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wwinterwitch · 5 months

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cowboy like me — coriolanus snow

summary: it takes one to know one. you and him were exactly alike, which explains why you were inevitably drawn to each other

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: you can't fix him you're as awful as him, being delusional together, fluff??? (not really but u guys are in love and happy and married), mentions of/implied murder and being bad people, romanticizing everything

notes: idk where i was going with this i just had this idea in my head and taylor inspired me to write it. i'm also absolutely feral for young!snow it's not even funny at this point, i needed to find ways to cope lmao

i'd really appreciate a comment or reblog if you enjoy my work.

masterlists | read on ao3

A smile appears on your face the second you feel a hand on your lower back, turning around to meet your husband's loving gaze.

He stands directly in front of you, staring down at you in a way that to this day makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, like you're nothing but a teenage girl who's unlucky enough to have developed a blinding crush on a guy too charming for his own good— the thought of it makes you feel almost nostalgic, looking back at the early stages of your relationship.

Coriolanus Snow has always been a familiar face. Growing up together, you two have known each other for ages. You might've interacted a few times, but nothing beyond brief conversations between classmates.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A much too sweet and caring guy that made the big mistake of falling irrevocably in love with you. In all fairness, it was hard for him not to trail behind you like a lost puppy all the time when you were so good at making foolish boys believe you were the girl of their dreams.

Love is not a word you would use to describe your relationship. He was tolerable and clearly obsessed with you, so it made sense for you to stay with him. He learned with time that buying you very expensive gifts would get you to pay more attention to him, so that became his way of showing his affection for you.

In his mind this was perfectly reasonable. His girl likes being spoiled, so that's exactly what he did. The adoration for you blinded him enough to ignore the truth: you're just sticking around for the money. Some people warned him you were bad news, but you always managed to find a way to make him worship you all over again. Maybe you could've felt sorry for him at some point...if only he didn't have such good taste to pick things out for you.

But then Coriolanus happened. You started to notice him more and more until you inevitably started having feelings for him. How could you not fall for a guy like him? Especially after he started his quick ascend as one of the best Game makers in history.

Maybe it was the way he so fervently claimed his interest in you, willing to pursue you even when your boyfriend was still in the picture. Or perhaps it had to do with his growing popularity and power. After all, you can't deny how attracted you are to guys with ambition.

And Coriolanus is not exactly sure what made him fall for you either. There's many things he loves about you, that's for sure, but he can't say which came first. Was it your captivating beauty and intelligence, or the news that you recently became the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol?

Whatever force pulled the two of you together, it really doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that he loves you with every fiber of his being, willing to do whatever is in his power to make sure you're happy (and what isn't, he'll do anything to get). And you love him too, of course, offering him a companionship he always craved— undying fidelity, the purest honesty and understanding.

You've never once judged him for being who he is. If anything, you seem to admire his strength to do whatever it takes to secure his place in society. No one has ever been this loving and accepting, almost encouraging him to be as determined as ever to get the two of you on top.

Whatever he did or didn't do is already in the past. Why should the past matter? Shouldn't you enjoy the present with your loving and successful husband? Be proud of the work the two of you have done to get where you are?

No, the past is gone. It already happened. There’s no need to look back at things you can't change and decisions you can't take back. It all brought you here. Every tiny little decision led the two of you to this moment; married, in love, happy, powerful. It was meant to be like this.

He didn't seem to mind about your own past either. Any other person would've judged you for the difficult decisions you had to make in order to become the wealthiest woman in all of Panem. You've seen it in the face of ex friends and lovers. They never understood your hunger for what you so rightfully deserve.

Good things don't happen to people because they're good. They happen because you make them happen. You fight, you take, you conquer. It's what life is, and it's something you and Coriolanus understand perfectly. That's why the two of you make sense. Why it feels so right to be together. You understand him and he understands you— understands you like no one else has in your entire life.

It was him the one who held you that night when you just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he sat with you while you cried and cried about your beloved sister, because even after all those years you still missed her and wished things could've been different.

If only your parents made it easier for you. They shouldn't have played favorites from the moment you were born. And they really shouldn't mess with something as important as inheritance. It's your goddamn birthright! How could they be so cruel to you? If they corner you against the wall with no apparent way to escape, it was a matter of time before you decided to stand your ground.

It's a shame your poor sister had to suffer the consequences, though. You really do love her...

Coriolanus couldn't judge you even if he tried. He could see himself in your tear-filled eyes and hear his own inconsolable sobs through your voice. It took him back to a particularly difficult point in his life where he had to make a similar choice.

He pours his heart out to you as he holds you tight against his body, revealing all the unfortunate things he was forced to do because it's all that was left. An act-or-die situation that kept repeating itself until he had no other choice but to do the unspeakable. What else was he supposed to do? What else were you supposed to do?

The regret in his voice is evident, and you know he does regret it because he’s a good person with a heart of gold. One of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. He’s good, and brave, and passionate…enough to sacrifice what he loves if the circumstances require that of him. Not many people have the privilege to claim to be as great as him.

"You did what you had to," your voice came out in a soft whisper, still affected by your sudden outburst with the thought of your sister engraved deep inside your brain. At the time you thought you were trying to ease his conscience, but maybe your statement was falling from your lips in a weak attempt to ease your own inner conflict too. "Life has been so unfair to us, Coriolanus. Is it too bad that we want just a little bit of peace?"

He stays quiet for a bit, stroking your hair in hopes to bring you some comfort as he processes your hopeless, pain-filled statement. That's probably the hardest thing about loving you; caring so much that he cannot possibly function if he knows you're hurting, and cursing himself for not being able to take that pain away.

"We'll have peace," he eventually assures you. His voice is soft, yet fiercely determined. There's no room for discussion. He'll make it happen for the two of you. What's a few more difficult choices when he's so far gone now? When he knows it has worked perfectly before and it made all his dreams come true?

In that moment, snuggled up to his chest with his arms tightly wrapped around you, it was clear. That sense of familiarity you only get when you look back in the mirror, or when you quickly scan a room when someone speaks your name. He has suffered as much as you. He knows what it's like to be mistreated in life, and how difficult it is sometimes to live with the fact that you had to leave people behind to finally taste a drop of happiness.

The guilt comes and goes. Sometimes it's easier to remember you had no choice, but other times all you can think about is what life could've been if you weren't forced to take such drastic measures. Perhaps now that you have someone who truly understands, you'll learn to always remember you deserve all you managed to achieve.

When you move back from him to look up into his welcoming and comforting blue eyes, you knew you'd never be alone again. You'll never get to experience this free-fall, soul-consuming feeling with anyone else. And why would you even want to waste your time like that, when you already found the one person who sees the world exactly like you do?

A love like this is hard to find. Most people spend a lifetime trying to find a love decent enough to make them feel like they're losing their minds. Like the air is missing from their lungs and everything looks much darker when the other is not around. Like they're willing to do anything to make the other happy. Like the fear of being consumed entirely by it is the sweetest of fates.

You thought you could only experience affection in the form of luxurious jewelry, fancy clothing and all that came with the important status your ex boyfriend provided. At one point, you could say you almost needed him. Or least needed his money. He provided a safety net you desperately needed after your stupid parents decided to leave everything to your annoyingly perfect sister.

After becoming the only heir in your family (it really is a shame that your sister was gone so soon, poor thing), your boyfriend was no longer a necessity, but a way of distracting yourself when you needed it. It's not like you're going to refuse his gifts and attention anytime soon, right?

But that was it. The furthest it can get to what being in love should look like. And that was what your relationship with Coriolanus should have been when you decided to make your way into his heart. Never in a million years would you have expected to meet a soul that matches yours in even the tiniest of details, that loves so deeply and cares enough to act like it's required to survive.

With his arms still surrounding your body in a protective and comforting manner, you knew he’d be the guy you’d spend the rest of your life with. You knew it long before the day he got down on one knee, professing his undying love for you and offering the most beautiful engagement ring you have ever seen in your life. You pledged to always be there for him and, in return, he vowed to give you the world— he'd find a way to reach the night sky and collect every single star for you if that's what you ask of him. You kept each other's deepest secrets like they were your own. Two smart and ambitious people joining together in their search for greatness.

The hand on your lower back now rests against your cheek, tracing your skin in such a delicate manner that it almost makes you shiver. The white rose attached to his impeccable burgundy suit is slightly tilted to the right, fixing it with your hands as soon as your eyes notice that detail.

He smiles wider after your gesture, leaning down to capture your lips in an affectionate kiss to show his gratitude. You wish the moment could last longer, but you know it's impossible to stay behind these walls for longer when there's a loud crowd out there chanting your husband's name.

There's the briefest of interactions when he breaks the kiss, the two of you standing in front of each other with a smile of pure conspiracy— a silent recognition of the work individually done to get here, an unspoken ‘thank you’ to one another for the team effort, and the promise of a never-ending companionship that would only take you higher.

He grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours before finally stepping outside to the marble balcony. Before you, a sea of people cheer and welcome the new President and First Lady of Panem.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes

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wholoveseggs · 2 months

Note

hey girl! i was wondering if you could write some angst - maybe like an unrequited love? like the reader is in love with Elijah but is too shy to tell him, and he doesn’t know about her feelings towards him because he’s too focused on Hayley? pretty please 🫶🏻

Crush

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You have quite the crush on Rebekah's big brother, and you find yourself lost in the tangled web of unreciprocated feelings, yearning for a love that may never be yours.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag, I may have gone a little off topic with this one ♡♡

6.7k words - Warnings: angst, masturbation, smut, corsets, Elijah being a history nerd and using it to flirt, Rebekah being the best (as always)

{Moodboard->}

You were excited to meet Rebekah’s infamous family. You thought Klaus, as notorious as he was, would intrigue you the most. However, the moment you laid eyes on him you knew you were doomed. Elijah. His charming smile, his piercing dark eyes and his strong hands. It took all your self-control not to blush and look away like some schoolgirl.

He was the first person who greeted you, his hand lingered in yours a moment longer than what could be considered polite and it sent butterflies straight into your stomach.

You were so gone, it was almost embarrassing. You couldn't help it, you were sure that anyone else would fall head over heels for him too.

But there was only one small problem: Elijah had eyes for another, Hayley Marshall. You tried not to be bitter, after all, they were just friends. However, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked at her, or the way she leaned into his touch. They way they would sometimes have entire conversations with their eyes. You couldn't stand it.

You had been so sure you had a chance. He had been flirting with you, right? But then you noticed that he was that way will everyone. He would flirt and smile, then gaze at you in a way that just oozed sex appeal.

You were staying in the compound with Rebekah and going to school full time. You enjoyed spending your free time reading, the Mikaelsons had an incredible collection of books and you had read a lot of them.

You were sitting at the table, a large book on medieval history in front of you. You were working on a research paper on romanticism in the middle ages. It was difficult, especially because there wasn't much written about that subject from this time period.

You considered asking Rebekah about it, but you knew it was a sore subject for her, so you decided against it.

You were getting ready to give up and start a new project when Elijah entered the room. You blushed at the sight of him, he was wearing a black T-shirt, and jeans. Looking the most casual you had ever seen him.

He gave you a friendly nod and headed to the bookshelf. He looked through the books for a moment, before taking one from the shelf. He placed it on the table before sitting across from you and beginning to read.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, both of you reading and not making a sound. You were surprised that you weren't more uncomfortable. The only sounds were the occasional page turn and the occasional noise from the city outside.

You got lost in your work again and came across an interesting paragraph about how poetry was used often to court potential partners. You wondered if Elijah had done that back then. He seemed like the kind of guy who would have.

The thought of Elijah reading you poetry made your heart skip a beat. You imagined him leaning in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered words of affection and lust.

Your eyes glanced up, and your breath hitched when you realized he was staring at you. You flushed, quickly looking back at your work.

He chuckled softly and reached out, tapping the top of your textbook.

"Interesting choice of reading material." He said.

You gave him a small smile, "I'm trying to write a research paper on the Middle Ages." You replied. "About romance and poetry."

"Ah, yes." He said with a smirk, "I remember that time period fondly."

You giggled, "Of course you do. You were probably the biggest player around."

He gave you an odd look, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. His eyes looked you up and down, and you could see a flash of something indecipherable cross them. You were surprised by how intense his gaze was, and felt your cheeks growing hot, regretting opening your mouth.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, his tone teasing.

"I... uh..." You stammered, not sure how to respond. "You just seem like the type who'd have his pick of women."

Elijah smirked, his dark eyes meeting yours. "And why would you think that?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed nervously, and his eyes narrowed slightly. You realized he was toying with you, and that he could hear your heartbeat quickening. You weren't going to let him win.

"I think you know why." You said, your voice surprisingly steady.

Elijah chuckled, his eyes roaming over your body once again. He put his hand on this chin and looked at you thoughtfully. "In the middle ages I was actually quite solitary." He said, a smirk still playing on his lips.

"What was it like back then?" You asked, trying to steer the conversation away from your previous comment.

Elijah's expression softened slightly, and his gaze seemed far away. "It was a different time." He said wistfully.

You couldn't help but stare at him. His eyes were filled with such pain and sadness. You knew he'd experienced terrible things, and that it must've been difficult for him. But somehow he'd managed to survive and maintain his humanity, something that very few vampires could say.

"What was it like to date -sorry- court someone back then? You asked, hoping to get a better understanding of him.

"Women were often married off when they were very young." Elijah said, a grim expression on his face. "They had no say in the matter. But there were ways around it."

He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and a slow smile spread across his lips. "It wasn't easy to be alone with a woman, not even for a moment. If you wanted to seduce her, you had to be creative."

Your face turned a deep shade of crimson, and you were suddenly thankful for the dim lighting. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, and he chuckled softly, clearly amused by your discomfort.

"What we are doing right now, alone in this room," he said, his voice low and seductive, "it wouldn't be allowed. Not without a chaperone. And if we were discovered, the consequences would be severe."

His eyes flashed with desire, and you found yourself unable to look away.

"What would they do?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"Well," he said, his tone mischievous, "you'd have to marry me, of course."

Your eyes widened in shock, and he laughed loudly, enjoying the reaction he'd gotten from you.

You felt flustered and embarrassed, but also oddly flattered. You couldn't believe he'd actually suggested that, and the thought of it made your heart race.

You wondered if he was joking, but you didn't dare ask. You weren't sure you could handle the answer.

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, before Hayley walked in holding Hope. She gave Elijah a questioning look and he stood, walking over to her. You watched as he placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.

"Can you watch her for a few hours? They need me in the bayou," she asked him, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Of course." He replied, giving her a small smile.

She smiled gratefully, placing a hand on his cheek. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft and affectionate.

Elijah took Hope from Hayley's arms and cradled her gently. Giving her a wide smile and making funny faces, causing her to giggle. You couldn't help but smile. He was so sweet with her.

Hayley looked from you to Elijah, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "See you later." She said, before walking away.

Elijah nodded, his gaze lingering on her a moment before turning back to you. You looked down at your textbook, feeling guilty and jealous all at once.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, Hope still in his arms. You couldn't help but stare at the two of them. Elijah held his niece with such tenderness, and Hope seemed completely content in his arms. He was rocking her back and forth, humming a soft tune under his breath.

You'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Hope's eyes slowly started to droop, and Elijah smiled down at her. He continued to hum and rock her until her eyes finally closed, and she was asleep.

"You are so good with her." You said, unable to hold back the compliment.

He smiled, and his eyes met yours. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed.

You were sure he could hear it.

"Thank you," he said, not taking his eyes off Hope.

You tried to focus on your work, but it was difficult. Your mind kept wandering, and you found yourself glancing over at him more and more.

"I better go put her down, have a nice night." He said, standing up with Hope in his arms and heading towards the nursery.

"You too," you replied, smiling up at him.

Once he was gone, you let out a sigh and sank back into the couch. Your heart was still racing, and you were sure your face was still bright red.

It was the first time the two of you had been alone together. The first time you'd gotten a glimpse of his softer side.

And it made you want him even more.

Over the next few weeks you kept finding yourself alone with him. In the kitchen, in the library, on the balcony. It was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep it up.

He would ask you questions about your paper, and the two of you would talk for hours. He would listen to your ideas and tell you of his own experiences in the Middle Ages.

You loved how passionate he was about everything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he enjoyed.

You wondered if he could see how you were falling for him, if he noticed how you blushed whenever he touched you. You were sure he did.

You knew it was foolish, but you couldn't help it. Every time you were around him, you couldn't stop yourself from imagining what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him. To be with him.

But he didn't seem interested, he didn't look at you the way he looked at Hayley.

One night, the two of you were sitting on the balcony, watching the stars. He was telling you a story of how he courted a woman who was to be wed to another, he would compel her betrothed to forget that he was around her.

"I don't miss much about those times, everything smelled terrible and fanaticism ran rampant, but there was something about the secrecy and the scandal that made it all..." He paused, looking for the right word, "exciting."

You chuckled, "I'm sure. But the fact that a lady could be forced to marry a man she didn't want... that sounds horrible."

"It was," Elijah agreed, "but not everyone was unhappy. Some women preferred it."

"Why?" You asked, your brows furrowing.

"Some liked the idea of being taken care of, of not having to make decisions or choices." He shrugged. "Others simply liked the security."

"What do you think?" You asked.

He turned to look at you, his eyes studying your face intently. "I think it was wrong. No woman should be forced into a marriage she doesn't want. No one should have that much power over another person."

You smiled, glad that he held similar opinions to your own.

"But I do miss the corsets, the anticipation when taking one off, pulling the ribbons and slowly revealing the soft, delicate skin underneath," his eyes met yours, his gaze intense. "It was like unwrapping a gift, a treasure."

You couldn't stop yourself from blushing, his words making your heart race.

He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a sip of his bourbon and leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Do you have enough information for your paper now?" He asked.

You smiled and nodded, "yes, but I don't know how to credit my sources," you chuckled. "I can't tell my professor that I'm writing a paper on the middle ages based on the first hand account of a vampire I know," you grinned.

"Hmmm, yes, I suppose that would be difficult." He said, his tone teasing. "How about you quote a 'unique source' that has a vast knowledge of the subject and a passion for it?"

You laughed, "That might work."

"Good," he said, offering you his hand. "Shall we?"

You looked at him quizzically, "where are we going?"

He smirked, "to the 14th century, of course."

"What?" You said, staring at him in disbelief.

"First hand experience is far more educational than anything written down," he said, taking your hand in his.

"You ready?" He asked, his expression serious.

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what was about to happen, but you trusted him.

"Ready."

You were immediately plunged into his memories. He was standing in a large stone hall, surrounded by people in period clothing. There was laughter and music, and the scent of roasted meat and wine filled the air.

You watched as Elijah walked through the crowd, smiling and greeting people as he passed. He was dressed in a dark red tunic, and his hair was slicked back into a ponytail. It was an amusing haircut for him, but it was the fashion back then.

You followed him as he made his way towards a woman standing in a corner. She was beautiful, her dark hair was braided into a crown on her head, and she was wearing a yellow gown with red embroidery.

Elijah stood next to her, his hand resting on her arm. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with longing. A feeling you knew well.

"My Lady," he said, bowing his head.

"Sir," she said, her voice soft and sensual.

"Would you care to dance?" He asked, offering her his hand.

She hesitated, her gaze shifting towards a man who was watching them intently.

"I don't think my husband would approve."

"You worry too much," Elijah said, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor.

They began to move together, their bodies swaying in perfect sync. You couldn't tear your eyes away, watching the two of them. They moved with such grace and elegance, it was like watching a dance meant only for the two of them.

A sudden movement caught your eye, and you saw the woman's husband storming towards the couple. His eyes were filled with rage, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Elijah," you said, hoping he could hear you.

But he didn't respond, instead he continued to dance with the woman, ignoring her husband's fury. When the husband reached them, Elijah simply grabbed the man and compelled him.

"I'm going to take a walk with your wife, she will be back before the sun comes up."

He let go of the man, who immediately walked away, not saying a word. Elijah offered his hand to the woman, and she took it, a small smile playing on her lips.

They walked out of the castle together, and you found yourself following behind. You watched as they strolled through the gardens, their hands entwined. They stopped under a large oak tree, and Elijah pulled her close, kissing her deeply.

You were mesmerized by the scene, your heart aching for the man you had grown to love. You wished it was you in her place. You wished he would kiss you like that.

You heard Elijah's voice, but it wasn't coming from the version in front of you. "I courted her for months, sneaking into her chambers, bringing her flowers and trinkets," he chuckled. "It was rather clandestine and exciting."

"What happened?" You asked, wanting to know the ending.

"She became pregnant with her husband's child." He said, his voice low and full of regret.

Your heart ached for him, and for the woman who had been forced to marry another man. The memory faded and you returned to the present, still holding Elijah's hand.

"I'm sorry," you said, not knowing what else to say.

He smiled, "It's alright, it was a long time ago."

"It's lonely isn't it? Being a vampire?" You asked.

He was quiet for a moment, before answering. "Yes. I think it's why I value my family so much," his gaze shifted to yours, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "And why I treasure our friendship."

"Me too," you said softly, smiling up at him.

You both sat in silence for a while, watching the stars and enjoying each other's company. After a while, Elijah stood, fixing his suit jacket and giving you a smile. "I hope you get an A on your paper."

You grinned, "Thanks for the help, Elijah. Goodnight."

You went to your room, lying awake in the dark. Your thoughts consumed with him, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. The memory he had shared with you, it was so personal, and yet he didn't mind that you were there.

Your mind wandered to the way he was kissing that woman in the garden. His lips pressing against hers, his hands gripping her waist, his body flush against hers. You could see the way her head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut. You could feel the heat between them.

Your skin began to flush, and you felt a warmth between your legs. You had never felt such an intense desire for someone before, but there was no denying it.

You wanted him, you wanted to experience that kind of passion, that kind of intimacy.

Your hand trailed down your body, slowly slipping under the waistband of your panties. Your fingers brushing against your most sensitive spot. You gasped at the sensation, biting your lip as you started to circle your finger slowly.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you pictured him above you, his body pressed against yours as he kissed your neck and shoulders. Your hand moving faster as you imagined what his mouth would feel like on your skin, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against yours.

You gasped, arching your back as you felt yourself coming undone, his name on your lips as you imagined him touching you.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. It was a satisfying release, but it left you wanting more.

You were determined to have him, to taste him, to feel him inside of you. You were going to make him yours.

You practically skipped into the compound, giddy and excited to share your A+ grade on your paper. Elijah had been so helpful, and you couldn't wait to show him.

You heard voices coming from the courtyard, and you hurried past the gate, hoping to find him. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him, his arms wrapped around Hayley.

Her hand was tangled in his hair, and her body was pressed against his. Their eyes were closed, and their lips were locked in a passionate kiss.

You couldn't move. Your heart was shattered. You'd been foolish, thinking you had a chance with him. He was just being nice in his typical flirty way, and you were dumb enough to think it meant more. You'd just been reading into things.

You felt tears sting your eyes, and you quickly walked past them and up to your room. You collapsed onto the bed, your heart broken.

You cried, unable to hold back the pain.

You felt so stupid.

He didn't like you, he was just being friendly. And you'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. How could you possibly believe someone like him could ever like someone like you?

You heard a quiet knock at your door and Rebekah walked in, she had heard you crying and came to check on you.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asked, sitting down on the bed beside you.

"I'm fine." You said, your voice hoarse.

"Just crying for fun then?" She said, giving you a knowing look.

You sighed and sat up, wiping the tears from your face. "I'm just being silly," you said, shaking your head.

She sat down next to you and pulled you into a hug, which caused you to cry even more. She rubbed your back, trying to comfort you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No, I just need to get over it." You said, your voice breaking.

"Get over what darling?" Rebekah asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"Elijah." You said, wiping away your tears.

She looked at you, confusion written all over her face.

"I may have a bit of a crush on your brother." You confessed.

She laughed, "Oh is that all? I thought you were going to say something terrible."

"What? You aren't surprised?" You asked, staring at her in disbelief.

"You're not exactly subtle, darling." She chuckled. "Your heart beats faster, making your cheeks flush, whenever he's near. And your eyes light up like Christmas morning whenever he talks to you. It's rather obvious."

You couldn't believe she had noticed all that. Damn vampires and their heightened senses, you were mortified. If Rebekah noticed then Elijah definitely did as well.

You buried your face in your hands, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"So why the tears?" Rebekah asked, patting you on the shoulder.

"Because I just saw him kissing Hayley."

Rebekah was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. She put her arm around your shoulders.

"That might not mean anything, they're just friends. They have a complicated history," she explained.

You shook your head, "No, I saw the way he looked at her, the way she kissed him. There's definitely something between them, and it's more than just friendship."

Rebekah sighed and hugged you again."He's an idiot, always been that way around women. Sometimes I think it's more of a blind spot for him than Klaus," she said, her voice soothing.

You chuckled and wiped away your tears.

"He'll come around eventually," she said, smiling softly. "He just needs time to figure it out."

"Figure what out?" You asked, sniffling.

"That you're the perfect girl for him," she said, giving you an affectionate smile.

You smiled back and hugged her, thankful for her support. You felt a little better, and you were glad that she didn't judge you.

"I have an idea, a way for you to make him see what a catch you are," Rebekah said, her eyes glinting.

"Really?" You asked, excited at the prospect.

"Yes and it will be a chance for you to get him alone, away from Hayley," she smirked.

"I don't want to be that girl..," you started, not sure if you should meddle.

"I am," she grinned.

You chuckled, and Rebekah began telling you the plan. You listened intently, feeling better already. You were excited, and nervous.

But mostly excited.

Rebekah's idea was to have a costume party, she loved any excuse to throw one. It also gave you a reason to dress up, to catch Elijah's eye.

You went shopping with Rebekah, she wanted to make sure you got something that would suit your figure. She asked you what sort of theme it should be and you couldn't resist choosing one that you knew well: a medieval theme.

You found a beautiful, off the shoulder, forest green dress, with a tight laced corset that had gold threading, and long, flowing, bell sleeves. It was the perfect combination of modern and historical and it made your tits look fantastic.

Rebekah had gone with a blue version of the same dress, and the two of you were having a blast getting ready. She helped you style your hair for the night and even did your makeup, making sure that your look would draw Elijah's eye.

"Ready?" She asked, as the two of you looked at yourselves in the mirror.

"Yes," you said, trying to mask your nerves.

The two of you made your way down to the courtyard, where the party was in full swing.

Everyone was dressed in costumes from various time periods, and the atmosphere was electric. The music was loud, and people were dancing, laughing, and having a good time.

You saw Hayley and Klaus talking to some guests, and your eyes wandered around the room, looking for Elijah.

He was standing by the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd. He looked incredible, his dark hair perfectly styled, wearing a black velvet suit jacket with a high collar, a blue cravat and a white dress shirt.

Hayley walked up to you and Rebekah, and complimented the both of you on your dresses. She was dressed in a Victorian era gown, complete with a corset and a large bustle.

"So, where's Elijah tonight?" Rebekah asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, he's around here somewhere," Hayley said bitterly, glancing around the room.

You felt a twinge of excitement. She sounded irritated by him. Maybe she wasn't happy in their relationship.

"What's wrong ?" Rebekah asked her, squeezing your hand subtly. You loved how sneaky she could be sometimes.

"It's just," Hayley paused, her eyes narrowing as she thought about her answer. "I don't think he's very interested in a relationship with me, he's been avoiding me all night."

Rebekah and you shared a look, a smirk playing on your lips.

"He's a hard one to read, that's for sure," you said, trying to sound sympathetic.

"I'm sorry to hear that darling, but perhaps its for the best," Rebekah added.

"Maybe, I just thought we were on the same page, I thought we had something," Hayley said, a pout forming on her lips.

You could see the pain in her eyes, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for her. You knew exactly how she felt.

"You're a gorgeous woman, and any man would be lucky to have you," Rebekah said, her voice genuine.

"Thanks," Hayley said, a sad smile on her face. "There is this guy here, his name is Jack, we've been flirting all night and he wants to dance with me," she said, looking over at a tall, handsome man in a knight costume.

"Then go," Rebekah said, smiling at her.

"Yeah, you deserve some fun," you said, trying not to sound too happy that Elijah might be single.

"Alright, I'm gonna do it," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

She walked off, and Rebekah turned to you, her face breaking into a wide grin.

"How unfortunate for Hayley, how fortunate for you," she smirked.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Go, now's your chance, he's all alone." Rebekah said, her eyes scanning the room.

"I'm not going to make a fool of myself," you said, shaking your head.

"You're not going to make a fool of yourself darling, you're going to have a wonderful time," she said, giving you a little shove.

You took a deep breath and headed toward Elijah, your heart racing. He looked very similar to how he dressed in the memory he shared with you, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

He was standing alone by the bar, his gaze distant. You walked up to him and smiled, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual. "Nice outfit, all you are missing is the ponytail,” you added, grinning at him.

"Some things are better left in the past," he teased, his eyes wandering over your dress. "You look lovely," he added, a small smile on his face.

"You like the corset?" You asked, biting your lip and giving him a twirl. You always felt so giddy around him, it made you do silly things, like this.

His eyes widened, and a smirk spread across his face. "Yes, it's quite flattering," he said, his gaze lingering on your breasts.

You blushed but maintained your composure, Elijah liked confident women, and you were going to show him what he was missing.

"Does it remind you of the era?" You asked, a flirty tone in your voice.

"No, it's far too revealing for the time period," he smirked.

"Oh, really? You didn't think this was sexy in the middle ages?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," he chuckled.

"Good," you smiled, "I worked hard on this outfit."

He looked at you, his face full of curiosity.

"You are definitely thorough in your research," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"I forgot to tell you I got an A+ on the paper, thank you for your help," you said, smiling brightly.

"It was a purely selfish reason, I wanted an excuse to spend time with you," he said, his words catching you off guard.

"Oh, I," you stammered, not sure how to respond.

"You are always very easy to be around," he said, giving you a gentle smile.

You smiled and nodded, his compliment filling your heart with joy.

"Care to dance?" He asked, offering you his hand.

Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat. You nodded, unable to form words. He took your hand and led you to the dance floor, his grip firm and possessive.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding. He was so handsome, and the way he was looking at you made you weak in the knees.

You closed your eyes and let him lead, the feel of his hands on your body making your blood run hot. You couldn't believe this was happening, it felt surreal.

"I have a confession," he said, his voice barely audible above the music.

"What is it?" you asked, looking into his eyes.

"You make me nervous," he stuttered, his words causing your heart to flutter.

You let out a louder laugh than you meant too, then turned bright red and some people glanced at you. You didn't want him to think you were laughing at him, but you couldn't stop.

"Me? Nervous? How do I make you nervous?" You asked, genuinely curious.

He tilted his head in confusion, a wide smile forming on his face.

"I mean, look at you," he said, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You're breathtaking."

You blushed, not used to receiving such compliments. "You make me nervous too," you confessed, smiling shyly.

"I know," he smirked, causing you to blush deeper.

You gazed up at him, his brown eyes full of warmth and admiration. He truly was an incredible man.

You rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes, letting the music and the feeling of his arms around you wash over you. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like you were made for each other. Your heart soared, you felt like you were dreaming.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"

Your eyes snapped open and your heart raced, his question sending a rush of heat to your core.

He wanted you.

You nodded, unable to form words. He took your hand, a smirk forming on his lips as he led you toward a balcony. You followed him eagerly, your heart hammering in your chest.

The cool air hit your face, and he led you to a secluded area, away from the other party guests. You gazed at him, your desire for him overwhelming.

He placed his hands on your waist and pressed you up against the wall. His lips were mere inches from yours, his eyes burning into you.

His fingers brushed against the side of your face, then he leaned in and kissed you. It was slow and passionate, his lips soft against yours. You let out a quiet moan as you melted into his kiss.

He pulled away and looked at you, his eyes full of desire. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he breathed.

"Then why were you kissing Hayley?" You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You felt terrible for even saying it, it made you seem jealous and possessive. You knew it wasn't fair for you to get upset at him, you had no right to. But you couldn't help it.

His eyes widened and a smirk spread across his face. "So you are jealous?"

You blushed and averted your gaze.

"It was a mistake, she caught me by surprise," he explained, his fingers brushing your hair back. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

You nodded and looked up at him. He smiled and kissed you again, this time harder and more passionate.

He broke the kiss and whispered, "I've been drawn to you from the moment I met you."

Your heart soared at his words, your desire for him overwhelming. You wanted to feel his skin against yours, you needed him.

"Do you want to see my room? I have some books to share with you," you asked, knowing neither of you were doing any reading tonight.

He raised an eyebrow, "Lead the way," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Your heart pounded with excitement, and you took his hand in yours, leading him up to your room. You couldn't believe this was happening.

He closed the door behind him and kissed you, leading you backwards towards your bed. The back of your legs hit the edge and you fell down on the bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. The corset making it difficult to breath, you tried to keep calm as you looked up at him. The reality was better than any fantasy you could ever dream of.

He placed his knee on the bed and leaned down to kiss you, his hands moving over your body, his fingers tugging at the laces of the corset. He did it slowly, each pull causing your breasts to spill out a little more.

He hummed softy, leaning down and kissing your neck and collarbone as your corset fell to the ground. He was so gentle with you, treating you with care, his movements deliberate and confident.

He unlaced the front of your dress, exposing your breasts. He gazed down at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. You couldn't help but blush at his reaction.

"Did you wear this in the hope I would take it off?" He asked, his voice husky.

"Maybe," you blushed.

He chuckled, leaning down and taking one of your breasts into his mouth. You let out a soft moan as he licked and sucked your nipple, his hands kneading your breast. You ran your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

He pulled back and smiled down at you, then began to undo his cravat. You watched him eagerly, biting your lip as he pulled it off and began unbuttoning his shirt. You reached out and helped him, your hands brushing against his toned chest.

He smiled and took your hand, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist. "I've dreamt of this moment for so long," he murmured.

He reached out and pulled your dress up over your head, leaving you in just your panties and stockings. His gaze was filled with desire as he looked down at you.

You felt confident under his gaze, he made you feel beautiful. He leaned down and kissed you again, his fingers running up your thighs, playfully pulling on your stocking and letting it snap back into place. You giggled at his teasing.

He smiled against your lips and tugged your panties off. His eyes raked over your body, his gaze filled with desire.

You reached out and helped him remove the rest of his clothes, your heart racing.

He lowered himself down on the bed beside you and pulled you into his arms, kissing you softly. His hand lifted your thigh around his hips, and he ran his fingers along your thigh and between your legs, a groan escaping his throat at the feel of how wet you were for him. You blushed at his reaction and looked away, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, looking down at you, his gaze tender and warm.

"A little, you're the first vampire I've been with," you admitted.

He chuckled, a wide smile on his face. "I promise I won't bite," he whispered, a hint of humor in his voice.

You couldn't help but giggle.

You ran your hand up and down his chest, then slowly down to his hard length. You took his shaft in your hand and began to stroke him, a low groan escaping his lips.

Your eyes locked, his gaze filled with desire as he watched you pleasure him. You increased the pressure of your strokes, rubbing the tip of him in your hand.

"You feel nice," you whispered, your lips inches from his own.

He smiled and pulled you on top of him, your breasts against his chest as he kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your ass. You grinded on him slowly, the feel of his cock against your pussy making you gasp.

You sat up and slowly sank down onto him, the feel of him inside of you making your breath catch in your throat. He felt so good.

"You're perfect," he whispered as he reached up and ran his fingers through your hair, gently tugging you back down to him, kissing you deeply. You began to rock on top of him, the friction causing you to moan softly. He ran his hands over your back, groaning into your ear as you rode him, taking him deeper.

It was slow, hot and sticky, the two of you getting to know each other's bodies, exploring and teasing. Your orgasm slowly built, your moans becoming more and more intense. You felt his grip on you tighten, his breathing becoming ragged.

Your heart pounded against his as he gazed up at you, a smile on his lips. His hands gripped your hips and he took control, guiding your movements, rocking you back and forth. You gazed into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. You felt a connection beyond lust or attraction, something deep and beautiful, and you knew he felt it too.

You rocked together, lost in one another, and you let yourself fall apart on top of him. Your body spasming, a long moan escaping your throat as your orgasm crashed into you, your muscles clenching around him.

He gazed up at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "That's my girl," he whispered.

He gently rolled you on to your side, keeping your bodies connected. His fingers digging into your thigh as he held it against his hip, kissing and nuzzling your neck. He took you slowly, drawing out your pleasure as long as possible. His eyes never left yours, the love you felt for each other in that moment, palpable in the room.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, you tugged his head towards yours as you kissed him. He kissed you back, his movements becoming more frantic, his thrusts deep and rough.

His eyebrows arched upwards, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing. Your clung to his shoulders, moaning his name as he found his release deep inside of you. He held you close as he came down, the two of you a tangle of limbs and sweaty bodies.

He kept kissing you, soft and unhurried, his hand stroking your thigh, keeping you connected and still wrapped around him. You both caught your breath as you held each other close, neither wanting the moment to end.

"I've had a crush on you since the first day I saw you," you murmured into his ear, causing him to pull away and smile.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead, "And I, you."

He gently slipped out of you and pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, his arms encircling you in his embrace. You fell asleep in each other's arms, content and happy, dreaming of more nights just like this.

{Moodboard->}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

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greatunironic · 23 days

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concept:

everyone experiences a time loop in their life. the duration varies, from person to person, loop to loop — the length of the loop window itself, and the times it, well, loops. the shortest window on record was a ten minute loop (the woman who experienced that nearly went mad, repeating those minutes for months) and the longest loop window was two years.

there are people, too, it’s said, who barely even know they were in a loop: two or three times, and a sense of deja vu.

but everyone knows that it must have been there loop, that moment, that feeling; because everyone experiences a loop, one way or another.

statistically, it’s most likely you’ll experience your loop sometime between the ages of 18 to 45. it’s rare that the loop happens before someone reaches puberty but not unheard of: only three in the whole of record history, though scholars allow there could be more that weren’t reported, not noticed.

the oldest recorded looper was a 92, and lived two weeks for five years. he died a few days later.

there are lots of theories about the loops, whole schools of thought devoted to why humans experience time like this, once in their lives. people spend their whole lives studying it, hoping maybe they’ll spend their own loop looking at it (though of course what you build in your loop is always left behind). books are written, movies are made, time loops romanticized and made more beautiful than they are.

because here is the thing: the point of the time loop isn’t to save or prevent something: it’s to embrace the things we cannot change.

they don’t know it until much later, but nancy, jonathan, and joyce have a rare semi-shared loop: will’s disappearance, the week after. it lasts longer for nancy than it does for the others, unable to stop trying to save barb.

hopper’s always been surprised he didn’t relive sara’s death: instead, it’s the moment he chooses to give eleven up for will, and the rest of them.

max experiences the third and fourth of july, 1985, over and over and over and —

eleven spends an eternity in that desert bunker, though really it’s only two days.

steve only realizes he’s in his loop when he goes to bed the night after they bury eddie munson in an unmarked and he wakes up next to nancy wheeler in 1983.

already too late for barb, he thinks, mind spinning, palms clammy. so what’s it gonna be?

#stranger things #imaginings #steddie #just like statistically at this point

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cameronspecial · 6 months

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Loving the Zach stuff so far!!!

Could you maybe do something where yn hates his guts, but he is like in love with her and all her sass?? Then they're forced to go on some school trip together or something, and she realizes she likes him and a cute angry love confession, perhaps???

Danke 🫶🏼💐

Thank You, History Class

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Zach have been running in the same friend group since Freshman year, but it doesn’t mean they necessarily get along. Well, it doesn’t mean that she likes him. His sarcasm and puppy dog vibe annoys her cool and distant personality. He’s always asking her how her day is going and trying to make her laugh with his stupid jokes. Zach, on the other hand, fell for her grumpy soul the moment he set eyes on her. Unlike most people, who don’t bother looking deeper into her personality, Zach could see the soft side that she held within and never let anyone see. He would always catch how she would stand up from her bus seat when she saw an elderly person. She wouldn’t let people around her know it was the reason, but she always did. He saw the little bowl of milk she left outside her house for a cat mother and her kittens. Finally, he saw how sweet she was to children whenever they were around her.

Zach didn’t want to take a history class and he certainly didn’t feel like going on a field trip to a museum. It all felt very high school to him. The only upside about it: Y/N is also taking the same class. When he saw that he needed a history credit to graduate, he definitely didn’t go looking for what classes she was taking this semester to try and be in the same one. The cost was giving Jason access to his bathroom whenever he wanted, but it was worth it. He knows the field trip isn’t mandatory for any marks, yet he knows Y/N is going to be there. As he heads toward the Victorian house, he finds Y/N out front waiting for the professor to show up. Her clothing consists of black and brown colours as usual. Her hair was held back by a shiny black claw clip.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, coming to stand beside her. She gives him a side eye, “Could you be more cliche? Try something more original, would ya? I still can’t believe you are taking this class.” He doesn’t let her sour mood dampen his energy. “Come on, you know you like having me with you in this class. The only other people in this class are girls who have a romanticized view of the era, or guys, who have a history stick so far up their ass that they think a history degree will take them far in life,” he notes, turning to look at her. She looks him dead in the eyes, “I’m a history major. And I am neither of those things.” “I know, that’s because you are so much better than them. You are far too smart for them,” he flatters. She shakes her head, turning her attention to the professor who has just arrived, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” The professor leads them into the museum and begins his lecture. After ten minutes of listening to the man speak, both Y/N and Zach realized that coming was a big waste of time. He doesn’t know what he is talking about and Zach can hear Y/N constantly correcting the older man under her breath.

He leans toward her, making sure his lips are close to her ear. “Wanna go on our own little tour? This man is getting half of this stuff wrong.” She thinks she has lost her mind because this must be the first thing Zach has said that she thought was a good idea. “That actually sounds kind of fun. They have a Victorian fashion exhibit I want to see, but I don’t think Professor Robo over there is going to take us to,” she whispers back. Her hand finds his and she hates to admit she likes the warmth of his in hers. They round the stairs to the exhibit. She looks delighted when she spots the first mannequin with clothes. Her feet find their way beside a girl about six years old, already looking at the dress. The child’s eyes find Y/N’s face and they smile at each other. “You know, this is an 1843 Evening dress. The bodice, the thing around the chest, is low off the shoulders. And they have lots of other skirts underneath to make it poofy,” Y/N softly explains to the little girl.

They spent around thirty minutes in the small room. Y/N walks around with Willow and Zach, explaining each outfit to them. She is surprised that Zach seemed honestly engaged with what she was saying and would ask thoughtful questions. Eventually, Willow’s mother, an employee, came looking for her and took the girl to lunch. “Do you want to head to lunch?” she asks. He shakes his head, “Actually, I was hoping we could look at the Victorian sports exhibit. I brought some snacks, so if you are hungry, we can share.” He pulls out a bag of cucumbers shaped like hearts. She has to giggle at the sight because big jock Zach MacLaren likes to have his vegetable cut into shapes.

“What?” he questions in fake offence, holding out the Ziploc to her. She shakes her head with a chuckle, “Nothing, just surprised your cucumbers look like an inaccurate depiction of a human organ.” “They make them taste better. Try,” he says with a shrug. He hands her a slice and listens to the sweet crunch of her biting into the vegetable. “Okay… I must admit it is more fun to eat it like a heart. I can pretend I’m a witch eating people’s hearts,” she agrees. He doesn’t look disturbed by her macabre comments, instead, he pretends to be ripping out his heart as he hands her another slice. She enjoys him playing with her deadly thoughts.

They spent about an hour looking at the different displays, eating his snacks and taking turns reading the display’s blurbs to each other. As they stand on the steps of the museum, Y/N towers over him from the step above. He looks up at her like she hangs the stars in the sky. “I hate to admit that you made this day pretty fun,” she confides. Her hands find their way behind her back, biting her lip as she looks into his eyes. His mouth turns into a crescent moon, “I’m really glad I did. I like spending time with you.” She takes a moment to think and moves her head away in frustration. Not at him, but at the turmoil inside her mind. Why is his charming smile suddenly getting to her? Why does she want to step into his warmth and let his arms bring her in? “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m falling for you, MacLaren. So… would you want to go to dinner? Like on a date,” she confesses with a hint of annoyance in her tone that is just normally there. She is disgusted by the excitement that crosses his face. He gets off the steps, running around the green grass in front of the building. He jumps every so often with a little whoop let out as he does so.

He rushes back to her, grabbing her around her waist and spinning her around. She finds the sound of her giggles odd but enjoys it nonetheless. “Way to keep a poker face,” she sasses, looking down at him. He doesn’t care though all he wants is a chance to be with her.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#the other zoey #zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfiction

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singingcicadas · 2 months

Text

Realized that even though it's a shame that there wasn’t much Drift/Megatron interaction in the story, we still got a fairly detailed one-sided account of Drift’s opinion.

Because this is in no way an accurate assessment of the mentality of the crew members on Necroworld. Drift's either doing some really bullshit armchair psychology or he's projecting his own feelings and assuming that they're shared by everyone else.

Once you break everyone down individually you can see that Drift’s theory applies to very few people:

Rodimus and Minimus have sort of an ambiguous friendship going on with Megatron. Rodimus literally chose to save his life when he could have let Megatron explode with Tarn. Minimus immediately proceeded to give himself congnitive dissonance b/c he thought Megatron betrayed them by running away.

Nautica Velocity Cyclonus Tailgate Ten have no preexisting history against Megatron.

Nautica has more Other Problems than to pay attention to Megatron.

Velocity’s conversation with Megatron after the psychological attack was nothing but caring and friendly. Megatron even felt comfortable enough to admit to her that he was happy. She and Nautica are amongst the few people who sees Megatron as a person first, before his deeds.

Cyclonus might even admire him a little with the romanticized way he talks about the Decepticon ideology.

Tailgate's knowledge about Megatron's past comes entirely from datapackets and documentaries. And his response to that kind of threat level is to pull a gun on him and then try to shadowplay the evilness out. Point is, Tailgate's method to dealing with threats is to be very hands-on, especially after he got his spark spasm superpowers. His way of coping is definitely not brainwashing himself into thinking 'he's not a threat' and being unconsciously nervous all the time.

Whirl hates Megatron with a passion but he also saved Megatron in the time travel. He views Megatron as less of a threat than the functionists.

Nightbeat doesn’t care about anything other than his mysteries; his response to threat of imminent demise at sundown is to go exploring.

Rung’s… Rung. He’s forgiving and compassionate, and also a professional therapist who should be capable of employing healthy rational methods to cope with Megatron being in his life.

Rewind, like Nautica, has a whole slew of Other Problems, I'm sure Megatron's not a very big priority right now.

Skids is dead.

That only leaves like three people unaccounted for and they’re all branded Megatron sympathizers for a reason: they all said no to Getaway when he asked if they were pro ‘mutiny and kick Megatron off the ship.’

Drift's only been back for seven days, even if he got filled in with everything that happened since, he's still in no position to be making that kind of assessment. He doesn't have the context. He wasn't there when Megatron was captain of the ship. He didn't even meet Nautica Velocity and Nightbeat before he left, he has no idea what they're like or what they think of Megatron. Even Rewind's not the same one from before. (Add: he also didn't know Ultra Magnus was actually Minimus in a suit)

Most importantly his entire response in the second two panels is the complete opposite of Ratchet's original question. Ratchet's question was "Is it me or is everyone a little skittish?" Skittish. as in nervous. uneasy. jumpy. Drift's like "Megatron's gone so they can relax." But skittish is the opposite of relaxing? and they only started being skittish after Megatron left? He's the only one to bring up Megatron in this?

Rodimus' reasoning in the first panel (sans Rodpod) makes much more sense.

TL;DR: Drift's nervous around his old boss and can only relax after Megatron's gone, so he assumes that everyone else must feel the same way too. Everyone else: not really?

#idw transformers #transformers #mtmte #megatron #Drift #maccadam #Rodimus #Lost Light #not going to tag everyone mentioned in the post #too many people

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madebycloud · 1 year

Text

A Masterpiece

wednesday addams x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you led wednesday through the cavernous halls of the art museum. but for wednesday, there was only one work of art that truly mattered: you. warnings/themes: fluff, art museum date words: 0.8k (it's too short, im sorry) note: this fic is based on a song i listen to while I'm in class, so i hope you enjoy it! (ignore the grammar errors.)

Wednesday should've said no.

Her writing time was too precious to be spent in an art museum. She had plans to brainstorm more ideas for the stories and poems she wanted to publish in the near future. Wednesday had always been a writer at heart, and she felt like her creativity flowed best when she was alone and surrounded by her own thoughts.

But with your bright smiles and enthusiastic jumps, it was hard to say no. She knew that your love for art was endless.

For you, art is more than just a hobby or a passion, it's a way of life. You adore the colors, the details, and the meaning behind every brushstroke.

The prospect of seeing your face light up with excitement was all the motivation she needed to accept the invitation.

You walked through the museum, admiring the art, discussing history and technique, and letting your enthusiasm shine through.

Wednesday followed you, with soft music playing in the background. She could hear the footsteps of other visitors, the rustle of clothes, and the quiet whisper of conversations.

You stop to admire a famous painting, the Mona Lisa, and your eyes light up as you take in the beauty of Leonardo da Vinci's work.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You pointed out the intricate details, the colors, and the perfection of every stroke. "I'm not sure which word is best, but it's certainly a masterpiece."

She couldn't help but turn to look at you as you stood before a painting, smiling as you admired it.

A masterpiece? Wednesday couldn't understand how you could refer to a painting with nothing but paint on it, just splashes all over, as a masterpiece.

Your hair, your eyes, your nose, your lips— Wednesday was mesmerized by your beauty, feeling as though she were looking at a work of art come to life.

That was the moment she realized that you were the true masterpiece, and no painting, sculpture, or drawing could ever compare to the beauty of you.

You looked at the painting and felt like a true artist. You knew you couldn't recreate the beauty before you, but your hands yearned to try. Your mind was abuzz with ideas, and you wanted to share your thoughts with Wednesday.

She was the masterpiece, your muse, the inspiration for everything you desired to create in this moment.

The way her brown eyes shone like the stars in the sky, her freckles dotting her skin like a constellation— she was the definition of perfection. You wanted to capture her on canvas, to preserve her perfection forever. But for now, you would enjoy her presence and let your imagination run wild.

You looked back at the painting. Feeling the blood rush in your ears.

"But you know, some people don't really appreciate art," you continued, referring to the people in front of you who were taking pictures. "They take pictures just to add to their social media, done. They don't try to understand the essence of the artwork, all the emotions and hard work put into it."

Wednesday nodded in agreement, understanding that some people just don't try to understand the emotions and hard work that artists put into their art. It takes years of practice to perfect their craft, and some people just look at the surface level of it.

You checked your watch and noticed it was time to go back. You asked, "So, which styles of art did you enjoy the most? Did you prefer classical, medieval, romanticism, basque, or could you relate to Leonardo da Vinci's art, maybe even Vincent van Gogh or Claude Monet's works? Tell me, my love." You asked, tilting your head as you walked, trying to make conversation and get a feel for her perspective on the artwork.

Wednesday paused for a moment, considering your question, before her eyes met yours. She finally spoke, her voice low and serious. "Your question is so banal and pointless," she said, rolling her eyes.

She continued, her eyes still locked with yours "Art is a subjective experience, influenced by myriad factors such as one's personal taste, cultural background, and emotional state. But if I had to choose, I would say that, to me, the most beautiful art is the art of life itself. And looking at you, my dear, I can't help but see the most exquisite and breathtaking work of art that I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes upon."

You can't help but smile as you look down at her. Her slender frame, her pale complexion, her dark hair… everything about her seems to radiate a sense of beauty and mystery.

And as she leans in to loop her arm around yours, you realize that this is not just a moment, but a memory that you will cherish forever.

How did you manage to find someone as wonderful as her? You ask yourself as you look up at the sky.

Knowing that you want to share all of life's beauty and wonder with her makes you want to spend the rest of your days with her.

#wednesday addams imagine #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday addams fluff #fluff #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader

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givemearmstopraywith · 1 month

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do you happen to have any recs ie: books/readings on christian mysticism + theology? i've read a bit about catherine of siena for a history class in university and found her fascinating but i'm not quite sure where further to look as i am very much unfamiliar with the subject - ty !!!! <3

a strange quirk, you might say, of christianity is that we have mystical theology but we struggle to make practical sense of it. mysticism, especially when it presents in women, is often treated as dreaminess or romanticized rather than as authoritative theology (meister eckhart, augustine, and john of the cross, for instance, are regarded as authoritative in a very different way than catherine, hildegard, or teresa of avila, even though all of these women are doctors of the church and were regarded authoritatively in their lifetime). so i'll recommend some theologians who work within mysticism, but i earnestly think that the best way to learn about mysticism is by reading mystical texts themselves, my recommendations of which i'll list below.

bernard mcginn is arguably the foremost authority on christian mysticism. the varieties of vernacular mysticism, the crisis of mysticism, and his anthology the essential writings of christian mysticism is a very good primer with a wide variety of texts. caroline bynum walker is not a theologian but she's another major authority: holy feast and holy fast, jesus as mother, and wonderful blood are good books, but she's written a lot of wonderful papers as well: i especially like her reply to leo steinberg and women mystics and eucharistic devotion in the thirteenth century. michael sells is good too- a wonderful comparative religious theologian and i recommend his book mystical languages of unsaying.

in terms of mystics, simone weil's waiting for god and gravity and grace are indispensable; hildegard of bingen's scivias; teresa of avila's the interior castle, the way of perfection, and autobiography; marguerete porete's the mirror of simple souls; mechthild of magdeberg the flowing light of the godhead; mother maria skobtsova's essential writings; catherine of siena's dialogue; the book of margery kempe. you might also like the way of the cross by john of the cross and the work of meister eckhart. but i highly recommend getting mcginn's anthology- it was how i started off and is without a doubt the best way to begin getting a feel for mysticism.

#replies

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pastel-charm-14 · 2 months

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(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ masterlist/intro post ♥

(INACTIVE)

﹒──── ✩！ᶻz ⸜⸜⸜⸜⸜⸜⸜⸜ㆍ﹒

◞ ★ ︉﹒hi!! i'm pastel︔

ᨳ i use she/they pronouns ﹕

◞ ★﹒i'm a demigirl︔ ︉

ᨳ i'm bi ﹕

◞ ★ ︉﹒ ︉i like anything pink, sanrio, soft girl stuff, helping people︔

ᨳ i dislike racism, homophobia, misogynism, pedophilia ﹕

◞ ★ ﹒i speak spanish and english, and i'm so happy to meet you all!! let's be friends!︔ ︉

this post is a list of all of the posts i've created thus far. i'll try to update it as often as i can, but please tell me if i miss anything!

﹒──── ✩！ᶻz ⸜⸜⸜⸜⸜⸜⸜⸜ㆍ﹒

q&a is open!

important announcement

romanticizing series:

intro to romanticizing

romanticizing school

romanticizing work

romanticizing your routines

romanticizing friendships

health/wellness/self-care masterlist

personal development/mindset masterlist

beauty/fashion

curling your hair effectively

eye makeup guide

applying lip gloss and lipstick

soft girl minimalism

find your signature scent

soft girl makeup bag essentials

how to do your hair

the art of layering

how to be a soft girl

diy manicure - step-by-step

treasure hunting: a guide to thrifting

embracing pastels

styling your school uniform

creativity/art

nostalgia poem

all too well lyric analysis

journal prompts

bullet journaling

cosy book recommendations

pink poem

pink-themed DIY project

hobby ideas

how to organize your room and keep it that way

aesthetic tips + ideas for your phone

relationships/social

nurturing effective communication

friendship

how to say what you mean and mean what you say

miscellaneous

taking care of succulents

starting a garden

top 10 sanrio characters

editing aesthetic photos

pink velvet cupcakes

floral tea recipe

navigating financial wellness

eco-friendly living

the history of hello kitty

aesthetic YouTube channels to check out

sustainable aviation fuel

how to make a vision board

volunteering

the difference between "i love you" and "love you"

notes

dear diary

what i'm manifesting rn

note: i'm so sorry i had to make a couple more masterlists; the post was getting so long it started glitching when i tried to edit it :)

#masterlist #self care #that girl #it girl #pink #pink pilates princess #clean girl #coquette #just girly things #vanilla girl #cute #master list #masterpost #navigation #this took way too long #this took so long #this took forever #aughhhhhhhhh #pastel dreamer✨

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fipindustries · 9 months

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oppen heimer style

let me just start this by saying that this is not necesarily nolan being back to form, necesarily. i would place it just above the rest of nolan's dark period known as intersrellar, dunkirk and tenet. but that is not an exceedingly high bar to pass.

he has sadly become a director that i still respect appreciate and whose movies i enjoy but whom i can no longer say is an unmatched genius.

lets start with the bad.

its too long, and its pacing its a little awkward, no need to worry for spoilers here since we all know the history. the big money shot that we were all expecting, the trinity test, it happens roughly at the middle of the movie and after that the movie struggles to reach any other point of heightened emotion as high as that one.

its a solid three hour experience and more than once it had me wondering "ok, how much left, are we done yet?" but i will say this: once i reached the final scene and the credits start i did not feel a tired relief that it was finaly over, thank god. i feel dread, i felt doom and dread. i was fucking terrified. this movie has a good strong final scene that makes you forget of previous tests of patience you might have gone through watching it.

it tries to do this weird parallel story telling between lewis strauss and oppenheimer that it feels like they tried to film two different movies and then awkwardly splie them together. it jumps back and forth between the past and the present told form different points of view and a lot of it feels like it could have been cut out and the movie would have worked just as well. im not sure how necessary was the whole lewis strauss subplot to be honest.

the characters and dialog work a little better than in previous movies although we still get a lot of scenes of people talking in a clinical manner with expository dialog and deep philosophical musings. but once again i will say nolan seems to be learning some lessons, we do get a lot of scenes where actors are allowed to flex their emotional muscles.

in a lot of ways this is nolan's most lurid film. i think this is the first time we get to see breasts and naked people having sex in a nolan movie and it hits hard, both because of how unexpected it is in a nolan film and because of how out of context it shows up in-universe. i dont actually want to spoil this one because the effect it achieves actually worked really well.

and now moving on to the good, if i mentioned this might be nolan at his most lurid, it is certainly also at his most poetic. sure there is inception, but in here we get to see a lot of surrealist or downright metaphorical scenes without the excuse of being inside a dream. we get to see things that are not happening literally in universe but that are an artistic representation of what the characters are feeling. it felt really effective.

the man himself

this is a movie that is very much about the titular guy and trying to understand his inner world, trying to understand who the hell was this person, and honestly, where did he get off.

it seems oppenheimer was a complicated man, whose actions and desitions were sometimes confusing, sometimes downright contradictory (there is a nice wink to this when talking about the paticle/wave duality at the beggining of the film). he was a communist, he was a proud american, he was a genius, he was painfully naive,he was merely following orders but he had absolute control over his little town in los alamos, he worked hard for peace, he created nuclear war, he built a bomb that he didnt want people to use.

i heard criticisms that this movie romanticizes his work, that it may excuse or justify the use of the bomb, that it may be too kind with the guy. rest assured it doesnt. the movie brings up multiple times how the japanese were basically already surrendering, how senseless and callous and cruel the use on japanese cities was, how attrocious and horrifying the effects of the bomb were. and how oppenheimer definely contributed to it. if it shows the guy hand wringing or feeling gulty or trying to be a martyr of sorts, the movie definetly calls him out on that too by saying that its very rich of him to have done the deed and then regret it as if he didnt knew what he was doing or as if he had no control over it. a lot of times the movie shows the man as spineless, as a moral coward, as someone who was too weak to take on a position. "you dont get to commit a sin and then make everyone else feel pity for you because there are consequences!" is yelled at his face.

yet all the same, either because he is portrayed by cyllian murphy and his puppy dog eyes or because nolan deep down still admires who he was and what he did, you cant help but feel bad for the guy and like him still. he was a person, a complicated person with ugly sides that this movie in no way ignores, but still a brilliant man who at the very least had the basic decency to feel bad for the atrocities he contributed to.

going back to the movie itself

its has a weirdly star studded cast. if you were surprised by the sudden appearance of matt damon in interstellar, get ready to have that feeling multiple times during this film, every other scene suddenly shows up a hollywood megastar and it will take a few seconds before you accept ok, i guess gary oldman is in this film, and is that rami malek? and oh right, robert downy junior and oh my god is that fucking kenneth brannagh. in fact the one hollywood actor who is NOT in this movie, is surprisingly, inexplicably enough michael caine.

truly, breaking new ground.

and the cameos dont stop at the stars, the characters themselves are a constant delightful surprise if you are into the history of quantum mechanics and science in the first half of the 20th century. you have einstein of course (presented as this old exiled king, his time of glory long past but still sough after for his wisdom) but you have also bohrs, heisenberg, feynman, fermi, and fucking gödel somehow (they managed to shoe in a comment about his paranoia and hipocondry)

the actual explosion

time to talk about the thing we all went to see this movie for. is the atomic explosion cool? is it big? is it loud? does it go boom? does it look cool?.

suffice to say. yes. one of the coolest experiences i had in watching film ever in my life. it has a build up of a solid 30 minutes or so (arguably its been building up the entire movie) the tensin keeps on rising all through out. the countdown slowly advances, the expectations are at the highest theyve ever been and by the time the bomb was actually about to go off in the middle of the american desert, the first atom bomb ever exploted, my heart was hammering out of my chest.

its fully worth the price of admission and the three hours.

final comments

i want to double back to the poetic filmmaking i mentioned early to comment about the main thing its used for. nolan makes it clear in no uncertain terms the horror that atomic weapons unleashed on the world. the man goes out of his way to make it clear, these things can destroy the planet. we've all become perhaps a bit desensitized to atomic explosion in film, made more and more espectacular with the advancement of cgi. but this movie brings it back home and leaves you with a last message about the danger of nuclear proliferation.

i walked out of the theatre with my legs shaking and my eyes falling out of my skull. i had a hard time talking a bit afterwards, i was a little shell shocked.

so, i guess in the end, my thoughts on this movie are just as complicated as the man himself, the man who oppenheimed the world.

8/10

#oppenheimer

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hayffiebird · 5 months

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How do you think Effie and haymitch met?

Hi anon! And thanks for asking! (mini-oneshot, under the cut) I always imagined Effie being Haymitch’s second escort when she was a young woman and he was a sorta young man. On the train to Twelve, new on the job, she’s very “first day of school! First day of school!” and eager to make a difference sort of like Sejanus Plinth. She’s ambitious and driven and also naive enough to think “with me on board we will have victors left and right!” Before the Reaping she decides on her own to visit the Victor’s Village and introduce herself personally to her now co-worker. She’s quite star-struck I think, on the way over there - what with the romanticized image the Capitol has of him. Obviously she doesn’t know the truth about Haymitch’s murdered family. No one really does in her city. She’s also super impressed that he won The Second Quarter Quell - one of the most difficult Games in Panem's history, and without a mentor at that! She’s probably a little smitten too (or at least she was as a young girl). Taken by those dark curls and intense gray eyes in a sort of “toughened by life but love will set him free” kind of way. But when she actually finally meet Mr. Haymitch Abernathy he effectively smashes all the illusions Effie ever had of him in less than five minutes. She goes from dazzled to disbelieving to annoyed and they end up having the first of many arguments. I imagine it went something like this:

Standing there in the middle of the kitchen Effie felt the mentor’s eyes travel up and down her body. He held a bottle of spirits in one hand, elbows on the unbelievably filthy table. And in the other, a knife - an actual KNIFE! “Who sent you?” he finally asked. “It ain’t m’birthday.” The shadow of a crease re-appeared between Effie’s eyebrows but then the smile was right back on. “Mr. Abernathy!” She stepped forward and extended a hand. “Euphemia. Euphemia Trinket, the new escort. My friends call me Effie. You can call me Effie if you want. Delighted to make your acquaintance and might I just add what an honor it is to finally meet. I’ve heard so much about you! I’m sure we’re going to make the most fabulous of teams!” Haymitch ignored the outstretched hand. Instead he brought the bottle to his lips, having a few good mouthfuls. “What happened to Dandruff?" he asked in a bored voice. "Ol’ bat finally bit the dust?" “Mrs Dandridge decided to retire. I’m here in her place. Arrived just a few days ago, and my, am I already in LOVE with your … your … quaint district.” “I know right,” he mimicked her voice, dripping with sarcasm. He poured a good amount of the clear liquid into a cracked glass full of sticky fingerprints and extended it to her. “Well, this calls for a toast, don't ya think? Bottom’s up, lil’ lady." “Um, tempting but no thank you,” she said. “I don’t make it a habit of drinking when I'm at work. Especially not this early. Got to keep a level head," she thrilled. "A big big big day today!” Haymitch tsked, eyes on the ceiling. "I'd say." And he downed the drink for her. “Guess this is my lucky day, huh? They finally got rid of ol’ Ice Crotch and now a squeaky lil’ duckling fresh out of the egg’s gonna help me out.” “W-wha … excuse me? Duckling? Squeaky?! I think you’ll find me more than qualified for the job. I graduated from the Academy at the top of my class!” “Yeah, takes a lot o’ brains to send kids off for slaughter.” Effie stared at him. “B-being chosen to participate in The Hunger Games - the biggest event of the year, is a great honor and …” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he snarled. “Save it for the cameras, why don’t ya?” At a loss for words Effie watched the man finish his bottle, down to the last drop, only to reach for the next. “The Reaping is in an hour,” she said. “So?" “So maybe you ought to slow down? And I trust it you’ll freshen up before then? Take a shower and find an outfit that’s a little more, um, suitable for the … special occasion.” “Meh,” Haymitch shrugged. “Haven’t decided if I’m gonna go.” “You have to go!” The words burst from her lips before she could stop them. “You’re expected! I’ll look like a fool!” In reply, Haymitch snapped the seal on the bottle. With one expert twist. “Don’t need me for something you already accomplished, sweetheart.” He tipped the liquor into his mouth. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

#anon ask reply #hayffie #some headcanons and a lil' ficlet #haymitch x effie #the hunger games renaissance

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evren-sadwrn · 4 months

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.................okay but ROMANTIC Vincent x bodyguard could slap 😗🤨😲now that might be something I could potentially eat up. Suddenly I am hungry.

cringefailure french boy needs a bodyguard i got u bae dw

ʚ♡ɞ

You work for the Marquis de Gramont as a bodyguard

You’re well-versed in guns and all that combat jazz

You get your hands dirty for this guy, and commit acts of violence

It’s just your job anyways

It’s much better than being a common hitman or mercenary because then you have a boss to hide behind

A particularly hot boss to be specific

He’s attractive, you and the other Myrmidons agree upon that

Vincent is young in comparison to literally everyone in the Table’s circle of representatives and agents

He’s a hyperglot, he’s got a taste in art, he likes cats more than dogs, he’s sexy as hell, and he’s interesting when he talks sometimes

God, isn’t he just amazing?

It’s when you’re at the Louvre with this guy again(second time this week)

“What do you think about art?”

A simple, innocent question

Your answer goes along the lines of something basic

Nothing too profound, just rather something short and simple

And that sends the Marquis to talking about art and history as a whole

Now you know the difference between Baroque and Renaissance art

And you know Realism, Impressionism, and Romanticism

Vincent finds Romanticism particularly interesting: a quiet theme romanticizing the softer and more gentler parts of life

You can see that in him

Vincent gets excited when he talks about art

You can see it when he smiles, or when his eyes are practically gleaming as he talks

You only nod, answer simple and short when he pauses to ask

Then—

Then Vincent has you accompanying him more than often

You get a chance to talk to Chidi a whole lot, Vincent’s right hand man

And you get to hear more of Vincent’s ramblings

Attending bourgeois luxuries

Palais Garnier, and all that stuff

It only takes nine months(fuck, that’s nearly a year) for you to actually start seeing Vincent

Vincent, not the Marquis— but just him

A guy that plays piano and fills most of his days learning a new language if he’s not doing anything important

He holds everyone to high standards including you

But there’s always something that Vincent likes about you

It’s clear in his actions, really

“These gloves would suit you, don’t you think?”

Vincent likes giving gifts, he doesn’t know anything else about relationships or how to properly say it

But it’s clear

He first got you gloves when he saw your hands were particularly bruised

Then it just straight up jumped to him giving you a car, sleek black and elegantly shaped

God, you wish you were joking

But you wanted to test the waters first

“I want you to come with me to the Louvre again”

“Alright, kiss me on the cheek first”

Was that too bold?

Either way, after a moment of pause, which was Vincent just processing it—

—he kissed you on the cheek

What kind of chapstick was he using to get those lips so damn pink and perfect and soft?

You’ve been eyeing those lips for a while now

And feeling it first hand-

Fuck, it was exhilarating

“So are we gonna go now?”

Vincent put a hand on his hip as he asked you

“Yes, sir”

Shit, you were so fucking whipped

reblogs appreciated as always<33

#marquis de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #john wick 4 #john wick #bill skarsgård #marquis de gramont x reader #gender neutral insert #gender neutral imagine #🪐evrenwrites #idk if I accidentally answered this private lemme know #bill skarsgard needs to drop that fucking skin care routine tf #his skin is GLOWING amen

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playboifenty · 8 months

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╰┈➤*.⋆🎬 ❝ 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅?

🩷 • 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐳 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 headcanons!

SPOTIFY • YOUTUBE MUSIC • TAGLIST • INFO

📃. 〄 . ᗢ . ?

🎧 ⋆ NOW PLAYING: WHAT YOU HEARD ━ SONDER. 🎶

―🌟TAGS ! fluff, angst, toxicity, hurt/comfort ish. 🎞 SUMMARY: ❛ fuck yo mind up, waste time. ❜ high hopes, unrealistic dreams, empty promises, and bottles of expensive ass champagne is the foundation of the relationship between the two. ⋆ ★ w/c: 1.1k . . . . . ☢ content warnings: a lilllll teeny tiny bit (a lot a bit) of toxicity... (its brent idk what you expected), comfort if you squint n bend your morals a bit, suggestive-ish themes, brent is a lil sassy cause why tf not, use of the n word, and ermm..lmk if i missed anything else!! ― 🔖 one , two .

ʚ 𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 ! 👁️‍🗨️

omg, omg, omg, hiii!!!! this is like..my first fic on tumblr and my first piece of writing in a whileee, but i wanted to write something cause i kinda sorta have nothing on my account 😭. and this fic lowkey has like a toxic relationship in mind for their relationship but its not overly toxic. (i understand the whole media for impressionable audiences thing but just scroll past it if you not fw it, relaxxx.) so this is just a lil sumn for and to get the hang of things, so let me know if you like it!! feedback is definitely appreciated, but not harsh feedback cause im lowkey sensitive 🥲. i also do not condone, romanticize, or encourage toxic, abusive, or unhealthy relationships!! this is purely just a work of fiction. enjoy!

It started off with a few stolen glances and a sudden gift disguised as a piece of chocolate cake arriving at your table…

“Courtesy of the table across from you.”

And it’s been history ever since.

“I know you seen me looking at you, you know how to grab a nigga’s attention fasho.”

“Mhm, you know you playing wit’ fire right?”

“Fire aint nothing forreal if you know how to handle it.”

He was always finding some way to make you fold and he knew exactly what he was doing too. Stringing you on with quick but sensual kisses, “I gotchu, jus’ be patient.” licking his lips whenever the energy of his heated stares was matched by you, his hands rhythmically rubbing up and down your thighs, his eyes always being locked on you whenever you spoke. . .There was no way in hell you were going to make it out unscathed.

Quick and flirty banter is definitely a pillar in you guy’s relationship, feeling comfortable enough to go back and forth with each other.

“Don’t miss me too much! i’ll see you soon, baby.”

“Dont miss you too much? I’ll be missing you the whole week, ma.”

He loved buying you bracelets and necklaces with his or your name engraved on them, cute lil’ bags he be seeing you eyeing whenever you walk through Chanel, giving you personalized free VIP access to his shows, shit...sending drivers to pick you up and bring you to said shows. And he always made sure you ate and did whatever you needed to do.

“You eat? Nah fuck that, you hungry?”

“...Maybe.”

“...Don’t play with me, y/n.”

Brent is definitely a sweet-heart in the beginning, well...in his own little way. He’s a romantic but not hopeless. He knew how to show you he cared while also not overplaying his part and things would definitely need time to build up into an actual relationship too. You weren’t stupid, you knew that even though you knew him on a deeper level than all the fame and even as far as to say you knew him as Christopher, he’s still gonna Brent Faiyaz at the end of the day. There were still going to be precautions, external problems, internal problems, and then internal problems egged on by the external ones; loving him was going to be anything but easy. But your connection started to change in different ways too, the relationship would start off with lots of excitement and rose-tinted lenses until feelings started growing and shit got serious; you was thinking it was going to give Jackie Brown and a dash of search & rescue baby...but in reality, it's giving what you heard and session 32 😭. (coughs in this nigga has avoidant attachment issues)

As soon as he realized what you two had going on was developing into something deeper, he started getting distant. Missing calls, ignoring texts, even coming up with half-assed excuses for missed dates and blowing you off.

“My bad, I had a lot of shit going on.”

“I was in the studio, you know how it be, y/n.”

“I got too caught up in London, that shit was crazy.”

“You think i could call you back though?”

And soon the arguments came and you two started staying mad at each other for days on end, not even bothering to try and smooth things over like in the beginning of the relationship. It was hard and it gave you a lot of anxiety. You wouldn't say that you felt unsafe perse, but you definitely didn't feel comfortable. ��You mean to tell me that you can't answer the fucking phone for three seconds, Chris??” You shouted, frustration built up in your voice and it was obvious that you were fed the fuck up. It didn't help that the man sitting in front of you was quick to roll his eyes and smack his teeth, but what definitely didn't help was his smart-ass mouth. “Ain't nobody tell you to hit my jack and start losing yo shit, y/n. That's the shit that be blowing me.”

“I don’t hear from you for days and you expect me to not get worried? You’re mad at me for giving a fuck about you??”

“Whatever, man.”

The whole thing would just progressively get worse as you two went back and forth. you saying petty shit while he just dismissed your feelings until he decided that he would just tell you shit you wanted to hear so the situation would be deaded.

“I’m sorry, y/n...” he’d say soothingly in your ear, massaging your hips in circular motions as you’d lay your head on top of his chest, close to where his heart beats. “You know I be missing you like crazy. you can't stay mad at me for too long, baby.” and he was right. This routine repeated and repeated itself over and over again until he stopped ‘comforting’ you and just seemingly stopped caring altogether.

“Nah bro, you tweakin’.”

“Okay, y/n. stop calling my phone then, problem solved.”

“And you swear you don’t see how your point doesn’t make sense?”

“You got it, y/n.”

With time, you two just broke away from each other, but never ended things officially. It went from short brief phone calls to text messages and eventually, those stopped too. A hole was left in your chest and you couldn’t help but feel as if you wasted your time, continuously punishing yourself because you gave out a part of yourself you won't get back ━ but you couldn’t help but miss him. You’d find yourself compensating for his absence, making two plates of everything, migrating to his unspoken side of the bed, never taking the flowers he got you out of the vase you put them in; even though they long withered away. “I can't believe this nigga got me out here wasting food, groceries are expensive...Eggs are almost four fucking dollars! I can't do this shit, I need to get a grip and be fucking forreal.”

But let's not pretend he didn’t find himself trying to make sense of your absence, too.

⋆ ⤏ FINAL WORDS ! 📢 honestly this doesn't feel like it's 1k+ words but it is 😭. i'm so tired chile and i start school in 4 hours. i'm actually content with how this came out, fw it!!

PART TWO COMING SOON.

📸 TAGS !

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mommalosthermind · 5 months

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So I'm slowly starting to come to understand that we shouldn't censor things but also I'm still a little uncomfortable with the site allowing things like pedophilia to be written in a way that's romanticized. I get it. Avoid it since I don't like it but at what point do we say, 'hmm this isn't okay.' I mean I get it, fiction doesn't hurt people but if that were truly the case then why are we lobbying for rep/realism/etc in media? Fiction, at some point, has to have some effect on real life.

Hello darling! I got your second ask too, please don’t worry, you’re definitely not coming across as unkind.

And you’re definitely not the only one to have similar thoughts or concerns.

But my answer’s going to be the same.

There is no such thing as a little censorship, and opening that particular can of pringles is not going to end happily for anyone. It’s better to not open it at all. And yes, that means people will create deeply fucked up things. But they should have the ability to do so, just like you should have the ability to avoid the hell out of it.

(Which, for AO3, is where I start in on my tag your shit appropriately/read the fucking tags!!! Rants. Learned the hard way a million years ago when I *thought* I was reading something very very different than I was, so when I got to ‘Character has sex with a dog’ I lost my mind, then realized I fucked up and hadn’t read the tags. If I had, I would have noped out of that fic immediately. So. That entire encounter was on me.)

“At what point is this not okay?” Well, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Who would be in charge of deciding where the line goes? Who gets to decide what goes on which side of the line?

The last anon seemed to think writing was the same as doing, and thus writing shouldn’t be allowed at all.

And then got annoyed when I pointed out how often those unsavory themes happen in movies or TV without any warning at all, and generally, people move right past it.

Fiction doesn’t hurt people. People hurt people.

My favorite comparison is still my kitchen curtains, because my curtains are still weird: fairies, trees. Very witchy. I’ve seen people do literal double takes over my curtains. I can tell by the way they squint they can’t stand them or don’t understand why I would want something so *non-traditional* in such a public part of my house. They keep their damned mouths shut though, because they know its rude to tell me to change my curtains to fit their idea of a kitchen. (And also because I’d toss them out after laughing my ass off but that’s not relevant)

Person A has an idea of what ‘acceptable’ levels are, but that’s much much less than person B. Who wins? No one.

And no one should have the power to just decide things like that.

It’s stupid o’clock at night where I am, so I’m not about to go digging for studies, but I know we’ve got pretty solid proof that media doesn’t cause behaviors spontaneously. At the risk of sounding old, but this same argument once was applied to music, too. The weird compromise was slapping content warnings for language/sex/violence on CD’s. (Y’know. A significantly less useful form of tagging?) It didn’t… really do shit for anyone. Other than make those CD’s more attractive to teens, tbh. But. The argument at the time was rap and rock were violent and would make kids go insane and violent just by listening.

It… didn’t. It still doesn’t.

Reading dark fic isn’t going to cause someone to do something out of the blue.

Someone who’s debating doing the thing might seek out media about whatever their obsession is, yes. But their obsession was already there. Fic, music, movies, they’re not going to create it. I’d wager those girls who murdered their friend and blamed ‘slenderman’ had signs long before they went that far.

Part of the problem with this entire thought is that it’s thought policing. Folks assume the thought equals the sin. And as someone with pretty wonky intrusive thoughts and a long family history of mental issues— no. I have weird ass thoughts all the time. ‘Huh, I’m up high, I should jump, maybe I’ll float.’ I’m not gonna act on them. I know they’re weird thoughts. I’m not gonna float, I’d just die. Your brain just… says things sometimes. Some of us more than others. Therapy’s helpful for folks who struggle with that.

Fiction’s got nothing to do with it, though. Fiction just represents someone else working through their lives.

Melissa Etheridge wrote a song (scarecrow) about Matthew Sheppard’s murder. She didn’t cause anyone else to go torture another lonely gay boy to death. She was working through her grief at losing another one of us. And we worked through our grief when she sang.

Art is made for the making of it. Fiction—even the kind that squicks you— is still art.

As for the other part of your ask, the representation? I’m not sure I see the connection you’re trying to make. When people talk about rep, they’re talking about making the characters more authentic, more reflective of the beautiful range of humanity at large. Not seven brown haired white guys and one bitchy white woman and the unnamed not-white side character used for shit jokes. There should be a rainbow of humans in media, because little black girls deserve to know they’re strong and smart and beautiful. Because queer kids of all sizes and shapes deserve to know they’re loved. Because boys should get to be princesses. Because people with chronic illnesses, disabilities, they should get to be part of the stories. Because white folk need to see the rest of the world as human. Folks want to see themselves in the heroes, the happiness, the successes.

Too many kids never get to see themselves on the screen or read about people who look like them.

I loved belle as a kid because she looked like me and she loved reading. I loved Ariel because she wanted to be free. I cried over encanto because I know what it’s like to be excluded, what it’s like to be the big sister. I cried over reading red white and royal blue because the gays get to live and they’re happy. Everyone should have some way to connect.

The realism bit,though, I don’t think is the consumers as a whole. Yeah, some folks prefer it, but from what I’ve seen over the last 20 years, it’s more like the people who control most popular media have decided that’s what they wanna make. I don’t care for it, tbh. Media doesn’t need to be an exact copy of the real world.

Stories are meant as a place of solace, or at least a place that is different, than your day to day.

I like stories that have soft, happy ever afters. We’ve worked through the Big Bad Thing and come out stronger for it and now we get our well deserved rest. The real world doesn’t give me those things. Other people look at the state of the world, read seriously fucked up shit, and then go, well, at least my life isn’t that. It could be worse! And this is their happy place.

So. I’m not sure I’m much help here, but tl;dr: remember the tenets of fandom:

1) kinktomato: your kink is not my kink and that is okay. (You like this, I do not, I’m gonna leave it alone, the end.)

2) DLDR: Don’t like? Don’t read. Filtering and blocking are your besties.

3) ship and let ship (or sit down) — don’t press your dislike onto the people who do like. Let ‘em alone, go find what you do like.

4) tag appropriately, read the damn tags.

5) curate your own spaces. You alone are responsible for your online existence/experiences

6) have fun. Enjoy it. Be weird. Be silly. Be fucked up. Be unrepentantly yourself. Don’t let anyone else take that away from you.

#momma talks #asks #answered asks #censorship #i am very tired its like 1 am so this is probably more incoherent than I think it is im so sorry

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