#for salem

[frenchgirlocean]

wanna listen to your hands soothe

hatchetfield; original work

—  lorelai bowman & lance swohn (gen)

fluff ⋆ sickfic ⋆ comfort no hurt

(542 words)

for @wetcatschwartzy <3

Lance takes one short look at Lorelai as she throws the backpack on the floor next to the dinner table in his living room, and it tells him all he needs to know. 

“You’re not sick again, are you?”

Lorelai blinks at him for a few moments, bleary and tired, and Lance is half–convinced that he’ll need to spring out of his seat and catch her in the next few seconds when Lorelai clears her throat and shakes her head.

“Absolutely fuckin’ not.” She says, and then contradicts herself in the worst way by almost sneezing her brains out. Right into her elbow, and Lance gets brutally reminded to never borrow any of her clothes again, no matter how comfy they are. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“... No reason.” He lies through his teeth, and watches Lorelai struggle with the zipper of her backpack. “Maybe you want to lay down?”

“I’m not a baby, Lancelot, I don’t need a—” an absolutely monstrous sneeze, “nap.”

“Yeah.” 

Lorelai sneezes, then yawns, and then barks out a strange combination of another yawn mixed with a cough. She almost slumps over his dinner table, but hauls herself up once again to dive into her backpack, looking like a ragdoll being thrown around with telepathy.

“Maybe—” He puts one hand on her bare arm, and Lorelai hisses. Like a wild cat with rabies.

“Jesus, Lance! Give a girl a warning before you come with your freaky cold hand, will you?”

Lance opens his mouth to defend himself, what the hell, Lorelai. Then he remembers that trying to fight with a sick Lorelai is absolutely useless, and resumes his work to straight up pick her up from the chair and put her on the nearest flat, comfy surface.

“Wha—” She blinks, but once her head hits Lance’s covered collarbone, all signs of consciousness disappear. Her cheek rests on his shoulder, smacked like she’s already fallen asleep, and he only knows that she’s awake by her pattern of breathing — too fast for usual asleep–Lorelai speed. Otherwise, she’s completely limp, snoring through her clogged nose, and Lance already tenses up knowing how bad her colds can get.

He sets her down on his bed as gently as he possibly can, but she still stirs when he tears her already–sweaty face off his sweater. 

Lorelai stares at him with wide, dark eyes for a few moments before he awkwardly rattles off, 

“Do you need something?”

Her nose scrunches up, and she yawns again, curling up in his goddamn Arthur and the Invisibles blanket. 

“Nah.” She pulls the corner of the blanket higher, up to her face, but opens her eyes again. The way she looks reminds Lance of when they were younger, maybe in elementary school, and his mom would let her stay over for weeks when her dad worked across the country just to keep them afloat. “Actually, can y’do your work here?”

Oh. Of course. 

(He’d run to the end of Earth for her.)

“Sure thing.”

Lorelai snorts through the phlegm in her throat. “St’p talkin’ like my dad.” 

“Oh, screw you too.” He says with a bite of a smile in his voice, and when he leaves the room to collect his homework, he swears he can hear Lorelai grumbling affectionately, something about her father and him being the same person in different fonts.

He’d give his life up for her. Blanket, bed, free time and probably his own health aren’t that much.

[hawkeabelas]

while kissing my cat's little head: you're a problem *smooch* you're a terror *smooch* you're a menace to society *smooch smooch smooch*

[livingfictionsystem]

Cockroach

True love is a cockroach.

When the Kodak building is the north star,

Sentry over the kingdom of "Do you have anything to spare?"

When red neon lights glowing in the smog,

Echoing the glory days of polaroids, the glazed nostalgia, the crumbling American ideal.

People take pictures of what they want to keep,

And I've been framed on your desk for a decade.

True love is a cockroach,

Conceived in fallout, feeding on ruin,

When even breakfast is a lethal dose,

People tell you, "You should be dead."

Or even, "but you were dead."

And they ask why we can't be healthier about it.

That people can't live like this,

But who says we are.

True love is a cockroach,

When a cigarette is an inhale,

And the Surgeon General warns you of your least likely cause of death.

When the intervenous dance of depressants and nicotine,

Is the most balanced relationship we've ever seen.

Nuclear winter has an expiration date

Or so we're told.

Maybe we're just used to it now.

True love is a cockroach,

As long as you're still breathing.

Through an exoskeleton still counts, you know.

When feral romance festers over wounds, growing more than we ever have.

When mutation is mistaken for evolution,

And a hangover is a monument of what poisons you're resistant to.

True love is a cockroach.

When you see one, there are ten more,

Making a home within the decay.

I'll never be alone, you said, as long as you're still breathing.

And you're the first haunted house I've seen draw rattling breath.

Our love is a cockroach, not even we have killed us yet.

-Sparrow Harvey

[sincerelystesichorus]

i have spent so long trying to place who astarion reminds me of

his dry little sarcastic bits gets me every time and like it's automatically funny but it felt so familiar...

this bastard.

and some more similar comparisons i think

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[dykesbat]

Palestinian wedding at a tent in Rafah on January 18, 2024. Their names are Shahad (bride) and Mohammed al-Ghandour (groom). Photos taken by Mohammad Salem of Reuters.

[yespumpkindoodlesthings]

[salemoleander]

I am BARELY resisting going full red-strings-corkboard on this season. And by barely resisting I mean not resisting at all here is an extremely long list of the events those pins would be marking out.

BigB getting a Task that was a different color than everyone else's. It's not just a randomly assigned Hard Task, bc Scar rerolled for a Hard Task and his was also just a white envelope. It's fundamentally different.

That task taking BigB away from socialization, and seemingly being an incredibly time-consuming and dull request. Of profound disinterest to any watchers.

The phrasing of his Task!!

Dig a big hole. All the way down. At least 3x3. Make it your base if you want.

Everyone else's are direct and formal - the only one with more than one sentence was Skizz's, with the rule clarification of "One attempt only." Bigb's Task is four short abrupt sentences. It is also the only Task to contain extraneous information, 'Make it your base if you want.' The requirements (at least 3x3) feel like an afterthought to mimic the numerical/specific demands of the other tasks.

Evo symbol on the face of the Secret Keeper statue.

The fact that there's a statue at all; the fact that there is a physical representation of what is assigning tasks that everyone must complete, when previously everything was always handled via commands and unseen RNG.

Grian talking to the statue, and (bc of his Actual Role as game organizer) acting as a mediator for the impartial decisions handed down, speaking for it.

Grian making one last bad joke and saying he doesn't know if it counted or not- depends on whether we the audience laughed.

Grian asking for task recommendations from the audience. The watchers are making the tasks. The Watchers are making the tasks.

Again I could be off-base, and I'm not usually even that smitten with bringing in Evo lore. I don't want a Big Bad really...but. It feels like something very unusual and intentional and cool is happening in this series. And I'd guess we'll know if theres something going on once we have more than one data point.

My largely unfounded suspicion is that there is another being (maybe Listeners, maybe something else) trying to reach out to the Players via decoy Tasks, and BigB was the first recipient. Get them alone, make them of disinterest to the watchers, and tell them something we don't get to know.

Because that's the really, really fucking cool part (if my wacky theory is remotely right): We're the bad guys. We're the ones giving out tasks - hell, we're the ones actively brainstorming harder and crueller tasks in Grian's comments!

If they actually made a story where the Players have to keep secrets from us I will be delighted. Bc that is the same genius bullshit that made Evo Watcher lore so fun

[katzenklavierr]

That ol’ chart of mine makes the rounds online periodically and it drives me crazy because it’s frankly not very good. So, I finally got around to remaking it.

I doubt this will get anywhere near as popular, but I wanted to make it.

Good reference for animation, comics, and for visualizing phonetics!

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres: cults

[angstydiaz]

me when YET ANOTHER SHOW I LIKE GETS CANcELLED

[woof-squiggles]

funeral

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about roomie!suguru, who steps out of the bathroom with just a towel hanging loosely around his waist. it's dangerously low and his happy trail is... leading your eyes to a forbidden place. water droplets cascade down his temple and his neck, his scarred chest and his toned muscles.

he finishes drying his hair with another, smaller towel before slinging it over his shoulder. he gives you a warm smile. there's still a bit of sleep in his tired eyes but he looks fresh, he looks good.

(he looks more than good.)

the morning light shines in through the small window of your shared kitchen and he hums at the smell of coffee. you're an angel leaning on the counter, hands busy with preparing your drink as he steps inside.

he chuckles. he asked you a question but you didn't hear it. he smells so fucking good; the smell of his shampoo and his fancy conditioner wash over your senses and it's easy to forget where you are. his eyes flick behind you before walking over to you with a smug little grin.

he bores his sharp purple eyes into yours – he loves how you react to him. he doesn't shy away from it, he's cockier than he looks. he loves the attention, he loves to be in your spotlight. he wouldn't care so much if you were a stranger, if you were a random person on the street ogling away, ut you're neither of those things, are you? no, you're something else.

he exudes warmth as he towers over you, his head tilted down to keep his eyes on you. he wants to play with you a little – he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. eyes big and wide, lip tucked under between your teeth. he's good with people, he can read them like a book and you're no different. he sees you swallow a dry lump, he sees you grace him with a flustered smile as you try to brush by the fact that he caught you admiring him red handed. he sees the way you're taking deeper breaths than normal, surely just to keep your composure. he can't wait to break you.

his arm reaches behind you to turn off the coffee machine with a small click.

"wouldn't wanna make a mess this early in the morning, now would we?"

melting. crumbling. falling down to your knees. you hate how much he teases (you love it), you hate how patronizing he sounds (it's hot). he's the only one that can get away with it – a charming smile that hides his deepest desires of sinking his teeth into little lambs like you, soft eyes that hide the need to watch them unfold before him.

his gentle hands long to hold, long to keep and covet. he thinks about you a lot; your shared mornings and afternoons, your exhausted naps and bitter rants about your days. shy gazes and lingering touches, stupid jokes and the cute little hidden sounds he keeps hearing from your room in the late hours. he's being patient, he's warming you up.

he's just as infatuated with you as you are with him. he's just more subtle with it.

or is he?

because you've heard him, too.

you don't know whether he's doing it unknowingly or he's actually trying to make you go insane – whichever it is, you are ready to bend at his will. soft groans accompanied by a steady slick pump; you didn't mean to listen in. you just wanted to make sure he's okay!

ear against the wooden door, you listened to him think about you. your name was on the tip of his tongue, but it was too early for that. he wants to smear you with his honey, he wants to drag you in but he needs to wait for it. this is perfect.

he did know you're were there.

he heard the floor creak, he heard the cutest gasp that left your pretty lips. fuck, you're perfect. his head was lolled back as he stroked himself to the thought of your wide, doe-eyes. how flustered you'd be, how flustered you were in that very moment. he imagined your trembling hands and your stuttered words and his dick twitched in his palm.

he thought about inviting you in and just making him watch as a form of punishment, for being a little pervert. he shuddered out a laugh and watched a glob of pre-cum cover his own fingers before mixing with the saliva and spit that's covering him already. he thought about making you sit between his legs so he could jerk off right in front of your beautiful face, he thought about your wobbly lips, your teary eyes. the way your thighs would press together.

your fingers would itch and twitch and he'd make you place them on your legs. he wouldn't want you to touch. yet. maybe he'd make you apologize and maybe he'd make you kiss the tip. he thought about how good you'd smell, how good you'd taste. another raspy groan crawled up his throat and you were about to cum untouched behind his door. like a creep.

he loves it. he's proud of you, he wants to push you even further. he wants to see what else he can make you do. this is exciting and he can't wait to devour you whole as a reward after he's done bullying himself into your body and your mind. utterly loved and corrupted—

— you're meant for him.

[vampiire-diary]

[villain-disorder]

Unfortunately, I think stigmatised disorder (personality disorders, psychotic disorders, etc) culture is realising something you experience has a name and finally feeling seen, but you go to google it for more resources and only find people talking about how horrible and morally evil you are for daring to have that symptom you never chose in the first place.

[trishabeakens]

I love Salem sm already

[taikoturtle]

My Friends: have you seen this TV show?

Me: no, but thanks to tumblr,