after.

Everything was going fine, until… it wasn’t.

The girl got killed while you were forcefully held up against a wall, only being able to watch the scene unfold in front of you. You couldn’t do anything to stop it.

By the time Dean got there, it was too late. He found you sitting against the wall with tears streaming down your face as you stared at the body.

Since that day, you hadn’t spoken much about it. You didn’t want to. Didn’t know if you could.

Sam and Dean could tell it was bothering you. It was obvious on the hunts that followed. You weren’t yourself, you were unfocused, asking to do research tasks rather than joining in with the fights.

A day came where you had no cases. Sam and Dean couldn’t find another to check out. So.. as always on your free days, the brothers suggested going to get breakfast before leaving the motel you were staying at.

They knew you well, and knew you wouldn’t turn down a nice cooked breakfast. Along with a morning treat of pie.

Which was why it was a shock when you did turn it down. Insisting on just needing some more sleep to catch up on.

In the time they were busy having breakfast, you thought you’d have plenty of space to be alone to wallow in your sorrows while trying to get a quick shower in. You never made it into the shower. Too upset to do so.

It startled you when you heard the door to your motel room opening. They couldn’t be done with breakfast already.

You stood silently, hand over your mouth as you tried to quieten down your sobs of despair. You were unsure of which brother had made their back to the room.

There were footsteps, and then a gentle knock at the bathroom door.

“Hey, sweetheart?” It was Dean. “Uh, Sam’s still eating at the diner, I skipped out and thought to bring back some pie instead.”

He was met with silence. You were trying to gather yourself as fast as you could. Although, you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to bring pie back here instead of staying at the diner.

“It’s your favourite,” he was still at the door. “Banana cream.”

“I’ll be out in a second,” you managed to answer.

You heard his steps again, walking away from the door. Then the quiet sound of a chair being moved. Most likely one at the small wooden table opposite the bed you’d been sleeping in.

There was some rustling too. Or at least it sounded like a box being open and the use of a plastic fork being slightly scraped along the bottom of what the pie was sitting in as he gathered up a bite.

It was almost like a miracle to Dean when he heard the bathroom door handle twisting.

You pulled the door open, Dean looked up immediately. You hadn’t changed out of your black AC/DC shirt — which he’d sometimes mistake for his own since you like the same music — and navy blue shorts that you always wore to sleep in.

He saw the dark circles under your eyes, the way your eyelashes were clumped together giving away that you had been crying moments ago. Your cheeks a rosy pink colour, and this time it wasn’t from Dean teasing you with a flirty joke.

As you walked towards the table, you didn’t dare make eye contact with Dean as much as you knew he was looking at you.

You silently sat down, opened up the second box of pie, picked up the plastic fork he’d brought you and began eating the slice of banana cream pie that was there.

Dean kept looking at you and you easily felt his eyes burning through you. But you couldn’t look up, you knew if you did you might burst out into tears.

And you didn’t cry in front of Dean. You didn’t cry in front of anyone.

“You know,” he spoke up. “You don’t have to pretend around me.”

You took another mouthful of pie after he said that. That’s when he stopped eating, placing his fork down as he folded his arms with his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Just eating my pie,” you finally looked at him, chuckling. “Didn’t know there was a fake way to eat—“

“Stop it, would you?”

He took you by surprise at his harsh tone. Causing you to look away again. This time you put down your fork, pushing the box of pie away from yourself.

“That hunt was hard on you, I know that,” he softened his voice just slightly. “But not sleeping, sneaking out in the middle of the night, not speaking to me or Sam… none of that is gonna help.”

“I haven’t been—“

“Sneaking out?” Dean interrupted a second time. “Yes you have, I’ve seen you do it the past few nights.”

A smirk appeared on your face, “oh so you like watching me, huh?”

Dean clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Of course, he’s used to you having comebacks to the things he says, but he hadn’t expected it right now.

“Using my own words against me,” he shook his head with a laugh.

You both looked at each other as your smiles slowly faded. Back to the real reason Dean left Sam alone to eat breakfast.

“Look, it’s okay if you aren’t dealing with this whole thing very well,” he leaned forwards on the table. “Just because me and Sam are used to is doesn’t mean there’s any shame in getting upset.”

That’s all it took for the tears to resurface in your eyes. Maybe the mixture of the unusual softness in Dean’s voice, or just that he was willing to be more sweet for once to ensure you were okay.

You looked down just as a tear dropped, leaving a wet mark on your shirt. Your hair fell forwards, covering your face as you tried to subtly wipe away any more tears that fell.

But Dean could see it.

He shuffled his chair closer to yours, hesitating slightly before he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ears.

It was a such an unexpected thing for Dean to do, that the gesture alone caused you to look at him without him having to ask you to.

You tried as much as you could to hold your crying inside. You weren’t weak, you were far from it. And you didn’t want that to show in front of someone as strong as Dean.

Try as you might, he could tell by the way your chest was heaving that you needed to let it out. He might not be used to giving people a ton of comfort, but he would always try his best with you.

“It’s just me,” he placed his hand soothingly on your knee, moving his thumb back and forth. “Just us.”

And you broke down.

It was the fastest Dean had ever pulled you against him. An arm around your shoulders, one hand resting on the back of your head as he held it against his chest.

He decided then and there that the sound, and feeling, of you crying against him was one of the worst things he’d ever heard. Even over the shouts, screams or strange noises from victims or spirits.

Dean would never admit out loud, but he hated seeing you upset. He hated knowing you were hurting. Most of all, he hated that he couldn’t remove those memories of what happened from your mind. All he wanted was for you to be okay, to not be broken over losing someone you swore to protect.

“Shh, shh,” he whispered, leaning down to rest his chin atop your head. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

It took you a few moments to settle yourself. But Dean held you the whole time you cried, allowed you to get your emotions out within the comfort of his arms.

Even after you stopped, went silent, your hands stayed curled into the fabric of his shirt, his hand keeping your head against him. You could hear the steadiness of his heartbeat and it provided a strange calming feeling you hadn’t experienced before.

Eventually, you let go of him, moving to sit up straight as you were previously. Dean looked at you, saw how wet your cheeks still were.

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to dry your tears with the pads of his thumbs. Allowing his hands to linger on your face just slightly.

You looked at him as he did so, involuntarily leaning into his grip. It almost felt natural, soothing.

As soon as you realised what was happening, your eyes widened, moving out of his grip as he dropped his hands from your face.

Dean cleared his throat, looking anywhere but you for a second. He shook it off, knowing why he came here, what he was doing sitting with you.

“Feels better when you cry it out sometimes, doesn’t it?” He asks.

You nodded your head, wiping your eyes one last time before taking a long deep breath.

Dean waited before speaking again, “I know I wasn’t there, I didn’t see what happened,” he paused, trying to be more sympathetic here. “We can’t save everyone. God, if we could I’d do it in a heartbeat, but stopping these creatures isn’t that easy.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “If i’d just acted faster, used the gun instead of the knife—“

“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” Dean cut you off for a third time today. “You said it had you up against a wall, even if you could pull out a weapon at lightening speed it would’ve knocked it out of your hands.”

“You always manage it.”

You weren’t completely wrong. But they didn’t always save everyone, didn’t always kill these demons on their first try. It took multiple attempts depending on who they were.

“I’ve been doing this hunting thing longer than you, I’m used to it,” then he thought about Sam. “And Sam… you know he has his thing going on, makes it a little easier for him when he knows what’s coming.”

“But you don’t lose people,” you look at him with sad eyes. “You protect them, hide them in other places, get them to stay behind you and I can’t seem to do that.”

Dean scoffed, “don’t give me that crap,” you frowned. “You lose someone on one hunt and now you think you’re this, weak, incapable hunter?“

You looked down, not saying another word. He was right though. It was making you doubt yourself, making you doubt if you’d be able to even help Sam or Dean, help protect your friends.

“You really wanna know something?” Dean leaned towards you. “You’re one of the strongest goddamn hunters I’ve ever met.”

He reached out, tilting your chin up with his forefinger to make sure you were looking at him.

“Yea, maybe that first case when we met was an easy one, and sure Sam and I had to teach you a few things here and there,” he smiled thinking back to those times. “But you took to it like a natural, you’re a great hunter, a great fighter and are an especially good protecter. Alright?”

All of that meant a lot coming from Dean. It wasn’t every day he’d willingly give out compliments, rather his specialty was poking fun or being sarcastic. Really, you wondered where all of this was coming from.

All you did was nod. Smiling a little to let him know you were taking in what he was saying to you.

“If you need to talk about what happened…” he left you time to start talking, or let him know where you want to start.

But that never came. You weren’t sure how to talk about how you felt in the moment, how useless you felt. Tears almost welled up in your eyes again.

“It’s fine,” you pulled your box of pie closer to yourself again. “Thank you for the pie, by the way.”

“That’s it?” Dean chuckled. “All that and you just thank me for the pie.”

You felt bad, but you didn’t look at him. Deciding on taking a bite of the delicious banana cream pie he’d brought from the diner.

“What do you want me to say?” You practically threw your plastic fork down onto the table. “That I’m traumatised because a demon held me against my will and forced me to watch them kill someone? Is that what you want me to say?”

“That would be a start,” he shrugged.

“Like you ever talk about what’s on your mind.”

“Nothin’ to talk about,” Dean stood up, tucking his chair in under the table. “Besides, this is about you, not me, sweetheart.”

It was silent again. You finished your pie, feeling a mixture of happy at what Dean said to you, as well as frustration that he obviously wasn’t happy with you not wanting to express your full feelings with him.

Like he ever willingly discussed how he felt with anyone.

“I was just trying to help,” he sounded like he was defending himself. “I’ll… start packing up the car.”

He went to walk away, when you rushed to grab his hand before he could move too far from the table. Dean looked back at you, expectant of something more than you’d given today.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For coming to check on me, I do appreciate that, Dean.”

He squeezed your hand in his, maybe holding onto it for longer than he should have. Looked at you with those soft eyes of his longer than he should have.

“Yea, yea of course,” he let go, walking to his bed to grab a couple of bags.

He left the room after that. Leaving you sitting at the table, empty motel room, alone, in the quiet.

You glanced across the table, seeing Dean’s leftover pie. He didn’t finish his slice. That wasn’t like him at all.

A telltale sign, that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one with things on your mind.

✩ ✩ ✩

taglist: @h8aaz | if you would like to join my supernatural taglist, please comment here or see this post

[starlinggirll]

ok ok hear me out …. pilot!art x flight attendant!reader 😖😖

COCKPIT — D. ART

AUTHORS NOTE — i love this, specially since the picture of the guy lowkkk looks like art in his short hair era. not really but kinda!

the plane had landed.

another successful flight by the hands of the art donaldson.

"ladies and gentlemen, southwest welcomes you to los angeles. The local time is 8:56 PM. please unbuckle your seatbelts and quickly but in an orderly manner grab your belongs and begin to get off the plane. please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight. and again, have a good time, southwest airlines thanks you for choosing trusting us with taking you to your destination."

your sweet, soft voice rang through the whole plane. Art sighed, opening the cockpit door and wishing all of the people departing the plane good luck on their journeys. which coincidentally, was also were you were standing.

"a bit of turbulence, dont you think captain?" you teased, waving bye to an elderly woman as you helped her get out of the plane. "no flight is a good flight without a bit of turbulence." art countered, his eyes trailing your body up and down as he nodded goodbye to the last passengers.

you rolled your eyes. your relationship with art was a bit weird. you both have slept together, more times than a normal friends wity benefits would. but also, you both dont really know eachother other than what you both tell one another. sure, he's seen every single inch of your body, but he doesn't know you. and you dont know him either.

he's technically your boss. your superior.

"already leaving?" he mumbles, softly grabbing your arm. "im going to my hotel. i beraly slept last night." he chuckles, grabbing your arms and pulling you closer. "really? i wouldn't be able to tell since you're always so pretty and bubbly." you groan, pushing him off. you go to the plane to close the door.

he doesn't give you a second before he's scooping you up, taking you to the cockpit. "come on, its been a week since we've been with eachother." you whine as he sits you down on his chair, his free hand locking the cockpit door. "fine. whatever." you whisper, looking up at him.

you both are would he lying to yourselves if yall didnt admit you missed eachother.

"see?" he hums, already seeing you fall for his charms. "i knew you wanted it as much as me." he gets in his knees, turning his chair so he can press a kiss against your knee over your thigh highs. "mm."

he parts your legs, making your uniform squirt ride up. he trails his lips over your stomach, then your breasts. he's kissing nothing but clothes, but the anticipation is making you throb. "art.." you whisper, grabbing a handfull of his hair to crank his head, allowing you to kiss him. he kisses you back, his hand groping your boobs.

"you taste so good," he whispers as he sucks against your bottom lip, unbuckling his belt to let his cock free. "a quickie, yeah?" he breathes out, grabbing a hold of your legs to make your legs wrap around his shoulders. you're in a bit of an awkward position, but the discomfort is overpowered by the anticipated pleasure.

he rips your thigh highs, the sound of it making you cringe. "hey-" "shh. ill buy you new ones after this." he whispers, stroking himself while kissing your inner thigh. his free hand pulling your panties to the side. "jeez, you're visually wet." he teases, running his finger up and down your lit. "gosh baby, you miss me that much?"

you look away, your cheeks heating up. "s-shut up and just do it already." you whisper, but he ignores you and cups your jaw, making you look at him. "ah ah baby, i want to see you fall apart." he slaps his tip against your clit groaning at the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

"ready sweetheart?" he lets your jaw go, slowly inserting himself in. "fuck fuck.." he groans, dropping his forehead against yours. "you're so tight." he chuckles breathlessly, kissing you softly. "and you're so big.." you whisper back, kissing him back.

his pace starts increasing, swallowing all of your moans since he refuses to pull his lips off yours. "fuck im going-" he groans, increasing his pace enough to make the chair shake. you moan against him, the end of your heels digging into his shoulder blade as you clamp down against him.

he waits till you come, almost losing his grip when your walls clamp down and basically milk him dry. but he's able to pull out, jerking himself off and shooting his load in his hand. both of you are sweaty, and his lips are still on yours. "i never forget how much i love this." he laughs, still breathless as he gives you one last kiss before pulling away and using a napkin to clean his hand.

he helps you up, adjusting your skirt. "all pretty again," he whispers almost to himself, staring at you for a good, long second before pulling you for a passionate kiss. his hands smoothiny down your hair. "let me take you to my hotel room." he says once he pulls away, not without one last peck.

"please?" he insists once you dont answer. "will we get food after?" you mumble, looking up at him. your make up is smudged now, but he finds you even more beautiful. "yup. and a good night's rest." he smiles, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the cockpit.

you sigh. its a toxic cycle, specially since neither of you seem to be looking for something serious. but you cant bring yourself to say no.

and he cant bring himself to let you go.

[shellysturnz]

the rules ~ (femboy!chris x strict-dom!reader)

in which... cherry presents her rules to femboy!chris.

content warnings... dom/sub dynamics, talk of bdsm, 18+ mdni

“Doll, posture.” Cherry cleared her throat, her cat-eye eyeliner only adding to her sharp gaze as he waited for Chris to correct himself. The brunette boy blinked back to reality, an apology instantly coming out of his glossed lips as he straightened out his back, his bright blue eyes looking towards the woman sitting across from him, awaiting his praise. 

Cherry gave him a satisfied hum, but it was far from enough to satisfy the feminine boy sitting across from her. Though Chris chose to ignore this, a bigger question was weighing on his mind. 

“So…” He cleared his throat, pulling at the lacy hem of his skirt as he noticed your eyes on his shaven knee. “Why’d you invite me up here? Usually we just go out to eat or-” 

“Well, we’re getting serious.” Cherry shrugged, lifting a glass of wine to her lipstick-coated lips. Chris’ eyes widened, the blue brightening. “We are?” He asked happily, making her chuckle as she nodded.

“We are, Chris.” She confirmed, leaning over to look inside her designer bag. “So, there are rules I expect you to follow.” Cherry explained bluntly, “I have a reputation to uphold, in both the marketing world and the BDSM community.” 

That wasn’t a surprise to Chris, judging by the mansion, he was sitting in currently it was no secret that Cherry made a lot of money at her job. It was surprising to hear that the woman was so widely known in the BDSM community as well.

“You do?” He asked curiously, tapping his foot rhythmically against the plush rug underneath him. Cherry nodded, swirling her wine in her glass as she spoke, “I host the biggest BDSM parties on the East Cost, doll.” She informed.

Chris’ eyes went wide as saucers. 

“If you can follow my rules, be my good boy, then I would consider bringing you along, maybe giving the guests a public display of my dominatrix skills.” The woman said calmly, a direct contrast to the swarm of bees flying around inside of Chris’ stomach.

“Can you handle that pressure?” Cherry arched a brow, sending a shiver down Chris’s spine. “Y-Yes ma’am.” He gulped, hoping he could measure up to the woman’s standards.

“Alright,” Cherry smiled proudly, opening up her purse that sat next to her and taking out a stack of papers. She carefully flicked through some with her long, black acrylics before pulling out a stapled bunch and setting them onto the coffee table between the two.

Chris didn’t dare touch them before permission.

“Go ahead, read through them.” She allowed, making Chris hunch forward as he began scanning through the sheet of rules. 

1. You are mine and mine alone. No other Dom is to boss you around, command you, or pleasure you. 2. You are mine to dress up. Clothing choices will be laid out for you every morning; you are expected to maintain your hygiene to the highest standard.  3. You are to keep a journal, documenting each day as my submissive. What you do and eat, who you speak to, and what you speak about. I will read this journal every night to ensure you’re not acting out. Full honesty is expected. 4. You are free to leave the mansion as you please, but if you are summoned, you should return in no less than an hour. 5. The stoplight system will be in place throughout our everyday life, not just sex. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.  6. In the scenario that guests are over, you will be attentive but refrain from conversing with them unless permission is given. 7. If you think you should ask for permission before doing something, then you most likely should. 8. You are no longer in control of your own pleasure. A cock-cage will be made to fit you perfectly, and you will wear it every day. Masturbating is strictly off limits. 9. You will accept your punishments as they are. No haggling. 10. The rules can be updated as the relationship progresses, some may be reduced, some may be added.

Chris’ eyes trailed down to the bottom of the page, 

I am your master, your owner, your dom. While I may push you to try new things, I will never push past your limits. We are a team in this, I’m merely the leader. If you agree to these terms, sign here. x_____

“The choice is yours, sweetheart.” Cherry’s tone was honest, softer but no less strict. 

Chris didn’t think twice before scribbling his sloppy signature onto the parchment.

this sucks and oh ppl wanted me to start a taglist?? sooo....

@araasturns @riasturns