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DUA LIPA via Instagram (April 4, 2025)

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psst:    the  best  way  for  us  to  start  writing  is  to  just  pounce  into  my  dm’s  /  discord  +  start  wordbuilding  our  little  bebes.  just  sayin  (":

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whatever  you  do.  don’t  imagine  le/stat’s  face  when  he  heard  vampire  by  miss  rodrigo  for  the  first  time.

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though  she  sputters  and  makes  no  real  move  to  avoid  the  toss  of  grass,  eliza  doesn't  hesitate  or  falter  in  her  answer  of  his  sensitive  question  -  not  even  for  a  moment.  her  smile  remains  honest  and  present  as  she  answers  confidently,    "mhm."

there's  so  much  about  this  newfound  (not  so  new  anymore)  exposition,  setting  and  company  that  feels  foreign  -  impossible,  even,  that  she  could  be  permitted  to  receive  such  love  and  light  with  no  second  thought  offered,  no  reciprocation  counted  past  honesty  of  the  heart.  it's  frightening.  she  knows  hurt  at  the  hands  of  those  who  are  meant  to  love  you  -  daily,  she  feels  the  aftershocks  of  it.  (eliza  would  suffer  her  own  demise  before  inflicting  that  type  of  pain  on  anyone  with  half  a  heart.)  still,  the  humanity  of  it  all  weighs  heavy  on  her  shoulders;  would  that  it  were  easier,  would  she  accept  it?  probably  not.  this  is  reality  -  bloody,  bruised,  marred  and  all.

the  familiarity  shared  between  eliza  and  clark  feels  like  a  golden,  gleaming  line  of  fate  tied  around  and  between  their  hearts.  she's  still  covered  in  grass  as  she  comfortably  leans  forward  and  extends  her  pointer  finger  to  trace  a  'x'  over  his  heart,  pulling  back  and  mimicking  the  same  gesture  over  her  own.    i  am  you,  and  you  are  me  -  all  heart,  all  the  time.    there's  an  emboldened  vulnerability  in  her  eyes,  in  her  smile;  he  knows  it,  he  sees  it.  she  sees  it  right  back  in  him.

but  he  could  say  the  same  about  her.  couldn't  he?    eliza  swallows  once  as  her  gaze  darts  from  her  crossed  legs  in  the  plush  grass  beneath  them  before  anxiously  looking  back  at  clark.    "kinda  scary,  actually,"    she  admits  -  feebly  at  best.

i know you far better than you know yourself. @strnza

people may know who clark kent is, but very few know what clark kent is. like anyone else, there, lying just under the skin, is a secret interior life; some are complex with several rooms sequestered from prying eyes while others are made to be less intricate. simpler, but not any less important or any less admirable. some days he wishes his interior was comprised of the latter. less room, less dark within which to bury his secret self. just .. less.

but as his father would so often insist, safety is paramount, but not only his own safety, but the safety of others, especially loved ones.

of course he's discovered why. sometimes, the hard way, because once someone knows who and what you are; once you give them access to those fleshy, more vulnerable pieces of yourself, it can be utilized against you in the aim of doing irreparable harm. one must be judicious about who they open the door for and who they allow over the threshold.

eliza isn't one of those people that you anticipate hurt from. not ever.

" maybe so. " clark pitches a fistful of freshly plucked green grass at his dear friend. " but i could say the same about you, couldn't i? " it's mostly rhetorical, but at the same time he discovers that he's seeking confirmation. that, yes, he does know and that yes, he's placed his faith & trust in the right person.

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leave  ur  offerings  for  eliza  in  the  replies  so  that  she  may  finally  let  me  write  tonight.  <3

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Reblog this if you admire the person who reblogged this before you.

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downloaded  mobile  tumblr  just  to  say  that  the  new  s/uperman  exists  solely  to  take  the  argument  that  ‘morally  good  characters  are  boring’  and  shove  it  right  up  everyone’s  ASS!

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⚡      random  INCORRECT  QUOTE  EDITS,  bc  i  feel  like  it  (:      /      @rockerb0y    +    eliza.

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⚡      random  INCORRECT  QUOTE  EDITS,  bc  i  feel  like  it  (:      /      @yllowpages    +    eliza.

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⚡      random  INCORRECT  QUOTE  EDITS,  bc  i  feel  like  it  (:      /      @cloudboxing    +    eliza.

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HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY !! 🎉🎉

THANK  U  SO  MUCH  BABIEEEEEEEE  (“:  johnnyliza  5ever  and  you  are  simply  one  of  the  greatest  gifts  i  could  receive  in  the  form  of  a  lovely  human  +  writing  partner  who  matches  energy,  enthusiasm  and  creativity  so  well.  SO  VERY  GRATEFUL  FOR  YOU  BEYOND  WORDS  <3

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a little birdie told me it’s your birthday, so i’m here to say, happy birthday fellow crustacean! 🥳 you are genuinely one of the best, sweetest, and kindest people i’ve come across in the rpc, and your dedication to eliza is so incredibly inspiring. i’m glad our paths crossed because my dash is a lot brighter with you on it. hope you had a wonderful day, and here’s to another amazing trip around the sun. 💛💛💛

fellow  crustacean  i’m  crying…..  rika,  you  are  just  the  sweetest.  happy  cancer  season  to  my  fellow  crabby  and  ilysm.  you  and  carol  are  consistently  such  a  gift  to  all  of  us  <3

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BEAUTIFUL FRIEND I HOPE YOU’RE HAVING FUN ON VACATION ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ i love youuuuuuuu

HI  DID  U  KNOW  THAT  I  LOVE  U  SO  MUCH  AND  U  BRING  SO  MUCH  LOVE  AND  LIGHT  2  MY  LIFE  ON  THE  DAILY?????  tysm.  I  am  kissing  u  on  the  forehead  always  <3

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!oijoijoaidsjFSDF

TYSM  POOKIE  GORGEOUS.  it’s  a  delight  to  have  u  in  my  mutuals  and  i  can’t  wait  to  get  eliza  +  frank  together  (“:

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eliza  mannerisms  to  a  tee.  <3

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The world is violent and mercurial — it will have its way with you. We are saved only by love — love for each other and the love that we pour into the art we feel compelled to share: being a parent; being a writer; being a painter; being a friend. We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love.

Tennessee Williams

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melt - muse a holds muse b’s face gently, drawing circles into their cheeks with their thumbs. / from lestat. hello. he is doting on his beautiful vampire bride.

in  this  moment,  there  is  nothing  else.  there  is  no  music,  there  are  no  heartbeats,  no  blood  -  no  sun,  no  moon,  no  time,  no  passage  of  life  onto  the  next  -  fate  is  a  will  of  their  own  making.  as  eliza  stands  before  lestat,  he  intentionally  draws  her  focus  entirely  upon  himself;  she  nearly  melts  into  his  body,  leaning  against  him  without  reserve  or  apprehension.

the  moon  hangs  high  in  the  sky.  the  celebration  of  the  evening  has  mellowed  into  a  feverish  sort  of  joy;  the  'wedding'  basks  in  a  warm  glow  of  familiarity,  of  normalcy,  of  mortality.  of  a  promise  made  to  those  who  know  better  than  to  ask  questions  on  a  topic  that  has  no  handbook.  there  it  is  again  -  the  jagged,  bracing  reality  check.  the  formidable  opponent  of  overwhelming  emotions  attached  to  her  newfound  nature.  delight,  exhilaration,  self-hatred  and  fear  all  in  one  breath.  sounds  of  happiness  all  around  her  only  add  to  the  chaos  trapped  in  her  lungs.

eliza  is  promptly  hyperaware  of  how  dry  her  throat  feels  -  how  tight  the  white  silk  around  her  ribcage  is,  how  harshly  the  candlelight  illuminates  the  faces  of  her  family.  eyes  dart  between  the  visuals  of  val  and  carlo  feeding  each  other  a  slice  of  cake,  danny  downing  a  flute  of  champagne,  younger  children  asleep  in  their  chairs  ...  the  pit  in  her  stomach  suddenly  feels  emptier,  larger,  hungrier.  it’s  meant  to  be  closure  of  a  sort  -  isn’t  it?  or  is  it  all  just  pretend?  she’s  losing  track.

it  is  lestat's  touch  that  brings  her  back  to  reality.  it  is  the  unyielding  comfort  of  him,  in  all  his  faults  and  freedoms,  that  tenderly  reminds  her  that  this  semblance  of  a  life  is  made  to  count  for  something.  this  frivolous  event  marks  the  promise  of  something  long  gone  to  those  who  still  possess  mortality.  to  the  unspoken  questions  (your  eyes  -  what  happened  to  them?),  to  the  worries  of  newfound  habits  and  star-crossed  lovers  (when's  the  last  time  you  got  some  sun?),  to  those  who  live  in  the  right  atrium  of  her  dead  heart:  breathe.  she’s  going  to  be  alright.  she  isn’t  alone.

a  single,  crimson  tear  escapes  from  the  corner  of  her  eye  -  eliza  holds  faith  that  lestat  will  soon  thumb  it  away.  she  nods  into  the  feeling  of  his  thumbs  over  her  cheeks,  swallowing  back  deeper  sentiment  and  turning  her  chin  to  press  an  intentional  kiss  to  his  right  palm.  this  is  exhausting  -  and  yet,  he’ll  have  a  hard  enough  time  dragging  her  away  before  the  morning  dawns  on  them.

"thank  you,"    is  all  she  can  muster,  lest  she  relents  and  gives  into  the  lump  in  her  throat;  the  melancholy,  the  worry,  the  love  -  the  aching,  bitter  love  of  it  all.  it's  still  too  much  to  bear.  the  stifling  flood  of  fervor  hits  her  like  a  tidal  wave,  electing  to  choose  joy  in  all  this  mess  and  pressing  another  kiss  to  lestat's  palm.

"vieni,"    eliza  beckons  him;  she  feels  like  a  tiny,  little  thing  with  a  shadow  as  big  as  the  choices  that  have  led  them  here.  she  just  wants  him  to  swallow  her  whole,  take  away  every  thought  that  pleads  anything  but  implacable  humanity.  give  her  the  space  to  enjoy  this  moment.    "dance  with  me."

*        MEME,    still    accepting        /        @cloudboxing        🤍