#a promise of hope ( wishlist )

[vigilskept]

N & Y <3

a-z fandom questions

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom.

desperately need people to hurry up and arrive at the understanding that you can enjoy a piece of media that is imperfect & that critiquing something doesn't mean you think people who enjoyed it should be imprisoned for the crime of bad taste or whatever the hell seems to make this so scary.

unethical yuri............. please. the patient (me) needs it to live. give me ghilandruil yuri. meredith/elthina fucked up chantry power dynamics yuri. some kind of nightmare inquisitor/celene political flirtation yuri. mythal/literally anyone at all yuri. there's so much here to cook with. PLEASE.

felassan.

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

i feel like i am starting to pick some things about fma bc of ur meta about it so there is that lmao

otherwise pwotr, tes, fallout, star wars, and now clair obscur: expedition 33

[nymphea0]

His Youngest Wife

Yan! Count Lysander Albert x Wife Reader

Manhwa : Marronnier Farm Near by the Imperial Palace / Marronnier Farm Next to the Imperial Palace / 宮殿の隣のマロニエ農場 / 皇宮裡的馬洛尼埃農場 / 황제궁 옆 마로니에 농장 / My Farm by the Palace​

Author/Illustrations : Jung yeon / Ollcha(Art)

Manhwa : Fluff / Comedy / Fantasy Manhwa (17-18+).

Ilustrations Acount : ollcha🐥🕯

Count word : 1585 word.

HAPPY NEW YEARS MY DEARS🦋🎆. Is late but hope this years all our wishlist will be came true. this is the fic that i promised a few days ago, i hope you like old men like Lysander hahaha, he's so handsome, i can't hold back, and the fact the manhwa was warm slice of life genre and comedy, and all the chara was good and chef kiss! I think soons i will make other chara in this manhwa🤭, anyways, enjoy my story, i try my best to make it fluff but i guess is fail? Well, i hope you all have a happy new year, much love- Neva🦋🦋

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

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In the Bratania Empire, a prosperous, wealthy and stable Empire. Led by Emperor Iskandar Lionslore Deon Alekto. A handsome young emperor aged 22 years.

Under the emperor's division. There are 4 holy knight commanders

Namely;

Commander of the Holy Wood Knight of the High Elf Family.

Commander of the Holy Flame Knight of the High Vampire 'Noble One.'

Commander of the Warbear Family Knight.

Last was Commander of the Holy Wind Knight of the Golden Cat Sith Family. A 19-year-old cat fairy boy.

But... there is one noble who is right beside the emperor, Count Lsyander Albert.

The man who holds the responsibility for the internal affairs of the imperial palace and is also the direct representative of all Pro-Commoners.

The man who has entered his thirties, unfortunately... does not have a wife.

The reason is quite simple, namely because he is too busy working and does not have time to think about household problems.

Until one day, here he was, standing in front of the emperor who was busy staring at the small hut, watching his farmer neighbor and saying ideas that didn't make sense to him.

"Your Majesty, I believe that the idea of ​​getting married at my age of 3 years old, is somewhat unethical"

Is, the emperor who was busy staring at his neighbor's house just snorted biasedly.

"Count. You know your age is no longer young, ethical or not, there is no prohibition for someone to marry, old or young as long as it is in accordance with the law"

Is looked at the count then patted the count's shoulder gently.

"Count, are you worry theres no one women want you?"

"Your Majesty?!"

Count Lysander stared in disbelief at the emperor's clear words.

As for Is? He just chuckled as he walked away leaving the order, which for Albert was very difficult.

"You have 2 weeks, Count, get married or you will take care of all the internal work of the empire"

The Count just sighed roughly, while thinking in his mind, where could he find a wife?

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. .

For a week he searched for a wife, nobles, highborn ladies, even commoners to smallfolk he searched, but none of them fit his criteria.

Until entering the second week .. exactly one day before the 3rd week appeared. He met a woman, from a bankrupt noble family. A baron. A noble with a title but without power or wealth. His old heart beat fast as if he was drinking his favorite coffee even though he was drinking coffee, when he saw you he felt his life was in front of his eyes, he fell in love for the first time.

Working hard in a small grocery store, supporting himself. That woman is you, At first the count courted you in a normal and formal way. But you were too shy and always ran away when you saw him.

Until the count decided to use coercion, kidnapping you by force and marrying you by force.

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You, a young woman who is only 20 years old, still single and has never had a boyfriend, struggling to make a living by running a small grocery store, suddenly a man who is already in his thirties seduces you, for you the man is handsome, of course, from the way he dresses to how neat his hair is, you know, this person is an insider of the emperor. A noble.

Even though you are also a noble, the title of baron that you inherited from your parents means nothing.

But here you are?! In a luxurious room that you are sure, even the bathroom is bigger than the dilapidated hut where you live!

Unfortunately you want to run away but can't, because the one who married you is none other than, Count Lysander Albert. The emperor's official aide as the person in charge of internal imperial affairs and also the representative of the common people.

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Lysander, for the past 2 weeks has been observing his wife carefully, his wife who is so young and beautiful, different from himself who is old and looks more like a father than a husband.

During the day, Lysander did not dare to sleep in the same room or even touch you as the first night of the bride and groom. He felt very inappropriate to be with you.

Until one day, Lysander accidentally passed the garden in his residence. Seeing his beautiful and pretty wife, chatting friendly with several noble ladies there.

But the topic of their conversation was what made him silent and wipe his face.

Lady Istar and Lady Maurien. The two women openly spoke so brazenly and boldly to you.

"Lady... seeing how far your relationship with the count is, I do not expect more, the count is old lady. So lady do not be sad if the count cannot satisfy lady. That is normal, right lady Istar". Lady Mauren with sympathy made to pat your arm gently with fake sympathy.

"If I were you, I will certainly try my best to please the Count with my efforts, haa.. the Count is a perfect husband, even though he is old"

Meanwhile, Lady Istar, could only laugh awkwardly hearing Lady Maurien's bold words!.

"Thank you for your concern, Lady Maurien, but the issue of whether or not my husband is able to give me pleasure, that is my business, not yours. Excuse me"

You decided to leave the garden, arguing with the two noble ladies only drained your energy, for you, Lady Maurien's intentions were very clear. Jealousy, even though the Count was already in his 30s, his handsomeness had not faded at all, unmatched wealth, power equal to the emperor, even, being the emperor's father figure when he was little.

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Tonight, you slept alone as usual, the room was this big. Even the husband who married you by force had not shown his face for the past 2 days. It had been 2 days since you had been married to the count.

You were on the balcony, enjoying the night view, only to be surprised by the door to your room being opened roughly.

Turning around, there you saw, your husband, Count Lysander Albert. With hair that was... quite messy and untidy as usual.

The distance between the room and the balcony was also not that far, you could smell the scent of his expensive musk mint cologne at night with the cold air.

"Wife"

His hoarse voice with a deep that makes your hair stand on end. Lysander, looking at you who is so beautiful tonight, you are always beautiful in his eyes, always and forever. With a simple white nightgown, loose hair that moves softly due to the night wind.

"Wife, do you think.. I am like what they say?"

The sudden question made you think deeply, who does your husband mean as "they"?.

"I don't understand what you mean, husband and-" before you could finish your sentence, you were cut off by him first.

"Old and impotent, can't give you pleasure because I'm old, do you think I'm like that?"

Lysander stood right in front of you, gently holding your chin so that you looked right at him.

"Did... husband hear the conversation in the garden?". You felt that you were walking between fragile ice, just asking the wrong question. It could be that your relationship with your husband who was already distant became even more distant.

"Just answer, yes or no"

With a low growl Lysander stared at me sharply.

"I don't-"

"Are you not sure?"

Roughly and frankly Albert quickly pulled your waist, pressing your lips gently to meet, soft and warm, Lysander expertly explored every inch of your mouth and teeth, making sure every corner remembered him.

Gently releasing your embrace, Lysander brought your foreheads together, speaking softly.

"Wife... I know, I forced you to marry this old man, you must not love me either, but my dear, allow me to love you, show you, that I am not just an old man, I am also not impotent my dear wife"

Lysander gently led you into the room laying you down on the bed gently.

"Allow me, to show you, how good I can make you feel good, make you pregnant, make you the mother of my children in the future"

Lysander kissed your forehead gently, down to your neck and kissed your neck passionately with full of love.

"My love, I will show you, how long I can devour you, cry or beg, don't expect me to stop before you pass out"

That night, lit by the full moon that was willing to peek from the window, illuminating the high and beautiful sky at night.

Lysander or people who knew him as Count Lysander Albert, the prime minister of law under the emperor directly, claimed so confidently his wife for the first time, carrying out their first night that they did not have time to do.

Just when you had passed out unable to keep up with the brutality of your husband Albert. Lysander just stopped, chuckled softly before kissing your forehead affectionately, cleaning your entire body with love until it was clean and putting on his clothes that were big enough for you.

Hugging you gently, Lysander looked at you with love. Lysander whispered softly in the quiet night.

"Sleep my wife, I love you, even if the world ends, I will look for you to the end of the world, my wife. My love"

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Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Story.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

[truthscrapper]

Truth Scrapper FAQ!

📚 What is Truth Scrapper? Truth Scrapper is a romantic fantasy mystery visual novel from the creator of In Stars and Time, coming to PC! Check out our website for more info 😁💖📚

📚 What is the gameplay like? As a visual novel, much of your time in Truth Scrapper is spent reading dialogue and interacting with characters. You will be able to make choices that influence the outcome of the story, and click to explore certain scenes or use specific items 💭⌛📚

📚 How long is it? We think maybe ten hours, but the game isn’t done yet, so we do not know! 🤔⌚❓

📚 How many endings are there? Truth Scrapper will have THREE unique endings/routes, including one “true” ending 💝🧵📚

📚 What is it made with? Truth Scrapper is made with Ren’Py 🥰💻💃

📚 Who is making it? Adrienne Bazir, aka insertdisc5, creator of In Stars and Time, Serre, and other things! We are also working with contractors for marketing, production, music, and SFX! (A complete list of credits will be available in the game.) 📸✨🎨

📚 Is there a demo? While there is currently no playable demo for Truth Scrapper, there will be one in the future! Be sure you sign up for our mailing list and follow our socials to be notified when it drops 💌📪📬

📚 When is it releasing? When it's done! 🤣😅😃

📚 What are the content ratings and trigger warnings? You'll be able to find more information about specific content and trigger warnings on our website closer to release. Truth Scrapper deals with some tough themes and mature content, though it is not a sexually explicit or significantly gory/violent title 😮😲😨

📚 Okay, but what do you mean by “toxic lesbians” in the marketing copy? Truth Scrapper is a game that features grown up characters with complicated feelings and lives who don’t always make the best decisions for themselves or one another. It is not a grim, dark game, but don’t expect to see a cast that would get a good grade in therapy here… 😁🔪😱

📚 Is this a sequel/prequel/at all related to In Stars and Time? insertdisc5 says: "Nope! Truth Scrapper is a whole new game, in a whole new setting! Of course, as you will discover, they will share many themes, but that’s just because I made it. I’m very grateful for the whole lot of love people have given Siffrin and the gang, and I hope in time you’ll find a spot in your heart for my terrible terrible girls."

📚 Betz uses he/they! Are they a girl? The three of them are some flavor of genderfluid. They are not necessarily women. But they are Girls! We hope that explains it 😁😄🥰

📚 How do you pronounce the main characters' names?

Sosotte: So-SUH-t

Amour: Ah-MOO-r

Betz: BET-ss

📚 What platforms is it coming to? Truth Scrapper will be released on PC, Mac and Linux, specifically for Steam, as well as other potential pc-only digital outlets such as itch.io! 😀🎉🎫

📚 Is the game coming to console? Never say never, but at this time, we have no plans to bring Truth Scrapper to console. We are a small team (one person, plus contractors!), and we want to be mindful of our resources. If this changes, we promise to tell you! 🎮🕹🃏

📚 What languages will it be in? Currently the only confirmed language is English, but we will be evaluating our costs and options for localization throughout development. This game will have a lot (a LOT) of words, so while we would love to bring it to as many languages as possible, we have to be mindful of our resources. Thank you for understanding! 💦💦💦

📚 How can I support the game? Be sure and wishlist Truth Scrapper on Steam, and follow us on socials! ⁠😍🥰💕

[fabuloustrash05]

Hazbin Hotel Season 2 Predictions/Wishlist

Lilith is the main antagonist but Charlie and the others don’t know

Lucifer is a massive simp for his (ex?) wife (Like Manny’s dad with his ex wife in El Tigre)

The Vees get a more primary focus, while Lilith is the main antagonist they can be the secondary antagonists

Alastor betrays the hotel

And because Husk and Niffty’s souls are owned by Alastor they also maybe betray the hotel by helping Alastor against their will

Sir Pentious in Heaven shenanigans

Cherri missing Sir Pentious (maybe they start a long distance relationship, if possible?)

Emily rebelling against Sara

Sir Pentious meets and befriends Angel Dust’s sister, Molly

Angel Dust reunites with his family (drama ensues)

Adam comes back as a demon in hell.

Adam becomes a guest at Charlie’s hotel in hopes to return back to Heaven (after knowing it’s possible to be redeemed once learning that Pentious got to Heaven)

More of Husk’s backstory. See flashbacks of him during his Overlord days

Niffty lore

Huskerdust moments, maybe feelings start blooming between them or even have them kiss?? Or hold hands. I’m happy with either

More Alastor vs Vox

Charlie has to do the favor she promised Alastor

Alastor stops smiling (Lilith may or may not be the reason)

Eve appears?

[lilwhoresposts]

i hope some of you are feeling generous because i just made a wishlist and posted it in my bio so please show me some love :) i promise to reciprocate <3

[failgirl-toybreaker]

Ok, time I delivered on one of my old promises, its my detrans/misgen note game for mtftm content 🫣💙😈

Here goes nothing 😅 I'm making this based on some suggestions from mutuals and from some stuff I've seen on other mtf detrans blogs, so hope this is as fun for you as it will be for breaking this fakegirl 🥴

(Spams aren't encourged, I don't have very high hopes for reaching the extreme goals, prove me wrong?)

For every:

💙 10 notes: I'll jerk off to MLM/Cock-focused porn

💙25 notes: I'll send an anon to a fakeboy/mtf boy to fix me (after a certain point it'll just be unsolicited cock pics)

💙50 notes: I'll add another masculine clothing item to my wishlist (jock strap, harness, gym clothes, etc.)

💙100 notes: I'll push back taking my E another month (i plan on refilling my rx again before the holidays)

💙500 notes: I'll post a series of pics from all the stuff from my wishlist (wearing nothing else)

💙1000 notes: I'll hook-up with a random man that will misgender me 🙈

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

love in a bottle ⛫💨

pairing: perfumologist! joshua hong x reader contains: friends (idiots) to lovers, too many descriptions of perfume, swearing, fake dating out of spite, the perfumologist job as a plot device, etc. a/n: requested by @studioeisa, my loml <3 official playlist of love in a bottle can be found here.

Liked by yourusername, xinganhao, booseungseung, and others

love-in-a-bottle Jo Malone's Mimosa and Cardamom cologne sprays mists of honeyed, golden mimosa float above the spiciness of freshly crushed cardamom. Creamy tonka and smooth sandalwood woven under powdery heliotrope and Damask rose picked at dawn. Warm, ethereal, mesmerising. On top, cardamom spice has hints of lemon and adds an effervescent contrast to the warm floral heart. However, Powdery mimosa adds a honeyed and warm floral character illuminating the heart of the fragrance.

View all comments user1 great recommendation as always! user2 adding this to my wishlist rn! yourusername it's not bad. but, you should not wear it if you are going to a wedding. no matter how nice it smells, it can't fix your bad mood when people start flirting with their plus ones 🙃 ⤷ love-in-a-bottle hello! please don't blame it on the cologne if you can't tell your date when something bothers you. user3 i smell drama ⤷ user5 don't bother. this is their usual flirting. i WISH there was drama. at least then there would have been some progress ⤷ user6 i think this time it's more serious?? booseungseung i am never sitting at the same table as you guys ever again. ugh oblivious idiots make me so angry ⤷ nonver 👍

Liked by yourusername, studioeisa, scoookcoups, jeonghaniyoo, and others

love-in-a-bottle Santal 33, developed by perfumer Frank Voelk, opens with leather, wood notes (some entangled cedar and sandalwood with a dash of turpentine) and a creamy accord (smelling a bit like mixed coconut and tonka bean). Then, after about three hours of wear, Santal 33’s leather, sandalwood and most of its cedar disappears (along with its early promise) and an inexpensive-smelling, candied, slightly floral musk aroma appears.  The sandalwood might seem overpowering to some at first however, I recommend that you give it a chance. Like love it needs time to grow and after a few hours, you will see the iris and violet notes shine.

View all comments yourusername i love it!! especially recommend it if you are a couple ⤷ love-in-a-bottle Since it's unisex, it can be a couple's item too. A special thing connecting them 👀 user1 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA user2 CHAT ARE YOU SEEING THIS ⤷ user3 god me when 😭 user4 can someone tell me why are people losing their minds in the comment section????? ⤷ user5 the admin of this page and @_yourusername know each other irl and had been flirting-teasing-bantering for almost a year. and they finally got together. hope this helps! ⤷ user6 dude i was this close to banging their heads together and just KISS ALREADY user7 pls pls pls pls pls i need to know who confessed first? ⤷ yourusername he did 🙊 ⤷ user7 HELP I AM GOING TO CRASH OUT user8 MY SHAYLAAAA user9 omgomgomgomg my parasocial relationship is canon dsdaskjdks

dividers from @thekagemusha and @firefly-graphics

[jennifer-jeong]

Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

Fluff + Angst | LADS x Fae!Reader Angel

CONTENT Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[inthelittlewood]

Hi Martyn! Merch question here. I think you guys said the current merch is limited edition, but how limited is it? Do you know how long you’ll have it for? I’m trying to decide if I should buy it myself or if I can put it on my wishlist before it’s too late.

So I was able to shed a little more light on this question today on stream, it's definitely worth echoing here

The merch is a one time drop. It will definitely be available for as long as Secret Life is actively releasing but won't be much longer afterwards (if at all)

If the series is short, it may stick around post-finale. If the series is long, it's more likely to conclude when the last episodes drop. So you really do have to nab it now to ensure you don't miss out!

I promise we're not trying to be vague on purpose, it's moreso we don't have a concrete date decided and we're playing it by ear.

Hopefully this gives a clearer gauge of things and I've seen lots of people saying they hope to purchase stuff with money they'll get at Christmas, it's looking very unlikely that that is a possibility for you. Sorry

(btw just a side note, THANK YOU to everybody that has purchased things, it's an unbelievably powerful support tool for every creator in the series and very humbling that people want to wear the brand!)

[sherlocking-out-loud]

connecting dots from all the bts and from my imagination, here is my spec / wishlist for bucktommy for the rest of the season:

in one of the next episodes before the two parter emergency, Buck and Tommy will run into each other in an emergency. Buck may try to talk to him, like "Hey Tommy, I--" and Tommy will coldly greet him with a "Firefighter Buckley" and keep on walking, or will just pretend not to hear him, idk

Buck will bake again

then in the big emergency - a very high stakes and dangerous mission that requires a LAFD helicopter pilot - Tommy will volunteer

Buck finds out somehow and convinces Athena to drive him to the place where Tommy is going to depart from: a helipad on top of a high-rise

Buck makes it in time and maybe tries to convince him not to do this mission. Tommy will ask, confused: "Why do you care? I thought you said you had no feelings for me?" and Buck will be taken aback: "No, that's not what I meant! I do have feelings for you! That's why I don't want you to do this! I'm terrified to lose you!" and Tommy, surprised and hopeful and scared, "What are you saying?", and Buck tells him, as the sun starts to set behind them, "I'm saying that I love you, Tommy.", Tommy kisses him and whispers "I love you too, Evan", and that's when his radio interrupts them and he says "I have to go, there's no one else and they need me", Buck holds his face in his hands while telling him, "Promise me you'll be safe. Promise you'll come back to me." and Tommy will reply "I promise"

obviously the helicopter will crash and Tommy will be severely injured

the whole 118 will help rescuing him, Buck will go with them (nobody would dare to stop him). when they get to him, his heart will stop and Buck will be the one to restart it, screaming "You promised me!!!! Come back, Tommy!". after they arrive at the hospital and Tommy is wheeled in behind the ER doors, Buck will break down, dropping to his knees sobbing

after Tommy's surgery Buck will not leave his bedside for one minute. the 118 takes turns bringing him food and coffee.

Tommy will eventually wake up a few days later to a tired, scruffy Evan by his side. a few moments later the rest of the 118 will join them, to Tommy's surprise and confusion: "What are you guys doing here? Is someone else here in the hospital?" and one of them (Ken or Bobby or Hen) will say "We're here for you, Tommy, you may no longer work on the 118 but you're still one of us"

and then the season ends with Tommy asking Buck to move in with him (either to his current place or to a new one they look for together)

🕯️🤞

[alwaysshipping1]

The Bear S4 wishlist

Sydney rediscovering her passion and joy for cooking

Syd is my girl, and she deserves a win! It was heartbreaking to see hopelessness slowly take hold of her in S3. She gives so much to everyone around her. She has a hard time relying on others, but we saw her try in S2. Will she ever get to receive good things in return?

More focus on Syd’s character. A Syd-centric episode!

Let’s dive deeper into her story. A tattoo reveal? Yes, please! Someone calling her out on how guarded she is? Absolutely! Just give me more Syd, period!

Carmy to fight for Syd to stay!

Show her you care with actions! Words are pretty but meaningless when empty promises follow.

Carmy finding his joy in cooking with someone again—specifically Sydney, ofc!

Carmy has a lot of personal work to do before that can truly happen. But in S1, we saw how much he enjoyed cooking with Mikey. I can’t fathom Carmy stepping away from cooking altogether.

No Claire-Carmy endgame

There are so many red flags in this relationship. A reconciliation would feel reductive to Carmy’s narrative arc. With all the Donna-Claire parallels many have written about, it just wouldn’t be believable to me.

A paupiette of Hamachi discussion!

I refuse to believe the writers inserted that beautiful, meaningful moment just to completely ignore its significance. I NEED a scene where Sydcarmy revisit this!

Sydcarmy in any way, shape or form

If S4 is the last, I’d obviously prefer full-blown Sydcarmy, but I’m not categorically opposed to a subtle ending—the suggestion that they’ll find each other in the future (even though it’s not my preference and I’d side-eye the writers big time). Perhaps Sydcarmy taking space before finding each other and coming together for real. Imagine Syd being the CDC or the EC of her own restaurant in a foreign country (say Japan, Sydcarmy shippers know!), years down the line, and Carmy surprising her. A simple yet powerful moment: hands grazing, shoulders brushing, eyes sparkling with THAT stare, the heavily implied suggestion of something more. No more boss/employee dynamic, just equals.

A redo on the SydCarmy food tour that never happened!

I have hope the writers will circle back to it, but I’m still pissed about this missed opportunity.

Leaning into found family theme

S3 had so many characters feeling stuck. A recurring theme in the show is found family. Let’s lean into that! Develop it properly. What grows together goes together, right?

Less Faks and less Claire, please!

Carmy, apologize to the woman who told you to never apologize. Get it over with and move on. Close that chapter of your life. The next one is glorious!

[iwishiwereagirlfr]

Hihihihi! My name’s Aeris. Maybe. I’m not sure yet, I haven’t found anything that really sticks or I feel comfortable with, but this name has stuck with me for a long time, and I like it a lot. My pronouns are She/Her.

I’m 18, I am autistic, have ADHD, Social Anxiety, and probably a lot of other stuff that’s gone undiagnosed, and I’m transfem. (Also I’m maybe poly? Haven’t had a real relationship, but at least for now, I’m not exclusive) This blog is basically entirely devoted to hornyposting or venting, so please engage accordingly.

To that note, I love getting DMs and Asks of all kinds. You can flirt with me, talk with me outside of sex, whatever you’d like. Just know I’m not that great at talking, so I’m really sorry if you feel like I’m being short or I’m uninterested or if I don’t respond, I promise I’m not doing it maliciously. Also, I’m Pan, but I have a preference towards Women, especially t4t. That’s not to say men can’t interact, of course not, like I said, I’m Pan, but YMMV.

As for the kinks I’ll probably discuss, they tend to vary a lot. I see something I like on my feed and it tends to inspire something similar, so a lot might be included, but there are a lot of recurring things, and I try to tag everything accordingly.

Kinks:

Petplay, Collars, Oral, Musk/Scent, Sweat, Praise, Degradation, Exhibition (I love getting asks like I said, please, I love them), Forcefem, Rough sex, Frotting, Freeuse, Being Owned, Under The Desk, and basically anything else that isn’t in my Limits and is directly related to me being a sub/bottom. Somno, intox, cnc, for example, and a lot of other hard kinks are also things I’m into, but I will try my best to tag appropriately whenever they’re in a post.

Limits:

Scat, Detrans, Heavy Gore (This doesn’t include blood play, I’m fine with cutting and blood), and Vomit. (Not a kink limit so much as a privacy and dysphoria thing but I don’t send pictures to people. MAYBE if we get close and I’m comfortable around you. But even then it’s unlikely.) This list may grow or shrink in the future, and it’s also not a DNI list. I don’t mind if other people are into these, they’re just not what I’m personally into.

If you’d like to support me, here’s a link to my Throne! It’s my wishlist of things, or you can always just donate something random. Or you don’t have to, nothing is expected, but greatly appreciated.

Buy me gifts from my Throne Wishlist

Anyways, this is all I can think of off the top of my head, I’ll update this if I think of something or get told to add something. I hope you enjoy my feed, and I hope you’ll reach out for whatever, if you’d like to!

[straberry-witch]

Hello!

I am the strange little person who is hosting the 4pm Homestuck meetup at dashcon two! As far as we know it will be in the heritage gardens but that is subject to change. I have hosted Homestuck meets before back in the 2010s so I promise I know what I’m doing lol maybe hahah! Anyway I’ll be putting together a list of photos we’re gonna take. We will of course be taking requests day of but the list is just to streamline it so we can get as much done as possible.(it’s 2025 people we the homestucks will not be making a public nuisance of ourselves we are gonna get everyone’s wishlist for pictures done within the allotted time! You know like grown ups) If anyone wants me to add something to the list please let me know. DMs, asks, replies, and reblogs are all perfectly valid ways to let me know what to add. I’m all kinds of reachable lol. Anyway, I hope to see everyone there!

[nothingtolosebutweight]

| Pairing: Ivar x Heahmund | Words: ~5300 [AO3] | Masterpost | Warnings: None | Notes: @sodjdhsns - you asked for chapter 8 - here it is :D I'll post a little epilogue in a few days and then this story will be finished.

ლლლლლლლლლლლლ

8. Love of my Live

"I don't like the area where this one is in," Ivar said, his voice carrying a forced neutrality that didn’t quite mask the sharp edge underneath as he pushed the paper on the table in front of him further away from himself, as if he could push distance between himself and the current topic with this gesture as well. He wanted to have nothing to do with it, wanted it to vanish from his sight.

Heahmund glanced up from the paper he held in his hand, arching a brow. "Okay. Fair point. But just to be sure, you do recognize that this apartment meets every other point on our wishlist?"

A shrug followed. Wordless. Defensive.

Ivar didn't meet his gaze. Instead, he picked up a loose corner of another real estate listing next to him on the couch, tearing a tiny piece off of it. He rolled it between his fingertips, then flicked it toward the floor. The fifth one already.

Grace, who had been curled up nearby, perked up, interest widened her pupils. Lazily, she pounced on the scrap like it was prey, nudging it forward with a paw before leaping after it with wild kitten theatrics.

Heahmund’s eyes lingered on her for a second, grateful for the absurd calm of a creature who expected nothing more than something to chase. Then he turned his attention back to the listings in his hand, purposefully staying calm.

"What about this one here?" he asked, holding out another flyer with a hopeful tone, his finger tapping on the image of a sleek, well-lit flat. "It's a bit further from the city center, but it has the large balcony you said you wanted."

"It’s way too expensive," came Ivar’s immediate reply after just one short look.

"It’s not. We can afford it easily."

"Only if you pay more than your fair share. I don’t want that."

"You’re a student with no income. Should we look for a tree house, then?" Heahmund smiled slightly, trying to keep the tension light.

Ivar rolled his eyes, the gesture as loud as a groan. "Don’t be stupid."

"Then tell me, love. According to your logic, what should we be looking for?"

"I can pay my part of the rent," Ivar muttered, crossing his arms. "I pay my share here, too."

"Your parents do."

"Don’t fact-check me!"

The room tensed. Heahmund had to bite back a chuckle - he knew better than to let it slip now. Ivar wouldn’t see the humor, not when he was this coiled up. He’d take it as mockery, wouldn’t see how plainly the stubbornness was written all over him. He was in a defensive mode - his default setting when his feelings didn’t match his logic.

They were arguing. Again. Recently, it felt like they couldn’t have one productive conversation about their new home without it spiraling into this. Frustration. Mistrust. Silence followed by snapbacks.

The apartment search, which had started with cautious optimism, had devolved into a minefield. Every suggestion Heahmund made was deflected. Every viable flat was turned down. And though neither of them had extravagant wishes, nothing seemed right. Mostly, Ivar didn’t seem convinced by anything.

Heahmund slowly counted to three in his head before he reached over to grab Ivar’s hand, gently, but with intent. He shifted closer on the couch until their legs touched, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to the curve of Ivar’s neck, just below the ear. That spot usually softened him. Today, Ivar only stiffened.

"Can I ask you something?" Heahmund murmured, lips still brushing skin. "But you have to promise to answer honestly."

A low grunt was the only answer he got.

"I’ll take that as a yes," Heahmund said, a faint smile ghosting across his mouth. When Ivar began to turn his face away, Heahmund gently caught his chin, guiding it back just enough for their eyes to meet. "We don’t have to make a decision now if it’s too much, but let us talk about one thing, alright?"

Again, Ivar did not express his opinion verbally; instead, he gave a small, grudging nod. 

Heahmund recognized it for what it was - a signal that Ivar was at least trying. He resisted the urge to sigh. This was familiar terrain. There were days when he felt more like a crisis manager than a boyfriend, but at least now, after a few joint therapy sessions, he knew the terrain better. He knew when to push and when to gently coax the door open, which Ivar didn’t always realize he was about to close.

"So, are you capable of answering a question?"

"I’m not retarded," Ivar snapped, immediate and sharp, eyes narrowing, his body still stiff, alerted.

Heahmund didn’t flinch, holding his ground. "I know. And you know that’s not what I was implying." He squeezed Ivar’s hand again, not just to touch him, but to anchor him, quiet, intentional contact that said I'm here. With you. Not against you. His thumb moved in slow circles across Ivar’s skin, the rhythm steady and calm, like a heartbeat passing through fingertips.

Ivar looked away but didn’t withdraw his hand. His jaw was still tight, his spine taut as a wire, but Heahmund could feel the subtle shift, the way Ivar’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly, the smallest sag in posture that betrayed exhaustion more than anger. His fingers no longer clawed at the torn paper. Instead, they stilled, uncertain, trembling faintly. Then, slowly, almost shyly, Ivar turned his hand in Heahmund’s palm, until their fingers aligned and laced together.

Heahmund nuzzled his nose against Ivar’s neck, kissing the spot right after. Once, this moment would’ve tipped. Ivar’s sudden tension, the deflective sarcasm, the silent push-away. Before therapy, before their break, this would have been the point at which everything would have gotten out of hand, at which shouting would no longer be far away, threats of violence hanging in the doom-filled air.

But not today.

"I’m not looking for a fight," Heahmund said calmly, voice quiet but steady. "I’m trying to understand. For me, it feels like you’re looking for faults in every apartment, because you’re not ready to leave this one."

"I just don’t like the options. It’s as simple as that." Ivar shifted, trying to pull his hand free, fingers twitching with the impulse to retreat. But Heahmund’s grip tightened, gentle but unwavering. A silent message passed between their palms: You don’t get to run this time.

"But none of them? Not even one?" Heahmund tilted his head slightly, studying Ivar’s profile. "You said yourself last week that the last one was almost ideal."

"And? I changed my mind later. Isn't that allowed?"

Heahmund paused for a second, pondering about the best way to proceed so as not to pour fuel into a growing fire. "Of course it’s allowed," he said, nodding. "But... what changed?"

Ivar didn’t answer.

Heahmund waited. That too was something he’d learned by now - not to fill silence out of discomfort, not to rescue Ivar from sitting with it. Eventually, Ivar glanced up, annoyed by the quiet, maybe, or by the patience that somehow irritated him more than confrontation ever did.

"Maybe I don’t want to move," Ivar finally muttered, shrugging with exaggerated indifference. "Go ahead, call me selfish. Or dramatic. Or whatever fits today."

Heahmund let out a quiet sigh, then leaned in again to place a soft kiss on Ivar’s head. "Thank you for being honest."

"That’s it? You’re not going to tell me I’m being unreasonable?" Ivar asked, irritation layering in his voice.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don’t think you are."

Heahmund squeezed Ivar’s hand tenderly and wrapped his other arm around his waist, drawing him in until Ivar was nestled against his chest. He would have preferred to face him directly, to read every shift in expression, but he knew better by now - eye contact would only make Ivar feel cornered. So he let him have his little cave.

"I understand that you’re scared. And I know you hate change," Heahmund said, his fingers stroking slow, calming lines across Ivar’s stomach. "I know this apartment feels like a part of us to you. "But moving won’t undo what makes us us. It just means we’re writing the next chapter somewhere else, together, still."

He hesitated for a moment, then added quietly, "I need that new chapter, Ivar. Not because I want to forget what this place meant to us. There were good things here. Really good ones. I treasure those memories too, believe me." His smile was soft and brief, fond as those moments replayed in his mind like the closing credits of a film. But his smile faded quickly, making room for a more serious expression.

"But they’re not the only things this place holds. It also holds everything we didn’t know how to handle back then. Every fight. Every silence. I still see the dents and cracks in the walls from the nights things boiled over. And every time I unlock the front door, I remember how it felt to stand there before I left. How empty I  was at that moment, knowing I couldn’t fix us."

As the words settled between them, Heahmund pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of Ivar’s head, lingering just a heartbeat longer than usual. His hand slid upward from Ivar’s stomach, fingertips brushing over ribs, before wrapping around him fully, his arm settling gently across Ivar’s shoulders, coming to rest just beneath his collarbones. His elbow rested on Ivar’s chest, the side of his wrist tenderly grazing his throat. 

Ivar stayed quiet, body still pressed to Heahmund’s chest, breathing slowly and even. He reached for the arm looped around him and laid his hand over it. His fingers didn’t push away, didn’t resist. Instead, they moved lightly over Heahmund’s forearm, tracing the faint hairs, the warmth of his skin.

"I don’t want the new place to be something you just agree to because I pushed for it. I want it to be yours, too. A space you actually like. Somewhere you’ll want to come home to, not just because I’m there, but because it feels right to you, too." Heahmund continued as Ivar stayed quiet. "That’s why I need your input. What matters to you?  What would make you feel comfortable, safe…maybe even excited? And when your opinion shifts, when something that seemed okay suddenly doesn’t feel right anymore, I want you to tell me. I just need to know where your head is at, so I can make the right suggestions. I know the idea of moving is still hard. for you, love. I’m not asking you to love it overnight. But I want to go through this process with you. Not alone. Not dragging you behind me."

Heahmund paused, waiting to see if Ivar would like to say something, but he stayed quiet. His fingers, though, betrayed him. Restless, they kept tugging gently at the fine hairs on Heahmund’s arm, twisting them in slow, uneven motions.

"I know it’s a lot to ask. But please…try. For me."

Ivar listened, jaw tight. Nothing Heahmund said sounded unreasonable. If anything, it made perfect sense. He wanted to give him what he asked for, he really did. And he knew he should be grateful that Heahmund still wanted this. Wanted him. That he kept being patient and kind, even now, even when Ivar was being difficult, unable to hold onto the openness he’d promised.

The thought tightened something in his chest. Guilt rose quietly, shame curling in behind it. He let out a long breath, then rubbed along his jawline, fingers pressing hard - as if he could force the tension out by sheer force.

"I feel like I’m failing you again," Ivar muttered, finally breaking his stubborn silence, his voice rough at the edges.

"You’re not," Heahmund replied immediately, his arm tightening slightly around Ivar.

"You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better."

"I’m not saying it to make you feel better," Heahmund said. "I’m saying it because it’s true. You’re still here. Still letting me in, even when it’s hard. That’s not failure, Ivar. That’s you trying. And that’s enough."

Ivar let out a dry, humorless laugh. Sharp and brief - quick, instinctive, like he couldn’t help but brush the words off.

"Yeah. Trying. Great." He shook his head faintly. "I’m sure that counts for something in the grand competition of not being a total mess," he mumbled, sarcasm covering the fragile crack beneath.

Heahmund didn’t react with words right away. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow, steady kiss to the back of Ivar’s neck, letting his lips rest there for a moment. "Let me remind you that I don’t need a picture-perfect Ivar," he said softly after a few moments, whispering against damp skin. "I don’t expect you to flip a switch and be happy all the time about everything...although I would wish for nothing more than for you to be happy."

Ivar shifted, uncomfortable, and Heahmund responded by softening his embrace. "But are you not mad? That I’m…like this? That I can’t just… be normal about it?"

Heahmund shook his head, voice remaining calm and steady. "Your feelings, no matter how overwhelming, have a right to exist. You’re not wrong for feeling them. I just don’t want you to carry them alone."

Ivar didn’t say thank you. He didn’t have to. Instead, he turned around, slow and a little clumsy in the movement, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask for comfort and was doing it anyway. Heahmund understood immediately and opened his arms without hesitation, shifting just enough to give Ivar the space to curl in.

Immediately, Ivar folded into him without resistance, his body fitting into the familiar lines of Heahmund’s like muscle memory. He pressed his face into the crook of Heahmund’s neck, nose brushing the warm skin there, breathing in deeply. There was something familiar woven into Heahmund’s scent - skin, laundry soap, the faintest trace of aftershave. But also something that wasn’t so easily named. Something grounding. Safe. Something that always made Ivar’s shoulders drop, his jaw loosen, his heartbeat slow down just a little.

"I love you," Ivar whispered against warm skin, letting the words sink in as he pressed a soft kiss there, more instinct than intention.

Heahmund tightened his new embrace, one arm around Ivar’s shoulders, the other at his lower back, holding him close, like something precious.

"And I love you."

And that, more than any answer, was enough for now.

ლლლლლლლლლლლლ

The apartment felt empty now.

Not in the way people often said when the furniture was gone, but in that strange, disorienting way a place changes once it no longer holds your life. The walls were still the same off-white, the air still carried a trace of citrus and old wood. But the warmth was gone, like it had quietly packed itself into boxes and followed them to the new address, leaving only cool shadows behind.

Heahmund stood at the threshold to the living room, keys idle in his grip, staring into the quiet that had settled over the room like dust. No echo of footsteps, no hum of routine. Just stillness. As if even the apartment itself had accepted it was time to let go.

"You’re not crying, are you?" Ivar’s voice came from behind, teasing, but soft-edged.

Heahmund didn’t turn, just let out a breath of a laugh. "Would it make you feel better if I were?"

Ivar stepped up beside him, shoulder brushing his. Instinctively, Heahmund’s arm looped around his waist, and just as naturally, Ivar rested his head against his shoulder.

"Maybe. I could use the leverage. Imagine what I could achieve with a photo like that."

They shared a quick laugh, one that didn’t carry any heavy weight behind it. Not one that had been used too often in the past to soften mood swings. This one felt like familiarity, something easy and light. Silence settled over them again as they stood together, eyes drifting across the space that had once been theirs. A space that had held sharp words and long nights, laughter and sorrow. There were echoes here - of arguments and apologies, of first steps toward healing and nights spent curled up to each other, some in tense silence, some filled with moans and soft confessions of love.

This apartment had been a greenhouse for their relationship, fragile growth beneath harsh conditions. A sanctuary. A war zone. A home. Now, stripped to its bones, it felt small. Not in size, but in story. Its role was complete. 

"Are you alright?" Heahmund asked eventually, voice low, glancing sideways as Ivar raised his head to look at him.

After their last serious conversation, the apartment hunt had gone faster than Heahmund would’ve thought possible. Not because Ivar had changed completely overnight - he hadn’t. But something had shifted nonetheless, and when a too-good-to-be-true listing had appeared - open layout, huge rooftop terrace, tall windows, tucked quietly outside the city - Ivar had been the one to nudge Heahmund’s phone toward him, murmuring, "This one doesn’t look too awful."

From there, things had moved quickly. And now they had a place with enough space to grow new things, enough space to build a happy future together, and - according to Ivar - enough room for ten more cats. But sometimes, in the quiet between tasks, Heahmund caught himself worrying, watching Ivar a little too closely, looking for cracks. Wondering if he'd pushed too soon. If Ivar had only gone along to keep the peace, without having had the space to truly make peace with it himself.

"Yeah." Ivar answered, smiling at Heahmund. "It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would."

The truth was, it had hurt at the beginning.

The first empty boxes had felt like monsters - open-mouthed and greedy, ready to swallow everything familiar, everything that felt like his. He’d stared at them and felt the quiet panic rise, convinced that packing meant losing, that the life he’d carefully pieced together would vanish into cardboard and tape.

But that mood, dramatic and raw, had shifted quicker than he'd expected. Not because he suddenly loved the idea of change, but because something about the change brought Heahmund to life in a way Ivar hadn’t seen in a long time.

They’d packed together, far more slowly than their timeline allowed, constantly distracted by shared memories, pausing to argue mock-seriously over what to keep and what to throw away, interrupting themselves with dumb jokes or sudden kisses.

With every box sealed, Heahmund had grown lighter. Not just emotionally, but physically too, looser in his movements, freer in his words. There was a new rhythm in his steps, an ease in his voice. More and more, Ivar had begun to see the smiles, real ones. Not the polite, practiced kind. Not the worn-out smiles Heahmund gave when trying to be strong for both of them. These were honest, whole-body smiles, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made Ivar’s chest tighten with the feeling of love and attraction.

Shared moments within those last weeks instantly replayed in Ivar’s mind like bright, fleeting reels, as he thought about the reason why his heart was not too heavy right now.

Heahmund dancing barefoot in the hallway of the new flat while reorganizing bookshelves, swaying awkwardly to music he claimed to hate. The way he’d snuck up behind him mid-painting, streaking blue paint across his cheek, laughing like a kid who’d just broken a rule on purpose. The sound of his giggle, bubbling up out of nowhere. The glint in his eyes when they made plans for the new place - not careful, cautious plans, but excited ones.

Ivar had always loved Heahmund’s measured calm, his unwavering presence, the adultness of him. Heahmund had always been the stable one. The voice of reason. The anchor when his moods turned jagged and unkind. That strength had made him feel safe. 

But this lighter Heahmund, the one who teased and grinned and chased him down a hallway with paint on his nose, this version had made him fall in love with him all over again. Madly.

And for that alone, Ivar would’ve packed a thousand boxes more.

The old place didn’t matter anymore.

Because what he was gaining, what they were becoming again, meant so much more to him.

"I'm glad to hear that," Heahmund said, slowly breaking free from their rigidity to finally take the last necessary step.

Heahmund’s expression softened as he leaned in to kiss Ivar, saying goodbye to their apartment with gestures full of affection this time, a lightness in his heart that stood in big contrast to the time almost two years ago. Back then, he had felt a different kind of weight in his chest. Leaving had felt like cutting something off. An arm. A future. He had been sure never to come back.

But this, this was different. Now he was leaving with something.

With someone.

"You know," Ivar said, nudging Heahmund lightly with an elbow, "if we’d moved when you first wanted to, our new home wouldn’t even have been on the market back then."

"So your stalling was actually strategy?" Heahmund asked, amused.

"I like to think of it as fate using my resistance as a tactical delay."

"You’re insufferable."

"You’re welcome."

The teasing didn’t feel like covering anymore. It wasn’t hiding tension. It was light. Easy. Honest.

Heahmund turned his head slightly, eyes fond as he got serious again. "You did good."

Ivar looked at him sidelong, something flickering behind his gaze that he didn’t quite let surface. But his voice was soft when he answered. "So did you - and now let’s go before you actually start to cry. Grace is waiting."

Again, Heahmund’s mouth switched into a smile. "She’s surely sunbathing on the terrace, not missing anyone right now."

"I bet she is, like the damn queen she is. She settled in quite quickly, right? But still, she won’t sit with me even though I’m the one with all the best snacks."

"She did brush against your leg last night."

"She tripped."

"She’s warming up," Heahmund said gently.

Ivar gave a skeptical shrug, but didn’t argue any further; instead, he nudged Heahmund toward the exit, not wanting to dwell any longer within those empty walls. 

ლლლლლლლლლლლლ

The sun cast a warm, golden haze over the rooftop terrace, settling on the cushions of outdoor chairs and the freshly planted herbs along the railing - a newfound hobby of Heahmund’s, much to Ivar’s amusement. The grill sizzled quietly in the background, while the terrace was already buzzing with laughter and conversation. Ivar’s family had nearly all arrived, filling the space with their usual noisy presence.

Everyone had brought something, and the large table they had bought just two days ago was already put to its first serious test, loaded with drinks, snacks, and bowls full of overly ambitious side dishes.

This barbeque was a way of saying thank you, because, as much as the brothers liked to complain on any other given day, when it had mattered, when Ivar and Heahmund had asked for help during the move, they’d all shown up. Even Sigurd. No eye-rolls, no convenient excuses. Just steady hands, car trunks full of boxes, and more banter than actual muscle.

Heahmund leaned against the railing, a cold glass of lemonade in hand, watching Ivar soak up the attention from his family like a cat the sunlight. He was joking with Ubbe, stealing chips from Hvitserk’s plate while balancing a bowl of salad in the other. His cheeks were flushed with warmth and ease, his entire posture relaxed. He radiated that unique blend of mischief and peace, and Heahmund couldn’t look away, soaking up the familiar chaos that almost always came with the Lothbroks.

He loved Ivar’s family like his own. He always had. He had never just been tolerated; he had been included. Loud dinners. Long movie nights. Backyard fire pits that went on well into the night. For someone whose own family was scattered - some close, some not, and most emotionally reserved - their warmth and bond had healed something in him he hadn’t even known was broken.

Which had only made leaving them all the harder.

He hadn’t just walked away from Ivar back then. He’d walked away from them, too. No explanations. No goodbyes. Just a single, final message to Ubbe and then silence.

So when they invited not just Ivar, but him as well, to their monthly dinner about two weeks after his return, his first instinct had been to decline. To stay quiet. To avoid the discomfort he knew would come with seeing them again. He’d nearly convinced himself that skipping it would be easier, that there would be other chances, way later.

But in the end, he had gone. Because deep down, he knew putting it off would only stretch the distance further. He couldn’t avoid Ivar’s family forever. And truthfully, he didn’t want to. Still, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so nervous. The drive over had been quiet, his thoughts loud. Were hugs too much now, after once being second nature? Was a handshake too impersonal, after everything they’d shared?

As expected, the first interactions had been stiff, awkward even. The small talk, stilted. Eyes had lingered too long on him for his liking, filled with quiet curiosity, and beneath it all simmered questions nobody dared to ask aloud. But they were there, unmistakable: Are you staying this time? Are you going to break him again?

Heahmund couldn’t blame them, though.

But thankfully, the natural warmth of Ivar’s family had softened the edges quickly. The initial tension ebbed within the first hour, pushed aside by familiarity, humor, and shared history. Those watchful glances turned kind again. And later, on the Lothbroks’ spacious balcony, comfortably decorated by Aslaug herself, there had been honest conversations. One with Ubbe. One with Ivar’s mother. Not planned. Not forced. Just…overdue.

That same night, Heahmund had stood alone outside for a while, the garden lights below casting soft halos against the dark. His eyes had stung, though no tears had fallen. The weight in his chest had felt different then, not heavy with shame, but full of something quieter. Relief, mostly.  Relief of not having been cast as the villain. That they hadn’t reduced him to the man who left, that he hadn’t been treated like a mistake they had no choice but to tolerate for Ivar’s sake.

Both Ubbe and Aslaug had been unexpectedly open.  They hadn’t sugarcoated anything, but neither had they come to blame him. Instead, they’d admitted their own regrets. That they hadn’t seen how much Ivar had been unraveling back then. That they hadn’t realized how much weight Heahmund had been carrying alone. And before they’d said goodnight, Aslaug had looked at him with that steady kind of softness only mothers seem to possess, and made him promise that - should there ever be a next time, even if she prayed there wouldn’t be - he’d come to them sooner. That he’d ask for help. That he wouldn’t carry it all alone again.

He’d promised, quietly, earnestly, eyes already threatening to betray how much it meant to him that they hadn’t welcomed him back out of obligation. That they did it because they still saw him as someone who mattered. Not just to Ivar. But to them as well.

The sharp ringing of the doorbell broke through the chatter on the terrace, leading Heahmund to put down his glass and straighten up. 

"I’ll get it," he offered, already walking inside to get to the front door.

"I’ll come with you," Ivar said, squeezing past Hvitserk, who only rolled his eyes and shifted out of the way.

Right as Heahmund opened the door, Sigurd raised his arm, bringing the item he held closer to Heahmund’s face.

"Housewarming gift," Sigurd said with a smirk. "Hope red’s still your thing."

The smile on Heahmund’s face faltered, not dramatically, just a slight twitch at the corners as his gaze dropped to the bottle. Merlot. Gift-wrapped. Innocent to most. But not to him. And certainly not to Ivar, who had come to stand beside him, one hand lightly grazing Heahmund’s back as he leaned in to see what Sigurd was holding.

"You brought wine?" Ivar asked, the words rough-edged, like he was still processing his thoughts.

"Yeah? Why~?"

Without missing a beat, Heahmund stepped in. He plucked the bottle from Sigurd’s hand with a smooth motion and a quick muttered thanks, then turned halfway, catching Ivar’s eye, sending not a warning but a requesting glare. Not here.

"Sigurd," he continued as he turned back to their guest, tone light, "glad you made it. The others are already up on the terrace. Go ahead, we’ll be right there."

Before Ivar could push further, starting an argument, Heahmund leaned in just slightly and whispered, "Kitchen. Please." His hand brushed Ivar’s arm, not forceful, just enough to redirect. And to Ivar’s credit, he didn’t argue. Not yet. He followed the order, jaw clenched, footsteps tight.

"What the hell was that?" Ivar hissed as soon as the door to the kitchen clicked shut behind them. "He knows."

"He probably didn’t think anything of it. Probably bought it five minutes before arriving, in a rush."

"That’s the problem. He never thinks," Ivar muttered, gesturing toward his own head. "I should push his skull against a wall. Maybe that’ll help get things moving up there."

"Ivar." Heahmund’s voice was a careful mix of warning and amusement.

"Just a little," Ivar added innocently. "In a loving, brotherly fashion."

"No one gets slapped in this home," Heahmund said with a smirk, pulling him close, arms sliding around Ivar’s waist with practiced ease.

"Not even Sigurd?" Ivar asked, his fingers lightly tracing along the curve of Heahmund’s upper arms.

"Not even Sigurd," Heahmund confirmed, brushing a kiss against Ivar’s temple. "Promise!"

"I promise," Ivar muttered, reluctantly. With the glint of mischief only he could pull off in the middle of a moral lesson, he added, "Though I might bribe Grace to teach him a lesson instead. Maybe I’ll lure him into petting her fur. That shiny black death trap. One touch and she’ll claw his soul out."

The mental image made Ivar grin, and Heahmund chuckled softly against his skin.

They stood like that for a moment, close, calm, connected. Then Heahmund leaned back just enough to meet Ivar’s gaze.

"I survived Ireland," he said. "With pubs on every corner and whiskey on every shelf. One bottle at a family barbecue isn’t going to undo me."

"But…"

"No buts. I’m okay," he said gently. "Recovery isn’t about treating alcohol like it’s poison. It’s about not needing it. And I don’t. Not anymore."

Ivar’s eyes searched his, caught somewhere between worry and trust.

Heahmund lifted one hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing lightly across skin. "It doesn’t have power over me. I’m happy, Ivar. You make me happy."

A small smile found Ivar’s lips, hesitant at first, almost shy, but it stayed. Then, slowly, it tugged wider, forming into a grin.

"Must be the blowjobs," Ivar said, deadpan.

Heahmund let out a low laugh and kissed him again, longer this time. "They might be a contributing factor," he murmured against Ivar’s mouth, grinning into the kiss.

When they parted, Ivar’s hands slid down to rest on Heahmund’s hips, holding him there for just a moment longer. He let out a small breath, like he was finally done being mad at the world, at Sigurd, for the moment.

"We should go back," he murmured. “Before someone eats all the good stuff." That this someone was mainly named Hvitserk, he didn’t need to specify. 

Heahmund nodded, pressing one last kiss to the corner of Ivar’s mouth before stepping toward the door. He held out a hand, and when Ivar took it, their fingers brushed, then laced together with the kind of ease that comes from choosing each other, again and again.

ლლლლლლლლლლლლ

[thornsent]

my partner and I are both multiply disabled (mental + physical, we rly won huh) trans queers and we RLY need help moving out!!! we are finally probably ACTUALLY close to getting a spot this time? I've had like 6 places either bail on me or deny me after weeks of stringing me along so who knows. I truly hope, it seems more promising than ever idk!!

vnmo alumirust pypl alumirust@gmail.com csh4pp doppelgougar

more lore below the cut V I am so sorry and I am So tired of this situation

we've been staying with a friend of mine for several months and things have spiraled to the point I'm not sure I consider this person a friend anymore tbh. we've both been trying to communicate our needs and abilities from the beginning but we r not listened to, constantly disregarded, and then told our breakdowns bc of this are disruptive. lol

we have a housing voucher that we've been trying to use all this time but it's been really hard to find a place bc we don't have rental history or any family to back us up financially so even with full down payment in hand we've been getting turned down a lot. my girlfriend's savings from when she was able to work are dwindling fast bc it's all we've had to live on and pay for app fees with (my care team is supposed to be helping w this but they've been negligent of me since I started working w them) and we don't have a lot of furniture we need, as well as needing to get basics like dish soap and laundry expenses etc bc we also haven't really been able to do our laundry here! ough!

so basically the money would go towards first month's rent (we already paid the deposit TwT) getting furniture and household stuff we need, a desperately-needed trip to the laundromat, and anything else like that which would come up! I'm also working on an amazon wishlist for the practical stuff we need, blessedly I still have my mop and broom as they were unaffected by the infestation but other things like my microwave were not spared... ALSO FUCK WE NEED SOME BOXES!! we're gonna hit up a liquor store today but idk we'll see!

[medi-melancholy]

it is officially one month till my birthday, and i am still keeping my annual promise to myself to accept whatever kindness or gifts are offered my way for that one month's time, and allowing myself to simply want stuff in peace

here is my compiled wishlist of stuff, if you'd like to give me a present, card, letter, whathaveyou

and here's my kofi, if you'd just like to leave me a tip

as always, there’s no obligation to do anything for me! i will always value any and every kind of support and encouragement. thank all yall so much for everything, especially with this past year being an extra difficult one for me ❤️ thank you so much for even just being around, and i hope you have a lovely day, whenever you read this!!