#but my blog has been really slow growing so far

[soft-angelthing]

I want to make more connections with other nsfw blogs so if you're a queer nsfw blog who's comfortable with a nb person following+interacting with ur posts feel free to like or reblog!! 💗💗💗

[numum]

since twitter is busy shitting itself i guess i’ll have to start posting here more often bc if i’m not sufficiently annoying i’ll die

[russellsppttemplates]

Love notes (Charles Leclerc)

A look into Charles' notebook allows words and feelings to be exposed

Note: english is not my first language. The request didn't specify this, but friends to lovers was the first thing that popped into my mind and I know I'm not the only one whose favourite trope is that one so I did it ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions Charles' father and his passing and implications of the loss of someone close to the reader

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"And you want me to tell you that code?", you asked Charles over the phone.

Your boyfriend needed to go to the bank to sort a few errands out, and since you had finished moving the last boxes of your belongings to his apartment, you stayed back to tidy them and organise them within the apartment. As it turns out, he forgot to take the documents with the codes.

"Yes, please amour - it's in my notebook on my desk on the office", Charles asked, "I think I went as far as taking the paper out a little so it peeks out but I forgot to take it with me", you could hear the smile and blush on his face.

"Let me go there - don't you mind me looking on your notebook though?", you said as you moved through the apartment, "by the way, I have already found some space in the kitchen for mug collection - yay! Okay, found the notebook - is it the document with your signature or the one that has the details?", you questioned.

"The one with the signature, at the end, left side", Charles repeated what the bank assistant was telling him so he could help you find what he wanted, "and it's the third and fifth number on the Mobile Key".

"Okay, I have it - it's 4 and 1", you informed him, "those are the third and fifth numbers".

"Merci amour, I don't think I need anything else! Once I finish up here, I'll head home to you, I love you! And Y/N, I trust you with everything I have - I have nothing to hide", he offered, making you bid him goodbye before ending the call.

His words ressonated with you as you flickered through the pages, noticing some doddles and racing notes before you decided to look at it from the beggining.

The first page had what looked like a poem and it dated back to the end of 2016.

My father told me to be careful

- Try to slow down a little

You don't ponder nor stay still

You don't belong or give yourself to anywhere

He said - my boy, you know what you're capable of

The world awaits you, go ahead and smile

You don't want to be left behind

It's not been easy dealing with everything. There's hope and there's the want to do more to prove everyone that I belong in Formula One. Still, I'm happy that Prema decided to have me race for them next year in Formula Two and things should go up from there. Time and patience, work and rest. Spending time with the people I love most and care about me the most.

Y/N also progressed on her studies and she's doing really well - she makes our friend group very proud! The guys are investing on their careers too and it's nice to see that, in a way, we're all growing up.

The page went on about all the whereabouts of the group, who had gotten together with someone, who had moved out of their parents' house and the ones who got work offers. There were jotted up plans for the summer holidays that, in hindsight, were mostly realized.

When you turned it to the next one, the poem continued with the same tone.

My mother said to me

- You have to see what's happening

That girl is much more than a friend

And you don't want to lose her

She reads it in my eyes

Or in my open soul

I don't know how she does it

But no matter how much I deny it

My mother is always right

I really like Y/N. Not just as a friend, but also as someone who I want to share my life with.

Whenever someone wonders how I think my life will be like in five, ten, fifteen years, she's always there. There's racing - me climbing up the ladder to points, podiums, wins and championships -, and there is my family.

Y/N and our own family.

Mum claims she noticed it since we were kids and that right now is the right time. Y/N is single again and I can't afford to lose her. Lose her as a friend or lose the opportunity to confess my feelings, or the worst one: lose her because she doesn't feel the same or feel like being in a relationship right now?

It's funny how this works, how much I care about her and how it hurts me when she isn't feeling well. Or how bad I feel because I keep missing some of her university milestones because I'm racing somewhere in the world but she always call me and I'm right in her hand while her family and our friends are in the stands or waiting area.

Even though I'm the one that's furthest away, she keeps me close.

Charles had notes about you? He always carried the little notebook around but you assumed it was because of important information he wrote there. You didn't expect this.

His words rang in your ears as, while your boyfriend had told you he had been crushing on you for a while, he had never admitted feeling this doubt. Not to this extent.

Suddenly, it felt like you were taking a look from a different angle at Charles' soul. The intimacy and vulnerability wasn't foreign and you fell in love with him a little bit more.

Today is the day to get closer

To face her and see what she says

And if luck follows me

As I'm writing this, I hope Y/N is getting ready to meet me in the park. She looks beautiful in anything, but I'm hoping she wears one of her dresses that make her look like a real life princess.

Maybe we will be happy

What I have planned isn't elaborate, because I don't think she would like a big production, and I hope it's enough to show her where I stand.

I asked maman for some help with the cakes and cookies and got the rest from the shop, we're going to have a picnic and I've decided today is the day where I tell her how I fell about her.

There is no point in hiding it, and Joris and Riccardo seem so sure that she shares the same affection.

Today is the day to grab her

I hope she does.

To be with the one I always wanted

And if the nervous voice doesn't fail

Y/N said yes to being my girlfriend!!! As it turns out, she does feel the same and we both agree that it was a mixture of stubbornness and bad timing for eachother. Now, it's the right place and the right time.

I hope we will be happy

The memory is clear as day on your mind.

I confessed how much I love her and she reciprocated it.

Charles asked you to meet up with him at the park because he wanted to talk to you. The seriousness of the text was confirmed when you arrived, Charles pacing around the picnic blanket until his eyes found yours.

"I can't pretend anymore", he said, "you're the first person I look for when I get somewhere I know you will be too, I can't stand to see you hurt or upset and I will kick myself every day if I'm ever the reason you hurt, which I hope I'll never be. You deserve the world, Y/N, the moon and the stars, and I'm going to get them for you because I love you", he offered.

You had been so dumbfounded that you could only approach him and kiss his lips, cupping his face closer to yours, "I've been in love with you for so long, Charles", you whispered back.

It was the day where your love story truly began despite having existed for all of your childhood. You were his and he was yours.

Come with me, love is not time

Continuing to look through the notebook, you spotted some racing notes with numbers and acronyms you weren't sure that they meant, taking a while to find another page that had similar writing.

It's not even time that does it

Come with me, love is the moment

In which I give myself

Y/N is asleep right now as we fly back home after the race. She hasn't left my side and I think this is the first time she's sleeping since we got the news. We knew it was coming, but it doesn't mean that it hurts any less.

In which you give yourself

The feeling is unbearable. Someone who gives you so much also takes so much away from you when they go away. There's so much to go through, and all of the feelings haven't come up yet.

Maman is waiting for us with Lorenzo and Arthur, and I hope we will all find peace with this heavy feeling together.

Y/N told me the feeling may never leave, it creeps up when you least expect it and there are no rules to it.

Time is precious and I want to spend as much time as I can with the ones I love. God knows I did that with papa and it still feels like it wasn't enough.

The creak of the floorboards alerted you that someone else was inside the apartment before Charles' head peeked, "Hello, mon ange", he smiled, coming up to kiss your forehead.

It's these moments where we're not doing anything particular or special that mean the most. Y/N has given me all she's got and I've given her all of me, at the end it's the most human thing to do. Be there. Be present. Allow the other to feel everything they need to feel and protect them. Y/N has protected me and she's never let me doubt that we are for each other.

"I looked through these - I didn't mean to invade your privacy but I got curious", you admitted. It would be no use to lie about it or try to hide it away.

Time will wait, stop there

"Did you like what you found?", Charles asked, pulling the other office chair to sit at the table with you, "I have this one here that I really like actually", he flickered through the pages.

So I can stay like this looking at you

Time knows well, even time understands

That someone doesn't rush

"I wrote this one when we were on holiday, it the boat", Charles tapped the page, "you looked so beautiful that day and I felt like I was running out of time to appreciate you. Then I spent the whole afternoon watching you and I felt like time slowed down a little bit because it knew I was appreciating you", he charmed.

That looks at you like I do

"These are very beautiful, Charles - this one is so beautiful", you smiled, kissing his cheek and cuddling up to his arm as he continued to leaf through the notebook.

Call me an adventure and come and have an adventure

There were also drawings and loose poems along with some photos he kept of you two. One of the hike you had done in Ibiza last year caught your eye. You stood on top of the rock and by the way your arms were positioned, you were calling Charles to join you in there while he snapped the picture.

Change my plans and I promise I'll believe

That I'm the only one you want to see when you wake up

Your haven if the world collapses

Come and deceive me with that look of yours

The sweet way that trips me and without counting

Quench my thirst with a kiss to shut me up

Make me a poem and let me stay

I do not forget

But I want to hear from your mouth all the words that make me blush

Speak softly in my ear

And grab my hand

"This was last year, one of the seasons where I had to deal with so much disappointment in racing, and you never let go. You were there to hold me everytime things didn't go well, to celebrate my achievements and my podiums, and you still make it feel like an adventure every single day", Charles mused, "being loved by you is assuring, comforting, liberating, soothing, amazing, incredible and the best feeling I have on the world! Loving you? It's as incredible as it is a big responsibility because I have to make sure the adventure is still there and that we're both in it", Charles admitted.

Before the night is over

"Being loved by you makes me feel like the only other person in the world", you looked up at him.

"Loving you is making sure the time stops when you're with me so I can tell you all the silly stories I know just to make you smile, all of this to make sure you know you're the reason behind my happiness and the one behind the longing that never lies when you're not there. It's hugging you back tight and have my heart wide open because it's yours to take", he sighed with a smile on his face.

"I love you, Charles - being loved by you is the best thing I get to experience in this life", you smiled before kissing his lips.

"This helps me a lot when you're not with me, it's like I can talk to you", Charles muttered, "and I get to have the memories written out too, you never know when this can come in handy".

"You have no excuse if your speech in our wedding feels impersonal or doesn't have any memories then", you joked as Charles' finger lightly pressed down on the remaining pages of the notebook, making sure you don't get the idea to flicker through the random pages he has used to doodle the perfect engagement ring for you, smiling at the thought of having you be his forever.

"I definitely don't, amour - I'll make sure it's a good one when the time comes", he smiled.

[missmonsters2]

—AGNOSTHESIA | FIVE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: After the talk, things were going well, or so Wednesday assumed. You've been distancing yourself and Wednesday is forced to sift through her past behaviors to see why and comes to a realization that makes her violently ill.

Warnings: Angst. Jealous!Wednesday. Enid, has to spell it out. Thing, wants more dew drops. Xavier, rip.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: we're making waveEees (slow burn mode) 🥺💘

Part Four

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Agnosthesia: Noun. The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behavior, as if you were some other person—noticing a twist of acid in your voice, an obscene amount of effort put into something trifling, or an inexplicable weight on your shoulders that makes it difficult to get out of bed.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Not quite, Henry. Try crushing the seed instead of chopping it; you'll get more juice out of it that way."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Yes, use the flat side of your knife, just like that—careful."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Well done, Henry!"

Wednesday slams her textbook down on the desk.

"Ow!" Xavier yelps, the tips of his fingers caught under the textbook. He yanks them out. "Jesus fucking Christ, Wednesday, my fingers!"

"Quit blubbering," Wednesday unapologetically tells him. "They are still attached to your body, are they not?"

"For now," Xavier grumbles, rubbing his bruised fingers. "What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

"I don't have a problem," Wednesday's eyes briefly look at him before looking back at her own flask. "Why would you think that?"

This was her third time re-making the elixir. 

The textbook had said to cut the seed to extract the juice inside, but after Xavier nearly lopped off his finger the first time, Wednesday took over the second time. The only issue was that despite her flawless knife work, they could hardly squeeze any of the juice out from the seed's hard shell. 

Xavier was plucking at her last nerves with his suggestion to try again—as if the seed would suddenly get softer. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw. She should've declined to be Xavier's partner. Even Bianca would suffice better because at least she would feel no inclination about holding back on murdering Bianca when they finally got fed up with each other. 

But this was only an issue because—

"Because tooth fairy has refused to be your lab partner, like, what, 3 times now?" Xavier whispers.

Wednesday doesn't say anything, but her expression gets more contemptuous, her mouth pinched, and Xavier doesn't say anything more. She doesn't even comment on Xavier's horrible epithet that he's been sticking to despite your immediate veto. His only reasoning was that you had a nice smile, which Wednesday was inclined to agree with reluctantly. 

But it was true. It was a rather new development when you began growing closer to Wednesday, especially after they resolved the tension regarding Wednesday not asking questions. It was going well, or so Wednesday had thought. 

Now, you jumped at making sure someone else was your partner before the teacher would even finish telling everyone to partner up.

Looking up, Wednesday stares at the back of your head, willing to burn a hole through it so you'd look at her. 

You don't.

"That guy has been hanging around her often," Xavier comments, his eyes narrowing a little. "Pretty sure he's a legacy. His dad went here—Henry Morrison? Can’t believe he named his son the same name."

"Why are you telling me this irrelevant information?" Wednesday cuts in before he can say anything else. 

"Is it irrelevant?" Xavier smiles, though the corners of his mouth don't make it too far up. "Thought you, of all people, should know this: know any potential rival—lest you want someone else to swoop in."

'Rival?' Wednesday thought with confusion. She looks at the boy next to you. 

There was no way this lanky, pitiful, stuttering boy could be her rival. If she were to look at anyone as a rival, it'd be Bianca. 

The siren looked way too smug and haughty every time you spent time with her. Every time Wednesday caught a glimpse of you two, Bianca would have this aggravating smirk that would send Wednesday into a burst of rage that Thing would have to suffer through while she ranted. 

"How's psychitect going? Getting better?" You ask.

Henry nods eagerly. "I-I can almost make a fully functional mindscape. You should come to see it," Henry says with a shy smile. "Y-You have a free period during that time, right?" 

You nod with an easy-going smile. "Sure, I don't have much else to do, and it sounds pretty cool."

Wednesday purses her lips unhappily, stabbing the seed with the tip of her knife precisely, and Xavier moves his hands away just in case. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Wednesday—"

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I'm about to ask—"

"No."

Enid exaggeratedly pouts, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Wednesday..." she pitifully drags.

"Enid," Wednesday grits her teeth, holding firm. "No."

"C'mon!" Enid continues to plead. "One of the girls broke her arm! We're short a girl again this year."

"How tragic," Wednesday says without care. "But that, unfortunately, wasn't my fault. I applaud your efforts to torture me but I have no inclination to join the boat race this year."

"But don't you remember that satisfying feeling of beating Bianca?" Enid tries to entice Wednesday instead. "What was it that you said last year? A dark, vengeful spirit."

Wednesday raises her brow. "I have no additional quarrels with Bianca this year. I get my satisfaction from beating her in fencing."

Enid lets out a groan. She knows she's running out of options, and she's about to give up when something pops into her mind, and a mischievous smile that Wednesday doesn't like appears.

"Oh, well," Enid says with a dramatic sigh. "I guess we'll just have to ask someone else and risk losing to Bianca."

Wednesday narrows her eyes. "It appears so."

"And with Fae watching in the crowd, I bet she'll be so impressed with Bianca taking that trophy," Enid continues, astutely turning away as she says it, a smirk on her face. "Man, how embarrassing. I can't believe I'll have to explain to Fae that we lost because my roomie didn't want to get into the whole school spirit thing."

Enid sighs one last time as she sits on her bed, looking at Thing, who sits beside her. "Oh, well. I'm sure Fae will be thrilled to celebrate Bianca's victory."

Wednesday clenches her fist. She's not unaware of Enid's horrible attempt at manipulating her. It was tragically embarrassing on Enid's end but what was more embarrassing was that it was working.

The idea of you celebrating Bianca's victory was making Wednesday more sullen than she already was. 

So, for the second time this year, despite Wednesday's reluctance to win the Poe Cup again as it made her more similar to her mother, she was going to make Bianca burn with the taste of utter defeat. 

"Enid," Wednesday scowls. "It would be wise to sleep with both eyes open after the competition is over."

"I love you, too, Wednesday."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday is at a loss. 

Despite her attempts to ask more questions and discover what could possibly be the reason why you've been distant, you've stonewalled her. 

It is a very sickening feeling. 

"How could she do this to me, Thing?" Wednesday seethed at the disembodied hand as it was just the two in her room. "This is the second week she's cut our time short. That's 14 days, Thing. Our usual 38 hours a week have been cut down to a mere 15 hours."

Thing taps and signs.

"Why are you asking if I did something?" Wednesday glares.

Some more tapping.

"It's a fair assumption," Wednesday concedes. "But I haven't done anything out of the ordinary as of late. You must know how painful it is for me right now to admit I am at a loss."

Thing taps.

"And she has said nothing to you?" Wednesday glares suspiciously.

Thing taps more firmly, and Wednesday lets out a sigh through her nose and lets it go. Checking the time, she finds you'll be here any minute now.

As of late, you've been insisting on meeting Wednesday in her room at night instead of your fae studio realm. Enid seemed to catch on and was happy to hang out with Ajax or Yoko for an hour or two until you left.

It only served to remind Wednesday that it used to be four hours at your studio. Wednesday bitterly thinks you've done it on purpose because it was easier for you to leave her space than to make her leave your space. 

There's a knock on her door. 

Right on time.

Wednesday looks at Thing before glaring at the door.

"I will not accept defeat tonight," she ominously declares as she walks towards the door. 

When she opens it, Wednesday finds you smiling at her but there’s something about it that makes her feel disgruntled. 

“Hi, Wednesday,” you say in the exact same way you’ve said hundreds before. “Enid out again?”

“Of course,” Wednesday deadpans since not even Enid knows about your wings.

“Cool,” you reply before looking out the window. “Can we open the window? It feels a little stuffy in here.”

Wednesday looks at Thing, who scuddles to the window and cracks it open. There’s a slight breeze that makes you sigh with ease as you take off your sweater and sit down on the floor at Wednesday’s bed. 

There’s a momentary pause as Wednesday stares at the familiar sight of your back before your opulent obsidian wings slowly grow out, stretching as much as they could with a ruffle. 

They were healing quite well, Wednesday notes. Soon, you won’t need to meet with her every night for treatment. 

You still need to meet her now but you’re already distancing yourself. 

Wednesday feels self-pity, rage, and dour. She won’t admit it, though, as she pulls out the tub of salve and sits behind you. 

Your wings trill as Wednesday moves her fingers through the feathers.

The way you won’t even tell her it tickles anymore. 

“Did you enjoy your day today?” You ask conversationally and Wednesday clenches her jaw.

“No,” she grits out.

“Oh,” you seem surprised at the admittance. There’s a delay and Wednesday knows you’re debating on inquiring further, but you make up your mind. “Why?”

“Why do you think so?” Wednesday asks instead, her voice flat and unimpressed that you’d sink to playing stupid. It was beneath you.

You remain silent.

“I don’t know,” you eventually say, your tone even and unassuming. “Has Xavier finally tried to hug you?”

You’re lightly jesting to avoid the confrontation but Wednesday won’t have it. She applies the salve slowly, knowing full well it was making you antsy. Wednesday was going to drag out tonight so painfully slow, you were going to regret having ever been the reason for Wednesday’s dreadful days. 

“No,” Wednesday answers, “And I doubt he ever will if he wants to live.”

You laugh but it’s not very sincere. “I guess he could always ask Enid to pass along a hug for him.” You’re jesting again but there’s something in your tone that sounds bitter.

Wednesday doesn’t know what to make of the comment, so she ignores it since it’s not like you can see her glare right now.

“You’ve been partnering up with the lanky boy lately,” Wednesday shifts the subject, sounding flat as if it were just a mere observation.

“Henry?” You say confusedly but Wednesday doesn’t confirm or deny. “I mean, I guess,” you shrug.

“Why?” Wednesday demands, asking what she really wants to know.

“I mean,” you say slowly. “Why not? You and I are some of the people with the top grades. It’s obvious we’re adept and Henry needs help.”

“So, why must you be the one to help him?” Wednesday clenches her jaw.

It’s a miracle how gentle she’s still applying the salve despite how uncomfortably irritated she feels. 

“Why? Are you offering to help him instead?” You ask wryly.

“I think if he’s destined to fail, then we should not interfere,” Wednesday bluntly and callously reasons. “Is he not the same boy who first saw you and could barely get a word out, leaving you with such a dull sobriquet?”

“It’s just a class, Wednesday,” you dryly say, awkwardly shifting. 

Wednesday’s jaw is set tightly in place, and she feels utterly humiliated right now.

“I heard you’re joining The Poe Cup race again this year?” You say, changing the subject as the atmosphere was tense. 

Wednesday feels her body relax ever so slightly at the new subject.

“Yes, at Enid’s relentless and piteous begging.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

Wednesday feels uncomfortable and she’s unsure why. 

“Have you considered joining the race?” Wednesday spits out to keep the conversation moving. 

“No,” you answer softly again. “Even though there are no rules preventing sabotage against other teams, Principal Weems and I agreed that my powers would be a very unfair advantage to fight against.”

Wednesday’s curiosity rules over all other emotions. She wants to ask exactly what powers you’re talking about when you suddenly stand up and Wednesday realizes that you could feel when she’s finished applying the salve to the end of your scars. 

“Thanks again for helping me,” you tell her softly as you turn around, making your wings disappear with an uncomfortable grimace. You put your sweater back on and zipped it up. “I have some assignments with my other project partners I have to meet up with. Catch you later?”

Wednesday is left sitting on the floor, seething with rage and defeat as you walk out the room, shutting the door with a resounding, sickening click. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Enid returns home from her date with Ajax, feeling joyous and charmed. She immediately spots Wednesday at her desk on her typewriter.

“Hey, Wednesday,” Enid sing-songs. “Did you have a good night?”

“It was fine,” Wednesday says sharply, which has Enid looking over to Thing, who signs to not ask. 

“O-kay,” Enid replies, taking off her jacket before sitting on her bed. 

Wednesday is typing aggressively on her typewriter, each push so hard it sounds punishing. 

“So—”

“Not now, Enid,” Wednesday icily cuts in, continuing to type as if she wanted to break her typewriter. “I need silence.”

Enid doesn’t reply, only letting out a soft sigh as she puts her headphones on and rests in her bed. She opens a magazine and Thing shuffles over to her to look along with her. The sad thing is that Enid can still hear Wednesday aggressively typing, but she ignores it knowing her best friend and roommate needs the time to cool down before attempting to talk.

The only problem is an hour and half passes and Wednesday is still typing as if the typewriter has personally wronged her.

Enid yanks off her headphones, closing her magazine before she slams both down on her bed. She frostily looks at Wednesday.

"Wednesday, this was cute and funny to watch the first two weeks, but now it's getting sad," Enid purses her lips at her roommate. "Stop moping and go fix it. And don’t play stupid, I know you know what I mean."

"Enid," Wednesday says with thinly veiled anger, her typing coming to a stop. "Whatever it was between us has clearly taken a nose-dive and hit solid concrete and died. It was nothing and I'm not affected by—"

"Wednesday!" Enid snaps, and it makes Wednesday close her mouth. Her bright roommate rarely snapped. "Stop dismissing your own feelings."

"I'm not sure what you're—"

"Oh, yes you do," Enid cuts in, and Wednesday wants to remind her that it is a rude habit. "Maybe your big brain hasn't caught on yet, but if you spent time looking at your behaviors and actions of late, you'd be able to get on the same page as the rest of us."

Wednesday frowns, glaring at her roommate, who glares back.

"I implore detective Wednesday to make an appearance and annoyingly obsess over the clues she's given to herself," Enid scrunches her nose. "I'll be at Yoko's and when I'm back, I expect you'll have come to the correct conclusion. I'm taking Thing as well."

Enid doesn't wait for Wednesday's reply as she turns and leaves the room with a resounding click of the door shutting. With her alone in her room, Wednesday initially ignores Enid's words, going back to sit at her desk and placing her fingers on her typewriter, but nothing comes to mind. 

After sitting in frustration for 10 minutes, Wednesday curses her blonde roommate as she contemptuously gets up and goes to lie down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. 

It's almost embarrassingly easy to think back to the beginning. Wednesday remembers seeing you for the first time and thinking nothing of it. It was only two weeks of your friendly smile and greetings, despite having yet to be formally introduced, that she noticed you more. And then she couldn't stop noticing you because you never endeavored to say anything more to her than hello, even though you were diligent in getting to know everyone else. 

Then, it was the slow desire to know every single thing there was about you. Wednesday was still mostly ambivalent about her phone, but she had wanted your number. It was the gruesome butterflies, the discovery of your secret place, and your wings that began to make this year thrilling.

Wednesday had never suffered through so many hypothetical conversations in her head—she had considered admitting herself as a patient to a mental ward rather than being the usual enthused visitor. 

It was easy to admit that, on some level, she thought of you as hers to protect and would carry out any revenge needed. 

But this was normal, wasn't it? Wednesday bargains. This could all be construed as friendship, the same as whatever she had with Enid—just with more curiosity. 

The foundation of that reasoning was pathetically shaky, she knew.

It was the smaller things that Wednesday analyzed. 

Wednesday thought back and reluctantly admitted there were too many times she's felt jealous and sullen because of you. She thinks about how she would take the long way to her class just to bump into you down the halls. 

The way she would ensure her nightly plans were left completely free to spend with you. Quite frankly, Wednesday planned her days around you, and if there was something she could not put off, then she was sure to include you. 

It was coming horrifyingly clear. Wednesday has always told herself she wasn't sure how she felt about you to give herself plausible deniability. But her own actions and behaviors have ratted her out. 

And it was such an outrageous revelation. 

Damn it all. Wednesday Addams was romantically interested in someone. 

How unfortunate. 

The door jiggles before opening, revealing her blonde roommate returning with Thing on her shoulders. Wednesday looks at the time and finds she's been lying in bed for an hour.

"So?" Enid drawls. "Did you figure it out yet?"

"Yes," Wednesday tightly replies, looking at Enid briefly before glaring back at the ceiling.

"And how do you feel?"

"Enraged." 

"Enraged?!" Enid's in disbelief but then sighs. "But of course you'd be."

Wednesday suddenly sits up. It's well past midnight, but she doesn't care.

"Thing," Wednesday writes a quick note, folding it before giving it to Thing. "Go deliver this."

Thing grabs it and scuddles off while Enid stares at her roommate with curiosity. "Are you going to go meet up with her?" Then, excitedly. "Are you going to confess?"

"The only thing I will ever confess to is a murder," Wednesday flatly says. "But yes, I will be meeting up with her and I will make her suffer as I have."

Enid winces, looking doubtful. "Really?"

Wednesday is silent for a moment before she says, "No. But I will be getting to the bottom of this, and I will come out victorious."

Wednesday puts on her boots and sweater.

"Are you sure she'll even meet up with you? What did you say in your note?"

Wednesday grinned wickedly. "I told her to meet me, or I would set fire to her forest until it was nothing but ash."

Enid sighs, turning to get ready for bed. "Good luck."

Wednesday doesn't reply, walking to the door. It is pathetic she's romantically engrossed in someone, but as it happened, she couldn't undo it. 

Therefore, as the object of her affections, she could not allow you to distance yourself without a sound, robust reason. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday makes it to your studio before you do, but she can hear your footsteps heavy with annoyance. 

"What the hell is wrong with you, Wednesday?" She hears you huff. "Why the hell would you send me a note that you're going to burn down—"

"You've been avoiding me," Wednesday turns around and hisses, anger written all over her face. "Why?"

You’re stunned silent, shocked at the sudden confrontation and venomous tone from Wednesday. For a second, Wednesday thinks you won’t answer and turn around to leave, risking your little haven burnt to a crisp.

"I have not," you say slowly, rising to the challenge as you raise your brow at her. "We still see each other every night, don't we?"

"But we don't..." Wednesday pauses. "You don't..."

"What?" You tilt your head. "Spend all my time with you?"

Wednesday remains silent, her blood silently burning inside her. She's so filled with disgruntlement. It's always better to suffer the truth than to be blissfully unaware, but Wednesday wishes this entire realization wasn't her truth. 

"Should I start prioritizing you?" You say with no inflection, but it feels almost malicious. "I'd have never thought Wednesday Addams would demand so much of my time."

Wednesday would never, ever admit that something as silly as words could hurt her. They were just words, and she'd have to care enough to let them affect her. Even Enid's rare spiteful words were more of something she used to reflect on rather than let them dig at her. 

Yet, here she was, clenching her jaw and feeling her throat constrict. 

Wednesday clenches her fist. "This was a mistake." She turns around and starts walking away, feeling violently ill. She only gets a few steps away before you're chasing after her.

"No, Wednesday—wait," you grab her hand, and Wednesday absolutely detests the way it soothes her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Your tone is full of regret and sincerity.

Wednesday stands still in her spot a moment longer before she slowly turns back to you. You don't let go of her hand, and she doesn't pull away.

"Then, why?" Wednesday asks, even though she isn't in a position to accuse you, as she's the exact same when lashing out.

"Because..." you let out a deep sigh, holding Wednesday's hand more tightly. "Because I'm jealous."

Wednesday's eyebrows furrow. She is thoroughly at a loss. "Jealous?"

You shrug and then nod. "Jealous, upset, lamenting—whatever you want to call it."

"Of what, exactly?" Wednesday frowns. 

"Enid."

"Enid?" Wednesday is even more confused. "Why would you be envious of Enid?"

"It's not necessarily Enid as a person. I know she's your best friend," you sigh. "It's more of Enid as a concept."

"As a concept?" Wednesday raises her brow, prompting you to continue on.

You stare at Wednesday, studying her entirety with a focus that begins to make Wednesday uncomfortable even if she doesn't show it. 

"Everybody talks about last year," you reveal slowly. "Since I wasn't here, everyone is excited to share last year in detail."

Wednesday nods. Even her group talked about last year's events when you hung out with them from time to time. 

"The only thing I can think about when people talk of it is how different you've become," you say quietly. "Which isn't a bad thing, but I'm very aware of the fact that Enid was a big factor in your change."

Wednesday lets the words soak in, analyzing them before she nods in agreement. "Enid has left an enduring mark on me, and she continues to—do not repeat that to her."

You give Wednesday a wry grin. "Yes, Enid is..." you sigh. "She's warm like the sun—like basking under the rays. I can't blame you because I feel it in her presence too. She's genuine and bold. What you see is what you get, and you can't help but be charmed."

"I would say Enid is more like a fungus that grows on you and you have no choice but to be fond of, but continue on."

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you look at Wednesday, mirroring her impassive eyes. "I'm not like that."

Wednesday raises her brow. "And?"

You swallow, and Wednesday sees something dim behind your eyes. "I will never be warm like the sun, and what I show others will always be different—always a mask. Wednesday, despite you being grim, solemn, and interested in all morbidities, you're enticed by the sun and moved by its warmth." It was such a miserable smile. "And that will never be me."

You drop Wednesday's hand, and there's something so hollowing about it that Wednesday wants to tell you that you're such a fucking moron because the lack of your warmth is upsetting her. 

"Did you fall on your head when I wasn't watching?" Wednesday snaps at you, and you merely stare back at her. She grabs your hand back, almost crushing it to punish you. 

"Basking in the sun is only tolerable when you're sitting under the shade," Wednesday follows your ridiculous metaphors. "I will admit that Enid's warmth has taught me that while I enjoy solitude, it is a choice—not a condemnation."

"I will also admit that Enid has her whims indulged by me more," Wednesday rolls her eyes but looks at you sternly. "But so do you. I could argue I let you get away with more."

"Do I?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"If anyone consumed my thoughts and put me through such self-pity and suffering as much as you do, I would have already turned them into the next true crime documentary."

You can't help but crack a smile.

Wednesday looks at you, her eyes softening, and she evenly says, "It is easy to adulate the light." Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "Show me your darkness."

You squeeze Wednesday's hand gently, and the tension in your fades, your shoulder becoming relaxed.

The anger subsides within Wednesday, quelling as she knows this stupidity is coming to its end and you will no longer be avoiding her. 

It comes to Wednesday suddenly how much emotional labor you put her through, and she's in disbelief that you think you aren't capable of changing her.

"You are..." Wednesday huffs with frustration. "Unpleasant."

You can't help but laugh. "You are, too."

"You already knew that," Wednesday plainly says. "I told you I would devastate you at some point."

"I wouldn't say I'm devastated," you smile amusedly at Wednesday's dramatics. 

"Nevertheless, this is still a mistake."

"And what a grand mistake it would be," you muse. 

"We clearly don't know what we're doing."

"I guess we just have to keep going until we do."

"Quite frankly, even if we do, we will still both needlessly suffer," Wednesday warns.

You hum, drawing Wednesday closer. Wednesday looks a little wary, but she allows your proximity. Her eyebrows are slightly tense as she gazes at you. 

"I heard your mother named you after her favorite poem," you say softly, your hand grazing Wednesday's fingers before you entangle them together. For someone who enjoyed the cold so much, her hands were warm. "Wednesday's child is full of woe."

Wednesday only nods slightly because moving too much would make her lips graze yours. 

The tension is so thick, Wednesday could suffocate in it. How lovely. 

Your lips graze against Wednesday, and she tightens her hands against yours when you pull away. You look at Wednesday's eyes so vehemently, and she experiences opia all over again. 

"But did you know?" 

Wednesday can feel your breath on her face.

"Love is suffering—and we get the honor of enduring its torment."

Your lips press warmly against the corner of Wednesday's mouth, and she finds you're veracious. What torture it is—and Wednesday takes delight in it.

PART 6

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities: Chapter Four (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: As you prepare for the impending trial and attempt to find ways to relieve your stress, the biggest stressor in your life has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back after a little hiatus! This is a bit of a shorter chapter to get me back into writing after a few months. I’m hoping to be updating a bit more regularly but I’m (sadly) growing even more busy & stressed, so I promise to do the best I can! As always I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. My asks/dm’s are always open!

Tag List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @aggieslittleslut @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Present Day

The whooshing of the wind in your ears combined with the cool air filling your lungs fueled you to increase your pacing as you ran through the deserted park. It had been nearly a week since you reunited with Agatha, and your brain had been hellbent on torturing you ever since. Nothing could take your mind off the infuriating attorney, not even work. You had spent the past few days pouring over every word in the various documents Agatha presented during the pretrial conference, hoping to find something, anything really, to solidify your case.

It was times like this when you missed working in corporate law. Although you had only been a junior attorney at Stark & Strange, you had unlimited access to paralegals and attorneys at your disposal. Unfortunately, working for the government meant not only taking a significant pay cut, but also limiting your outsourcing. You didn’t regret your decision to leave the firm, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the perks.

Since burying yourself in piles of work proved useless, your only real escape from Agatha came from running. The familiar burning sensation began to fill your lungs as your body begged for a break, but you forced yourself to continue. Your legs felt heavier than when you first started, and as you rounded the corner of the trail you had to work twice as hard to not slow down. Even though you were growing tired, the rush of endorphins was a welcome change from the haunting memory of searing blue eyes burning holes into your own.

Agatha would be far too pleased to learn how much of your time and energy was being wasted trying to forget her. However, being the soul sucking succubus she was, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was already aware of the pain she was causing. A swell of anger suddenly overtook you, a feeling you had long grown familiar with when thinking of her, and you used it to finish the final stretch of your run. The thudding of your feet on the pavement along with the loud thumping of your heartbeat acting as a painful reminder of the woman you so desperately wanted to rid yourself of.

Swirls of scarlet, orange, and yellow painted the Manhattan skyline as the sun gradually rose over the city, and the quiet beeping of your phone from your back pocket signaled the end of your run. Nearing the end of the trail, you slowed your pace down to a steady walk, allowing yourself to do some breathing exercises in the process whilst checking your email. It was early enough in the morning that there wasn’t much for you to go through, but you knew it was bound to be yet another busy day.

You had timed your run to give yourself just enough time to head back to your apartment to get ready for the day and get to the office before the rest of your colleagues. The stress of the looming trial was becoming overwhelming, and you had to be prepared for whatever chaos Agatha would inevitably throw at you. Unfortunately that meant you were working nearly double the amount of hours than normal.

Luckily you were able to take a quick shower, find clean clothes in the back of your closet, and managed to get to work before anyone else had arrived. You would hopefully have an hour or two to yourself before you were eventually interrupted, and you intended to use every last possible second you could. As you strolled the corridor, you were tempted to stop to make yourself a coffee, but decided to get settled before adding caffeine to this situation.

Absentmindedly dropping your bag to the floor after you entered your office, you refocused your attention on reading a memo that one of your colleagues had left for you. Making mental notes of what needed to be addressed, you turned to open the blinds when you stopped dead in your tracks at what was in front of you.

Agatha Harkness sat in an armchair in the corner of your office, an amused expression painting her face. You nearly fell over at the sight of her, how did she get in here? The door was locked when you had arrived, wasn’t it?

Agatha, unaware of your current inner ramblings, took a sip of her coffee before repositioning herself, recrossing her legs as she gave you a disappointed look. “Your lack of situational awareness is truly astonishing. I could have been a murderer.”

Adrenaline continued to course through your body as your heart thumped loudly in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you ignored her sarcastic remarks as you leaned against your desk, attempting to calm down.

“What-what the hell are you doing in here?” You spluttered out, unsuccessfully trying to regain your composure.

The attorney frowned, as if that was an absurd question. “This is your office, is it not? I wasn’t sure at first, but the withering plants were a bit of a giveaway.”

Typical Agatha. They weren’t dying, were they? You made a mental note to ask your paralegal to water them a bit more.

Ignoring the jab, you took another deep breath, your body still on edge. “Do I even want to know how you got in here?”

Taking a moment to think over your words, she shook her head. “No. Now drink your coffee before the ice melts.”

It was then that you noticed the untouched cup of iced coffee on the edge of your desk. Narrowing your eyes at it, you gave her a suspicious glance. “How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, as if that was the most ridiculous thing to ask her and she didn’t just break into your office. “Honestly, dear. You’re far too paranoid this early in the morning. Drink. We both know how irritable you are without caffeine.”

When you refrained from grabbing the cup, Agatha huffed, her stormy blue eyes swirling in annoyance as she rose from her seat. Taking a step towards you until your legs were nearly touching, she snatched the cup, the silence in the room disrupted by the clanking sound of the ice swirling in the cup. Hovering over you, she used her free hand to grab yours, the soft feel of her touch briefly taking you back to a time where it would have been more welcomed.

Your breath hitched as the rich, musky scent of her expensive perfume washed over you, and you fought the temptation to look into her eyes. How many times had you found yourself in this exact same position with her, you mused lightly as your brain attempted to regain its ability to function. Agatha’s fingers intertwined with yours, as she leaned in even closer, her lips grazing your jawline and you closed your eyes, fighting against the urge to lean into her touch.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “No. This can’t happen again.”

Agatha pulled back, her eyebrows slightly raised. “What can’t happen again?”

Giving her a pointed look, you tried to ignore the feel of her fingers still interwoven with your own. “I don’t think we need to relive that mistake, do we?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Agatha replied, swishing the cup of iced coffee as she lifted it up. “I seem to recall you rather enjoying yourself during that mistake, or was that someone else who pulled me into a closet and jumped me?”

“I did not jump you! You’re the one who came onto me,” you hissed as your irritation grew exponentially.

“Easy, tiger,” Agatha teased, raising the cup until the straw was nearly touching your lips. “I see the caffeine withdrawal is already kicking in.”

“Agatha…” you trailed off, ignoring your brain protesting that this would hurt even more than your last encounter.

Dropping your hand, Agatha gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head upwards until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“Sip,” Agatha murmured, raising the cup once more to your lips.

Her words were soft, but you both knew it wasn’t a request as much as a command. A part of you knew this was a mistake, that you couldn’t give into her yet again after being strong for so long. But then you looked into her eyes and found yourself getting lost in the fiery intensity she always seemed to carry. Logic and reason held no weight against the pleasure that was being at the mercy of Agatha Harkness.

Wrapping your lips around the straw, you lightly sucked, savoring the creamy, cold taste of the iced coffee on your tongue. Agatha’s eyes darkened at the sight; using one hand to brush your hair behind your shoulders while the other remained glued to your jaw, fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“Good girl,” Agatha quietly praised, running her fingers through your hair, tugging lightly at the loose strands.

As you released the straw from your mouth, Agatha set the cup down, tightening her grip on your hair before capturing your lips in a kiss. Her lips were warm and gentle against your own, but it wasn’t long before she began nipping on your lower lip, biting down harder when you let out a whine. Moving forward, she pressed herself fully against you, while you instinctively wrapped your arms around her waist. Her tongue expertly sought out your own, and it felt like she was trying to get every drop of coffee from your mouth.

Panting, you were the first to break the kiss, tilting your head as Agatha proceeded to pepper persistent kisses down your jawline, each leaving you more breathless than the last.

“Agatha…” you whimpered, the last bit of self control slipping away even as you tried to hold onto it. “We can’t do this again.”

The attorney chuckled softly against your skin, tickling you ever so slightly in the process. She took a moment to look up at you then, with her ever blue eyes hazy with want and perfectly swollen red lips, and you remembered a moment in time where this had been easier. It was almost too easy to forget the pain of the past when she looked at you in that special way; as if she saved those intimate, sweet glances just for you. You used to believe you were able to bring out a different side of her than the rest of the world saw; that you understood who she was at her core.

Having her here now made the whole situation even worse than you previously remembered. It complicated things, and if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was unnecessary complications. You found it difficult to remember the seemingly obvious reasons why you left her all those years ago when she was standing within your reach; the light that once dimmed in her eyes was once again ablaze. Gone were the demons of the past, in its place was the woman you had once fallen in love with.

Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard chatter from the hallway; your colleagues had arrived for the day. Agatha’s head tilted at the sound, and the moment was broken as she took a step back.

Clearing her throat, she folded her arms across her chest. “I was hoping you had given more thought to dropping the case, that’s why I dropped by.”

Annoyance took over any feelings of longing that had been threatening to emerge, and you frowned. “You do realize that this could be perceived as intimidation, right? That on top of trespassing could mean you potentially lose any upper hand in this trial that you believe you possess.”

Agatha fully cackled, which only served to enrage you further. She picked up a few files that she must have previously set on the desk. “You always were so full of pride and ambition, dear. I’m not surprised to see it still has a hand in clouding your judgment. It’s a pity. I always thought you had a lot of potential.”

Flabbergasted, you shook your head. You should have known better. Only Agatha would be capable of attempting to manipulate you over your shared past to better serve her motive. Shoving past her, you finally opened the blinds to your office, the once sunny morning replaced with dark gray skies as rain furiously poured down. As you turned around to tell Agatha to get out, you were unsurprised to find she was already gone. Typical.

Settling down at your desk, you opened your laptop and started going through your checklist for the day when you noticed something on the edge of your desk; a file folder. You quickly realized Agatha must have left it behind by accident, which was strange; it wasn’t like her to do something like that. It was unclear what drove you to opening the file, but looking back you’d blame it on your own morbid curiosity. Inside there were over a dozen pages of what appeared to be hospital records for two people, one being Wanda Maximoff.

As you settled in to read, your eyes drifted to the neglected iced coffee. A part of you wanted to throw it away, but the caffeine driven side of your brain led you to grab it. After all, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Flipping the page over as you sipped, you paused as you actually tasted the coffee for the first time without distraction.

This is your exact coffee order. Iced coffee, extra ice, one pump of vanilla and a splash of oatmilk. After all of these years she still remembered, remembered it perfectly.

You weren’t sure why you hated that as much as you did, but it burns in your mind as you keep reading and drinking, trying to wash her taste out of your mouth.

[kittybroker]

General update post:

Nothing is really changing right now but if posts have been slow due to stuff going on irl. I'm finding myself able to get to less and less tagged posts at the moment. A large chunk are posts I've already seen, and even without that I'm getting them in far faster than I can get posts out.

Likewise, it's getting harder to keep submissions open for longer periods of time as it gets more and more asks quicker than before. I am also very tired with outside stuff ongoing and have been missing scheduled posts fairly regularly.

I'll still try to get to as many as I can but it can take time and I can't get to everything. I'm hoping to sort out the intro post with an FAQ and a few other bits of useful information but it might be a bit before I can get anything sorted there.

It's been suggested before that I get other people on to help, and I haven't really wanted to do that. I stand by that decision but the blog has continued to grow pretty consistent for the last eight months or so, with no real sign of it seeming to slow down. I recall when I started I was somehow getting 20 posts out a day but right now queue is set for 12 and I suspect I'm only getting about 10 out. No idea how I did it then but there's only so many cats I can evaluate before my brain turns to slush.

As a note, please don't tag me into or send in more than about two posts at a time. There's just too many coming in and I'll probably just chose the best if you do (I notice and then forget later anyways).

[thirdnap]

Hello,

Here is the life update of my past 4 years.

I began this blog many years ago in 2012 when I was only 14 years old, and I then slowly gained the courage to start posting art at 17 when I joined the K fandom. It's wild to think that I am now 25!

I was never quite consistent in posting since I only shared my art here whenever I felt like it, but it slowed down ever so gradually to basically 1 post a year for Yata’s birthday. This blog helped me with my fear of showing my art to others as I was incredibly embarrassed of my work for a really long time.

I soon moved to the USA from my homeland and attended animation school for 1 year, and then studied illustration and visual development for 4 years and I managed to accomplish many things I never could have imagined. I graduated with honors this past May, was selected by the faculty and head of department as my major’s trustee scholar, completed my 84-page art book thesis, got a few pieces into the Society of Illustrators, and my school even shot a mini docu-film about me, my art and my life where I got to share my upbringing. Art school was very demanding and at times tough but I managed to get a lot out of it :)

In July of this year, I moved to California from Florida and I’m much happier than I’ve ever been. I come from a very small country so I never expected to get this far in the art world. I drew Yata for fun in my bedroom whenever I wanted to and now I’m in LA breaking into the animation industry (receiving my first credit too!)

the drawings I share here are a very very small part of the illustrations I make weekly. I wish I could share them with everyone as I’m very proud of them but I enjoy separating my fandom life from my real life a little too much! Surprisingly I am working as a background artist at the moment despite never drawing backgrounds in this blog lol. I think many of you would be surprised at how different my work is from irl!!

It hasn’t always been great, so I don't want to make it seem like it's been all perfect. I’ve had many hard times too and at the moment I am extremely homesick since I haven't returned home in a long time but I think these are needed sacrifices.

However, I'm excited for 2024. I'm looking forward to growing as an artist and my goal is to continue to have fun with art as much as I have right now. I think I’m lucky to have a great support system including my best friend @fuurais who has been by my side for 10+ years and I managed to convert into a K artist too <3

Thank you for the support, for the kind messages, and for the excitement every time I post. I am always happy when I think of this blog and the friends I made. I unironically think about Yata every day as he is past being my comfort character tbh. I am currently writing this with full-on orange hair that I've had for a few years now lol.

I don’t think I’ll be as active as I was at 17 but I will try to not ghost this blog completely. There are a lot of things I haven’t drawn yet that I really want to do and I'd love to share those drawings with everyone.

Lots of love -

Tael <3

[pomplalamoose]

I fucking love you you’re the only person who talks abt Luke and I need more stuff abt him PLEASE litreally anything will do

Really, this means SO much to me because the only reason this blog exists is an outrageous lack of Luke content, so now I'm making it myself😤

I didn't know what you would like to hear about so here's a random collection of Luke thoughts and ideas I had since August (mostly in collaboration with my girly @little-skywalker )🫶🏻

Also this turned out a little bit more nsfw than what I usually do, I hope you don't mind

• in my mind Luke is very good with children and they like him a lot in return

• so if you have been in a healthy and loving relationship with him for a while, he'll probably ask how you feel about kids of your own

• as someone who wants to avoid pregnancy at all costs I like to think he'd be very understanding about you feeling uncomfortable with giving birth to a child yourself

• because of this he'd be more than happy to adopt too

• especially because he knows what it's like to loose caregivers and grow up without knowledge about your real parents, he'd be so enthusiastic to raise orphans with all the love they deserve

• along with the ones already in his Jedi Academy, you'd have a shit ton of kids around

• related to this I can totally see him giving out fun stickers as rewards

• the children cleaned their rooms? Sticker. They did their house hold chores? Sticker. They did well at school? Sticker. They made him laugh? Sticker.

• he likes to give you some too if that's what you want

• (although for wildly different reasons)

• when he's in a good mood, Luke is a tease

• often about pretty innocent things like a stain of marmelade on your top or when you mispronounce a word lost in thought

• other than that he likes to gently pull your hair while he's sneaking up on you

• or to grab your nape with ice cold fingers after washing them

• he loves hearing you shriek his name and your indignant expression after

• when you're alone though, things quickly take a turn in a whole other direction

• he's never mean of course, but making you blush is one of his favorite activities

• he likes to mock the sounds you make in bed, sometimes even going as far as mimicking them

• he likes to pinch and squeeze your soft thighs, your arms and ass or your breasts until you swat his hands away

• when he discovers something new you like, you won't hear the end of it for the next few weeks

• he has a way of glancing and smiling at you suggestively while others are around that makes you fume

• Luke likes to see you in pretty lingerie, no matter whether you bought it yourself to surprise him or if he gave it to you as a present

• one can argue about his favorite colors in that regard

• my first idea was a nice pastel green to match his lightsaber

• until I realized his lightsaber is neon green

• the ultimate conclusion: Luke likes to see you in neon green lingerie

• (maybe go for black, you can't go wrong with black)

• Luke is ✨well endowed✨ and while not too big, he's still a lot to take

• I like to think you'd need to practice to get him fully inside of you

• he's always patient and careful with you though, and knows how to make it as pleasant as he possibly can

• he doesn't want to hurt you

• that said, sometimes he tends to forget himself while you are going at it

• when at first he was slow and gentle, he sometimes gets a little bit too into it and his thrusts grow rough, almost bruising

• he'll catch himself quickly and apologize, though if you liked it, he may be willing to change up his pace a little bit

• I'd like to add how insanely attractive that man is as well

• everything about him is good looking, even (or especially?) his hands

• they are simply made to be kissed and licked

• (imagine sucking on his fingers)

• also it'd be nice to just be held by them

• your hand would completely disappear in his

• and they are always nicely warm

• I'm sure that Luke is very strong as well

• he didn't train in that swamp on Dagobah for nothing

• we all have noticed his arm muscles

• that combined with his height, he's easily able to manhandle about everyone

• the children love when he picks them up to spin them around or to throw them up in the air as if they weigh next to nothing to him

• you like to be picked up as well, especially if he then pins you to a wall

• or down on his bed

• if he wants to cuddle there is not much you can do about it

• while I'm not necessarily into nicknames or other kinds of endearments, the thought of being called bunny by Luke drives me crazy

• I find it to be fitting in every kind of situation too

• it doesn't matter if it's said in a soothing manner or just casually during the day

• imagine him calling you bunny to admonish you

• OR when you're bouncing up and down on his enormous d-*gunshot noise*

[circular-bircular]

2 Cents

(Get it? Cause it's all about change? I'm hilarious)

The response to SAS has been stunning, to say the least. Duh, of course you know what I'm talking about -- Woooahhhhh the major anti-endo is pro-endo now!!!

Only, I really don't want to frame it like that. And... I'm so relieved to see so many taking it in stride and not framing it like that.

Me and Dude have been friends for a very, very long while -- or at least it feels like a long time. DID makes it hard and all to really realize how much time passes. But I consider Dude one of my close friends at this time, and I hope people can see why. He's a person who's willing to change, albeit stubbornly, and he works so hard to be kind -- even when the world has been so much less than kind back.

And one thing I've always known is that Dude was anti-endo, but willing to compromise on those opinions and beliefs if it meant furthering the science of it all, and understanding more about all of this. As time went on, it became understanding more about CDDs than ever before, fueled less by frustration and more by genuine curiosity. It's what attracted me to this friendship in the first place.

Seeing Dude repeatedly start to say that he is pro-endo warmed my heart, but not because of the pro-endo part; it was because of the change part. Because so many people struggle with that, with the idea that they can change. Me being one of them.

It's been... so difficult trying to carve out a place in syscourse. In life. I started out pro-endo and manipulated into very nearly thinking I wasn't a DID system at all. I moved to this nebulous area where i was harassed for stepping out of line. I was neutral, I became anti-endo, neutral again -- constantly flip flopping because I didn't have anyone or anything to hold onto. I didn't get to have a community. I didn't get to be anything other than The Bad Guy.

While I was in a CDD server, I at least had that community, but even that wasn't what I wanted. Even that wasn't good for me, even if it was good in other ways. Maybe I'll find the good again someday.

But seeing this outpouring of support... As someone who now no longer uses any syscourse label (Call me what you want, I really don't care), it's a goddamn relief to see someone being accepted with open arms. It's a relief to see people being so kind and generous, both with asks and with comments. I have to be blunt and say how jealous I am, seeing the outcropping of support.

But I'm also relieved to see my experience really is far from the norm... while also acknowledging that I am incredibly braced for impact at the moment due to those experiences.

I'm an incredibly stubborn person, I'm able to admit it. I struggle to change. I'm incredibly set in my ways. But I also do change, rapidly, flipping on a dime when I think it's what the other person wants. (Honestly, part of why I appreciate Dude so much was his insistence on slowing down, getting the facts, and making an educated decision based on that). And recently with syscourse, I've felt as if I have to slam my fist into the table and shout and scream about How Pro-Endo I Am, just in case anyone was lumping me in with those anti-endos -- but then I saw how some pro-endos were acting, and I felt I couldn't say anything about it-- ugh, I'm rambling.

All that is to say, I've felt so... stunningly alone lately, even with the support of my friends. I'm alone in syscourse. I'm alone in recovery. So many of my friends are moving on, healing, growing, and... Here I am, just a silly little circle on their blog, young and stupid and dumb.

So I'm glad people are accepting Dude, not as a pro-endo, but as someone who has grown. It gives me a lot of hope for my future. A lot of hope for finding a community -- not as a pro-endo, or anti-endo, or syscourse anything.

Just as a person.

Does that make sense?

I hope other people out there, stuck in syscourse like me, feeling very alone in a very large world, can see how willing people are to extend a hand. I hope I've extended my own enough. I just... have a lot of hope for the future.

@sysmedsaresexist Thanks for helping give me that right now <3

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Brainrot Housekeeping: Updated Schedule!

Hi friends! I've got a whole message under the cut, but here's the important part regarding this blog's new content schedule:

Saturdays: mini-hcs Sundays: answering asks (& maybe some rambles?) Mondays: full-hc Tuesdays: answering asks (& maybe some shitposts?) Wednesdays: Vesuvia Weekly Thursdays & Fridays: rest

You might see some polls showing up in the next week or so about new content types - if you're interested, feel free to vote! ^.^ More under the cut:

While I haven't hit rock bottom, I've been getting some symptoms of burnout recently and I'd like to avoid completely running myself into the ground XD

This blog has really pushed me to see what kind of creativity I have, especially just how much work I'm able to produce and sustain. I thought I'd get tired and burn out at two months tops, and it's been over and year and I have no immediate plans to stop! However, taking a look at my own system right now, I do think I need to slow down.

To be honest, fanwork isn't something I've been doing a long time - this tumblr blog is the only fandom creative stuff I've ever done! Before that, most of the things I created were originals - music, art, and of course, writing (though I haven't touched my sketchbook/paints in forever and I haven't done any sightreading in years - whoops).

It gets hard to keep your muscles moving when you only move them in one direction. As much as I love writing headcanons for the M6 in response to people's prompts, there is so much else my mind can do that it misses having the space for. Which brings me to the reason for this schedule adjustment - I miss having that creative freedom.

I still greatly enjoy writing headcanons for you guys and participating in the fandom, and I don't plan to stop anytime soon. However, I want to take some time back to get back into frolicking in the stuff my own brain comes up with, and making space for that to grow into something real.

The questions I need to figure out now are 1) how much time is it going to take me to get my full capacity back? and 2) should I keep this as a purely Arcana blog, or expand it for all my creative work?

If you've read this far, you have my sincerest gratitude. I'll see you guys tomorrow :)

Cheers!

brainrot

[soleilnomoon]

Hi again! Still absolutely adore your Kid fic from your last event 💜 Never got around to asking for a Sanji one, so here I am again😅 But seriously, congrats on over 550 followers!! Love seeing your blog grow, cause you’re really talented and deserve them all and legit can’t wait til you hit 1k+ 🥰

For the event order, may I please ask for a #1 with my boi Sanji, with anmitsu, konpeito, and keylime pie and with honey, please? 🥹 i hate this but need some sanji angst 😭

I also dunno if these three would work particularly well together for a prompt, so you can choose whatever! just really feeling angst and sanji rn and maybe comfort if you’d like 🥰

Thank you for all your works you’ve done so far 💜💜

hiiii omg haha i loved that fic fr (i'm obsessed w that man!!!) also ily for requesting sanji i don't write him nearly enough 🥰️ but thank you sm!! 😭 making me all soft and i am so so sorry this took forever, as u know i am so slow but!!! i had fun tormenting sanji w the angst ngl 💓💓💓💓 also those were great choices for the prompt, i wanted to write more but it would've been 8k words before i finished and who has time for that (i do, but listen... that's besides the point) ✨

2k words, fem reader (honestly gn too now that i think abt it), sfw (SHOCKING i know), 18+ mdni, a lil bit suggestive but nothing wild, angst angst angst city babey, fluff if you squint, also i gave u comfort bc u deserve it bb 💗(and sanji does too); feat. sanji being in denial forever and ever, mutual pining, fake unrequited love, reader is determined and sanji is a coward; also i made myself sad writing this but a good sad bc sanji deserves happiness and i'll fight oda if he doesn't get it i s2g... (if u see grammar mistakes/spelling errors... no u didn't 💗)

“loving each other began this way: threading / loneliness into loneliness / patiently, our hands trembling and precise.” — yehuda amichai

STEP 01:

what does it take to kill a soul? —

a question that’s posed unironically, without a hint of remorse or tact, the words precise and venomous, slicing through the thick veneer that he’s carefully crafted. he’s never been able to answer that question — not at six years old, not twelve or fifteen, and not at twenty-one. his siblings took pleasure in taunting him with seemingly philosophical questions, ones that clamped down onto his thoughts with heavy shackles.

even after he’s extracted himself from that life, he can’t scrub those memories from his mind — no matter how hard he tries. they sit, still raw and bloody, giving rise to unpleasant emotions that make his stomach churn from so many things left unsaid. he never set out to be a pirate, but piracy has given him the sort of freedom that he could only wish for as a child.

it’s with tender hands, with nimble yet graceful fingers, and with a fastidiousness that puts him in a category of his own, that he creates and creates and creates —

he’s told he’s an artist, which only pushes him to work harder, to be better. and when he asks himself why, he doesn’t have an answer. or, rather, the answer he does have only serves as a punishing reminder that he’ll never be good enough. no matter how many times his crew mates thank him — their emphatic, genuine praise a soft, warm breeze against his heart, gentle caresses that he commits to memory — despair still manages to infiltrate, a darkness choking out what little light he has left inside of him.

STEP 02:

how far are you willing to go to reach the truth? —

when you join the crew, he’s unnerved by your presence, which is wholly unlike him. usually, he’s able to put on his façade of the flirtatious cook, one that’s jovial and sociable, that lives to serve and please those around him. his first conversation with you ends in disaster; he spills the drink he tried to pour for you, despite your insistence that you are perfectly capable of pouring your own drink — and he knows it’s not out of malice, but it cuts into him all the same.

he tries again and again, bringing you little treats that you only agree to eating if he sits and eats with you; confusion eats away at his mind, and when he opens his mouth to decline, you pat the seat next to you and he acquiesces. he sits stiffly, at first, unsure of why he always feels on edge around you — an irritating need to impress you in a way he’s never wanted to for others grows stronger by the day.

you think it’s cute that he always seems flustered around you — that he stumbles over his words, refuses to hold eye contact with you for longer than thirty seconds — you also think it’s cute that the false bravado that he puts on for the world, diminishes immediately the second you come close to him. if he’s skittish, it’s because you always catch him staring at you; despite his quick reflexes, his reactions around you are slow but pure — childish, almost.

lately he’s clumsier and scatterbrained, nearly burning dinner when you decide to keep him company. you lean against the countertop, a teasing smile on your face — the same one that that caused him to bump his forehead against the cabinet door earlier — as you prattle on about a dream you had. he can barely keep up, his eyes drifting from the skillet to your face, gliding around the curve of your cheek, dipping lower in a slow descent along your neck.

he blinks repeatedly when he reaches your clavicle, stunned at his restraint; and it’s only when you call his name loudly that he realizes he’s left the heat on for too long.

“are you okay?” you ask when you see that he’s fussing over how best to save the dish, mouth moving as he quietly mutters to himself. he barely registers your voice, as an insidious one whispers harshly into his ears about his perpetual incompetence and lack of talent.

you can see that he’s retreated even further into his mind, a feat that also leaves you frustrated. you want to shake him but refrain and grab his hand instead. he snaps out of whatever stupor that held him captive just moments ago, lips parting as he sighs softly before glancing down at you.

“thank you.”

the words are quiet, but impactful, as he didn’t think he’d be able to get them out. you let go of his hand too soon, but he doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on cooking than embarrassing himself again in front of you.

you take his silence as a silent dismissal, but you don’t fight him on it — it’s bitter, that sort of rejection, and you swallow back your argument with great difficulty.

STEP 03:

what’s the difference between cowardice and self-preservation? —

frustration bubbles underneath his skin when he can’t find where he placed his lighter; he runs a hand through his hair and tugs on impulse, accidentally ripping a few strands from his scalp. they swirl and tumble onto the ground, pathetic in a way — just like me, but he never really says that out loud. he doesn’t hear your footsteps, although you did your best to remain as quiet as possible.

a cigarette sits in between his lips, and he has half a mind to toss it over the railing of the ship, but a warmth suddenly appears in front of him in the form of a flame. you found his lighter on the floor earlier and meant to give it to him, but every time you got closer, he found every excuse to leave. you don’t realize the impact you have on him — not really, anyway — because he’s genuinely surprised that you can’t hear the heavy beats of his heart that grow more intolerable the longer he hangs around you.

always afraid of being found out, he opts to keep his distance. it’s easier this way, he tells himself, better. but he doesn’t quite believe that; the evidence is plain as day when his tongue feels like its grown three sizes in the span of seconds, where his words get lost and forgotten. it’s all your fault, he reasons; you who insists on talking candidly with him, who insists on listening to him ramble about his dreams, who absolutely insists on stubbornly tearing down his walls, steadily chipping away without a care in the world. he looks at you as if you are the source of all his problems, but he also looks at you as if you’re the solution.

the intensity behind his stare makes your hands tremble slightly, it’s a miracle you’ve managed to keep yourself composed for this long. you light the end of his cigarette with ease, as if you’ve done this for him hundreds of times —and place the lighter into his pants pocket afterwards. if he wasn’t so used to you getting in his personal space all the time, he’d retreat immediately. the proximity is almost too much for him, but he doesn’t step back; you take that as a good sign and keep him company for a few minutes.

you don’t care for the smell of smoke, but on him it smells good. you almost tell him that, but instead bite down on your lip and keep your comment at bay, nerves getting the best of you as you nearly choke on the possibility that your feelings won’t be reciprocated.

another time, maybe. cheeks flushed, you turn your face to look elsewhere. although, you wonder if there ever will be another time. with him, you never know.

he’s still trying to figure you out and why he feels a different sort of calm around you; it’s alarming and new, drumming up an irrational fear within him. he doesn’t think he’s deserving of your attention or affection, and he’s convinced himself that you don’t harbor any romantic feelings for him. and why would you?

one by one, his thoughts pummel into him, acerbic and overwhelming. he exhales a sliver of smoke and puts the cigarette out. he gives you a quick, apologetic look before telling you goodnight, the smile on his face is melancholic and barely existent. you don’t dare say a word, keep your lips pressed together stubbornly; exasperated and dejected, you don’t know what’s worse — his inability to lower his guard around you for longer than ten minutes, or your inability to stop yourself from trying to carve pieces of yourself to give to him.

maybe if you helped him fill the gaping holes in his heart, he’d truly understand how you feel.

STEP 04:

if you had to do it all over again, would you do anything differently? —

sleep evades you after that night, and the night after that, and so forth; it gets so bad that you’re yawning in the middle of the day, falling asleep before you can have a cup of coffee or tea. this does not go unnoticed by the others, and after talking with nami, you feel less out of your element and finally can see the parts of sanji that he wants to keep hidden. her advice is simple: approach slowly and with intent; corner him and don’t let him escape.

you bide your time, full confident that you can find a moment to sit down with him and talk this all out. it doesn’t come easy, but franky mysteriously swaps sanji for the night’s watch — something that should strike you as odd, but it’s a small opening that you take without thinking as you hurriedly climb up to the crow’s nest with a renewed sort of energy.

even with his eyes closed, as he sits lazily on the bench with head tilted back against the wall, he knows it’s you.

“go back to bed,” he says firmly, refusing to look at you.

your stubbornness, unfortunately, wins out. “i’m staying.” at that he sits up, his attention completely on you as his eyes widen at your words. he wants to ask you why, but cowardice wins out — again. as his features soften, a flush crawls along his face, lightly painting his cheeks pink. he closes his eyes again, tries to steady his breathing as he counts backwards, only for his efforts to be obliterated with ease the moment you sit next to him.

as your thigh presses against his, you take his hand and on impulse you trace your fingertip along the lines on his palm. he watches you with a morbid fascination that scares him; but then you start to say things like, “you will live a very long life,” and “you are courageous, and you have a big heart.”

a small part of him wants to pull his hand away, so you won’t say anything else — but he remains put, so still that you almost think he’s stopped breathing. your voice is sweet and disarming, even when you carry on this charade of reading his palm. a belated realization hits him forcefully, making him blink several times; it dawns on him that you’ve always been so kind and gentle with him, even when you teased him. he’s spent all this time overthinking and hiding behind his past, that it never occurred to him that he could have simply let you in. you’ve never given him reason to believe that you’d betray or harm him intentionally.

he takes a deep breath, voice a little uneven, “i—”

you lean in close, adoration dripping onto your words as you interrupt him. “hey, have i told you?” the question glides along his skin, the words seeping into him as you continue, the lilt in your voice a honeyed, melodic spell. “you remind me of starlight and the mysteries of space.” your lips brush against his when you tell him that, and a warmth settles into the middle of his chest, makes it hard to focus. he doesn’t think when he curls his fingers around yours and doesn’t think when heleans down to kiss you — tender yet electrifying all the same.

the move disarms you in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, so you simply hum in approval and lean your head against his shoulder. a comfortable silence settles around you both, but you don’t mind that at all; it’s nice, not having to tip-toe around him anymore, and the demons that plagued him for so long don’t seem so intimidating with you by his side.

[turtlesays]

Watched the finale of HH today and really resisting making a Hazbin specific blog…

I really enjoyed season one of HH. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like I can truly support the show because of some of its creators—especially Vivienne Madrano—and the way the creators have treated the people who supported the show in its early days (without which HH would never have made it this far).

This feeling is just compounded by watching HB fall apart at the same time that HH is gaining such success and popularity.

Vivienne really shows her true self in HB. Namely, her lack of writing skills, poor design choices, inability to maintain a plot over more than a few episodes, and general immaturity as a person. While unfortunate, I don’t expect that HB will survive much longer. Even if it survives beyond its current season, it will just be getting propped up by young fans with little to no media literacy and dragged to a slow and painful demise.

Vivienne has also shown her true colours when dealing with the original VA cast of HH. I can understand her desire for bigger name talent on a growing show. I can understand the decision to recast the VAs—even up to 100% of the VAs. My issue is not that those things happened, it’s how they were handled.

Specifically, I have issues with the fact that Vivienne seems to have cut off all of the people who originally supported her. She didn’t tell them they were being recast. She didn’t give them the chance to audition to keep their roles (if desired). She didn’t even invite them to the premiere of HH. As far as I know, she barely acknowledges them or their contributions to her own success.

Beyond her treatment of the original VAs, there have been allegations of workplace harassment, which I’m inclined to glove because so many current employees of Vivienne have both expressed and demonstrated (through their actions) fear of retaliation from Vivienne.

There have been issues with Vivienne not clearly crediting other artists’ work as well, both in fan creations that she reposted from her own account, and in official works for the HH/HB universe.

There’s a lot more to the drama, but (1) it’s too much for a single post, and (2) a lot of the drama has questionable credibility. What I’ve listed so far is what I’ve personally seen the most evidence for/found to be most credible.

However, I wouldn’t doubt too much the other accusations against Vivienne, especially by those who worked for her. I have a very low opinion of her as the creator of a show I enjoy, and really hate giving her any kind of support as a result.

[film-in-my-soul]

Jake Seresin: Domestic Goddess | 868 | dalearden / @dale-arden

Summary: Too many people would fall about laughing in disbelief if they saw this, Jake “Hangman” Seresin in love and domesticated and absolutely revelling in it. Fuck ‘em, he thinks, because he’s had a fair few near death experiences in his time by this point and has had to see those he cares about the most get put in harm's way far too often too. It would make anyone grow and embrace what’s important in life, or should. He’s seen too many pilots who went entirely the other way...

out here in this water so deep | 889 | dalearden / @dale-arden

Summary: It would have been so much worse if he were alone and he can admit that now, if only to himself, that being alone was bullshit and had just been a shield because being in love was hard and being hurt sucked. He’s older and wiser and has come far, especially since the mission.

No Need to Take it Slow | 1,357 | allylikethecat / @allylikethecat

Summary: “You’re staring again,” said Phoenix, surprising Jake. “Shit,” he swore, sloshing his own beer as Bob snickered behind her. “Don’t worry,” she said, eyes glittering dangerously, “it’s cute.”

Soft | 2,208 | allylikethecat / @allylikethecat

Summary: Bradley had shifted on the couch, mouth open as he snored softly. His tee shirt was pushed up, soft, pale unblemished skin on display, though when he closed his eyes, Jake could still see the dark purple-black bruises that littered Bradley’s body after he had been forced to eject after the 10 G climb.

Saying goodbye to all my ghosts | 5,399 | strawberryspitt

Summary: Jake and Bradley move in together and find Goose's old Polaroid pictures.

playing for keeps | 3,684 | ginnydear

Summary: “He’s uh,” he starts, trying to pull himself together. Phoenix has wandered over now, mouth open as she looks at the scene in front of her. “He’s cuddly, when he’s sleepy.” “Javy,” Hangman hisses, though it’s not nearly as biting as it could be. “To the grave, dude.”

from this day to the ending of the world | 3,904 | dalearden / @dale-arden

Summary: Jake flies the mission instead of Maverick and takes the hit meant for Bradley. The two pilots find themselves stranded in enemy territory battling against the willderness and, in Jake's case, a bullet wound from the guns of a fifth gen fighter. It's the worst possible time for Bradley to realize just how deep his feelings for Jake really run.

your hand on my thigh, barely on my mind | 4,442 | RippingOffZeppelin

Summary: He looks the same, he always has, even when he was fresh out of the academy and vibrating with potential coming into TOPGUN, references glowing to match his perpetual summer tan.

To Feel a Little Love | 5,887 | allylikethecat / @allylikethecat

Summary: “You saved my life,” said Rooster, crashing into the blonde, without thinking Hangman reached out, grabbing him by the belt loops to steady him. Bob snorted and gave Hangman a mock salute. “Thank god- he’s your problem now.” “What did y’all do to him?” Hangman asked, looking from Phoenix to Bob. Like Rooster, they were clad in their civvies. Unlike Rooster, they were both nearly sober, or at least appeared to be. “Shots,” said Phoenix with a shrug. “Not everyday you come back from the dead- twice.”

When you're ready | 45,445 | The_Splendid_Wren

Summary: After the suicide-mission-that-wasn't the pilots of TOP GUN go their separate ways to enjoy a much earned week of leave. Rooster is set to spend his time with Maverick in an attempt to rekindle their familial relationship but it gets complicated when unresolved trauma from nearly dying keeps him from truly opening up. With a host of other issues like his unknown next assignment and his feelings for a rival paralyzing him, he truly has no idea how he ends up at the Seresin ranch house in Austin, Texas with the object of his desires right in front of him. Or, Rooster is suffering PTSD and his friends and family try to help him. Whether that's getting therapy or confessing his very deeply buried feelings remains to be seen.

Please see below for more recommendations!

baby, darling, fiancé, husband | 1,026 | nqther

Summary: “Also, I want a diamond.” “Yes, sweetheart.” “I want it really fucking flashy.” “Of course, Jake.” “Tomorrow. I want it tomorrow.” “Whatever you want, baby.”

I miss you most | 1,056 | Venezia

Summary: “Wanna know what I missed the most though?” Jake asked. Bradley had already closed his eyes but there was a smile playing across his face, “The mustache?” Or when Bradley comes home from a deployment and Jake lists all the things he’s missed.

and I went to bed, and I loved you | 1,091 | multifandommonster / @mitthrawnu

Summary: His Bronco is a sight for sore eyes when he slides into the well-worn seats, bag tossed carelessly into the back, and he takes a deep breath as he leans back against the leather. His body comes back to him in pieces, the tension in his limbs from stress and small spaces slowly draining until he feels like his chest can relax. Exhaustion washes over him in waves, but he doesn’t let himself succumb just yet. The promise of home is enough to keep him going.

Time, Mystical Time | 1,163 | perishablealex / @perishablealex

Summary: All of a sudden, Jake’s five again. The cold bite of the bathroom countertop digs into his thighs as his feet swing restlessly where they hang off the edge. The razor bounces off the sink, guided by the precision of the strong fingers that hold it. One, two, three tinkering taps before the blade runs under the water once more and the hand cuts the air in its upward motion. Or: Jake watches Bradley shave and some memories come up.

Choose You Again (And Again And Again) | 1,181 | inspiredissue / @despitesunlight

Summary: When Bradley proposes to Jake, it’s nothing Instagram-worthy. He doesn’t organize an extensive date night featuring the first restaurant they ever went to and a walk on a pier. He doesn’t throw rose petals on every imaginable surface and light a million candles. Their friends don’t even know it’s happening, because, truthfully, Bradley wasn’t planning on it. Or; Bradley realizes exactly how much he loves Jake and impulsively proposes. Cuteness ensues.

Propose | 1,272 | arami_d004

Summary: “What did you just say?” Rooster asked Bob. Bob repeated his question quietly, ever so calm. “I said, has he already proposed to you?”

Shining Star (Like A Little Diamond) | 1,656 | boobooblue / @letsboo-boo

Summary: "Weatherman said there might be a meteor shower yesterday, didn't think it would actually happen." Jake smiles, breathless. "Better late than never, I guess." "I don't think I've seen one since I was twelve," Bradley admits, just as in awe. "Really?" He turns to face Bradley briefly, wiggling his eyebrows. "Any wishes you've been waiting to make?"

And Time Can Do So Much | 1,704 | FabuMazX

Summary: "I guess I knew when we had a fallout and for the first time, I couldn’t let him walk out. Even if we had to sit there giving each other the silent treatment, I’d take that over not having him any day.” The moment Bradley realised he was in love and wasn't going to let that go without a fight.

we wouldn't have to eat kraft dinner (but we would eat kraft dinner) | 1,797 | multifandommonster / @mitthrawnu

Summary: He brings the whole pot over once he deems it sufficient to present, and when he sees the small, grateful smile on Jake’s face, his heart clenches near-painfully in his chest. “Most gourmet on the menu,” Bradley teases, spooning a hefty scoop into Jake’s bowl. “Kraft macaroni and cheese, huh? You really pulled out all the stops,” Jake replies, but Bradley hears the sincerity in his tone.

these sentimental teardrops | 1,936 | multifandommonster / @mitthrawnu

Summary: “Pot, kettle,” Bradley hears, and he makes the effort to turn his body enough to see Hondo walking back to their section of the hangar. It’s on the tip of his tongue to respond with something smart until he sees who’s trailing behind, and then— “Bradshaw, as I live and breathe,” Hangman says, and Bradley feels himself smile despite it all.

of a feather | 2,501 | dracculaura / @dracculaura

Summary: jake and his three-year-old daughter, sophie, run into bradley while trick-or-treating

Brought To Light | 2,584 | perishablealex / @perishablealex

Summary: Bradley is officially introduced to Jake's son, Sam, in a night of trick or treating.

it doesn't have to hurt | 3,253 | bottledyarn

Summary: Hangman tries to help, even after the planes have all landed and the glory is gone.

paper rings | 3,539 | davidbyrne / @katiesharms

Summary: When Carole Bradshaw dies, Bradley’s given all of her jewelry.

my picture in your pocket | 4,530 | ginnydear

Summary: Staring back at him from Rooster's phone is Hangman, eyes bugged out of his head and tongue sticking out. It’s obviously a selfie and Bob thinks it’s gotta be one Hangman took himself, based on the angle. It looks like Hangman isn’t wearing a shirt either, which only adds to Bob’s confusion. five times someone picked up roosters phone and saw a selfie of hangman.

One More Miracle | 6,695 | FabuMazX

Summary: Bradley sees the exact moment that he reads his mind and his smile falls. Jake’s brow furrows slightly and Bradley sees him swallow. It’s not until Payback brushes past his shoulder that Jake blinks, breaking the line between them; then he’s gone, pushing through the crowd towards the door while the others stare and call after him in a confused cluster. So maybe he needs one more miracle. It takes a suicide mission for Bradley to realise he's not ready to give up on them. Now he just has to convince Jake. That's miracle number one.

Promise Me, Just Hold My Hand | 8,033 | Earthangel_44 / @yikes-00

Summary: The five times Rooster hints that he wants kids, and the one time Hangman agrees. AKA: Bradley has baby fever and Jake doesn't like kids.

you've got my heart stumbling | 8,161 | lightwoodsisabelle / @nicogayngelo

Summary: Bradshaw looked up, big brown eyes meeting Jake’s from across the room. A series of emotions played across his face before he settled on bemused, shooting him a short wave. With a scowl, Jake turned back to his laptop. He had bigger things to do than worry about Bradley Bradshaw.

you've tasted love and it tasted sweet | 24,086 | transbrvcewayne (FinishedKitten) /@transbrvcewayne

Summary: He was trusting Jake with himself, to not hurt him and to take care of him. It was an overwhelming feeling, locking him into the moment, committing as much of this to memory as he could. If this was just a one off he could live with that as long as he could remember this.

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[despairforme]

SHIPPING INFO. answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)?

HM!! Very difficult question to answer. I was fortunate enough to write Nnoitra / Grimmjow for several years on here with Lexie, so that ship is dear to me, but I don't see myself writing them together again because yeah, Lexie's Grimmjow was just the perfect fit for Nnoitra. Unfortunately I haven't been able to get in contact with Lexie for a few years now, but I'm still forever blessed to have written this ship with them.

So, I don't really have an OTP for Nnoitra. His most popular canon ships, Nnoitra / Nelliel and Nnoitra / Tesla are not OTPs for me, but I'm still open to writing them if our muses click.

I honestly prefer either crossover-ships, OCxCANON or rare-pairs. I want interesting dynamics that I haven't thought about or tried before.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

I'm open to anything, as long as it's in-character for Nnoitra. It's pretty difficult ( or should I say impossible? ) to have a healthy ship with Nnoitra, as he is a very toxic person, so writing toxic ships is my jam. I'm fine with writing non-con ( Nnoitra's canon, hello? ), abuse, manipulation and so on and so on. The only things I will not write are things that I consider OOC for Nnoitra, such as him being the submissive in the relationship, any type of feminization-plot. I also won't write prefect lovey-dovey ships because that's just not Nnoitra.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

No age gap limits, but Nnoitra is not interested in minors. I also won't write ship with mods who are under 20. I'm in my late 20s and considering the sort of dark material I write and how toxic Nnoitra can become in a relationship, I feel more comfortable if my writing partner is older than 20.

Are you selective when shipping?

YES. I'm very selective when shipping. Mostly because it takes Nnoitra a good while to form that sort of bond with someone. I also like for things to develop "naturally". I don't do pre-established romantic relationships. I want Nnoitra to fall in love on his own, without me pushing him along.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

I typically tag things as "suggestive //" right away if there is a sexual or graphic tone to the post. Nnoitra is a crude person so this can happen easily. I would only tag sex or foreplay as NSFW.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?

At the moment, I have no active ships for Nnoitra ( he's sleeping with a couple of people though, win for him fjfjfjf ). I really miss writing ships for Nnoitra, so I'm writing a few crossover ship fanfics for him (Nnoitra/Atsushi and Nnoitra/Kōtarō), but this is just self-indulgent because I want to see him happy from time to time ahaha.

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

No, you don't. It's absolutely cool to tell me if you want to try and explore a ship between our muses though! I'll be onboard for exploring, but please note that there is never a guarantee that Nnoitra will grow attached to your muse. We can set them up on a date ( Nnoitra is actively trying to find dates these days ), but again, there are no guarantees. If your muse has feelings for Nnoitra, feel free to tell me!

How often do you like to ship?

RARELY! Like man oh man, haven't had a ship on here for 200 years at this point. I would like to ship more, but at the same time it's Nnoitra who decides when he falls in love, and that is a slow process. I'm just hitching along for the ride.

Are you multiship?

No, I consider my blog selective few-ship. I also will only have one ship per verse. I'm looking for a few ship partners ( or just one, I'm up for being single ship ) who I can write deep and dedicated plots with.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

I'm not ship obsessed by any means, since it's been many years since I've written a ship for Nnoitra. I AM currently searching for a ship for him, because I do miss writing that sort of thing, but if it doesn't happen, then it doesn't happen. All good.

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

Byakuya / Renji . Aizen / Shinji . Mayuri / Kisuke .

My three BLEACH OTPs! I do have other ships (rare-pairs mostly) that I enjoy, but these three are my favorite.

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Tell me that you're interested in exploring this type of dynamic between our muses, and we can set them up on a date, or put them in a setting where they can get to know each other. Please note that there is no guarantee that Nnoitra will form an attachment.

tagged by : @avaere , thank you for the tag aven!

tagging: @fiorserpen , @3katanas , @pinkminxed , @gildinbainas , @godkilller , @knightshonour , @adelha-mathilde .

[bridge-demon]

3 and 4 for the hc ask board?

for the SOUL EATER ASK BOARD. (p.s. tysm holly for making this it was such a good idea)

3. A romantic headcannon about your favorite SE ship! Ex : Domestic shenanigans or, even what struggles they might have becoming a couple.

so if youve been around on my blog long, its probably p obvious that deathstar / kidstar is my fav SE ship gjsjflsj i just have. so many feelings about it,,,,,, like they are foils for one another. they hold so much respect for each other (kid sees blackstar's drive and determination and feels inspired by his passion, while blackstar recognizes kid being a god and appreciates his powers and abilities) and while i agree to some extent that they would have a "you idiot" "but im your idiot" type of relationship, i dont think kid would be quite as annoyed / irritated with him as some people portray them. there would absolutely be things about blackstar that gets under kid's skin, but it would be a lot more silly or trivial than people believe. and blackstar is a lot more compassionate and thoughtful than people realize i think, too; if he thought he was genuinely upsetting kid (or anyone really) i think he'd chill.

there are times when he goes too far (like while he was arguing with maka when they were trying to resonate souls) but he's more perceptive than ppl give him credit for imo. uhm but as for struggles when becoming a couple, ive seen a lot of different takes on this and i like p much all of them and i think it could go a number of ways, but i really like the idea of blackstar being adamant to make it work and kid having deep reservations (being immortal while blackstar will age, all of kid's responsibilities, feeling that blackstar could and should be with someone else, etc.) but blackstar would be like "kid. you like me, and i like you. isn't that enough?" for domestic cuteness, i love the idea of kid showing off (intentionally or not, be it fighting, training, skateboarding, playing music, or surprising star with a random skill he has from being lord death's son and growing up virtually alone as a demigod) and blackstar hanging slack jawed in awe and going from "i have to kill this guy he's too cool" to "im blushing so hard i have to kiss him right now only the most awesome dude can date the biggest star". they are both enraptured by the other and soulmates and in love and and and i rambled a lot but i could ramble more they make me so normal.

4. Offer a hobby-related headcannon for any character.

y'all already know how feral i am over dtk so this goes out to him, too. i think this boy can also play the piano (something he and soul have bonded over) and he can also waltz and slow dance. his father had him taught at a young age since he’s probably attended galas and such (once yk ppl were allowed to know he existed or w/e). in terms of music, soul can play just abt anything; brass instruments, the clarinet, guitar. i think blackstar would kill on the drums. maka can play the guitar too, i think. tsubaki can play the flute.

[angstymdzsthoughts]

I posted 238 times in 2022

226 posts created (95%)

12 posts reblogged (5%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mondengel

@mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess

@anjimimimoo

@last-in-line-for-hell

@therinde-dreams

I tagged 155 of my posts in 2022

Only 35% of my posts had no tags

#mdzs - 137 posts

#wei wuxian - 80 posts

#lan wangji - 56 posts

#reply - 53 posts

#character death - 26 posts

#lan xichen - 22 posts

#jiang cheng - 18 posts

#lack of reply - 17 posts

#lan sizhui - 13 posts

#angsty talks - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 108 characters

#i feel like the quality of writing slowly degraded the longer it went but i have no motivation to correct it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

All the Wen Remnants want is to live in peace until their dying day, WWX enables that by creating a massive barrier over the Burial Mounds that makes time move faster for those within it.

The Sects finally lay seige to the Burial Mounds and break the barrier, they are stunned to discover the Burial Mounds are now a lush thriving paradise free of resentment, the Stygian Tiger Amulet now merely a powerless and rusted trinket.

JC is the one who discovers WWX had been manipulating time but LWJ is the one who discovers Suibian, a first class spiritual sword, massively aged and used as a gravemarker alongside Chengqing (that now has flowers growing out of the holes) for her master who died hundreds of years ago.

It started small. A way to speed up the crops growing so everyone could eat. In injury that would have taken months to heal only taking an hour. Speeding up the Burial Mounds slow recovery until it became a place where life was possible again.

No one noticed at first. The days felt like they were passing by normally. Of course A-Yuan shot up so quickly, all children do. Of course their elders felt slow and ache with all the hard work farming demanded. But then one of the women had a late in life pregnancy in her early forties. Barely a month after finding out she was expecting she birthed a healthy nine month old baby boy.

Wei Wuxian had already been working on a way to stop what was happening but Wen Qing had gone to him and asked "Would it really be so bad to leave it? We don't know how long we have until the other sects come for us. Let the elders spend their last days in peace and let the children grow until they can defend themselves."

284 notes - Posted October 18, 2022

#4

I saw fanfictions where Wei Ying was the secret son of Wen Rohan from the woman he loved. He recognized this and demanded him for himself (without explaining that this was his son), and the Jiangs handed him over to the beaten ones, believing that he was guilty. What if they go even further? Madame Yu is pleased to hand over the severed head of the "servant's son"...

WRH looking at the decapitated head of the young son he didnt know he had: ... This is the opposite of what I wanted.

293 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

#3

Since secretlyevil! is popular this week, I propose secretly evil mxy finds a ritual for temporary possession expecting that WWX will do his thing and he’ll wake up in a year as the ruler of the cultivation world. Instead he wakes up in the jingshisleeping next to hanguang-jun. Your bet if he confesses or he tries to take over wwx’s postcanon life…

Mo Xuanyu wasn't expecting to wake up next to one of the most beautiful men in the world. He had sort of been expecting two or three beautiful women given all the rumors of Wei Wuxian before he died. He was by no means complaining of course!

A quick look around the room led to real disappointment though. He didn't know where he was, but the early morning light made it obvious that this was not the empire he had been expecting. A part of him had thought the Yilling Patriarch would take over Koi Towers since it was by far the most luxurious city in the known world.

Still, it was better then that thrice damned shed.

Now all Mo Xuanyu had to do was continue to play the part. He had no doubt that Wei Wuxian had built up an army for him to command. He just had to make sure no one got close enough to begin doubting his power. Hopefully Wei Wuxian didn't have a habit of showing off...

He began to climb out of bed, eager to see what the Yilling Patriarch had built for himself in the past year but was stopped by a strong arm around his waist.

Really though- he had to commend the Yilling Patriarch for his excellent taste in men! Hangung-Jun as a lover! That alone was worth losing his body for a year.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said with a sleep slurred voice.

Mo Xuanyu didn't really think much of interacting with Hangung-Jun. The other man would at most be a concubine who no one would listen to if he noticed Wei Wuxian acting strangely. As tempting as the older man was, Mo Xuanyu was too excited to see his new empire to stay in bed longer.

So he scoffed and removed Lan Wangji's arm from his waist and said "Don't be so clingy, Hangung-Jun. I have better things to do."

The way Hangung-Jun's eye snapped open and locked on him made him realize that he had just made a mistake.

296 notes - Posted February 12, 2022

#2

WWX dies after Sunshot Campaign Reputation Intact AU

Playing fast and loose with the timeline a bit, bear with me here.

It's almost perfect the Sunshot Campaign has ended, Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian have returned to Lotus Pier.

Wei Wuxian sits outside overlooking the lake waving Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli off to bed to moonwatch a bit longer.

In the morning they find Wei Ying asleep in the same place they left him last night. Exasperated good humor fades into horror as they realise their brother isn't breathing anymore and had passed peacefully away in his sleep with a soft smile.

Visitors including the Lan, are turned away from Lotus Pier as Jiang Cheng checks that it wasn't a assassination. (it's not, Wei Wuxian body literally gave out on him because of the immense strain the Sunshot Campaign put him under).

The funeral is held privately at Lotus Pier and Wei Wuxian's tablet is added to the Family Shrine.

The first the Cultivation World learns of Wei Wuxian's death is at the Phoenix Mountain Hunt when Jin Zixun callously asks why the Jiang Sect are still wearing mourning attire and Jiang Yanli replies in front of every Cultivator at the hunt that the Jiang Sect is in mourning for the death of Wei Wuxian.

(Wen Qing encounters Lan Wangji and learns that Wei Wuxian is dead. Lan Wangji overhears her muttering that its her fault and pressures her for a answer. A answer she won't give unless Lan Wangji helps her rescue her brother Wen Ning...)

Wei Wuxian returns to a world that knows of his sacrifice (A concept that gives him hives) a brother ready to either whip him or hug him and Jiang Yanli and her husband Nie Huisang who both want him to investigate the truth behind the murder of Nie Mingjue and Jin Zixuan and expose Jin Guangyao.

Because ironically Wei Wuxian has the best reputation of the lot of them having died a hero and willingly endured a Golden Core Transfer Surgery as the donor. Lan Wangji's reputation took a nosedive when he rescued the Wen Remnants and barely survived the Propaganda storm of rumors by the Jin for opposing them by going into seclusion.

WWX kicking in the jingshis door: Hi Lan Zhan! I'm here to kidnap you!

306 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

In those AU's where WWX allows himself to be purified to death by the Lan its often by LWJ who thinks he's helping and WQ knows beforehand, Here WWX is suicidal and has decided to make his death mean something.

What if WWX agreed to be purged of resentment in return for granting the Wen Remnants sanctuary then fully informed the Lan of what cleansing entailed? The Elders don't believe WWX because he's still agreed to undergo cleansing and they don't realise WWX is actively suicidal instead of lying. LWJ is conflicted regarding the issue and LXC steps in to perform Cleansing also sure that WWX is exaggerating, he's not exaggerating. How would the Lans react knowing that they assisted in WWXs suicide. How would WQ react after WWX lied to her about the the Lans requirements to take in the Wen Remnants, not knowing that he'd tricked them into killing him thereby forcing the Lans to take in the Wen Remnants and protect them out of duty and guilt at accepting such a twisted agreement.

I like this one.

Lan Wangji was really the only one who unquestioningly believed Wei Wuxian when he told him that the ritual would likely kill him. He was immediately telling Lan Xichen that they needed to make a new deal and find a different condition to take in the Wens because he wasn't willing to risk Wei Wuxian's life. Lan Xichen speaks to the elders and they all convince him that this was just the Yilling Patriarch trying to weasel out of being purified and purged of the resentful energy that makes him so powerful. Lan Xichen believes the elders and doesn't trust Wei Wuxian but he does have a talk with him to try appeasing Lan Wangji.

During their talk Wei Wuxian sort of nonchalantly says 'yeah the chances of me dying are super high but if this is what the Lan clan wants then so be it' and Lan Xichen is like 'ok I'm still pretty sure your lying because no one would be this casual with their life so this is a go, but Wangji won't be happy about it.'

Wangji is Very unhappy about it. He tries to stop the ritual and fights a lot of his own clan before he is subdued and dragged away for his own punishment. Wei Wuxian feels super guilty and regrets telling Lan Wangji.

The ritual happens and Wei Wuxian ends up very very dead. Lan Xichen has a crisis because 1) he just killed a man, 2) he was warned that his actions would cause this, 3) he kneeling chose to ignore these warnings, and 4) that man happens to be the love of his brothers life. Some of the Lan elders try to argue that Wei Wuxian tricked them so they shouldn't have to fill their end of the agreement and take the Wens in but Lan Xichen shuts that down fast.

Lan Wangji is told that Wei Wuxian is dead and his heart breaks. Lan Xichen begs for forgiveness but Wangji isn't really in a forgiving mood. He ensures Wei Wuxian has a proper burial and goes into seclusion, planning to stay there for the rest of his life.

336 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

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