#I’m always so inspired by your work! this is incredible dear

[winwintea]

stop posting about BALLER - zhong chenle

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x reader

GENRES ↬ pure crack idk... fluff, romance, some angst if you look in between the lines, chenle loves basketball more than you. unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ inspired by a fic i read on ao3, a tiktok i watched where op got mad at their boyfriend for having headphones in while making out, plus my post here. and also chenle's recent fanboying activity in la. ignore the title its a placeholder for now, in honor of my dear friend @syatchy london stop writing for chenle challenge

WORD COUNT ↬ 1.3K

Everyone had their hobbies. You knew your boyfriend liked basketball, you just didn’t realize he liked it that much. 

Making it your life’s goal to win over the heart of Zhong Chenle, you spent countless hours studying quizlet flashcards, watching a couple of basketball games, even trying to learn the sport as well. Although you were surprised when it didn’t take more than a few dates for you to begin dating. 

Your best friend Ning Yizhuo, on the other hand, had other ideas. 

“I just think he’s a big red flag. Who the hell puts “I’m always ballin’” as their twitter bio?” She’s sprawled across your bed, mindlessly stalking your boyfriend’s social media accounts. “What if your man loves another man more than he loves you?” 

You’re paying her no mind, working on a basketball basics test on your laptop. Eight teams from each of the league's two conferences qualify for the playoffs. The top two teams play each other in the conference finals, to determine the Conference Champions from each side. The winners then play in the NBA Finals. 

Yizhuo suddenly stands up, “Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you ignoring me?” You’re about to answer your next question, until she starts waving her hands in your face.

“What the hell, Yizhuo?” You turn around annoyed. “I was locked in!”

“Studying for basketball is crazy… Just warning you Y/N. Don’t come crying to me when your boyfriend calls you Stephen Curry’s name instead of your own.” 

You punch her in the shoulder, “I swear to god-” 

But Yizhuo seemed unfazed by your attacks, continuing on, “I’m just saying from experience hon. Sports guys like him will never love you as much as he loves his balls.”

“Um.. that’s what she said.”

—

Despite Yizhuo’s warnings and what she seemed so sure of, you and Chenle clicked in a way that none of your exes ever did. If he invited you to the gym, you’d show up with a yoga mat, pretending to do Pilates while sneaking glances at him bench pressing. If Chenle said he was hungry, you’d learn how do use a frying pan, determined to whip up something edible. And if he asked you to come over, you’d throw on your best outfit, adding an extra touch of appeal, and never forget to bring a treat for Daegal.

Spending time with Chenle was easy. It seemed almost too easy, that you began to slightly question why everything seemed so perfect. 

If there were any red flags like Yizhuo pointed out, it was probably too small to see in the mix of fun times you spent together.

Times spent together usually and often ended with the two of you cuddling or making out on his couch. 

Unsurprisingly, Chenle was a really good kisser. Plus, he was good at cuddling. You had no doubts in that moment you laid eyes on him, but everything was certainly up to expectations. He knew exactly how to hold you in his arms and make you feel like you were on top of the whole damn world. 

As you leaned in closer for another this time, your hands running through his hair, you took notice of his features. His incredibly sharp jawline (mewing tutorial when?), the flushed pink splashed across his collarbones up to his cheeks, and now that he grew out his hair longer, it was much harder to see the shape of his ears-

Hold on.

You blink and then squint your eyes for a couple of seconds, hoping you’re just imagining things.

“Chenle. Are those Airpods?”

Chenle immediately pushes you off of him and then freezes.

You see every single emotion flash through Chenle’s eyes, but he’s still speechless. You’d honestly thought you’d been through the entire spectrum of men in your life, from guys who had memes tattooed on their chest to guys who brought their mother to dates to guys with an extremely interesting savior complex, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

Relax. You still had your dignity to protect. “What… are you listening to?” Maybe he was into listening to music while making out, maybe some relaxing sounds people used to cope with traumatic intimate experiences??? You were thinking of anything at this point, trying to brace yourself for the absolute worse. 

“Highlights” Chenle begins, looking at you nervously, “For uh, for the Warriors game.” Before you can even process the info, Chenle rambles on, “We’re so so close to a wild card spot and I wanted to turn the game on earlier, but you were talking about your project you were working on and I really wanted to listen, and right now it’s not like we’re talking about anything important, so I figured it might be alright if I-“

what the fuck… yeah shut the hell up right now please, you think as he keeps rambling, and turn around to grab a pillow behind to smack this big headed shit right in the head. 

“Ow-“ Chenle throws his hands up in defense, trying to block the pillow that comes crashing down. “What? Hey!”

“Zhong Chenle. I’m going to chop your fucking dick off.”

—

In the end, Chenle’s dick remains intact. 

After letting himself get beaten up by a pillow, he manages to get you to calm down, taking the airpods out, which makes you a little bit happier than you were before. 

Chenle leaves you on the couch to take a shower, allowing you to ponder for a bit. Were you being too restricting this way? Chenle seemed to still care about you, and didn’t want to take away time from your own interests as well. I mean… maybe you needed to get into basketball as well to fully understand. 

As you lounge on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through Pinterest, you hear the faint sound of the shower turning off. Before you know it, Chenle slips onto the couch beside you, his presence warm and comforting. In one smooth motion, he curls himself around you, arms gently wrapping around your waist as his head nestles into the crook of your neck. The familiar scent of the shampoo you gifted him lingers in the air, blending with the soft warmth of his skin. 

Your mind's racing, caught between conflicting emotions. And damn, Chenle smells incredible, which really isn’t helping right now.

A minute of silence passes before he finally speaks, his voice soft but serious. “Look, I get if you’re uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to push any boundaries. If that was too much, I won’t do it again. And if this is something that’s going to be a dealbreaker for us, I get it—we can end things here.”

“No, wait—no,” you cut in, setting your phone aside to face him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Okay, it was weird. You’ll give him that. Maybe his “casual” obsession with basketball wasn’t as casual as you thought. And sure, that might be a red flag for some.

But Yizhuo’s wrong. Maybe Chenle’s got a deeper connection with his basketballs than you or whoever she’s comparing him to, but at least he’s never moaned or called you Stephen Curry in the heat of the moment.

That’s gotta count for something, right?

Yeah, maybe this wasn’t so bad. You could get used to this. Besides, he already promised he wouldn’t do it again.

Your thoughts bounce back and forth, but after a while, you break the silence with a quiet, “Did you win?”

His head lifts from your shoulder instantly, excitement buzzing in his voice. “Yeah, we did! Secured our spot in the conference finals.”

Conference finals. Oh, right. You recognize that term—studied it on Quizlet like the good, supportive partner you are.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, swallowing down the nervous lump in your throat. Chenle might be a bit obsessed with the sport, but he was supportive of your own goals and actually a really nice boyfriend. 

“Tell me about it.”

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000

[therealcocoshady]

Somebody Save Me

A/N : Hey friends ! 🥰 My dear @shady-577 prompted me to write this little blurb, inspired by the vibe of the Somebody Save Me music video. I hope you enjoy it. It's a little angsty, but I'm making up for it with some comfort smut 😉.

Hi babe, you greeted Marshall when he walked in the house. How was the music video shoot ? 

Hey, he said. Went fine. M’exhausted. 

Yeah ? You asked. I can’t wait to see the result. When is it coming out ? 

Dunno yet, he hummed. 

Dinner’s almost ready, you announced. 

Great, he said emotionless. I’m gonna take a shower. 

Marshall left the room and went upstairs before you even had the time to say anything. He seemed off but, then again, he had spent two days on set for his upcoming music video. He hadn’t told you too much about it, though. From early on in your relationship, the two of you had set an agreement that work stayed at work. Your significant other was very much a workaholic and this allowed him to maintain a healthy work-life balance. Plus, since you’d been a fan of his long before actually meeting him, this meant you got to appreciate his work when it was ready to share with the world. Though he cared about your opinion, he never let you hear a track that wasn’t done. You weren’t really an expert when it comes to production anyway, much less a lyricist, and you certainly weren’t the one he would come to for advice. The only thing you knew about the music video he’d been shooting was that it was for Somebody Save Me, which was one of the most emotional songs on his latest album. It was one of your favorite and you couldn’t wait to see the result, most likely a few days before it was released for the world to see. Being Marshall’s girl had its perks after all. You finished making dinner and set the table. When Marshall emerged downstairs, his hair was still damp from the shower and he had changed into something comfortable. You could see the exhaustion on his face. Unsurprisingly so. He was often the first person on set and the last one to leave. During dinner, you did your best to make conversation but he wasn’t extremely talkative. 

Marsh… Are you ok ? You finally asked. 

Yeah. Sure, he shrugged. 

Do you want to talk to me about it ? You encouraged him. Tell me what it’s about. You haven’t even told me about the script ! 

I’ve had a long day, he said dryly. I don’t feel like talking about work when I woke up at 4 and just got home. 

Oh, you said. Sure. Sorry I asked. 

You ate in silence and he mumbled something about going to bed before getting up and pressing a quick and absentminded kiss to your temple, leaving you to clear the table. You stayed downstairs for a while after dinner, trying to distract yourself with some bad reality show. When you were tired enough, you went to your room and picked up Marshall’s tee-shirt, which he had only worn for dinner, from the hamper and put it on as a nightshirt. He was already asleep when you went to bed. You could only see his back, but you could hear his soft snores. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing his eyes, hoping to find him in a better mood when you’d wake up. 

It was the middle of the night when you were woken up by a weird noise. Some sort of breathy grunt. You could hear Marshall’s laborious breathing, mixed with whines. You opened your eyes and turned to him. In the darkness of the room, only lit by the pale moonlight, you could see that his eyes were closed. You figured he was asleep and you almost went back to your slumber, until you heard another whine, almost a cry. He had told you before that, at some point in his life, he’d been prone to nightmares but you had never witnessed it. He had always been a rather peaceful sleeper. This was incredibly unusual for him. You heard him nearly choke and decided that you needed to wake him up. Whatever nightmare he was having needed to end. You gently cupped his cheek and called his name. 

Marshall, my love, wake up. 

He nearly jolted upon hearing you call him. You saw him open his eyes that were full of tears and stare into space, visibly stuck between dreams and reality, trying to figure out what was going on. 

I fell, he mumbled. 

No you didn’t, you said softly. You’re in bed. You’re alright. 

I was in the bathroom and I-I fell, he repeated. 

That’s when it clicked. On one occasion,  he had evoked the day he overdosed, recounting the events and how he fell in the bathroom, only to wake up in the hospital, days later. You guessed that shooting the music video for a song about his overdose triggered some bad memories. He had told you all about his past but your man wasn’t exactly one to show vulnerability too often. Seeing him like this was disturbing and it broke your heart. You could see the pain on his face and you wanted nothing but to take it away. 

You’re fine, you whispered. You are safe. 

You gently stroked his face and, after a couple of seconds, you could see him become more conscious. He closed his eyes, his chest heaving. You cupped his cheek and brushed his forehead, noticing how sweaty he was. The contact made him shiver a little, prompting you to remove your hand from his face. 

No, he pleaded. Come back. 

You placed your hand back on his cheek as tears started to roll on his face. You gently wiped them, shushing him, promising that he was alright, and so was everyone. 

I’m sorry, he sniffled. 

It’s fine, my love, you said reassuringly. It happens. 

It felt so real, he whispered. 

It was just a nightmare, you reminded him. 

Thank God. 

You pressed your forehead to his, silently praying that God would make his pain go away. Marshall pulled you closer to him, so that your chest was pressed against his. You could feel his heart being abnormally fast. 

What can I do ? You whispered. 

Just hold me, please. 

You hummed and nodded, shifting the position and allowing him to come in your arms. Your legs were intertwined and he buried his face in your neck. You ran your hands in his back, trying to soothe him, and he held you tight. You closed your eyes, expecting him to go back to sleep, but you felt him place a kiss in your neck, then another one. They went from soft pecks to open mouth kisses against your skin. 

His breathing intensified. It was heavy, needy. You could tell he was desperate for something to hold on to, to ground himself. And in that moment, that something was you. He tightened his embrace some more, his fingers digging in your soft skin through the teeshirt you were wearing. You ran your fingers through his hair, tracing circles, as he kept on mouthing at your neck. You tried to distract yourself from the fact that he was sending shivers down your spine. It felt wrong. You were not supposed to feel arousal when your man was hurting. But you couldn’t help it. Especially not when you could feel him hardening through his boxers. He started slowly grinding against you and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. 

Marshall, you whispered. What-

Please, he begged in a hoarse voice. 

He stared at you in the obscurity with pleading eyes that said it all. It was the look of a man  that needed something, anything to quiet the voices in his head. You could see the sheer pain on his face, you could sense the urgency in his breath. You cupped his face and nodded, letting him know he could take anything he needed from you. He closed his eyes again and dug his fingers deeper in your skin, as if he wanted to make sure this was real. His face found his way back to your neck and his hands found their way under your teeshirt, eventually removing the piece of fabric that was keeping him from feeling your skin against his. His touch was everything but gentle. It was rough and feverish. Marshall’s whole body was tense and you knew he was in desperate need for some release. He resumed his grinding, rolling his hips against you. You hummed softly, tightening your embrace around him and moving in sync. He let out a groan and stopped for a moment, just long enough to take his boxers off and toss your panties somewhere in the bedroom. He stared in your eyes and held your gaze as he spread your legs and positioned himself at your entrance, before allowing himself to sink into you, earning a moan. He closed his eyes as he buried himself into you, his hands gripping you. In turn, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. His thrusts were slow and deep, making sure to fill you to the hilt. He nuzzled your neck, letting our hoarse whimpers while you felt his body relax as he bucked into you. It seemed like the more he melted into you, the less tense he was. Marshall was usually the most generous of lovers, seeking your pleasure before his but this time was different. It wasn’t even about pleasure. It was about chasing away the demons, holding onto something tangible. You felt his tears on your skin as his hips stilled and he twitched inside of you. You held him close as he caught his breath. After a couple of minutes, he looked at you. 

Are you alright ? You asked. 

Better now, he whispered. Thank you. 

Anytime, you said as you cupped his face. Back to sleep ? 

Yeah, he mumbled. 

He laid back in bed and captured you in his embrace. You let out a yawn and closed your eyes, ready to fall back to sleep, and he gently grabbed your hand, giving it a kiss before placing it over his beating heart. 

[bg3ficreviews]

Thunder reforged: Rolan x Dammon - #BG3 FanFic Review

Review by Aivu (@aivuthedragon)

Happy timezone, dear readers! Today I'm happy to bring you this incredible series of works by velocitross on AO3. What's hotter than a tiefling wizard with a knack for a well-timed thunderwave? Said tiefling wizard having a rendezvous with his tiefling blacksmith paramour, of course.

A note from the BG3FicReviews team: The entire BG3 community was been rocked by the recent controversy surrounding Dammon's VA, including the various fanwork creators who've fallen in love with Dammon, included him in their work, and are part of the LGBTQAI+ community themselves. We want to express our support and love to Dammon fans, Dammon fan work creators, the LGBTQAI+ community generally and all those adversely affected by what's happened. As such, we have decided to feature such works in our reviews this week. Make your love louder than the hate. 💜

As always, mind the tags! Our review is continued below the fold due to the NSFW nature of the content in these works.

This incredible artwork by @arczism was inspired by velocitross's Rolan x Dammon fic Working Steel, which is included in today's review.

Working Steel, the first of velocitross’ three works that include this rare pair, is a masterwork in character portrayal. The author adeptly captures the at-a-glance somewhat incompatible personalities of the two tiefling refugees who fled Elturel together and now reside in Baldur’s Gate. In this work, the relationship between Rolan, the ever-surly wizard and the newly ‘appointed’ master of Ramazith Tower, and Dammon, the gentle yet infernally talented blacksmith of the Forge of the Nine, has grown far beyond mere friendship.

Rolan, frustrated by his attempts to catalogue the mindless chaos remaining after the untimely death of the tower’s former owner, approaches Dammon to ask for his help and visits him at his forge. But what could a blacksmith possibly offer a wizard? Well, a good fuck, for one thing. Rolan is pent-up, impatient, and needs a good lay. And, it turns out, so does Dammon. The smut that ensues is not only blazingly hot but also beautifully captures the tender affection between the two tieflings through not only their words, but small, unique gestures of love and care. (Mind the tails. I mean, tags. No, tails.)

In Up in the Tower, it’s Dammon’s turn to visit the wizard’s domain. But the blacksmith receives a less-than-warm welcome, as the ever-grumpy Rolan becomes highly annoyed at having his work interrupted. But considering Rolan is dressed in little more than his underwear and an open robe, I’m more than willing to forgive him for his surliness. Dammon, however, being the sweet, gentle soul that he is, insists on taking care of Rolan beyond his carnal needs alone. In this work, the relationship between the pair deepens, and the author has wonderfully captured the intimacy of the pair. Lastly, we have Within the Storm. This work takes us back to the Shadow-Cursed Lands as the tiefling refugees attempt to cross its desolate lands on their way to Baldur’s Gate. When the Absolute’s forces ambush the group, Rolan expertly wields his magic to stave them off. But when something happens to Zevlor, the battle takes a turn for the worse. In the chaos, Rolan’s siblings, Cal and Lia, are kidnapped and several of his friends and co-travellers are brutally murdered.

Once at Last Light Inn, Rolan is a fucking mess, devastated by his siblings’ capture. Lost in the depths of his despair and way too much drink, the tiefling wizard finds comfort in the arms of a fellow refugee he’d known since childhood - Dammon. And thus the gentlest embers of affection between the pair begin to spark to life. This lovely one-shot serves as a prelude to the author’s much-anticipated long fic about the pair, their growing affection for one another and what looks to be a truly beautiful love story. If you would like to follow velocitross’ incredible work about the love between a tiefling wizard and blacksmith, please be sure to subscribe to the author on AO3 and follow their work and the pending long fic. We have included a snippet of Working Steel below for your enjoyment. As always, please support the writers of our incredible fandom by leaving kudos and comments on their work. 🫶

------------------

Working Steel

By velocitross on AO3

The ring of his hammer fills Dammon’s ears and his attention as he works. A soft frown of focus curves his lips. It’s a simple enough repair—restoring a blade for the halfling woman standing outside the forge watching him work. Still, there’s a satisfaction to it: the rhythm of his strikes, the heat of the day in Baldur’s Gate warming him beneath his layers of apron and clothing. The ordinary busy noise of the city goes on just outside his focus, a subtle, stabilizing comfort even months after the Netherbrain’s defeat.

When he glances up from his work, a distinct figure catches his eye amongst the passersby. Rolan, with his proud bearing and his regal blue and red robes, coming toward the smithy with a tense, bothered scowl and his tail lashing behind him. A smile touches Dammon’s lips. He knows that look.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he says as Rolan comes to a stop an awkward few feet from the halfling waiting on her sword.

“Well, don’t take too long,” Rolan snaps, and then reddens further when Dammon raises an eyebrow at him. “Sorry. I’ll just—I’ll wait.”

Dammon lifts the blade off his anvil to study it. He smiles at the halfling as he passes her the sword.

“Give that a try. Come back if you need anything else.”

She moves off to the side to examine the blade, allowing Rolan to step up to the forge. He stands, arms crossed, his face flushed as he fixes Dammon with his bright yellow stare.

“Anything I can help you with, Rolan?” the blacksmith prompts.

Rolan sighs. He places his hands carefully on the edge of the anvil, glances again toward the halfling woman, and leans in toward Dammon.

“I need . . . Steel.”

Dammon breathes a good-natured chuckle.

“Come on,” he says, nodding over his shoulder toward the building. “I could use a break, anyway.”

[shrinkthisviolet]

It's Love Letters Night! Send love and positivity to your favorite writers and bloggers!

This got really long so I’m sticking it under a cut 😅:

@negative-speedforce you are absolutely amazing. I love your posts and fics, I love Siv, and I love how much you love Nora (your fic about both versions of Nora sharing a name and the ✨insecurity✨ that would cause lives in my head RENT-FREE) and!! You’re an Iris and Reva defender just like me!! 🥰

@vexic929 you’re so amazing and fun to talk to! You have such wacky off-the-wall ideas and you make them work so well and I love you for it 💞 Malcolm, Berrie, and Beth in particular are so dear to me, and so are their fics!

@goldheartedchaoticdisaster you’re so fun to talk to, especially the OUAT stuff lately 🥰 I also always appreciate seeing your comments on my fics, they’re always long and wonderful and you’re just a delight. I can’t wait to see how you write Rowan, I love Nicky and Stephanie, I love your characterization of Mike Barnes and his family (canon to me!! Everyone read “bad boy (no more)”, it’s so good), and your CK Mini-Rewrites? *chefs kiss* you should’ve written the show

@angst-is-love-angst-is-life you pulled me into my current whump fixation headfirst 😂 I love reading through the whump prompts on your sideblog (@whump-is-love-whump-is-life, for anyone who wants to check it out), and I love talking to you 🥰 you also make me cry with how much you hurt Barry in Trophy and 12 hours, but I respect the whumpy endeavors

@fezwearingjellybananas you’re such a delight 🥰 you pulled me into Snowest with “Milk and Sugar”, your fics are so fun to read (and often a niche/novel premise), and I love seeing your sweet comments on my fics! I also so love the cycle of inspiration we’re in 😂 (for context, they got inspired by my Morgan AU to write Speedster Siblings, which (along with Gone in a Flash) then inspired me to write my Daddy Issues AU)

@starstruckpurpledragon (aka @kitkatt0430), you are wonderful and amazing and you’ve written so many amazing fics and meta for this fandom!! You have great takes, super interesting ideas…and you’re so wonderful to talk to. You also (along with @alittleflashvibe) pulled me into Saverb with “You Must Live (For Me)” 😂 much appreciated for that

@alittleflashvibe you are a delight and incredible and your Barrisco takes are such a highlight of this webbed site 💞 you always get me to see something new in their scenes, it’s terrific. You also pulled me into shipping Barrisco in general 😂 (you and @starstruckpurpledragon, as I mentioned above)

@frosty-the-killer-doll hiii I know we don’t talk a lot but I just wanted you to know you’re incredible and I love your takes on Caitlin and Frost—you’ve gotten me to see them both in new ways (that web weaving post about how Frost’s instinct to protect was corrupted by vengeance?? That was inspired, and it’s only one of your many great takes about her and Caitlin!). I also love love LOVE the Jesse fic you wrote, it’s like you read my mind fr 💞 love having you as my mutual

@icedteaandoldlace you’re so wonderful too! I’ve loved following along with your comments as you read my Morgan AU…and you’ve given me such a wonderful appreciation for Kamilla and Kamisco. Your Kamilla & Caitlin friendship fic is so sweet and I love it to pieces

@blackaquokat where to even begin 😅 we’ve been mutuals for like…what, years now? I don’t even remember how it started, but I DO remember your WKM fics and how incredible they are 🥰 your OC for the DA is absolutely how I view them, and your fics are so canon to me, you deserve all the love for crafting such a meticulous world from the pieces Mark gave us.

@seek--rest your fics are OUT OF THIS WORLD and so are your takes!! You’re one of my favorite Spidey fic authors (and that’s a very short list 😂), you’ve gotten me to see him and MJ in such incredible new ways (Irondad but make it MJ!! Ingenious!!), and you have great takes overall (your post-Blip meta my beloved!!), here and in the discord. You also wrote the May & Sally fic of my DREAMS!! Some people might call you an “absolute displeasure to know”, but I couldn’t disagree more, you’re wonderful 💞

@abcd-em on the note of “Irondad but make it MJ”, Vagary lives in my head rent-free 💞 you’ve written PeterMJ in so many wonderful ways, but that in particular really sticks with me. And you’re such a sweet person in general

@hollow-dweller speaking of great takes…hollow you’re practically oozing with them, here and on the discord. I always come away learning something, and you just have so many amazing thoughts?? Also I keep thinking about the Peter & Jessica fic you wrote like…oh my god?? Inspired?? I must applaud you 👏👏

@robbyykeene your CK takes are so incredible, you’re the first account I go to for them, I love reading your posts. You’re so right 💞

@leohttbriar i adore your fics! Your Samtory ones live in my head rent-free, and so does “for what do we live (but to make sport for our neighbours)” like!! You Get It!! You Get Penelope and Charlotte!!

@jenpsaki I can hardly talk about Samtory and not mention you, when you’re the one who pulled me into this ship with “different but same” 🥰 and thank you so very much for that

@arrthurpendragon you are a key pillar of the OC community and so wonderful 🥹 thank you for hosting that exchange event back in July of last year, it pulled me into the OC community and I’m so grateful for it

@lady-of-the-spirit you’re delightful to talk to, you have great takes for pretty much everything (ESPECIALLY Star Wars), I love Hestia, and I’ve never seen HOTD but I love how passionate you are about Alicent 💞

@basimibnishaqs speaking of having great takes about Star Wars…🥰 Rey & Luke being father and daughter especially, I LOVE your posts on the subject. And this fic you wrote about them!! An AU ofc but so very sweet to me 💞

@practically-an-x-man you and I are fairly new to being mutuals but I love having you as one 💞 still chugging through the Ophelia fic, but I love it so far! And ofc as I mentioned before, you write AMAZING whump (as shown in this incredible fic!)

@azaablue your ATLA fics are out of this world, but “beautiful boy” and “Push and Pull” in particular always sticks with me 💞 all the kudos in the world, you Get It, and you’re so wonderful. A gem in the ATLA fandom

@calliopieces your Maiko fics are a GEM in The ATLA fandom, especially “crowning glory” 💞 you just Get Mai and her family situation, and especially Fire Nation girlhood, and I love this fic so much for it

[itsjaywalkers]

hii!! i am still somewhat new to this fandom but i’ve read all of your stuff and ADORE your writing, like you are SO talented, it’s insane. your blog is actually kind of what inspired me to make a tumblr account for this fandom in the first place. you seem so sweet and have so much talent, i hope your day has been wonderful 🫶 do you have any accounts/any mutuals of yours that you’d recommend to someone new(ish) to the fandom? i’m excited to see more fics and art & would love some recommendations !!

hey angel <3

oh this is such a lovely and wonderful message, i read it this morning at work and it warmed my heart (and it was one of the few things that managed to pull me through today's nightmare of a shift). i'm so so so happy that my silly blog encouraged u to join the tumblr side of the fandom?? like, don't get me wrong it's the Worst sometimes but it can also be soooo fun!! you're the SWEETEST and my day wasn't great but it's gonna end on a nice note so <3 i also hope your day was as great as you are!!

oh i have LOTS of accounts.. honestly i think you should follow every single one of my mutuals or any single person you've seen me interact with, but to name a few: @carniferous (one of my favourite writers ever.. no one gets jegulus like dil does they know them personally) @foursaints (one of my favourite artists in the whole world.. made me get properly invested in rosekiller + showed me the bartylily vision) @quillkiller (Amazing writing.. Impeccable takes.. got me into quillkiller and always manages to make me care about ships i don't even like) @static-radio-ao3 (my baby.. wonderful writing with some of the best and most natural dialogue i've ever read.. fucking love how she writes the black brothers every single time) @certifiedl0verboy (india is writing one of my current fav jegulus wips.. aka deep the water.. it has one of the only james ever!! to me!!) @likeprongstostars (THE jegulus fanartist.. to me.. vi is always dropping masterpiece after masterpiece and she's always keeping us all so incredibly well-fed) @sommerregenjuniluft (always and forever kissing lune's brain.. one of the most creative people i know, she blows my mind even with the briefest of drabbles)

that's just a handful but really, every single one of my mutuals is so incredibly talented and dear to me, following any (or all) of them is always a safe bet. mwah <333

[yesiknowimshort]

looking at the fanon from canon with tim drake

(to the best of my own knowledge; take with a grain of salt; i’m open to discussion and disagreement; we can take this like an english lit class analysis)

this is inspired by discussions with @boredandboredmind about misconstrued info with jason and tim on their own posts about it.

also do not take this as hate to tim fic writers, you’re amazing and you best believe i’m checking the tim x reader tag constantly. i just want to be able to help give you easy access to half-canon-compliant info, and you can choose to take it or leave it.

and especially if you only know tim through online media (which is always valid and i’ll hear no argument!), it can be hard to differentiate between what it is “out of character, completely fanon” behaviour, and what is actually plausible.

RELATIONSHIPS

with his dad

tim’s relationship with his dad is extremely complicated. they both loved each other… but both of his parents had a very different way of showing their love to what tim needed.

for the majority of his life, his mother and father were super neglectful of him and his interests, which of course is how we had nine year old tim drake running around figuring out people’s identities and tryna convince nightwing to go back to batman bc tim said batman wouldn’t cope without a robin, as if he knew them personally.

bruce generally disapproved of tim being left alone while his parents were on business trips, so he looked out for tim a lot during those times.

after the death of tim’s mother, his father was all moody for a bit bc his company had gone to shit… oh and his wife died. anyway he was acting like mr crabs when he loses his money for a while until his physiotherapist dana winters was like “yo get a hold of your life man”. so jack attempted to reconnect with his son… but tim was already deep in the mantle of robin and hanging out with bruce wayne.

tim was a little reluctant at first but after a while he did really appreciate his dad trying to be a dad for once… but it conflicted with the life he had already made for himself.

tim was sneaking out to do hero work, skipping school, coming home in the early hours beat and bruised, being snarky and angsty to his dad, super secretive; basically coming off as a reckless hooligan teenager (even tho he really wasn’t) which made jack incredibly angry at tim a lot of the time, causing them to have a lot of fights.

jack was also super insecure as his position as tim’s dad as he felt inferior to the relationship tim had built with bruce.

so one day while tim was out, jack raided tim’s bedroom (10/10 parenting skills there, well done jack) which dana winters was horrified by and actually sided with tim when tim came home and blew up at his dad -anyway jack found out tim was robin.

he stormed to bruce and was like “fuck you and fuck my son’s role as robin. he’s going to boarding school”.

long story short, tim resumes the mantle of robin and his dad deals with it and they begin to really get along again, like a true father and son… and then his dad is murdered. tim finds him and is distraught, and that’s when we get this classic image of tim and bruce:

(it’s horrible obviously but i love this illustration so much. the way tim’s half in and out of the robin gear, the single eye you can see, the way he’s half collapsed over his father’s body and clinging to bruce for dear life) anyway then tim goes into the care of bruce wayne.

with bruce

lemme start of by saying: tim would only ever use the wayne name for business means as future ceo/controlling shareholder of W.E.

tim will always be a drake.

he quite literally made up a fake uncle so he wouldn’t get adopted by bruce, even though bruce really wanted to adopt him. not only that- he went as far as to forge a new will including this fictional uncle to avoid being bruce’s son

he struggled a lot with bruce’s “affection” after his father’s death since he never saw bruce as a father beforehand, only ever as a mentor. and of course, up until later in his robin career, he wasn’t even an orphan. he still technically wasn’t since dana winters ended up marrying his dad and becoming his step-mum, but she’s basically forgotten sadly.

he also consistently makes a point to make sure people know he made himself robin, and it wasn’t batman’s choice at all.

he appreciates bruce of course, but it’s more on an intellectual and emotional level than anything else. tim came from money (albeit, new money), and even though his parents' company basically died with his father there would’ve been some amount of inheritance money. not to mention without a shadow of a doubt, he would’ve had an account his parents had been saving for him.

living in another manor house and working around international companies and important people, wouldn’t be too different from what his life would’ve become had his parents not died.

tim would appreciate bruce not for the life he gave him, but simply because of bruce being intellectually stimulating for him. remember; tim sees the life he has as the life he made.

he reminds me of damian in the fact that both of them would struggle with dealing with people who bored them, people who couldn’t offer them anything.

anyway bruce = respected equal, bruce ≠ tim’s new dad.

 with jason and damian

boom. all you need to know.

nah but seriously...

jason attacked tim in the tt tower when he came back to life but can you really blame him? he was replaced, and it made sense for him to come after tim since as we know, tim forced himself into the role and did, technically, steal jason’s spot before bruce realistically would’ve replaced him.

but they never held that grudge throughout jason’s reintegration into the family. of course they’d have sibling fights (note that tim doesn’t think of any of his adoptive brothers as real brothers; but jason is closest to), but a little roughhousing is normal. i’m the eldest of 6 brothers and believe me, we fight all the time. literally yesterday one of them and i bit each other while fighting (if you don’t think damian and tim would do that, you’re kidding yourself). but we love each other, and if anything happened we’d jump to each other's defence.

moving onto damian...

the way tim views damian is very telling of tim’s worldview and childhood. when damian arrived, tim demanded that regardless of being batman’s son or not, damian must work to earn the love and respect of bruce, “like everybody else” he had said. clear projection from tim here, since up until dami, tim was the only one who wasn’t “wanted” per se, and also tim’s had to work for people’s affection and attention his entire life. look at his parents; they were the half-arsed “that’s great honey” and then back to their phone call type of people (well we know where tim gets his steadfast work ethic from).

anyway, tim finally had the spotlight on him for a while only to have it turned for some little genetic abnormality.

tim’s suffering from the “been the only/youngest child for too long” phenomenon; they do not believe there is room enough in one's heart for more unconditional love. it’s quite sad if you think about it; he was in his mid-late teens by this point.

tim was quite patronising of damian when they were introduced, but he quickly pulled the “i’m just messing with you” card and did try to fix it, but stubborn-as-tim damian just started to preach his favourite “i’ll inherit everything without even trying” play. this obviously pissed off tim to no end. it seemed damian knew the perfect way to get under his skin, and it was putting tim even more on edge. it made him feel insecure in his place with bruce. for the first time tim didn’t think he was gonna be able to get his way easily.

eventually though, batman assures tim that damian being his biological son doesn’t change anything that he has with tim, and that tim doesn’t have to prove anything to him.

yes, if you look up tim and damian, you can see that damian has done some horrible things to tim and the two have very thin patience for each other, but that’s simply because they both understand the perfect ways to piss each other off. it’s just so easy for the both of them that they can’t help themselves.

i also will say that damian views the relationship as much more “mortal enemies” than tim does, but he is a child several years younger than tim, so it’s natural for him to view it as a bigger deal than tim.

all in all, jason and tim, and tim and damian are simply just brothers, and if you have more than two siblings, i’m sure you know as much as we deny it, everyone had a favourite and a least favourite sibling -it’s natural. for tim, his favourite is jason, and his least just happens to be damian.

just like damian’s favourite is dick, and least favourite happens to also be tim.

with stephanie

(now i don’t know as much about steph as i do for tim so feel free to correct me)

stephanie brown got into the hero scene by being the best little shit i’ve ever heard of and messing up her villain dad’s plans. her dad was cluemaster, a friend of the riddler, and she would literally just show up and spoil their plans in annoying ways (hence her name; spoiler).

she was tim drake’s girlfriend -it’s important to note that she wasn’t robin’s. she had no clue about his double life and broke up with him because she thought he was being unfaithful (fair enough).

when tim’s dad took robin away from him, steph stepped up to the plate with a made up robin costume and (like tim) demanded to be the replacement.

her 71 days in the spotlight as the first female robin ended in a couple different ways (thanks comics for making it hard). bruce dismissed her for his belief that she couldn’t follow orders, but he also didn’t believe that she could live up to tim... ouch. he didn’t even approve of her as his partner until she was killed. oh god here we go again...

i personally don’t acknowledge that she died. just- nope. i always look at it as wrong place, wrong time for steph. she could’ve been a great robin, but tim left massive fucking shoes to fill, and i reckon bruce was looking for any little reason to fire her -disobeying one order to not involve herself in a fight just happened to be the perfect opportunity (according to bruce). not to mention steph (and this isn’t necessarily a wrong thing) was undisciplined in hero-ing.

not to say tim was straight-laced and serious, more that him being at an equal mental level to bruce, and the both of them having built strong trust in each other, gave him a lot more leeway to do what he wanted and have the means to back up his actions.

ORIGINS OF POPULAR FANON

obviously i’ll never know exactly where something came from. this is more my speculation and attempt and supplying the headcanons with canonical evidence or debunking them.

where does “tim is a sickly boi” come from?

his lack of a spleen.

i’m not sure if most people now know that’s the reason why, but that’s gotta be how it started.

without a spleen, our body's other organs like the liver can take over many of the spleen's functions. you'll still be able to cope with most infections but there's a heightened risk that a serious infection will develop quickly, especially from certain bacteria and parasites like malaria.

if he got on antibiotics and rested when he started to feel ill, he’d be fine, but tim would never remember to take antibiotics and gods forbid he let himself rest so... he’s working until his body forces him to take a break.

mimi approved fanon  👍

where does “tim doesn’t care for himself” come from?

he’s a stubborn person. people don’t emphasise this enough. usually, people just use the motivation of depression (which, fair, it could be included in it). however, he will literally do whatever the fuck he wants because he’s tim fucking drake and that's all the excuse he feels he needs. like he is prepared to sacrifice everything *cough cough* himself to see his plan go through.

he’s also stubborn in his need to prove himself as we know. as a self-appointed robin; his mantle had felt fragile to him. not to mention damian made his grand appearance to push tim into that sweet sweet middle child category.

and as we already know, his dad also forcefully took the mantle from him and stopped him from seeing bruce. every time things start to go well for tim... it all seems to go to shit.

this in turn led to the fanon of ‘chronic perfectionism to the point of halting self-care in order to complete x, y z to prove himself’.

he also canonically doesn’t care much for sleep; in teen titans when superboy finds him awake tim just goes “it’s only three, i’m checking my emails”.

mimi approved fanon 👍.

where does “tim’s a coffee addict” come from?

he actually is only ever depicted drinking/buying coffee like 3 times (i don’t know for sure, please correct me if it’s more/less).

it ties in well with the previous point; tim’s coffee addiction is a way to justify how he can still function when he’s on 5 minutes of sleep, battered and bruised and still able to kick arse and be intelligent.

mimi approved fanon 👍

where does “tim have abandonment issues” come from?

his mum dies and he loses how his dad used to be.

he gains a better version of his dad and then his dad acts like an arsehole.

his dad gets better again and then his dad dies.

he had steph and then she left him because he just couldn’t explain who he was.

he gets bruce and then damian shows up.

he gets bruce back and then bruce dies, and nobody believes him when he says he’s alive.

yeah... it makes sense.

would be mimi-approved fanon, but i’ve never like the way i’ve seen it portrayed in fanon.

i see a lot in fics he does the “i’m pushing you away first to protect us both” and i just don’t personally agree with the depiction. call me petty but that’s my thoughts.

where does the perception that tim’s the soft one come from?

no fucking clue honestly.

mans blinded deathstroke’s (/jericho, hard to explain) good eye on purpose while delivering a one liner about fighting blind, and then told the man he just fully blinded that he agreed with deathstroke that he (tim) could be vicious when he had to be.

that one-on-one moment in the teen titans comic is demonstration enough of tim being the opposite of the soft one. none of the robins are soft. if we’re going off who’s the most “sensitive”, then it’d be dick or damian -those two have the shortest fuse.

tim blinded someone by throwing his fucking birdarang at the guy’s one good eye and was sure enough and committed enough to what he planned to do that he had the precision to make sure not to take the eye out completely -only debilitate him. that’s some calculated callousness right there.

he also boasted to the teen titans about lying to batman, after he just lied to starfire about staying put in a fight (and his lie used that ‘goody two shoes’ perception of himself; he’s self-aware of how he can come off)… and then he broke his friends out of the tt tower by cutting glass in the shape of a bat. dudes cocky as.

not to mention he literally stalked batman and ran around solving murders and dropping off the evidence to gordon before even being a robin. he was on the CIA’s watch list for crying out loud.

tim is extremely underestimated. to the point where (as @forcesofnatureunleashed accurately described) this “uwu” version of tim has taken over the fandom and made him out to seem like a mega wimp and a quiet tortured soul.

i’m not dismissing the shit he’s actually gone through, i’m just saying he’s gone through enough that you don’t need to make up that he was berated by his dad, can’t talk about his pain, and relies on his tech, when he’s quiet literally the best martial artist in the family and highly respected by ra’s al ghul.

you don’t just get respected by ra’s al ghul; especially if you were an overly sensitive, shaky-knee-ed, spineless, weakling.

STRONGLY mimi disapproved fanon 👎

[xnchxntmxnt]

alone at the edge of the universe humming a tune

for merely dreaming we were snow…

Character: Alhaitham (Genshin Impact)

Warnings: none

Notes: I’m trying to make myself write again. whew. roughly inspired by dream sweet in sea major

gn reader

reblogs > likes

send an ask to join my taglist

Alone at the edge of the universe humming a tune…

“‘Haitham, where are we going?”

“You’ll have to see!”

“We’re going to get in trouble.”

He suddenly stopped his ascent up the ramp to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, forcing you to run into his back. You stumbled back, but his graceful hands caught you from falling.

You found yourself against his chest, one of his arms around your waist and the other clutching your back, helping you steady yourself. He looks up to the sky—the stars were stunning in Sumeru City, you’d thought that since the first time you saw them. But when your eyes found his again, you decided there was something more beautiful.

“Don’t you trust me?” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t know why, but you slowly nodded. Despite being your boyfriend, you never quite trusted his midnight escapades. Him, though, you trusted.

He broke out into a grin and let you go, his hand dropping to lace with yours. The two of you finished your walk, no longer feeling in a rush, and got to the main doors of the sanctuary.

“I’ve seen this a million times, Alhaitham, this is where I take my lunch break when I have time-”

He put his finger to his lips and gestured for you to follow him. Without another word to you, he began climbing past the doors, walking on the branches that crossed over it. Slowly but surely, you followed and climbed the mossy branches until you met up with him.

The two of you sat, legs swinging over the edge of the doorway. If someone caught you, you’d be in incredible amounts of trouble, but he had a rebellious streak you always adored. You sat in the peaceful quiet for a while, enjoying each other’s company, hand in hand.

“It’s beautiful tonight,” you mutter, turning to face him. “Why did you bring me up here, though?”

“I just wanted to see if you’d sneak out with me.”

You scoff and nudge his arm. “Really?”

He buried his face in your shoulder, pressing quick, tickling kisses along your neck and shoulder. It made you tense up and giggle, holding onto him so you didn’t fall off. He took the opportunity to tickle your sides and behind your knee since your hands were busy.

“I yield!” you laugh, unable to say more than that with how much he made you laugh. He finally stopped, a smug grin on his face when he pulled away. “You’re cruel to me, Alhaitham. I wonder why I stay with you.”

Still smiling, he said, “I have no idea.”

**

You stood in the elevator of the Akademiya, impatiently waiting to get to the Grand Sage’s office. It was rather arrogant of whoever built it to make one floor the whole office, you thought, but it was rather convenient that you didn’t have to worry about getting lost.

You stepped out of the elevator, casually walking up to the desk. There sat Alhaitham, so busy with work he probably hadn’t heard the elevator. After the fall of the sages, he’d taken over as the Acting Grand Sage until the higher ups that were still in charge appointed a new one. You were certain they wanted him to just agree to the job, as was he, but he was stubborn about his word. ‘I’m meant to be a scribe, not the Grand Sage, dear’, he said over dinner once. ‘Anyway, I don’t know what I’d do with all that office room.’

That didn’t lessen his workload, though.

“Love?” you asked, leaning on the edge of the desk. “It’s nearly ten, it’s time to go home.”

“Last thing,” he grumbled as he scratched away at the paperwork. That was his usual excuse, but you knew better by now.

You sighed and took the pen from his hand. He opened his mouth to protest, but decided it wasn’t a good idea. “Bedtime.” You don’t leave any extra room for argument, so he decided to concede. There was always tomorrow.

He leaned back against the back of the chair, holding his arms out for you. It made you smile—after all these years together, you didn’t expect him to be very affectionate, but he still was. He pulled you into his lap, guiding you to sit across his legs.

“Talk to me, my love.” You ran your hands through his hair, making him melt into your arms.

He hugged you a little tighter and shook his head. “Nothing to talk about, just a lot to get done.”

You notice he’d opened several windows in the office and smile. At least he was getting some fresh air. “It’s beautiful tonight,” you said, eyes tracing the stars and all their shapes and patterns in the sky. “Might be a nice night for a walk…”

“A walk?”

“Up to the Sanctuary?”

He smiled and laid his head on your shoulder. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“You only dragged me up there once a week during our time at school.”

He smiled at you, slowly shaking his head. “I adore you and your niche memory, my dear.”

“I think you’re making fun of me, you know.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that.”

taglist

@emswordss @kodzukoi @animated-moon @kage7ama @falling4fandoms @sirimirihiro @momoewn

[noforkingclue]

New Friends?

Summary: you always felt that the hotel you worked at was slightly creepy but you passed it off due to it being an old building. However, a chance encounter one night changes everthing.

Author's note: I was inspired by this after seeing the last ever Ghosts episode, so spoilers for that if you haven't seen it. I honestly can't believe the series is over and I'm definitely going to need to re-watch it at some point!

Hope you like it :)

BBC Ghosts tag list: @violetlucreziastuff,  @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

Why did all the creepy things happen at night?

Why didn’t horror films happen during the daytime when it was bright and there were lots of people about? Why was it had to be you who was working the night shift?

Why did you have to have all these fucking questions?

A couple had decided to leave in the middle of the night and of course you had to draw the short straw to make it presentable. Ok, so you wouldn’t be doing a full clean but your manager wanted it to at least look presentable in case there were any late night guests. You let out a huff as you let the door swing open as you inspected the room. Your old line manager wouldn’t be making anyone do this. This new one was a bit of a stickler to the rules and almost seemed to have it out for you.

You fluffed up the pillows and pulled back the duvet. There were no suspicious stains on the sheets so they’d do in a pinch. You made a note to change them in the morning as you made your way to the bathroom. Best to check that as well in case your guest were vicious serial killers who killed their latest victim in your room.

At first you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. You let out a sigh of relief as you turned around and froze. Ok, maybe you theory about them being serial killers was more accurate than you initially thought. You slowly crept forward and narrowed your eyes. There wasn’t a lot of blood for a decapitated head. In films there was always gushing blood but this-

“Hello.”

“Ahh!”

You cried out and jumped backwards, scuttling away. Your eyes widened in shock and you raised a shaking hand.

“What the… you spoke…”

“Well, yeah! Wait,” the head frowned, “you can see me?”

“I’m imagining this,” you stood up and ran a hand over your face, “I’m imagining this. I’m… sleep deprived, that’s it!”

You staggered back ignoring the cried from the head. This was all in your mind. You hadn’t been sleeping too well lately and that was why you’re seeing random talking heads.

Right?

*

“I know you can hear us.”

“Come on, just one word.”

“It is incredibly rude to ignore people when they are talking to you. Did your parents not teach you any manners?”

You put your hands over your ears as you continued to walk quickly down the corridor. For the past week you had been followed around by what you assumed (but didn’t want to believe) to be ghosts. You were just about keeping it together but you could see your colleagues becoming concerned. Your new line manager was becoming harsher, not just with you, but with everyone and that added pressure wasn’t helping.

“My dear if you would just-“

You slammed the door of the room you were meant to be cleaning in one of the ghosts (you think one of them called him Thomas?) face. You knew you were going to get in trouble for that later but you could always pass it off as the wind slamming it or it slipping out of your grip.

“I think she wants to be left alone,” said one of them (possibly Pat?), “you remember how Alison was when she first saw us. Give her time.”

You let out a sigh of relief and picked up your cleaning supplies. You headed into the bathroom and paused when you saw a familiar head in the bath. You sagged and sat down on the floor, back resting against the tub.

“So I’m not going insane?” you asked

“That rather depends on what you class as insane.”

You closed your eyes and leant back. Maybe you should just give in?

“I’m Humphrey by the way.”

“Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, well, meet you again and as much as I can while I’m in here.”

You leant over the bath and smiled at him.

“Better?” you asked

“Yeah.” Humphrey frowned, “You alright?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You look a bit stressed.”

“Just my manager being a dick. Giving me too much work that I can’t always complete on time. Throwing her weight around and acting like a jerk. God, sometimes I really just want to-“

You let out a frustrated noise and sat back down.

“Sounds like you want a bit of revenge.”

“Revenge? I just want some breathing space.”

“Well if there’s one person who would be good at that.”

“Who?”

“Julian.”

“Julian?”

You jumped when a ghost stuck his head through the wall. You had been getting used to that happening but you could never get used to that happening. You didn’t need to see Humphrey to know that he was rolling his eyes.

“I heard my name,” Julian said, giving you what he thought was a charming smile, “in what way do you need my expertise?”

As you glanced up at the disgraced politician all you could think of was,

‘Well, what’s the worst that could happen?’

[fatimaamerbilal]

Dear fatima,

I wanted to take a moment to let you know how deeply your work has touched me. Your writing resonates with me on such a personal level; it feels like you are putting into words the emotions and thoughts I've always struggled to express. Every piece you've written has left a lasting impression on me, and I can't thank you enough for sharing your incredible talent with the world. I often find myself eagerly awaiting for your next piece, wondering if you might ever release another actual book. The thought of being able to hold your words in my hands, to flip through the pages of a book you've authored, is something I truly hope becomes a reality!!! Please take care of yourself, and know that your readers, like me, appreciate not just your writing but the heart and soul you pour into it. I’m so excited to see what more you have in store for us in the future. Your words are a gift, and I hope you continue to inspire and connect with so many more people.Wishing you all the best, and sending you warm thoughts! <3

i have been thinking about your message ever since i received it, partly because i cannot bring myself to believe that someone would welcome these pieces like this.

knowing that these words have found a home in your thoughts is the closest i have felt to home. thank you.

[sweetdreamsofgelato]

Ebb and Flow

(image shameless taken from google)

Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader (You)

Summary: see the prompt below

Rating: E for everyone (maybe T for a little mild language?)

Word Count: 4261 (I know, I KNOW. Yes, I got carried away and no, I don't want to talk about it)

Warnings/Content: AU!RPF; mild adult language; pining 💋 Emotions with a capital E

A/N: 

I was presented with two kissing prompts (#66 and #67) from this list and whilst I mulled over both, this idea took hold, so I combined them. I hope you don't mind, @jolly-polly! To my dear Bonnie Nonnie, I know you requested Henry but I hope that AU!Henry will do. Apologies in advance for deviating from the course.

I'm afraid I might've gone a little overboard with the imagery in this one, but I was IN MY FEELS so I soldier on without regret.

A side note for anyone who enjoys instrumental music: I was utterly consumed by Ludovico Einaudi's In a Time Lapse album the entire time I wrote this. I can't recommend it enough. Time Lapse, Run, Brothers, Experience, and Burning were particularly inspiring.

Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own.

Reposting my works on any other sites or platforms is strictly prohibited (my official AO3 is linked in my master list). Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

Working at a charming little bookshop on a leafy corner of the local high street was certainly not your dream when you accepted the job, but the elderly couple who owned it were incredibly kind and desperately needed help, and you were in the market for a job that didn’t completely crush your will to live. 

For a small business, it had a large and fiercely loyal customer base and most days you felt positively run off your feet. Not long after you started, it was plain the shop needed more help. You were only one person, and the Cavills were on the dark side of their golden years—both neither quick moving nor technologically inclined, which made keeping up with demand a daunting task indeed.

Which is why it came as much of a surprise a few months later when you’d expected Mr Cavill to inform you that he was hiring another shop clerk, that he rather announced he and his wife were taking off for the Mediterranean. Truth be told was Mrs Cavill had been not- so-quietly longing for sandy beaches and warmer climes for some time and Mr Cavill finally agreed to dip his toes into retirement.

For a brief moment, you thought you were going to lose a job you’d come to really love. Gratefully, Mr Cavill was not yet ready to shutter the doors or sell off the business. It was still profitable, after all, and the shop had been Cavill-owned for four generations, so he was (rightfully) reluctant to let it pass out of familial hands. It was a relief when a few weeks later, he informed you that though he was taking a “sabbatical” (as he liked to call it), his grandson, Henry, would be stepping up in his absence.

If there was anything you learned over the time leading up to said grandson’s arrival, it was that the Cavills loved him fiercely. Mrs Cavill spent most afternoons regaling you with memory after memory, sparing none of the normal flattery all the while. He was kind, tall, polite, generous, handsome, intelligent, athletic, hard-working, handsome, and friendly. A true gentleman.

And did she mention handsome?

Yes, she had. So much so you were concerned that this all was possibly a set-up. You didn’t think so highly of yourself to suspect that the whole thing was an elaborate ruse, but rather perhaps convenient opportunism was at play. Wouldn’t be the first time some well-meaning grandmother tried to pair you up with a beloved grandson. By Mrs Cavill’s account, Henry was quite lovely and you didn’t look upon him uncharitably, but the fact was that loving grandparents tended to regard their grandchildren through rose-coloured glasses. 

That morning, you were still brainstorming how to gently let them down without making the atmosphere at work irrevocably awkward when the little bell over the shop door tinkled someone’s arrival. You assumed it to be the first customer to drop in on this unusually quiet morning.

“Grandad? Gran?” 

You froze over the box you were unpacking and furtively glanced at the calendar on the back of the door, then at your watch and cursed. Okay, not a customer. It was him. 

“Anyone here?” Henry’s voice was deep and warm and smooth as velvet; you were horrified by the rogue tingle that ran up your spine.

Ever so quietly, you tiptoed around the boxes at your feet and poked the swinging door open just enough to get a glimpse. Your jaw dropped. 

“Oh no,” you gasped. His back was to you, but even at a distance, he cut the exact image Mrs Cavill described: statuesque. Tall and broad, like a rugby player or perhaps a professional lumberjack, if either wore perfectly-tailored tweed suits.

“Hello?” he called out again. He turned and searched the shop for any sign of life. You caught a glimpse of his profile and your knees threatened to turn to jelly.

Shit shit shit! You quickly drew back and caught yourself against the shelves. This was bad. This was really bad. Mrs Cavill had not exaggerated in any way. If anything, she’d criminally understated her description. One could be blind as a bat and still tell that he was exceedingly handsome. He had an aura.

What a fool you were. Here you’d spent the better part of a fortnight coming up with gentle ways to tell the Cavills that you weren’t interested in their grandson, and now here he was in the flesh and you were a sharp jawline away from proposing marriage. You’d not even officially met. 

Horror struck; you slowly sniffed your armpit and your nose wrinkled at the offence. What were the odds that he’d leave if you kept quiet? Not good, you reluctantly admitted. Surely he’d expect that you were expecting him—and you were, it’s just that time had gotten away from you, as it always did when you were focused. Still, after three hours sequestered in the store room doing inventory, you were undoubtedly a smelly and sweaty mess, and you did not want his first impression of you to be that of a wilted shop clerk. 

For purely professional reasons, of course.

You frantically, but quietly—very quietly, hunted for your bag and rummaged for that fragrance sample you’d chucked in for odorous emergencies. You spritzed under each arm as you huffed into your palm. You immediately searched for a mint. 

“Hi.”

It came from the doorway right behind you, and you very nearly hit the ceiling in surprise. The noise that escaped your lips was positively Jurassic.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Nope,” you squeaked, threw your bag across the room and turned to face him. So much for first impressions. You cleared your throat and did your best to school your features into something less spooked. “Nope, you didn’t.”

He watched you with a placid sort of look. The kind someone wears when they absolutely don’t believe you but they’re far too polite to call you out on it.  He leaned against the door frame and gave you a little wave. “I’m Henry.”

“I know,” you blurted. Fuck.“I mean, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” And all of it bloody true, apparently. You held out your undoubtedly clammy hand and made your introductions. 

“Nice to put a face to the name,” Henry said. He gave your hand a firm squeeze and your forearm erupted in gooseflesh. “I’ve been hearing all about you for weeks.”

You laughed nervously, rubbing your palms over your skin and desperately willing it back to normal before he noticed. “All good things, I hope.” 

“Only the best,” Henry answered with a reassuring smile.

Your heart did a precarious little wobble. 

He’s just a man, you scolded yourself, and though he may look like he walked straight off an old Hollywood movie set and could charm the pants off a nun, certainly he couldn’t be everything his grandmother made him out to be. No one was that perfect. 

***

He was. He was so bloody perfect you wanted to cry. 

As a universal rule, men like this didn’t actually exist. It was a commonly known fact that they were myths. Legends. Exaggerated and unattainable fabrications conjured from the imaginations of gothic novelists and social media experts.

You assumed Henry (as kin to the owner) would take up the role of Boss Man, and if a lifetime of anecdotal evidence dealing with attractive men in positions of power proved correct, he’d immediately start throwing his weight around like a proper egoistic tyrant. 

But that was so far from the truth that you still felt ashamed for prematurely judging his character. He was just as described. Handsome and kind in equal measures. Impeccably well-mannered, even when he rang and told off the couriers when they stuffed up deliveries. Generous. Most days he offered to grab lunch or make a coffee run and he always offered a helping hand no matter how menial the task.  Not to mention the thrice-a-week homemade treats. 

It was his way to decompress, he’d said, and you didn’t complain.

Henry’s even-tempered disposition notwithstanding, he wasn’t above throwing around his impressive weight when he deemed it necessary. He pulled off mean and scary quite effectively when he’d chased off a creep who decided it was their life’s purpose to come in every day and pester you. Henry had even offered to escort you home until you felt comfortable walking on your own again.

The man was a damned unicorn and he was the best non-boss boss you’d ever had. 

***

You stood in the doorway to the admin office—which was really a glorified broom cupboard not much wider than the breadth of Henry’s shoulders—and chewed around an overly-large bite of homemade pastry. It was all you could do not to moan. He had no right to be this skilled in the kitchen. It was almost as much a turn-on as watching him assemble one of the shop’s shiny new computers.

One always appreciated a man who was good with his hands.

To add to his ever-growing list of positive qualities, he was also a bit of a nerd. Henry had taken one look at the existing system and had been downright horrified by the outdated technology. He was adamant about bringing the shop up-to-date, but instead of ordering a prefab computer, he’d custom-ordered an entirely new system which he planned to assemble himself. After much anticipation, the equipment had finally been delivered. It would solve a lot of headaches, but not all of them.

As Henry’s arrival more or less coincided with the Cavills' departure, the shop was down one net member of staff, and whilst Henry was more than capable of doing the work of three people, he shouldn’t have to. You both agreed that the shop needed more help. 

“Know anyone who might want a job?” Henry murmured around the tiny screwdriver clenched between his teeth.

Your mouth went dry as you watched his lips move around the tool. “You’d leave that decision to me? 

“Why not?” He adjusted his headlamp, pushed his glasses up his nose and resumed fiddling with the computer’s internals. “Technically you’ve got seniority, so you understand the shop’s staffing needs far better than I do.”

“I just thought, being related to the owner and all, that you’d be in charge of these sorts of decisions.” Of all the decisions, really.

Henry looked visibly uncomfortable at the suggestion. “I like to think we have more of a horizontal organisational structure here.” He fitted the computer cover back in place. “A purely collaborative and democratic effort.”

“Oh.” How refreshing. “Not worried I’ll just hire an irresponsible friend and run the business into the ground?” You stuffed the rest of the pastry in your mouth and gingerly sucked the sugary remnants from your thumb. Not good manners, you knew, but it was too delicious to waste on a napkin.

Henry stuttered to a pause as if his mind momentarily blanked. He cleared the grit from his throat and continued, “I trust you. Not to mention it’d be rather hypocritical to accuse you of nepotism.” Henry graced you with a sly smile and you never felt closer to swooning. “Besides, you don’t strike me as the self-sabotaging type.”

Generally, you weren’t but you’d argue that steadily falling head over heels for your coworker could certainly categorise you as such. Still, the fact that he’d thought of you in any sort of capacity left your cheeks overheated. 

“I know just the person.”

***

“He’s a serial killer.”

“He’s not a serial killer.”

You stepped back from the small rosewood display table to both admire your handiwork and question the intelligence behind hiring your eternally paranoid flatmate, Sarah. 

The timing had been rather serendipitous, as Sarah had found herself suddenly out of work—which was no fault of her own. Her ex-boss was an absolute cretin and deserved the throat punch he’d received for groping Sarah in the office lift. Not to mention Sarah’s ability to keep paying rent benefitted you both, but it was possibly at the cost of your sanity.

“Has to be.” 

“He can’t be,” you insisted testily. This was the third time she’d brought this up. Sarah angled you an expectant look that read explain and you fumbled around your brain from some logical reasoning. 

“He bakes,” you added weakly. Surely being able to produce delightfully sugary bits of heaven didn’t preclude one from being a serial killer, but you still liked to think the likelihood of association was relatively low. 

“All the more reason to suspect him,” Sarah replied as she continued boxing online orders behind the counter. “Some of the most notorious serial killers were all described as charming, handsome, or talented in some way. Henry’s all three at least. There is such a thing as too perfect.”

Be that as it may. “You need to lay off the True Crime.”

“Absolutely not.” Sarah pointed the tape gun in your direction. “It’s a prerequisite for modern-day survival.”

You weren’t going to argue; it was too exhausting. “He can’t be all bad if he let me hire you no questions asked.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Sarah admitted. “I know just the way to show my gratitude.”

“By being ferociously dedicated to your job?” you asked hopefully.

She made a vague motion around her face. “Hannibal Lector mask.”

Sarah actually got it for him, and instead of reprimanding her as he ought, he kept it displayed under glass next to the till with a sign reading:

For Emergency Use Only 

In Case of Rude and Unruly Customers or Serial Killers Masquerading as Gentlemen

Break Glass

It was quite the conversation piece. 

Did you mention his wickedly subversive sense of humour?

Ugh, you were in love.

 ***

It was official. You were pining. 

Like properly pining. The can’t eat, can’t sleep, thrown into existential crisis kind of pining.

“You need to do something about it.”

The computer monitor came back into focus as the delightful little daydream about snogging Henry in the storeroom evaporated in your mind. You sighed ruefully; it’d been a good one. 

“About what?”

“Your Henry situation.”

You slanted a sidelong glance in her direction and mumbled, “I thought you said he was a serial killer.”

“I may have been a bit hasty with my judgments,” Sarah conceded as she adjusted the rucksack on her shoulder. “Seriously. I am begging you to go for it, if not for your sake, then for mine.”

Your brow furrowed; you swivelled in your chair to face her.

Sarah took the opportunity to squish your cheeks between her palms, lest you flee the conversation as you’d done on at least two other occasions. “I can’t watch you torture yourself anymore.”

“I’m not torturing myself.” At least not deliberately. You batted her hands away. “I’m being pragmatic.”

“By torturing yourself.”

“He’s my boss.” 

He was more than that, you knew. It hadn’t taken long to pass into the realm of friendship. You didn’t dare presume more than that though, despite having incrementally fallen in love with him since the day he walked into your life. That was the fastest way to a broken heart.

“He’s far more than.” Sarah echoed your inner thoughts and you wanted to crawl under the counter and hide. 

“He’s still my boss.” Was he, though? Henry had adamantly refused the mantle whenever you mentioned it, so you weren’t really certain anymore. The lines had always been a bit blurry. Made for a convenient excuse though. 

“Didn’t Henry give you the whole “horizontal organisation” speech?” Sarah asked cheekily. “Sounded euphemistic to me.”

“Regardless, it’s ethically unwise.” You loosed a long, beleaguered exhale and rested your chin in your palm. “Weren’t you leaving?”

Sarah pointedly ignored your dismissal. “Office affairs are a beloved modern literary trope and a cornerstone of the romance genre.” 

You cast her a wry smile. “Traded True Crime for fan fiction, then?” Not that you were judging. You could go down an Ao3 rabbit hole and easily not come up for days. 

“It’s more common than you think.”

“Reading fan fiction?”

Sarah’s expression flattened. “Shagging your coworker.”

That was a leap you’d not even dared in your own dreams. “The man is three eyebrow hairs away from Adonis.” 

Freak kitchen accident apparently and he’d been afraid to make crème brûlée since. You couldn’t suppress a dreamy smile at the memory of that conversation, because Henry’d relayed it one early morning whilst presenting you with—crème brûlée. It was the best damn thing you’d ever tasted. He’d even let you eat half his portion.

“Why on earth would he want me when he could have literally anyone else?” you lamented.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you? He practically worships the ground you walk on.” Sarah looked about two seconds away from reaching across the counter and shaking you. “The man’s in a desperate state but much too polite to make the first move. Honestly, you two are hopeless.”

You were definitely hopeless, there was no denying that, but the rest of it sounded a bit of a stretch. If that were true, surely you would’ve seen the signs. 

“It’ll make things weird,” you said. You left off the last bit of that thought: when he says no.

Sarah looked suspiciously smug. “Not if he says yes.”

The shop door swung open and in strode your personal greek tragedy, two paper cups of tea in hand. 

“Hey Sarah, I thought you were already off on holiday,” said Henry, who glanced awkwardly between you, Sarah, and the two cups in his hands. He set one on the counter for you and offered Sarah the other—the one that you were sure he’d intended to drink himself. 

The pining intensified.

“No, thanks. On my way out as we speak.” Sarah confirmed as she gave him a mock salute. You picked up your tea and took a sip. From the corner of your eye, you caught her silently mouthing Do it! before she slipped out the door. 

“I appreciate you picking up Sarah’s shifts,” said Henry. He came around the back of the counter and rifled through a few bits of post resting next to your elbow. “When she told me Cassie surprised her with a Norwegian cruise, I couldn’t say no to the last-minute request for holiday leave.”

“Mhmm,” you murmured absentmindedly, then turned to Henry in confusion. He was very close and smelled amazing. Warm and spicy, like a smoky campfire in autumn. You swallowed hard, your voice rough when you asked, “Cassie?”

“Her girlfriend,” he prompted with a quizzical raise of his brow.

“Oh, right.” Your eye’s narrowed toward the door. Sarah and Cassie split up two months ago and as far as you knew, she wasn’t dating anyone new. Norwegian cruise but only packed one rucksack? This reeked of subterfuge.

Henry’s eyes swept over towering stacks of boxes and growing piles of books destined for new shelves. The shop was closed to customers for the day and it was all hands on deck for a seasonal inventory catalogue and reshuffle, but you were two hands down and hadn’t made much progress. 

The daydreaming hadn’t helped. You let out a resigned sigh.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a late night.” He nudged his shoulder gently against yours. It took all of your willpower not to lean into the touch. “Let’s order takeaway.”

***

The bookshop was rather magical at night. It was one of many reasons you loved working evening shifts. With the shades drawn and the lights dimmed to a warm glow, it had a sort of natural cosy ambience of a private library. Then again, it could just be the company. 

As you reached up to shelve another book, your focus drifted along the instrumental music still playing through the shop and back to just hours before. The vision swam into view, entrenched on the horizon of your mind’s eye as, now, a core memory:

Henry perched on the edge of the window display opposite, you tucked into a plush armchair he’d dragged over from the reading corner for you. Between you, the remnants of a feast spread over a makeshift cardboard box table because the man didn’t know the definition of restraint when it came to food. He pushed the sleeves of his cobalt knit jumper to his elbows and set aside his steaming mug, the contents of which threatened to splash all over him as he animatedly recounted yet another story that had easily reduced you both to shared fits of laughter. 

You rested your elbow on the side of the armchair and leaned your fist against a cheek so delightfully sore from the near-constant smile Henry so easily coax forth. Watching him at that moment, you knew no matter how much you tried to ignore or deny it, you were in love.

In the present, warmed from the memory, you slid the book home onto the shelf and fought to breathe. 

It was definitely the company.

You forced your way through the haze of your thoughts as you hopped off the railed step ladder. If you lost yourself in work, you couldn’t think about the rest. Or so had been the plan, but it seemed fate had other ideas. With a frown, you inspected the collection of boxes nearest. 

“Henry, do you have Young Adult S2? I don’t have it.”

You heard thumps and shuffling from across the shop, and then Henry answered, “Got it! Stay put. I’ll bring it to you.”

With Young Adult S1 under your arm, you were back up the steps and shelving the last stragglers whilst you waited. When you turned around to descend, you accidentally smacked Henry across the face with the empty box.

“Shit!” you cursed and threw the cardboard aside. “Henry, I’m so sorry!” 

“No worries,” Henry chuckled graciously as he set down the box in his hands and gingerly rubbed his face. “No harm done.”

“Nonsense,” you fussed. By your own terribly unscientific analysis, Henry’s only toxic trait was belying the truth for the sake of others’ feelings. “Let me see.”

Without thinking, you leaned down and gently grasped his chin. He allowed you to tilt his face to the side and inspect the damage. His jaw flexed under your fingers when you traced a fingertip over the faint pink mark blooming across the stubbled skin of his cheek. Even with the superficial scratch, he was still stunning. All beautifully sculpted angles in such sharp contrast to the softness of his nature. Your gaze naturally drifted to his mouth when it parted on a sharp intake of air. 

Your eyes flicked back up; your breath caught and the gooseflesh returned, and this time it was head to toe. Your hand dropped but your entire body rooted to the spot. Henry watched you with piercing intensity. The bright blue of his eyes gone dark as lapis. Sharper and clearer than you’d ever seen before.

It happened all at once, or maybe it hadn’t. People often talk about points of no return, but this was different. Not so much before and after, but rather with a single intimate touch, the barrier between two parallel realities dissolved. They slowly bled together, coalescing in a heavily charged anticipation that swelled unbidden in the space between. It surged through you and kicked up your heart into a frantic pace.

This is where desire lived. 

You bowed into it. An ebb to the flow, unable to resist the pull of its fulcrum. The step ladder shuddered under Henry’s weight as he moved onto the bottom step, his arms bracing the railing on either side of you. He’d not laid so much as a finger on you, but you felt him everywhere. A delicate counter pressure pressing in. You nervously chewed at your bottom lip; Henry’s eyes followed the movement and you saw it again. A flicker of something only just restrained. Barely perceptible, but the shift was undeniable now that you’d had glimpsed behind the veil. 

Henry reached up with one hand and cupped your face as he narrowed the distance. His thumb reverently traced over your bottom lip and across the curve of your cheek. Henry release your name in a breathy oath just before his mouth found yours.

First kisses were funny things. They come with such high expectations. Metaphorical explosions, fireworks, and seismic rifts in space and time. Some sort of divine reordering of the cosmos. But this kiss…

It was gentle and cautious. A greeting between two souls stepping fully into the light and meeting for the first time. Like a camera coming into focus, everything fell away and there was just Henry, and he was absolutely breathtaking. 

His mouth angled against yours and you returned in kind, urgency threatening to take hold, but Henry suddenly broke away. You despaired at the loss.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He was winded. His eyes searched yours, and they were wounded in a way that made your chest ache because you knew where it came from: anticipated rejection. “Are you sure?”

You wished to pour your heart into his. To fill all the cracks from which his vulnerability broke through. You wished to tell him that this little bit of paradise you both somehow managed to discover was safe. Here was a home where he’d only find warmth, joy, and love. 

Your fingers brushed through curls just as soft as you’d imagined and you sank into his embrace. Gently drawing his lips back to yours, your smile melded with his, and you answered without words, in a space between hearts where none were required. 

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Surprise

First of all, thank you to everyone who joined me and helped me with that idea. For finding those nice words, even when she knows that you appreciate her, even when she knows that you love her work. And a special thank you also to @lives-in-midgard, without her, I would not have found the courage to really do this. You helped me when I was just a minute before I threw that all away.

Skittle? @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Finally, you are allowed to know about the surprise. I made this to thank you. I know you already know that I appreciate you, but I wanted to show you that not only I do, but also other people do, and it’s a better way than just telling you.

But thank you so much for always being so kind and helpful. You’re not annoyed, and even when the day isn’t perfect, sometimes it never changes your kindness. Not many people are like you are, and I hope you know deserve all the good and the best and that you’re worth it.

It’s an honor to be your friend and get your support personally and with fics. It's always fun to talk to you about ideas and add details, but it’s also fun to talk to you about everything else. I hope you know that I will always be there for you and support you as much as I can. The moment you started following me and whenever a notification with your name appeared in my notification, it made me so happy because it was and still is such an honor.

And I’m not the only one who thinks like that, so here are some people who think so too. Enjoy their messages for you.

@ellemj: You were the very first writer to ever reach out to me on Tumblr and honestly, I freaked out a little when I saw your user and realized I'd definitely read your work before. It was like I was living out some kind of dream. You're so kindhearted and willing to talk to other members of the community, it's inspiring. I feel lucky that I've gotten to be on the receiving end of your kindness. Thank you for being a friend and thank you for sharing your amazing works with us all!

@lives-in-midgard: Dear Skittle, I want to let you know that I really enjoy reading your stories and always love to see what you came up with! 💗 Beside that I also really love to see you in my notification or on my for you page. Reading your comments on my fics always makes me smile! I'm sending you hugs! 💞

@buckyysdoll: hon, you truly seem like such a genuinely sweet person. the way you interact with the fics you love and reblog on your page is honestly heartwarming, and you can see even from an outsider’s view how affectionate and encouraging it is. keep up your kindness hon, & happy belated new year too! we need more people like you in this world 💛🌻☀️sending love & hugs from a stranger xx

@sergeantbarnessdoll: I love her. She always has something nice to say, even when you’re having a bad day

anon: I love your work, it always puts a giddy smile on my face and brightens my day. When I see a new post I do a wee happy dance in my seat (or bed).

anon: Hi Skittle I love reading your stories! And I always get excited when I see that you have a new one shot!

@rogersbarber: such an incredible and talented person!!🖤

[firewoodfigs]

Tagged by the resplendent @roseofbattles :)

TEN GOOD THINGS IN 2023

1. New York / poetry readings — sometime around September, I got to feed an old, ostensibly impractical dream that’s emerged and lurked around since two decades ago. I wrote a poem and got to read it aloud in a wonderful art studio around Chelsea, teeming with so much talent and heart, thanks to the incredible @mirabile---visu. Thank you, dear friend, for giving my poem a home. I will remember this forever and hold dear to heart all the honest conversations we had over pizza, art and wine <3 you are such an inspiration and I can’t wait to see you again! Thank you too to the insanely talented @go-haywire for putting my words into print and allowing them to rest in a well-bound sanctuary — I carried it with me in New York as a lucky charm, and will always be eternally grateful for your generosity and faith.

2. New Zealand — sometime in April, in between jobs, I got to visit the amazing @tsaritsa in NZ, and it was two weeks of peace and great novelty, including but not limited to riding on a horse, feeding penguins, and donning on a firefighter costume! We also walked a ton and talked a lot and gazed upon a blanket of stars. Thank you for all your hospitality and love which I will never forget (and see you in 2024?!)

3. Other travels — I travelled a lot around Asia this year, for work and for fun! I got to see the cherry blossoms for the first time in my life with Japan with my partner. We also got to celebrate his birthday there, and it was an all around lovely trip; I’m really happy he got to have this break because he’s been truly working so hard in 2023. I also ushered in the new year with a dear friend in South Korea; the fireworks were nothing short of spectacular! We got a strawberry shortcake after and returned to our cute little apartment to just wind down and pen down our hopes for 2023 :) I also got to visit Thailand, Vietnam and Malaysia for work, which were really exciting experiences!

4. Job switch — sometime in April, I was confronted with this HUGE dilemma of staying here in my hometown or moving to… a tax-free desert… the latter meant I’d at least be able to stay with my previous firm, but after a lot of coffees and deep consideration I decided it was better to move on to someplace else and stay put so I could spend more time with my partner. In hindsight it was probably the best decision I could’ve made; 2023 has been quite emotionally distressing for us and I would’ve hated to see him ensure all of that alone. I was mildly apprehensive at first about the switch, but I’ve been really blessed to have the most wonderful colleagues and bosses and am really excited to see what’s in store next :)

5. Meeting new friends, and in a similar vein, catching up and reuniting with old ones :) New York was a dream, in large part due to meeting some of the most luminous souls I’ve had the serendipitous pleasure of knowing during the pandemic—first over a screen, and then in person, over karaoke, and bagels, and coffee, and ice cream, and of course fried chicken LOL. @x-rainflame-x @roseofbattles @nightofnyx8 @beware-thegemini @thatisadamnfinecupofcoffee @annespelledwithane it was so so precious getting to meet you all in New York and I will cherish our time there together forever!

6. Learning a language—I try to learn at least one new word a day, and I’ve also been working on my Japanese since moving into a Japanese firm. It really helps as well to have colleagues that I can practice with—I took classes briefly in college but it sort of just drifted out of my memory after the pandemic because I didn’t speak it regularly, but now that I do it’s been super fun!

7. Getting into Spy x Family — and consequently, getting back into fic writing :) all of this is @nightofnyx8’s fault btw, now I have to pretend I like this stupid fake family a normal amount (when I’m just obsessed an unhealthy amount lmao)

8. Fraud/investigations work — this basically consumed the entirety of my Nov/Dec and there’s not much I can divulge about it (apart from the fact that it pretty much aged me by a decade) but… I felt like Loid Forger and it was fun being a spy for a month. the end

9. Dealing better with anxiety (?)—question mark because my progress is… questionable. On one hand I think I’ve gotten a lot better at regulating (or perhaps suppressing) a lot of associated feelings, but it still gets frightening on occasion when the dam breaks free without much prior warning. Regardless I think it’s a marked improvement from the countless menty bs back in college lmao. To be very frank, having a stable income of sorts has helped a great deal; in college I was constantly plagued with the fear of not having enough to purchase required materials or at times food, and it was just a lot to deal with. It felt like there was no room for failure because I only had myself to rely upon, and success was the only tenable avenue out of poverty, but being able to now obtain necessities and even additional wants has done wonders for my mental health. It’s true that money doesn’t happiness, and I spend a great deal of time daily mulling over capitalism and consumerism and the like, but I cannot deny the sense of security it affords.

10. And finally, falling deeper in love everyday :) it’s easy to think we know a great deal about someone, except we don’t. People may appear simple, but the truth is we’re all a work in progress, and by extension, a continuing story. I could read a million books and write a million poems, but beloved, believe me—you will always be my favourite.

Goodbye 2023, and hello 2024!

[carnographix]

You’re an angel, I’m a dog, Or you’re a dog, and I’m your man. You believe me, like a God, I’ll destroy you like I am.

—Mitski, ‘I’m Your Man.’

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

Incredibly self-indulgent crossover oneshot-- featuring @vellichorom's Narrator, Thierry, and my strange little woman, Mari(e), in the world of (or inspired by) Amnesia.

Content warning for gore and heavy religious themes Length: 4,765 words

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

Ceaseless sound.

The loud, endless chattering of her co-workers around her, the clambering and hissing of pipes and machines as the production line ticked along. Mariella was packing things. She no longer cared to pay any thought to what it was. Just get it done, get it through the line. All will be well. Lost entirely in her own mind as metal and glass clicked and snapped together, the surrounding sounds blurring into one, the cacophony reverberating in her skull. Nobody spoke with her as she worked, though she knew they spoke of her as they walked past, not-so subtle stares and even less-so subtle remarks. She paid no mind. Judgement was between her, and her God– if he could be referred to as such. The common men and women, the animals she so often, though in slowly dwindling frequencies, surrounded herself with; their judgement did not matter.

A clock sounded, though she did not notice at first. She continued to mindlessly assemble the small pieces of a watch, the process tiresomely familiar, automatic. It wasn’t until the volume of her surroundings began to slowly die down, to filter away and out of earshot, that she looked up, noticing the way most of her coworkers had begun to leave. Slipping the watch into its packaging, carelessly folded cardboard tacked together, she was finally wrested from this autopilot state by a voice she knew all too well.

“Marie, my dear,” a warm pair of hands found their way to her shoulders, if only for a moment, as she shook them off with a roll of her eyes, “are you going to clock off, or are we going to spend our entire evening here? I would much prefer the former. This wretched place reeks of oil, sweat, and piss, and I don’t care for the thought of eating the rats.”

“I can’t have been here more than a few minutes, impatient bastard. How you even managed to get to my station so quickly is beyond me.” Mariella scoffed, the corners of her mouth threatening a small smile, as she took a final glance at her workspace, tidying it up for the next poor bastard to be stuck in her place. 

They spoke as they left that filthy, contemptible place, relief befalling the both of them as they took refuge from its polluted walls into the cobbled streets and balmy air of a mid-Summer evening. It was the usual post-work conversation; a snide remark about a coworker here, a complaint about the begrimed cathedral to industry in which they spent their days there– it was nothing new, it was nothing profound. Yet, as they spoke Mariella clung to each and every word her friend, her demiurge, spoke as though it were vital, and not merely petty, pointless complaints of the conditions in which they worked. The evenings, right after work, were always the most beloved time of day to her. 

Side by side, she and Thierry would walk back to his home, conversing about anything, everything. She felt herself to be, in every sense of the word, blessed. 

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

They passed through a wrought-iron fence, Mariella running her hand along the coarse metal, over the very top of the intricate designs built into it, as they stepped into, and through, a small garden. It was nothing quite special; neat enough, with the occasional wildflower, though time escaped the older man; between work, and the oddities that he and the strange young woman he called his friend partook in, he hadn’t the time to maintain much more.

Mariella slipped past Thierry, almost losing her balance as she quickly moved to lean against the front door, catching herself on the silver-plated door knocker, wincing briefly as she caught her fingers between the metal and the wood of the door. She fumbled with the door’s lock for a moment, as Thierry watched her. He opened his mouth to speak, how the hell did she manage to get his keys? But, he decided against it, closing his mouth with a bemused expression. He wouldn’t get a concise answer from her, anyway.

“After you, m’lady.” Mariella spoke as she managed to get the door open with a loud click, holding her arm against it to stop it from falling shut.

Thierry rolled his eyes.

“Right, yes, thank you sir.” He said with an exasperated, though over-dramatised, sigh as he stepped through the door frame, pulling off his coat and hanging it on a rack beside the door. Mariella followed suit, doing the same, a self-satisfied grin etched onto her face.

What little decorum she retained after a long day mingling with her fellow humans promptly slipped away as the door fell closed behind them, and she sighed briskly, met with a sudden burst of energy. Oh, how this place inspired her so. She pulled an elastic from her wrist, and used it to pull back thick, curly hair, tying it up in a low ponytail. 

She felt herself relax as she came to a standstill behind a leather chair, cracked and worn with considerable use and age. The small house was so pleasant to her, so wonderfully different to her own, which felt more akin to a cave than dwelling. The home was quaint, a single bookshelf full of books with yellowed pages and cracked spines, and a small, modest kitchen with scorch marks on its ceramic tiles. It was quaint, a testament to its age. But, it was a home, nonetheless. The sort of place she’d dream of, late at night, alone when she wished to be anything but.

Though she tried to focus on the room itself, perhaps its lightly cobwebbed windows, or the way that warm light bathed the room, Mariella instead found herself once again focused entirely on her friend, watching him as he milled about. Something about Thierry’s every movement and gesture captivated her, in ways that she couldn’t understand. He had a sort of charm to how he carried and presented himself, as though some strange God in the form of a tired, overworked human. 

He walked into the kitchen, reaching down to open the cupboards for a moment and taking out a bottle of rum. He glanced with mild disappointment into the mostly-empty shelves as he did so.

Mariella walked to the bookshelf, browsing the titles, looking for anything that might be of interest to her. Titles in both English and French stood stacked on the shelf, many with pages and spines torn, their yellowed pages stained and spotted with age.

“Do you ever wonder,” Thierry spoke, before taking a long sip from his glass, “if there is a God; if he is all knowing as they say, where has he gone? Why has he, seemingly, abandoned us?”

Mariella was only half-listening, now distracted by a small, old journal, flipping through the pages and studying the words, written in that familiar, antiquated cursive. She was never exactly a religious girl, raised on the doctrine but far too uninterested to keep up with it. Her fingers traced the words on the page as she thought.

She had known the answers, though the ones she most commonly gave were merely empty platitudes, designed to keep people obedient and content.

“Abandoned? No, I wouldn't say so.” She murmured as she scanned the pages, clearly searching for something. “You're here, after all, are you not?”

A small smile cracked across Mariella’s face as she found what she was looking for. A crudely drawn diagram, with some words scrawled underneath it, some form of Latin, maybe German.

She heard Thierry let out an amused huff, taking another sip of his drink as he moved back into the living room, plopping himself down onto his armchair.

“If there were a God, my dear,” he began with a small, lopsided smile, “he would detest my blasphemy.”

“Would he, now? Do you detest what you do? What we do?” Mariella asked, finally looking up at him. She knew she certainly did not.

Undeniably, were their work discovered by anyone else, the two of them would be ostracised for their quote, sin, unquote. Though she did not see it that way. A wonderful act of creation, it was, to her.

Thierry chuckled, oh, how she adored that laugh, as he placed his empty glass on the table beside him, leaning back in his own armchair. Of course, he didn’t detest their work; he loved it, in an odd, twisted way. How could he detest something so intimate to him? Yet, he could hardly speak truth to these thoughts aloud.

“One day, the two of us will be stoned for our transgressions. It won’t be a pleasant fate, I can promise you that.”

She rolled her eyes with a scoff.

“Yes, because I particularly care what the common man would think of me. Of us.” She shook her head. “If that shall be our fate, I am content with it. It does not make it any less worth it.”

“Speaking of which,” she began, looking back down at the book in her hands, “have you heard of vitae?”

“Vitae…” Thierry repeated, his words an absentminded mumble. He thought for a moment. “Life, in the old tongue, isn’t it?” His eyes lit up with faint recognition. Yes, he had heard of such a word. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on where.

“Well, yes, but that's not quite what I mean. Vitae-- the substance. It's this… thing, that living things can produce. Do you know of it?”

Thierry’s face fell, his expression twisting, something indescribable, as he tried to recall something. He knew he had read about such things before, at some point. He couldn’t quite remember the details, yet he could remember the strange sense of horror that had built within him as he read.

She studied his expression, watching a mild discomfort seep into his features, before continuing.

“I'm assuming not. Vitae, if this book is to be believed, is an odd sort of substance which is produced by living things when they're afraid, in pain. The bloodstream is flooded with it, in the right circumstances. It can be extracted. It possesses the ability to extend one's life. I believe we should try.”

He let out a small huff of laughter, shaking his head lightly. Why did it seem like she had a new, morbid obsession every time they spoke like this? Why, every so often, would she become enamoured with the idea of some new forbidden knowledge, some new arcane secret that should be kept out of the hands of mortals? She was so curious about these things. Far too much for her own good.

“Extract it? How would we do that? What, are we going to just start cutting into each other and harvesting blood now?” ‘As though that were much different than their typical little escapades,’ she thought. 

“That was the idea. A disgustingly crude and oversimplified explanation of the idea, but, yes.” Mariella said, snapping the journal shut and tucking it back onto the shelf between the other books.

She moved to sit beside Thierry, perched upon the arm of his chair. She plucked his glass from his hand, and swallowed a mouthful of the alcohol inside in one swift movement, her face slightly flushed as the liquid burned her throat.

“It's apparently quite unsustainable– only extractable once, if the subject remembers the torture. So, I was thinking, perhaps, were we to intoxicate me enough, impair my memory, we could repeat the process more than once. Refine it.” She spoke as she placed the glass, now considerably less full, down atop a small coffee table just beside the chair. “If it works, that is.”

“So, you’re willing to undergo that sort of torment?” His expression had brightened, yet his voice still held small traces of scepticism. Mariella nodded, “in part my own insatiable curiosity.” She tilted her head to one side. “In part yours.” She leaned against him, and slid slightly from the arm of the chair, onto one side of Thierry's lap, resting atop his thigh.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost your mind, my dear. Perhaps just a little.” He sighed softly.

“And you haven’t?”

He couldn’t think of an appropriate response. Of course he hadn’t lost his mind… Though, he had to wonder; was it even possible to fully retain one’s sanity after studying and performing such things? He thought back to the countless, sleepless nights, when he could not keep his mind free of such visceral imagery.

He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t.”

She could tell by the way he spoke, like his voice faltered as he forced out an unconvincing and bitter chuckle, that it was a lie. Thierry was hardly different from her, and he knew that just as well as she did.

Silence fell between them for a few moments, Tension thick and heavy enough to cut through, to bite into, to rip and to tear. He knew he couldn’t properly argue against what she had said. He really was no different, was he? All those times he had sat down to read those forbidden, forgotten texts and manuscripts, for hours upon hours until his eyes stung. When he had driven needle and blade into her flesh and bone, and she had let him, eager as ever. And this was to be yet another of those times, wasn’t it?

Thierry sighed as he wrapped a hand around her waist. “Very well, then. We’ll try it.”

Mariella’s face lit up as soon as she heard him speak, a wide smile etched across her face.

“Alright…” He mumbled, his free hand running through his messed, grey hair. “If this is the route we shall take, we shall do things correctly. We would not want to risk any unnecessary damage– at least, not yet. After all…” He leaned in closer, his words a low whisper, “this would be most regrettable if it ended in an early demise for you, mon ami.”

“Not that I would mind, to go at your hands. Such bliss, it would be.” 

She spoke quietly as she stood, with Thierry's hand, which had previously rested upon her waist, clasped between both of her hands, pulling him to stand with her. 

The man did not argue or resist, standing up when she bid him to as a smile crept across his face. Mariella was right, of course she was. What a strange feeling this all was, to relish in the idea of suffering and harm. He could not bring himself to entirely hate it.

There were few words he could say that could adequately explain how the sight of her so willingly falling into potential mortal danger affected him. He had always found something dark and twisted about her, a strange sort of obsession with the macabre. Even better, in a way, that it was he who would bring about her pain and fear. He felt a sense of anticipation in him, as if he was waiting to strike down upon her like an executioner. 

“Come, let us get started.”

“Yes, yes, of course. First, however– something to dull the senses, psychologically, at least. To lapse my memory.” She said, swiftly turning as she stepped away and into the kitchen, reaching for a bottle of absinthe. “After all, if I remember, we won't be able to do it again.”

She unscrewed the cap, and drank directly from the bottle, mouthful after mouthful without break, until she had surely had an entire quarter of the bottle at least. She scrunched her face up at the flavour, and gasped as she took the bottle from her mouth, sucking in cool air to soothe the alcohol's burn.

Thierry tilted his head to the side with a small, almost proud smile on his face. She was such a marvel to him– one of the few people in this forsaken world he found himself genuinely enamoured with. To find someone so willing to indulge his twisted desires, one who encouraged them, one who relished in the agony as much as he did in causing it, was a wonderful discovery.

The sight of her drinking her fill as though it were water was an odd one, contrasted by the way the soft lights of the kitchen’s waxen candles caught on her dark hair and skin. He reached out, gently taking the bottle from her hands to place it back on the kitchen counter. 

“How are you feeling?” He hummed, voice soft and gentle, comparable to the caress of a snake as it wrapped around its prey.

“It hasn't begun to take effect just yet. Give it a few minutes.” She replied as she made her way out of the kitchen, down the hall, to a door with a hefty combination lock holding it closed. She fumbled with the lock for a moment, listening for the small clicks as she twisted the dial to the right numbers.

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

The door creaked as it drifted open, before she pulled it open all the way. There, in front of her, was a stone staircase, leading down into a dark hallway.

The air felt colder, more stiflingly quiet as the two travelled down the stone steps. The basement was lit only intermittently by the sconces that jutted from the walls, only a thin sliver of light illuminating the path ahead. Thierry had always found the basement to be unnerving to a small degree, the way his footsteps seemed to echo against the stone walls, the stale air that clung heavily to the back of his throat.

Thierry could still remember the first time he brought her down here. Those long ago days when those strange, soft, violent thoughts and feelings had first begun to take root in his mind. Such strangely pleasant memories, they were.

He could recall the day vividly as though it had happened yesterday– leading this woman down into the deep, the way she had looked so afraid at first, before they had discovered her love for the darkness that had consumed them. 

He felt her hand squeeze his a little tighter, like she was reassuring him that this had been an agreed-upon decision. He had nothing to be concerned about if she agreed to this, did he? He had nothing to fear.

There was an ever-so-slight tremble in his hand as he felt her squeeze it, as if she could sense his minor hesitations and worries that remained. 

Entering a room reminiscent of a doctor’s theatre, seeing countless reminders of experiments and times past, was enough to raise goosebumps over his skin. Trepidation, anticipation, excitement–? It was difficult to tell. 

She remained by his side, followed and trusted him. Such a faithful creature…

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

The room itself had been gradually changed over time, with countless evenings spent experimenting, testing the limits of the body. A rolling tray of many, many blades, saws, drills, and needles sat stationary beside cabinets, the cabinets against one wall still holding all manner of medical supplies. 

Mariella drew a sharp and sudden breath, mulling over the idea in her head. There were so many variables, so many ways this could go. Did they have everything they would need? Would it work? How much would she be able to handle? Would she remember? These concerns, however, were ultimately short-lived, as remembrance of the fact this was her idea, something she wished to do– to see if it would work, to see what would happen, washed over her, combined with the absinthe finally taking its hold on her. 

They stood at the entrance of the dim, cold room, Mariella’s breath forming small clouds in the chill air. The soft flicker of the sconces cast elongated shadows that danced across the stone walls, giving the room an eerie, almost otherworldly ambience. Thierry's hand lingered on the small of her back, a silent, reassuring gesture with simultaneous possessiveness. As they stepped further into the room, Mariella felt the familiar mix of excitement and dread knotting in her stomach, now tempered by the numbing warmth of the absinthe coursing through her veins.

She felt the first, numbing effects of the absinthe clouding her thoughts, dulling the sharp edges of fear and anticipation that gnawed at her as she laid upon a table situated in the centre of the room. Her eyes flitted to the rolling tray of instruments, their stained, metallic surfaces gleaming under the dim light.

Thierry moved with a detached grace, his eyes scanning the array of tools with a practised familiarity. He selected a long, slender scalpel, its blade appearing sharp, though still worn from previous use.

Thierry’s gaze lingered on Mariella, a mixture of admiration and unease flickering in his eyes. He set the scalpel aside for a moment, reaching for leather bindings that lay clamped to the sides of the table. With a tenderness that belied the cruelty behind the coming actions, he unbuttoned and removed her shirt as to easier access her torso, and bound her arms to lay at her sides, the straps pulling taut against her wrists. She winced, ever-so-slightly, at the constriction but offered no resistance. 

“We begin now,” he said softly, picking up the scalpel once more.

Her body tensed involuntarily as the blade touched her skin, a sharp, icy line of fire tracing its way vertically across her abdomen. The pain was immediate and intense, a vivid shock that cut through the haze of the absinthe. She gasped, her eyes widening as she felt the blade slice deeper, parting flesh with a sickening ease. Blood welled up, dark and viscous, trickling down her arm in crimson rivulets.

Thierry’s expression was one of clinical detachment as he worked, peeling back the layers of her skin with a practised precision. Her world shrank to the searing pain radiating from her gut, the relentless, tearing agony that pulsed in time with her racing heartbeat. She bit down on her lip, stifling a cry as the scalpel bit deeper through soft, bubbly fat, exposing the raw, twitching muscle beneath.

“You're doing well,” he murmured as he set the scalpel aside and reached for a pair of forceps. The forceps clamped onto tendons and ligaments which lined her abdominal wall, a fresh wave of pain that left her gasping for breath. Mariella’s vision blurred with tears, her mind a whirl of fragmented thoughts and jagged, searing agony. She could barely focus, her senses overwhelmed by the unending torment. Thierry’s hands moved with a methodical precision, his eyes gleaming with a twisted fascination as he continued his work. He released the tendons, and she felt a relief so utterly sickening that she felt bile and acid rise in her oesophagus, singing the back of her throat as the forceps were withdrawn. She forced herself to swallow it again. Her abdomen throbbed with a hot, relentless pain, the exposed flesh raw and glistening in the dim light. 

She closed her eyes, bracing herself as she felt the edge of the scalpel, now warmed by her own body’s heat, press against the flesh above her sternum, just between the clavicles. The scalpel’s blade bit into her flesh with a swift, sharp sting. She gasped, her body convulsing as the pain flared, radiating outward from the wound. Thierry’s hand was steady, his touch almost gentle as he deepened the incision, exposing the underlying muscle and sinew.

“Beautiful…” Thierry breathed, his eyes alight with a fervour that bordered on reverence. “You’re doing so well, my dear.”

Mariella's thoughts were a muddled blur of pain and confusion, an instinctive feeling of fear, of dread, flooding her body, which trembled with the effort to stay conscious. The room seemed to tilt and sway around her, the shadows lengthening and shifting in her peripheral vision. She felt a strange, tingling warmth spreading from the wounds, a peculiar sensation that seemed to resonate deep within her veins. Her head lolled to one side as the tingling sensation grew stronger, pulsing through her body like an electric current. She felt detached, disoriented, the world around her blurring into a surreal, dreamlike haze.

Thierry’s free hand reached for a small glass vial, which he positioned beneath the entrance wound, hands sunk just inside her thoracic cavity. He pressed down, forcing the vitae—a strange, viscous, blue fluid with a faint, iridescent glow, muddied by her blood—to seep from the incision and drip into the vial. Each drop fell with an almost hypnotic regularity, a testament to the efficacy of their twisted endeavour. He held the vial up, his eyes gleaming with a wild, feverish excitement. “Would you look at that…” He murmured, tilting the vial in his hands, swirling the fluid around inside the tube.

Mariella could barely comprehend his words, her mind slipping further into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness. The room faded into blackness, the pain, and fear receding into a distant, numbness. In the depths of her fading consciousness, as darkness claimed her, she felt a strange, twisted sense of accomplishment. They had succeeded. Though, at what cost, if any? The question lingered, unanswered, as she drifted into the void.

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

Silence.

Mariella awoke to a room, a bed, in silence, broken only by a ringing static in her ears, and the soft sounds of Thierry breathing as he sat on a seat in the corner of the room, reading the very same journal that she had appeared to have found the existence vitae through just the day prior.

She sat up, wincing, sucking air through her teeth as a terrible ache struck her body, searing from just below her neck to her navel. 

“... Did it work?” She asked wearily.

He looked up at her from the pages of the book, creasing the corner of the page he was on and closing it.

“Yes. Yes, it did.” 

Mariella laid back with a relieved sigh. “Good,” to which Thierry responded with a small hum and a nod, getting up to stand beside her, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“Marie, dear? Do you not have concerns that, perhaps, someday, this may go too far? That we'll do something that cannot be undone? That we’re doing something wrong?”

“Of course not,” Mariella answered with a breathless laugh, “Who defines right and wrong? God? We, you, are become God; in our acts of so-called blasphemy and sin, in violating, desecrating the human body we have become more than any of the others could possibly be. Spill my blood, break my bones, that I may be reborn anew; something uniquely yours, and yours alone. Push the limits of the creation of the common man’s God, break them, and craft from it something new. Something yours.” She reached up, a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tight, as though afraid to let him go. “If Godhood requires sacrifice, then, by God, for you a lamb I shall become; a lamb I already am.”

Thierry stared down at Mariella, something hungry in his eyes as he gently pressed the back of his hand to her face.

“Oh.” He murmured quietly. “Oh, yes. A perfect lamb, my perfect lamb.” Thierry brought his hand down and around her face ‘til it rested beneath her chin, tilting her head up further toward him. “So eager, so ready to be strung out on a butcher’s table and carved anew. You… oh, dear, what a wonderful thing you are.” He squeezed her cheeks, harder than intended, as she drew in a sharp breath. “You know, each day, what the coming evenings will do to you, your blood splattered on the cutting-room floor, each time worse than before, and yet here you are, returned to me once again. Indeed, a lamb you are. A most incredible devotee.”

“Devoted, yes.” She agreed quietly, standing up to easier reach him, her God, placing both hands on either side of his jaw to reconnect the two of them as he pulled his hand back. 

“To you, and you alone.”

⊱─━━━━⊱༻●༺⊰━━━━─⊰

[causenessus]

[ 💌 ] INCOMING MAIL !

A LETTER FROM REE — TO — NESS HAS ARRIVED BY CARRIER PIGEON ♡ °⋆ 🕊️🕊️🕊️📮

ANYONE WHO ISNT NESS DNI DNR DO NOT LOOK. SCROLL AWAY I’M ABOUT TO GO TO SAPTOWN AND I AM EMBARRASSED THESE ARE MY DEMONS DO NOT PERCEIVE ME OR THIS ASK EVER. THIS IS FOR ONE PERSON ONLY. AND IT’S SUPER LONG ! YOU DONT WANT TO SEE THIS OR READ IT. LEAVE. THE DOOR IS THAT WAY.

ask/note: the last time I logged on I saw that you weren’t doing so well and attempted to write a suna + noya how they comfort you style fic and failed…MISERABLY. this is probably late and might not be of any use to you but the ghost of letters came over me and it’s spirit is whispering in my ear to write this (it’s my forte: letters, and I’m sure I could do it way better than writing when writers block is hitting more than it’s ever…. hitteth ,,,, <- ignore that)

dear ness,

first of all ! when I say you’re THE sweetest I mean it, so so so genuinely. you exude warmth and kindness and I truly believe without you tumblr would be a dull and soulless platform

second of all ! whenever you say something self deprecating about yourself I feel like knocking someone out. deep desires to harm someone or break something and just violence. crimes of some kind

I KNOW IT MIGHT NOT SET IN FOR YOU BUT IF I NEED TO SAY IT 100x FOR IT TO SEEP INTO YOUR BRAIN PROPERLY I WILL!! I KNOW YOU’RE AN OVERTHINKER!! I’M GOING TO HOLD YOUR HAND WHILE YOU OVERTHINK!!

there is nothing you’ve put out that I’ve ever disliked in the slightest if not loved entirely — when you said wdo inspires a lot of try again, to say I’m honored is a huge understatement and I believe you are out of everyone’s league; you’re an incredible writer and we don’t deserve you (I’m glad we have you though)

besides your writing, I cannot imagine a world nor a universe where I would enjoy tumblr as much as I do without you existing. I hate to mention wdo so much but it’s hard not to seeing that it was the first time we properly interacted sorry 😭 ..by the time I got to working in that fic I didn’t feel like I belonged on here and you made me feel welcomed :) I don’t think I would still be here or have met everyone that I did without you and I can’t ever thank you enough — you are kind and down to earth and so considerate, and I would give you the world if I could <333

third, last but not least, IT IS OKAY TO NOT BE AT YOUR BEST ! if you need a break we’ll be here when you come back !! you were the catalyst that made tumblr my home and if the apocalypse happened and wiped out everyone on the planet I’d be the last one standing — my motivation to survive was to be there for every causenessus post

IT IS NORMAL TO NOT UPLOAD EVERY DAY OR UPDATE FICS !! EVEN PUBLISHED AUTHORS GO MONTHS WITHOUT TOUCHINGN A PIECE OF WORK !! FANFICTION AUTHORS SHOULD BE SPARED!! ESPECIALLY YOU!! you’ve grinded and given us all these great fics, anyone impatient can take that time to go and reread ur other works instead of complain, I’m sure cold kisses and new grounds wouldn’t mind

I hope that no matter what happens outside of this silly little app: ur aware that my dms are open 24/7 and I mean that when I say it. It won’t require an apology or small talk — if you need to vent or a boredom cure I’ll always be here !!! always !!! I’m a no judgement zone and I CARE ABOUT YOU IMMENSELY AND I WANT YOU TO DO WELL ! I WANT YOU TO BE WELL ! I pray this letter feels like a bouquet of flowers on your doorstep with handmade chocolates from and a real sized suna placing it down there to give you the biggest hug of the century because it’s the bare fucking minimum for all the hard work you do (and before you say anything about slacking off, living is hard work — and I think you’ve done a spectacular job <3) ! this ask is the longest I’ve ever sent I think I set a record 🙂‍↕️ at the very least I hope it made you smile :)

with all my love,

ree.

REE THE MOODBOARD???? THE PICTURES???? REE I AM GOING TO SCREENSHOT THIS AND FRAME IT ON MY WALL /GEN I DON'T WORK IN FRAMING FOR NOTHING!! THIS IS SO SO SWEET <3 AND DW OMG :( THANK YOU FOR TRYING TO WRITE COMFORT AND IT'S TOTALLY OKAY IT DIDN'T WORK OUT!! (i am looking at the five discarded fics in my drafts rn)

ree i cannot i'm going to throw up /pos and i've only read the first paragraph!! REE I THINK YOU'RE OUT OF EVERYONE'S LEAGUE <3 you are genuinely so so sweet and creative and just have the most beautiful mind ever the way that you put so much effort and creativity and imagination into every single thing you do like look at this letter!! look at how you formatted it and matched color palettes and i just cannot tell you how thankful i am for you thank you so much ree <3

and omg no don't worry about mentioning wdo too much at all!! REE IT WAS SO GOOD I COULD NEVER NOT BE HAPPY TO SEE A REFERENCE OR READ SOMETHING ABOUT WDO!! and i'm so so glad that i could help you feel more welcome BC YOU'RE LITTERALLY OUT OF ALL OF OUR LEAGUES!!! IT'S LIKE IF I?? IDK LIKE OPENED THE DOOR AND GREETED UMMMMMMM TOM HOLLAND AT THE DOOR?? AND TREATED HIM LIKE A STRANGER AND THEN HE WALKED INTO THE PARTY AND BUSTED IT DOWN AND EVERYONE LIKE KNEW HIM AND CHEERED HIM ON YK??? like you are so amazing!!! you didn't need an introduction you just needed to come into the haikyuu fandom and bless us all with your writing yk !! (i'm so sorry i cannot find the words in my head to describe my vision for what i'm trying to tell you and i have no idea why tom holland was the first person that came to mind but i hope you get what i mean!!!)

and omg please ree thank you so much for reminding me of how okay it is to take breaks and not post everyday <33 you are so so sweet and i hope that you've been doing well after taking your breaks and everything!! i am so sorry it took me so long to get to this BUT I AM SO HONORED TO HAVE RECEIVED THIS LETTER AND I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM JUST NOW SEEING YOU MOVED BLOGS?? BUT I THINK I FOUND IT AND WILL BE FOLLOWING IT ASAP AS SOON AS I FINISH SAP YAPPING IN THIS ASK!!!

ree i cannot tell you how thankful i am for all of our interactions and the memories we've made and for helping me with the stupid "a (technically an)" or "my" struggle during the makings of love notes and for literally just always being there for me!! please know my dms and everything are always always open to you too and i love you so much!! i hope you see this despite already moving blogs 😭 and i'm so sorry i'm just now finding out about it!!!! but you are the literally the best ree i am so thankful for you <33

[harmonyhealinghub]

Here We Go, Year Two of Harmony Healing Hub Blog! Shaina Tranquilino July 24, 2024

I can hardly believe it—Harmony Healing Hub is celebrating its first anniversary! A full year of writing, sharing, and connecting with all of you has flown by, and I'm filled with excitement as we embark on this second year together. Reflecting on the journey, I am deeply grateful for the encouragement, suggestions, and engagement from this amazing community. Your input has helped shape the direction of this blog, and I’m thrilled to share what’s coming up in the next couple of years.

Continuing My New Year's Resolution

One of my most fulfilling endeavours this past year has been my New Year's Resolution to donate to a different organization every month. This resolution has connected me with incredible causes and people, broadening my perspective and deepening my commitment to making a positive impact. I will continue to blog about these monthly donations, sharing insights into the organizations I feel called to support, their missions, and the difference they make in the world.

Diving Deeper into Tarot

Tarot has been a personal passion of mine for years, and I’m excited to dedicate more space on this blog to exploring it. I’m planning a special Tarot Blog Edition where I’ll delve into the meanings of each card, both upright and reversed. This series will be a journey through the Tarot deck, offering insights and interpretations that can aid in your personal and spiritual growth. Whether you’re a seasoned tarot reader or a curious beginner, I hope this series will inspire and enlighten you.

Sharing My Poetry

Poetry is another passion I hold dear, and I’m eager to share more of my work with you. Currently, I publish my poems on Instagram as TheTwilightTalesmith and have a few poetry books available on Amazon. This blog will become a new platform for my poetry, where I can connect more intimately with my readers and share the emotions and stories behind each piece. Expect to see a variety of poems that touch on different themes, emotions, and experiences.

Short Stories and Monthly Themes

A friend recently suggested that I share my short stories on the blog, organized by monthly themes. I loved this idea and am excited to incorporate it. Each month, I’ll choose a theme and post short stories that revolve around it. This approach will not only keep the content fresh and engaging but also allow me to explore different genres and styles of writing. From romance to mystery, fantasy to slice-of-life, there will be something for everyone.

A Realistic Approach to Blogging

While I initially considered dedicating one year each to tarot, poetry, and short stories, I realized that life doesn’t always adhere to such a strict schedule. Inspiration strikes unpredictably, and creativity flows best when it’s not confined. So, instead of rigidly sticking to a theme per year, I’ll go with the flow and write about whatever comes to mind that day. This approach will keep the blog dynamic and authentic, reflecting the natural ebb and flow of my creative process.

Thank You for Your Support

As we step into this second year, I want to extend my heartfelt gratitude to each of you for your support, feedback, and engagement. Your presence has made this journey incredibly rewarding, and I’m excited to continue sharing my stories, passions, and reflections with you.

Thank you for being a part of Harmony Healing Hub. Here’s to another year of creativity, connection, and growth!

With love and gratitude, Shaina

[lmk-aus-galore]

Cinema Sins/Wins Rip off of Lego Monkie Kid

‘Duplicatnation’

Inspired by @satansaidmyturnintheh3llscape

Rules:

-I won’t be counting Animation Mistakes, because Idk how to do that, and I myself am a beginner animator (more like incredibly amateur, to the point I’m asking my sister for help) Unless of course the Animation is obviously and clearly having a mistake for me to watch. (Or it is said in the wiki) The other reason is because I don’t want to keep repeating a scene just to check for an animation mistake.

-I also won’t be counting flashbacks as ‘mistakes’ because most of them are based on bias.

-I’ll be formatting it like this

-Neutral

-Sin

-Win

-Most of this is Commentary, so there won’t be a last sentence nor win or sin counter.

-This is mostly for fun, no need to get offended.

Alright I’ll be placing the rules every single time, without further ado, let’s get into the episode

———————————————————————————

-Intro

-._.

-Already we’re having a good start to the episode, having a look at our dear boy’s daily life.

-And already we see the side effects of being a people pleaser…

-And already we can see the negative effects it’s having on MK-

-I do wonder if that paint’s gonna last in the water…heck what does the water look like with all the painting he’s doing?

-So is it normal for people to go at the arcade every night?

-Stress in a TV show, this is why kids, you don’t overbook and you can always say no.

-‘Wow MK, you look like hot garbage’ that line always throws me off for some reason, Tang was brutally honest here-

-Also he’s here again, so he just comes there everyday…I feel worried for his stomach-

-That bowl of noodles is obviously MK’s breakfast, no way in hell is Pigsy gonna let him eat that.

-I always wonder, if the place is so busy, then why is the shop always empty?

-‘You’re pushing yourself too hard MK, working all day, partying all night, painting boats?’ And this my friend is the reason you’re not a dad, you’re a mom.

-But in all seriousness does anyone not notice that for MK or…?

-‘I don’t wanna let my friends down y’know’ establishing the character development right away.

-I’m still wondering why Mei is partying every night at the arcade.

-It’s specifically the arcade even- like they don’t even go anywhere else-like seriously girl how are you not bored yet?

-MK forgetting Wukong’s abilities makes him more life-like cause damn even I don’t know all his abilities, like, we know the main ones are in the show, but in the original JTTW he’s confirmed to have the ability to revive the dead-

-‘One of Monkey King’s 72 transformations’ wait, is that true? Or is this a mistake? Does this even count as a transformation?

-The animation is so beautiful :3

-Glad they changed it to blow, in one translation, Wukong had to chew on his own hair and turn it into a hair ball before making it into a monkey, that would have been unsanitary to be honest-

-I’m also guessing they changed it to blow as in ‘Blow life unto it’ Idk, I’ve seen a lot of legends in Asia that tell about the creation of people and how Gods literally have to ‘Blow air into them’ to bring them to life.

-Foreshadowing

-Tiny little detail that not everything about the animation is copy and pasted.

-Love how Tang slowly gets concerned over time- perhaps this is how he just becomes that other parental figure in his life?

-Another tiny detail, both MK’s don’t leave at the same time.

-Man, Tang’s really chill compared to his past life-

-So…when delivery MK was made…was the reason he ate all that food was because this MK was skipping breakfast? Because he’s taking those orders surprisingly fast…

-I LOVE Party MK

-Again, Tang why are you still here?! That amount of noodles can’t be good for your stomach.

-Notable detail, Pigsy squeals when scared.

-I know some people will call this out as fat shaming, but they may be trying to do the old 2015-2019 format of cartoons. Still this might be offensive to some people.

-See this is why you shouldn’t constantly work someone to perfection.

-Also Porty MK got a point Mei, no one parties this much- So kinda miscommunication there?

-Haha

-Ok that is a concerning amount of hair loss…

-Although Delivery MK is pretty adorable, he acts like a baby :3

-‘I don’t know.’ PFFT HAHAAH- it’s funny cause it’s never really said in the book how Wukong got rid of his clones.

-Delivery MK confirms that even the clones can lift the staff.

-The fact the only wavy kung fu MK knew was that one move Wukong taught him last episode.

-Hairball

-I kinda feel bad for these clones tbh.

-‘OG MK in the House Yo!’ ‘I don’t even know what that means!’ Implies that MK would have learned ‘90’s’ or ‘party slang’ if he kept partying with Mei.

-You know, MK being evil is terrifying tbh.

-‘You’re really bad at making clones by the way’ Sorry Mei- but uhm, I think the clones are him, just in a much deeper level than you’d expect.

-Why did you need that many clones?!

-Ok, first off how was this legal? Secondly, did Porty MK bribe the owner or something? Thirdly, How the hell did you even make this?!

-Oof, played yerself.

-The fact the hair just…sticks.

-‘Did you learn your lesson?’ Yeah, it’s MK learn to say no, and Everyone, ask someone else, he isn’t the only person in the world. Seriously guys, from what I see you only overwork him.

Yeah! Sorry this came late-