23. He/Him
114 posts
Solochrome1 - Tumblr Blog
stop interrupting them!
Firebird (2021) directed by Peeter Rebane
oilers for today
Have you two ever kissed before? Never while washing dishes.
Matthias & Maxime (2019) dir. Xavier Dolan
and now kenma locks the door when he streams
time to put on the armor...
NHL prospect Luke Prokop announces he’s gay, ESPN, 19 July 2021
We’re Not Going Home: The 2020 Dallas Stars Playoff Run
mat’s face when jagger loses the puck lmao
@LBrossoit: Brand new socks… Has got to be the best feeling ever
Happy Birthday, Laurent Brossoit! (Mar. 23, 1993)
Pierre Luc Dubois | Instagram Live | 12.03.2020
@Avalanche: JT Compher skated with families from our upcoming annual Charity Brunch in a special afternoon at Pepsi Center.
Matthias & Maxime (2019) dir. Xavier Dolan
actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty than to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed.
Merab & Irakli in And Then We Danced (2019, Levan Akin)
“Luka said you were a fairy, I had to protect your honour. So… did I get a beating in vain?”
“Maybe.”
“You’ve always been better than me Merab, I don’t care what father says. I’ll end up being a drunk Georgian working for his father in law, but I don’t mind. You have to get out of Georgia, Merab, you have no future here.”
AND THEN WE DANCED (dir. Levan Akin)
Hyewon ✿ 1st Look
(x)
FIRDAUS by Sabyasachi Models: Archana Akil Kumar, Ilana Davies, Vishakha Bhardwaj, Rasika Navare, Rouhallah Gazi, & Namit Khanna
i just spent 5 minute staring at those prompts trying to decide *which one* i wanted for Poe and then got so overwhelmed with soft feelings that i closed out of the page BUT I'M BACK. uh. 2 or 48?
2. Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.
(1.3k words....”drabbles” I said. warnings: none, just fluff I think)
Try as you might, you couldn’t sleep. You tried not to toss and turn very much, worried you’d wake the man beside you if you did, but you did shift so that you were lying flat on your back so you could stare up at the ceiling. The base was quiet, almost eerily so, and the most you could hear was the soft whirs of BB-8 on his charging port, and the soft snores from Poe next to you.
You’d napped in his room plenty of times before, but it was the first time you’d slept overnight at his quarters. The heating was out in your quarters, and the tech team wouldn’t be able to send someone over until morning, so Poe had humbly offered you stay with him.
“You could always just sleep with me,” he’d said earlier that evening, leaned up against the door jamb. He wouldn’t dare take more than a few steps into your room, frigid as it was inside. He was from Yavin IV, the cold wasn’t exactly his favorite kind of weather.
You’d been standing in your room, an armful of sweaters bunched up into your arms - your irrational plan of being able to still sleep in your quarters had been to just to throw literally every piece of clothing you had on your cot with you for extra warmth as if the D’Qar winter air didn’t already have your teeth clattering - when he spoke, and you’d nearly dropped the whole load, fixing him with a skeptical glare, “Excuse me?”
“Not like that, get your mind outta the cockpit.” Poe rolled his eyes and you had temporarily considered throwing a sweater at his head for the hell of it. He held his hands up in supplication as if he knew what you were thinking (which he probably did), “I just meant so you had somewhere warm to stay tonight.”
Your grip went slack on your pitiful pile of clothes as you began to consider his offer. You really didn’t want to spend the night freezing, especially since you had so much to do tomorrow: you had been assigned the glorious duty of cataloging all the droids on base to make sure they were all up in tip-top shape.
Then, of course, Poe couldn’t just keep his mouth shut, and he continued innocently, “But I mean if you had other ideas on keeping warm, then I’m all -” the rest of his sentence never made it past his lips, because you’d promptly thrown a sweater at his head. He caught it just before it struck home, eyes crinkled at the corners as he spotted the tiny smile on your face.
“If I do,” you’d told him, dropping the rest of the sweaters at the foot of your bed, “you’ll be the first to know. But are you serious about the place to stay?”
He’d been serious about the place to stay. Poe even offered to sleep on the floor when you arrived at his quarters, all bashful and endearingly boyish when you stepped into his room. It was surprisingly minimalistic, with only a handful of holos (his parents, some from the Colossus and then the Flight Academy, and some more recent ones from the Resistance, including a candid one of you and him that Snap had taken a few months ago), some holopads, a caf machine, and a couple leather jackets - the one he most frequently wore, the flight jacket, was hung up carefully on the back of his desk chair.
You hadn’t taken him up on his offer of him sleeping on the floor, because he needed his sleep too, and you didn’t mind sharing a mattress with him. Really, he was a comforting presence, and you could easily be lulled to sleep by that alone, but it was - more difficult than you expected to adjust to sleeping somewhere that wasn’t your room.
Beside you, Poe stirred in his sleep. He shifted from lying on his side to onto his back, like you. His movement made some of the duvet fall off his chest, and you frowned again at his choice of sleepwear (a black tank top, in the middle of winter. Granted, he did keep his room warm, but still, it was so paradoxical to the man who’d refused to so much as put one foot in your room that it made your head spin).
You risked some movement to pick the blanket up and tug it back over him. You leaned over him so you could tuck it around his frame for good measure, so no drafts could feasibly wake him up. As you worked, you got the distinct feeling of being watched, so you glanced back at him and found him smiling up at you from hooded, sleepy eyes.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice groggy.
You hesitated a beat before answering, your cheeks warm. “Tucking you in.”
His smile increased in both size and warmth, “Aww, I knew you cared - ow,” he grunted as you punched him lightly on the shoulder, your own grin slightly wicked. He picked up one hand from under the duvet, knocking loose your work, and you started to admonish him before your words slipped from your mind as he put his hand on your waist.
His palm was warm, even through the fabric of your sleep shirt, and your breath hitched. Your reaction wasn’t missed by him, and he pushed himself up with his other elbow. You were acutely aware that you were still hovering over him as he leaned into your personal space - keeping enough distance between you so you could back out, but remaining close enough that the invitation was clear.
“Why’re you still up?” he asked and the roughness of his voice made your heart somersault.
“Couldn’t sleep, I’m not used to sleeping anywhere that’s not my quarters.”
“So it had nothing to do with me distracting you.”
“How would you distract -?” He merely grinned in response and you laughed, hiding your face behind your hands as your cheeks warmed even more. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, voice slightly muffled from your palms. He wasn’t wrong, he was distracting - especially now, with his voice like it was, his curls mussed, that tank top, his hand still on your waist and the invitation still hanging between you, unanswered - but while he slept, he was distracting for another reason: he was relaxed. You liked seeing that on him.
“Yeah I am,” he sounded unrepentant. You lifted your head up to find that his grin was slightly lopsided, but there was such a level of warmth and sincerity in his eyes and expression that it made your pulse quicken more than his attempts at flirting had, especially when he continued, “and it got you to laugh. That’s all that matters.”
You stared at him for a moment, like you were seeing him for the first time, and then you were surging forward to slot your lips against his. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he sat upright so he could kiss you back properly, the duvet bunching around his hips at his sudden movement.
When you parted for air, you kept your forehead pressed to his, and said, “You offered to keep me warm…”
He leaned back, raising an eyebrow, “Do you -?”
You grinned mischievously yet bashfully at the same time, “Snuggle?”
Poe’s expression softened and he flopped back onto the bed, holding his arm out for you to curl into. “Always.”
You grinned, scooting closer to him, lying back against his arm which he wrapped around your body, his fingers playing with your shirt sleeve as you threw your own arm around his torso. With his free hand, Poe pulled the blanket back over you both and then leaned down to kiss your temple.
He waited until your breathing leveled out and he was certain you’d successfully fallen asleep before he allowed himself the same, his heart content as he dozed back off.
the pilgrimage
(gif by me)
summary: canadian thanksgiving turns into something else.
word count: 3k
warnings: none
note: so i was originally going to post this during canadian thanksgiving but then i didn’t finish in time lol. so here it is. lemme know what you think :)
You knock on Jamie’s apartment door with your elbow. Your arms are full with a cooler bag of Tupperware containers.
It was the day after Canadian Thanksgiving and you just flew back from Toronto to Dallas and headed straight to Jamie’s apartment after getting your car. Your mom had truly outdone herself this year when you asked if you could bring some leftovers for a friend.
Keep reading
I would like #36 from General with Laurent Brossoit please.
You swore you couldn’t stand him. And you swore that when you kissed him, it didn’t mean a thing. He was just accessible, and he didn’t seem to expect anything from you, and quite frankly, you preferred it that way. It was easy, and once it was over, you could move on without the fear of any feelings getting in the way. Well, at least you thought you could.
Nothing changed, at first. Sometimes you would stumble into one another at parties, make out, and then go your separate ways. He didn’t complain when you wouldn’t ask for his number or completely ignored him for the rest of the evening. You were sure that he knew that the feelings you had for him were even less than platonic, and that he knew exactly where he stood. That is, until one of his teammates had to go and ruin the façade.
“You know, he doesn’t stop talking about you,” Mark smirked as you sat down next to him on the couch after grabbing yourself another drink from the kitchen. The party tonight was more lowkey, but everyone on the team was still there, and you could feel a familiar stare fixed on the side of your head as you did your best to ignore him.
“Who?” you asked nonchalantly, and Mark rolled his eyes.
“Don’t play dumb,” he huffed, his amusement still evident in his tone. “I don’t really know what your intentions are with him, but he’s basically a love-sick puppy when it comes to you.”
Your stomach churned at the thought, and you couldn’t stop yourself from turning to face the man in question. Laurent was standing across the room, leaned against the wall as he talked to Connor, even though his eyes were still very much fixed on you. You weren’t sure if Connor had noticed that Laurent wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention, or if he just didn’t care. Either way, you didn’t look at him too long before you were turning away once more.
“He shouldn’t be. He knows what this is,” you replied shortly, and this time, Mark scoffed.
“Do you?”
You didn’t think too much of Mark’s question, and instead of replying, you just brushed him off. You spent the next couple of hours carefully avoiding Laurent and his persistent stare as you mingled with the rest of the group. It wasn’t until you found yourself alone in the kitchen a little bit later that Laurent finally managed to catch up with you.
You felt his towering presence behind you, and you smirked to yourself as you slowly turned to face him. The look on his face, you knew, was meant to come off as cocky, but you could see the frustration in his dark eyes as he gazed down at you.
“Don’t you have something better to do with your time than stalking me through this house?” you teased, the annoyance that was normally reserved for him now missing from your tone. Laurent chuckled as he took a small step closer.
“Why can’t I get you out of my head?” he asked, his tone signifying that he thought that you would magically have the answer to it.
There was a stirring in your stomach at his comment, and while a few weeks ago you would have agreed with him, now, you caught yourself staring at his lips and reminiscing on how they felt pressed against yours. It was a dangerous thought, and while you could pretend that it was still just part of your unspoken agreement, Mark’s words from earlier snuck back into your head.
“I’m just too good to forget,” you replied, your smirk growing as you felt better being able to channel your newly insecure feelings into your typical snarkiness. However, when Laurent’s hand lifted to brush along the underside of your jaw, your confidence faltered, and the stuttering in your chest caused you to lose your breath.
“I think you think about me too. More than you’d like to admit, even.”
You rolled your eyes, but with only half the conviction, and it was clear immediately that Laurent could tell. You hated that.
“I don’t know about that,” you sighed, the rest of your argument dying on your lips when he leaned in closer.
“Well, maybe I need to step up my game then,” he whispered, and just when you thought he was about to kiss you, he dropped his hand back to his side and turned to walk away.
You were stunned for a moment as you watched him disappear back towards the living room, your mind whirling over his words and what he was insinuating. No, there were no feelings involved, you assured yourself. Only, when he didn’t kiss you, you couldn’t ignore the sinking in your stomach and the disappointment you felt when he turned away from you.
You had sworn that you couldn’t stand him, but maybe, just maybe, you were in deeper than you thought.