#but this time I wrote it in the app

[daily-ethoslab]

hello! first off

the colours are so funky on todays post I love it. your experiments with style always turn out really cool

secondly, this might be a bit of a weird/slightly personal? question feel free to not answer it

do you ever find yourself looking at the notes or interactions of you post? like if something does particularly less than any other post do you think about it too often (sorry if this prompted you to think) and if so, how do you well, deal with it? apologies again for a slightly negative question

thank you, from bun.

thank you I really appreciate it I was kinda iffy about it!

Interesting question! and yes I do! it's really hard sometimes because a post I put a lot of effort into won't get a lot of attention but a post I dont really care for will get lots of attention. Personally it's something that I've always kinda dealt with.

it's SUPER addicting to look at notes and comments. It's too easy to bace your arts worth on notes and such.

the feeling comes and goes. I've dealt with it by I looking back at how I felt about getting notes when I first started posting. I used it get super excited over just 5 likes but sometimes it's not that helpful.Sometimes I try not to look. it's tempting and I'm always worried that I'm ignoring asks or questions. Sometimes I post something that won't get a lot of attention on purpose just to mess around and find out lol.

the best way I've delt with it is by occupying my brain with something else after posting, like going back to drawing or playing a game. just not being on my phone (cause that's where I have Tumblr.)

to be honest it's something thats super hard to get over and I don't have all the answers. I wish you the best and I hope this type of thing dosent plague you too much tho <3

[flowercrowngods]

🤍 also on ao3

It’s just past 3am when Steve finally caves and reaches for the phone on his night stand. His fingers are trembling slightly as he dials Eddie’s number — he knows it by heart even though he never called before. Eddie gave it to him a few weeks ago, making him promise that he’d call if he ever needed to talk.

“Any time of day or night, alright, Harrington? Call me whenever.”

And so that’s what he’s doing now, feeling strangely vulnerable about it. There’s no way Eddie’s gonna pick up. He’s gonna wake him. He’s gonna keep him from his sleep, possibly even interrupting one of the few nightmare-less nights he has.

Steve feels guilty the very second the dial tone meets the silence of his room, his chest heavy, eyes closed. Part of him hopes that Eddie won’t pick up the phone, that he’s in deep enough sleep to miss the call, that he’ll come into Family Video tomorrow and smile at Steve like he always does, none the wiser.

But, miraculously, amazingly, unfortunately, Eddie does pick up the phone. Rather immediately, at that.

“Yeah?” He sounds sleepy, and Steve’s heart falls immediately. He can’t get his mouth to work, only holding the phone to his ear, soaking up Eddie’s sleepy voice and trying to replace the guilt, the weakness, the heaviness of another sleepless night. “Hello?”

Steve remains silent. Can’t quite get the words to work. Fucking figures.

“Stevie? It’s you, isn’t it?”

He nods, stupidly, before saying, “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Hey now, what the hell do you have to be sorry for?” There’s shuffling on the other side and Steve imagines that Eddie is sitting up now, settling in to listen to the sob story of the nightmare Steve had without even falling asleep first. He does that sometimes. Doctor Owens has a fancy term for it, but Steve doesn’t want a label for his insanity. Because if there’s a label, that means it’s nothing special — and that’s kinda the only thing he has left.

But he doesn’t tell Eddie anything about that. Maybe one day. If he sticks around. Gods, but Steve hopes he does.

“If you’re sorry for calling me,” Eddie continues, his voice impossibly soft, “you don’t gotta be that. It’s fine. It’s why you have this number, alright? I’m here.” There’s more silence for a moment, but it’s the kind of silence that leaves him room to breathe. Eddie is good at that kind of silence, despite the fact that he talks so much all the time.

Maybe it’s the constant talking that makes the silences all the more significant.

“What do you need, Stevie?” Eddie asks then, and Steve hides under his blanket, the phone pressed to his ear. “I could come over. Or you could come over, I don’t really care either way.”

“No. Don’t wanna move. And…” No company, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat. Sometimes company and kindness make the bad times worse. They make it more real, and what Steve needs is for everything to be a little less real. Maybe that’s why he’s calling Eddie. There’s no way that boy with his doe eyes and his wide smiles and his gentle voice in the middle of the night is real.

“Alright, I got it.” Eddie breathes deeply on the other end and Steve remembers that that’s a good idea actually, so he follows Eddie’s breath for a while.

“Can we just…” He trails off. Gives up on finding words, cringing at himself, glad that Eddie can’t see him like this.

“Can we what, hm?”

Steve shakes his head and remains silent, knows that his voice will sound anything but strong when he opens his mouth, and every second Eddie doesn’t hear what a mess he is, is important.

“I’m bad at this,” is what he settles on, closing his eyes against the world inside and outside his blanket.

“At what? Sleep? Words?”

Yes, and yes. But it’s not what he means. “Asking for things. I’m not good at that.”

“Hey, neither am I,” Eddie says and it sounds like he’s smiling. Steve imagines it and he hopes, oh he hopes that Eddie is smiling. “Y’know how I told you to call me whenever? That was essentially me just asking for you to call me. To know that… that I’m here.”

“I do,” Steve says quietly, and his body is sort of trembling with the confession. “I do know that.”

“Good,” Eddie breathes. “So what do you need?”

Steve sighs and pretends he’s somewhere else, pretends he’s in a world where asking is easy, where being known comes naturally and not with shaking voice and trembling hands. Pretends Eddie knows him already.

“Can we just… Fall asleep like this? Talking, I mean, though I don’t even know if I have things to say. The silence is more important anyway. You’re good at those, did you know?”

A light chuckle comes from Eddie, and Steve smiles along with it. “I’m good at silences? Me, Eddie Munson? You sure you don’t have the wrong number?”

“Very.” It’s all Steve says, and then it’s Eddie who’s quiet— as if to prove his point.

“Yeah, Stevie,” he says after a beat, his voice making Steve shiver. “We can fall asleep like this. Do you need me to talk to you, or…?”

He considers briefly, but he already knows the answer. He doesn’t need Eddie to talk. Just needs him to be there.

“Nah. Just… Just be there?”

There’s a hum now — the same kind of hum that Eddie always does right before giving him that secret smile of his, when he’s about to touch Steve or give him a new pet name. Sometimes, when the door to Family Video falls shut behind Eddie and Steve is left to deal with his fluttering heart, he likes to believe that this him has been placed into the universe with his name to it.

He wonders if Eddie knows. If the hum tastes like his name, if it makes Eddie’s heart flutter just as much.

“Hey Stevie?” Eddie interrupts their silence after a while and Steve can’t fight the smile on his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Did you know that otters hold hands at night so they don’t drift away from each other in their sleep?” He waits for a moment, allowing for a reaction, leaving another silence for him to claim. He does, but only with a smile as he grips the phone tighter, imagining it to be Eddie’s hand. “This sorta feels like that.”

The trembling that hasn’t really stopped is back now, the air heavy with implications and possibilities. Steve swallows.

“You keeping me from drifting away, Munson?”

“I hope so.”

It’s whispered words across the lines, crossing lines and blurring them. It’s taking his breath away, replacing it with something else, something new, something he has only felt when they were alone, but never this intense. He fills his lungs with it.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

More whispers, more greedy lungfuls of this something new.

“Is it bad that I kinda wanna hold your hand now?”

A beat, a sigh, a careful breath. It makes Steve think that the air in Eddie’s room is sizzling too, heavy and light at the same time. Maybe it’s just as addictive.

“Only if it’s bad that I’m kinda imagining yours in mine right now.”

Steve shakes his head again and doesn’t feel stupid about it now. “I don’t think that’s bad,” he whispers.

“Good.”

Maybe whispers are their new language. Maybe everything else is too harsh for this fragile thing, maybe the world outside Steve’s blanket isn’t ready to see the smile on his face or hear the rapid beat of his heart. He doesn’t mind.

“Tomorrow. Can I hold your hand tomorrow?”

“What do you mean, Stevie, you’re already holding it.” And there’s that smile again that makes Steve huff out the softest of chuckles, hiding his face in his pillow to ground himself against this heady feeling. “Yeah, you can hold it tomorrow, but only if I can hold yours, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, Eds,” Steve says, just louder than a whisper, and he waits with bated breath if anyone out there in the universe heard, if their bubble would burst.

But it doesn’t. Eddie only murmurs a sweet, soft, “Can’t wait.” And then there’s only silence because they’re both smiling, hearts racing, hands trembling around the phantom touch of warm fingers. They fall asleep like that soon after.

[umbrace-rambles]

One Piece and Being Different

I could talk long and wide about all the things I love about One Piece, from the worldbuilding to the character writing to the political/darker topics it touches, anything. But one of the main reasons I personally love it so much and I don't believe has been talked about as much as it should, is how much it celebrates otherness. This is very much an overarching theme in the series because pirates by themselves directly go against society's standards, but this is focused more on a character point.

Objectively speaking, most OP characters are freaks and weirdos and strange and off putting, and it's good! Luffy specially, and he is the MAIN character, celebrates and embodies this weirdness to the extreme, and it's incredible how he manages to push this idea to other people around him too. It happens time and time again that he will meet someone and, the more different they are, the more he instantly wants them to join his crew. He is so incredibly driven by the wonder of discovering things different to him that he only feels happy about their existence, he wants to know and have fun with and love them because they're different!

And it has been acknowledged, the general effect Luffy has on people, how he manages to pull them to him like moth to a flame and recruit them to his side without even trying. It’s such incredible power, but it's also incredible how everybody around him, and especially his crew, always strive to become better for him, and most of the time becoming better, in OP, implies stop being normal. Being human, being acceptable by society's standards.

Like damn, the whole character plot of Luffy's fight against Katakuri was Katakuri coming to realize that he doesn't have to put up a front for other people, that he can keep going being himself, without hiding his monstrous features. That is when Katakuri stops fighting for his family and starts fighting because he wants to. And even after Luffy wins that fight he is respectful of Katakuri's wishes and covers his mouth with his hat.

Most of the Strawhat crew are really adopted strays, lost people and old enemies. They were othered, by people or circumstance, and Luffy gave them a home and a purpose. And in their increasing devotion to his cause, and through his constant love towards them, they have learned to stop being afraid of being different. Luffy will always accept them.

Franky had to quite literally rebuild himself into a living weapon, he chose to do that so his Battle Frankies couldn't be used against his will ever again, but despite being a cyborg he still looked mostly human. His pre-time skip design often shows how he pulls off his skin gloves to punch with his real metal hands. He was a criminal and shunned by his city and he was okay with that, but he still chose to blend in. After he joins Luffy he fully embraces himself and becomes quite extravagant in his own design, he is proud to show off his body modifications, he has fun with it, he accepts his cards and decides to use them at their full extent for Luffy. His metal parts in full display, painted with bright colors. Flame-shaped fists, changing his hairstyle at the push of a button, that is not someone trying to blend in anymore.

Chopper is a character whose biggest fear has always been being an outcast. He was bullied out of his herd for not being reindeer enough, he was hunted down by humans for not being human enough. Eventually, however, he learns that in order to be able to keep going, to defend his newfound family, he will have to become a monster for them, and he is happy to, because he would do anything for them. He knows that they will never think less of him for being a monster, for being different. These are some of the most extreme examples but every single character in the crew reflects this theme in some way.

We have people with extremely bizarre powers, shapeshifters, furries, witches, made up creatures, zombies, talking animals, talking food, living skeletons, a whole kingdom of queers, sea monsters, dragons, human experiments and so much more. In a series that mixes so many genres, so many themes, so many types of characters, such outrageous and unconventional character designs could have been used for mockery, or simply used as villainous traits as so many other stories do. And they are certainly sometimes cause of mockery, but it's rarely ever malign. In OP this extreme otherness is often a source of awe, a positive trait, something to be admired. It certainly is for Luffy.

Luffy is a main character that exclusively judges people by their true selves, beyond what they may be saying or doing, with his very keen emotional intelligence. In the world of One Piece, where the maximum power is held by the World Goverment, an organization that actively shuns everything different and is willing to sacrifice anything for the continuity of censorship, power and control, that turns a blind eye towards unaffiliated countries, the slave trade, and the underworld, that is willing to create agreements with some of the most feared pirates and allow them to continue to exercise fear in exchange for their assistance as brute force, Luffy and his recurring thread of freedom and acceptance is beautifully fitting.

[dizzybizz]

I need your Sampard headcanons, if you have none that’s cool ignore this ask, BUT IF YOU DO LEGALLY YOU HAVE TO SHARE THEM

anon- i don't think you know what you've signed up for with this ask

my headcanons are all incomprehensible to myself so o7

this is brain rot at its full saturation..........

gepard being honest to a fault and that flustering tf out of sampo..., , , , 🥺

like,, sampo will jokingly make a silly comment about gepard liking him and gepard will respond with something like "of course i do? why wouldn't i??"

it's a constant cycle: sampo joking -> gepard responding honestly -> sampo getting flustered -> it hits gepard after some confusion that it was in fact a joke -> and they're both useless and flustered together, absolute losers <3 -> repeat

anyone being genuine and nice to sampo would destroy him

he'd crumble

like- he'd collapse like a house of cards in a gust of wind

they're both touch starved and clingy but really awkward about it

"i need to cuddle so bad!! but i would sooner die than be the one to suggest it!!!!!!"

they get over it once they realize it's a mutual feeling

then it's just collapsing on eachother whenever

i kinda just want them to cry and have a breakdown together, cry and hug it out and just like talk

they both need a good cry,,, 🙏

gepard. yotasuke takahashi. just saying things that sound so romantic without so much as a glance at the other person,,, like:

sampo asks serval to please talk to her brother about thinking before speaking, she leaves him on read

idk what to tell you, they're just losers

they're that "relationships should be 50/50, he cooks us dinner and i sit on the kitchen counter and look pretty" post

sampo entering the kitchen: what's cookin', good-lookin'

sampo gets gepard one of those "kiss the cook" aprons

they're the kind of couple where they're seeing eachother through a shoujo romance lens but to outsiders they're just so unbelievably unbearable

can't flirt to save their lives.

i really just imagine them to be the biggest losers together, they're made for eachother, they're pathetic, they're disasters

them:

gepard runs cold!! sampo can't stand it!!!

who's the big spoon and little spoon? yes

pet names? pet names.

sampo uses them obnoxiously and calls gepard everything he can come up with

darling, babe, baby, sweetie, cutie pie, angel, my little captain, hotstuff, handsome, my one and only, knight in shining armor, prince,,, etc

gepard just defaults to calling him honey or something

gepard names one of his plants koski

sampo is very honored

but also so worried, considering gepard's track record with the lifespan of his plants

he makes it his mission to keep koski alive

sampo loves pulling on gepard's cheeks

[eddiesxangel]

Could i request headcanons or a lil fic for kissing with eddie i rarely see fics about it, its always sex or leads to sex, i just love kissing so much

I wanna make out with him sure but i also want him to surprise me and kiss my cheek, kiss my forehead when he walks past me

Gonna give him the kiss tax

Honestly id be counting down the moments til he kissed me again because id feel bad asking for it

Doesnt matter how long id be with him, being kissed would still make me feel sparkley inside

Hed probably laugh at me because id be jumping from one foot to the other giggling and clapping because he kissed my cheek

He takes my hand and kisses all over it and over every finger and knuckle :((

Can you tell im touchstarved ? 😂

KISSING EDDIE SUPREMACY!!!!

Eddie love love loves to kiss you because he is actually and utterly obsessed with you. His love language is physical touch and he doesn’t know how else to show his love and affection in any other way. The way he would latch his lips on to you at any given moment would always leave you surprised but giddy nonetheless.

It would start off slowly, when you agreed to go out with him he took your hand and brought the back of it up to his lips, ever the gentleman. Your reaction is what got him going. He made it his mission to get that reaction after each unexpected kiss.

It didn’t matter where the two of you were, he loved kissing your lips, your forehead, cheeks, fingers, because it was you. You could be alone, with friends or his favourite, to kiss you in public. It would never be too raunchy but he loved to stake his claim on you in front of strangers. It would usually be a kiss in the cheek or sometimes a peck on the lips, but it made you feel so warm.

Sometimes when he is feeling extra affectionate will kiss your ring finger on your left hand. You wouldn’t know if it was on purpose or not but Eddie knew exactly what he was doing. The thought of getting to kiss at the alter infront of all those people just made the thought of marrying you 10x better.

When you and Eddie are alone he always makes you ‘pay up’ if you’d gone more than a few hours without his lips making contact with yours. He would be the most dramatic about it, he would pretend to be gasping for air until he fake “died” in front of your eyes. You would giggle and tell him to quit it but he wouldn’t let up until you lay a big fat wet one on him!!

[symphonyofsilence]

Daily reminder that most of the sect members follow their sect leaders because they were born to that sect, or that sect was stable and powerful enough to provide them with security, and the Wen Remnants followed Wei Wuxian even though they were afraid of him because that was their only option, but the YMJ members that followed Jiang Cheng ever since the Sunshot Campaign freely CHOSE to do so. He was 17. And an extremely traumatized seventeen-year-old at that. He was simultaneously looking for his brother and participating in a war while rebuilding his sect. Lotus Pier was destroyed. There were only 3 people left of the YMJ sect (2 as far as they knew with WWX missing.) The sect was brought to ruins. The YMJ sect couldn't have had much riches left. But the new sect (and they were enough for YMJ to be called a sect again) CHOSE to follow Jiang Cheng.

[jojo-the-bird]

Me and my brother speak in a language without words, we speak in gestures and offers.

It is one we are both fluent in, one we both know well like the back of our hands.

Words don’t mean much for us.

Saying good morning and good night to each is something we both forget to say. 

Were as buying something from the store without the other mentioning about wanting something speaks volumes.

It means, I thought of you and it’s been a while since you asked me of something, so here, my memento to you.

But sometimes being fluent in one language is hard.

Having fights and bickering and arguing and teasing is one I’m unsure in.

We both have done tremendous amount of hurt to each other, but how am I supposed to carry on without you?

Who will punch me in the shoulder?

Who will say to me to do my chores?

Who will I go to school with?

Who will I complain to my parents?

Who will be my brother that I don’t already know?

It is like buying a piece of new furniture.

Sure the chair was old and I tripped over it a multitude of times but It didn’t mean that I didn’t grow fond of all its squeaking and rough patches.

The point is, who can ever be like you?

You are a one of a kind sibling and I don’t think I hate you as much as I make myself believe.

[adelaideandart]

Dora's letter but it's Harry writing to Kim

Kim, I wanted to write you a letter, so you can read it first thing in the morning when you come to work. Maybe it will make you happy.

You know how we go over your notes at the station every evening? You smoke your daily cigarette, I try to keep my promise and not smoke at all. We look at Jamrock, the sad remnants of the capital of the world that Revachol once was. I know you love it despite everything, and that makes me love it too. The lights of the city warm the cold spring air around us. We talk about the current case, then we usually move on to precinct gossip, aerostatics, sometimes even politics. Lately we've been talking a lot.

Every evening when you finally put out your cigarette and we walk out of the station and part our ways, I find a little piece of sadness in me. I carry it in my chest on my way home. Every step I take, it grows, and by the time I reach my apartment, it has filled me completely. I open the door, I see the kitchen and the living room where the memories of another life still haunt me. I try not to shudder. I go inside and look back at the door closing behind me, locked in the empty apartment shell.

I know it will be like this until the next morning, when I leave for work -- and walk back to you. Every step I take will get lighter. It almost makes me run, sometimes I do. I can’t believe I met you. I can’t believe there’s a reason I want to wake up in the morning, go to work. I can’t believe I’m hopeful, despite everything that has happened.

You have a vast, vast soul, Kim, and I will always, always come back to it. Kisses, kisses, kisses.

[capsaicinmybeloved]

Capsaicin cookie general dating hcs!

First thing you'll notice about capsaicin cookie is he is VERY high-maintenance

He really really really wants your attention, and if he doesn't get it he will get kinda sulky :(((

He's a very supportive boyfriend too, if you're into something he's gonna hype you up like he's your coach

Similar to that, if you're ever feeling down he'll be right by your side cheering you up!

He's also a very touch starved cookie, so naturally you'd assume he likes PDA a lot

And you're not wrong per se, but capsaicin is also very anxious about it

Considering he's literally made out of magma, he's scared of hurting you... he would never forgive himself!

But after a lot of reassurance, he's gonna start being comfortable with the idea of PDA, and once that happens, it is joever

He is gonna be hugging you, kissing you holding your hand, pretty much any and all things under the PDA umbrella all the time, nonstop

If you ever initiate it yourself though, he will be very flustered, and he'll be thinking about it for the rest of the year at least

Another thing is, capsaicin cookie talks about you all the time to anyone who's willing (or not) to listen

It's to a point where his friends know more about you than you'd think

Like kouign-amann knows your favorite foods and prune juice knows about your most recent hyperfixations

Capsaicin just likes you so much :((( he's thinking about you often :((( and he wants to talk about how much he loves you to other people :(((((

All in all, a very attentive and nice (albeit clingy) boyfriend, 10/10 a real cutie :>

[turtlewurtle10]

Julian x Reader, SFW.

Word Count: 1796

Uh, angst

Summary: Following your little adventure at the community theater, Julian takes you to the Rowdy Raven for some drinks.

Even from outside on the street, you can already feel the warmth radiating from the Rowdy Raven. The lively music emanating from the bar carries on the excitement you’ve felt earlier today with Julian, the rush of anxiety and adrenaline as you watched him take the stage, trying to anticipate what he might do next.

He pushes open the door for you. “After you, my dear,” he says with a wagging brow. You can’t help but let out a light laugh. “Thank you, Julian,” you say with your own grin.

You both make your way through the crowd, settling for a table in the corner where you have your space but are still able to watch the ongoings of fellow patrons. Julian goes to get drink for the both of you, and while you wait, you settle into the bench you are sitting at and take in the view. It has been a while now since Asra nursed you back to health, but it has taken Julian stepping into your life (or rather, breaking into your shop) for you to feel like you are once again living. Despite your short time together, he has already shown you the excitement that awaits you beyond the walls of your shop. You watch people before you drinking, laughing, dancing in the tavern, and you are already beginning to feel at home amidst the glowing chaos of the Raven. But there is an edge of fear creeping into this feeling as you sit there and wonder what Julian has wanted to talk about all day, and if any of that conversation might threaten the blurry, premature visions you have of a future (one you hope includes him) that have begun to form in the peripheries of your mind. The fear recedes the moment you see him, navigating his way once again through the crowd to make his way toward you, his face beaming.

“Here you are, doll.” You can’t help but blush a bit at the term of endearment, no one has ever called you “doll” before. He sets the drink in front of you before taking his own place on the bench across, leaning back to get comfortable. The already loose fabric of his shirt shifts, affording you a better glimpse of his broad, bare chest, and you feel your face growing hotter. You take a sip of your drink to ease your nerves, and it doesn’t take long after for the conversation to flow easily between the two of you. Another round of drinks are ordered, and the conversation keeps going as the night wears on and the Rowdy Raven becomes less rowdy until finally the weight of Julian’s thoughts descends upon the shared atmosphere and there is nothing else to talk about except whatever it is that might be troubling him. You’ve had fun, and he’s had fun, and neither of you wants that to come to an end, so for a moment, the both of you sit there, not saying a word, turning your attention instead to the music which has now slowed. You close your eyes for a bit, trying to savor the moment. They open to the sound of Julian moving out of his seat, and you find him bent at the waist, offering you his hand.

“Can I interest you in a dance?” he asks with a soft smile. You look around the bar and see no one else is dancing, but you find yourself not at all hesitant to take his hand, self-consciousness having long since waned due to the alcohol. His grin broadens as he helps you out of your seat and leads you to the empty floor space in front of the one musician who remains.

You are not dancing so much as swaying, but you appreciate the closeness to Julian nonetheless. He rests his head on top of yours, and you don’t want to ruin the moment, but you hear him sigh, and you are finally forced to confront that much dreaded conversation head on.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Ah, I suppose it’s time I finally told you, hm? Lots of things. Too many things really. Pick a number, any number, and I’ll tell you it’s too low. While I have greatly enjoyed our time together, I think it is for the best that we do not continue… whatever this is… whatever it could have been…”

The rope has been cut, the ax has fallen, and your stomach drops. “Oh…” is all you can muster in response. You look down at your feet.

“You’ll be fine, of course. No doubt better off without me. After all, it’s not like we’ve had the time to fall in love or anything.”

“Do you think that if we met earlier, maybe we could’ve been?” A stupid question, you don’t know what you’d hope to gain from any answer. If the answer is yes, you will forever be disappointed that you have been left stranded on the precipice of something more. If the answer is no, well, maybe you are just not a person who is capable of being loved.

“It’s best not to dwell on hypotheticals, darling. The point is, right now, presently, in this moment, we’re not in love.” Hearing these words hurts, but you wonder if he is not saying this as fact, but rather to try and convince you both that this is true. If he says it enough times, maybe he’ll start to believe it.

“No?”

“No.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because,” he breathes in. “Right now, we’re just two people dancing.” He says this with a smirk on his face as he gently spins you around, and you ultimately decide that perhaps it is best to be grateful for this reassurance, no matter how threadbare and thin it is because you couldn’t even begin to weigh the question of what it would mean to be in love with someone constantly looking over their shoulder, ready to bolt at any moment in an effort to keep you away, safe from any harm they could attract or cause. So, if you’re not in love, any feelings you have toward each other are not real, and at the end of the day, you really are just two people dancing. You try your best to ignore the ache you have for that thing that is something more. You try to look anywhere but directly at his face, where his lips immediately draw in your gaze. You try to tune your ears to the music as you find them drifting off instead to the sound of his breathing and your heart’s attempt at escaping your chest. You hate that all of your past longings for romance have come to this, repeating falsehoods as a way of protecting each other from the hurt that would inevitably come. But you’re not in love, and he’s not in love, so it doesn’t matter anyway.

“I’d make for a very selfish lover, you know.” He says this to you so matter of factly.

“And what’s wrong with that?” you ask. After all, as far as you know, you have never before been in love, and it is driving you to madness, and the wall that you have built up to store all of this love you have that has not yet been consumed is cracking and about to give way to a deluge that will drown the next unsuspecting soul who dares to look you in the eyes or bothers to give you the time of day.

“I’ll take and I’ll take until you have nothing left to give, and even then I will want more. Like an insatiable leech, I will deprive you of the very thing that gives you life, and when it’s no longer enough, I’ll leave. I’m only safe for as long as I have yet to taste blood, and I’m afraid, my darling, that leaves us with very little time left.”

It is very hard to stay convinced that you are not falling in love when he uses language like that. My darling. My… darling… His. You have never before felt so special. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You fear that you are as Asra treats you these days, so naive that you cannot wrap your head around what this man could possibly want from you that you would not be able to give enough of. You have so much to give, all of it so far kept away, untouched, collecting dust.

“And what if I say I want you anyway?” you ask, hypothetically speaking as you are not falling in love, thank you very much. 

“Then you would leave me with little choice but to save you from yourself. You’re young, you still have so much life to live, and I’d hate to take advantage of that, drag you down to the level of a washed-up hack doctor wanted for murder. I cannot bear the thought of taking such a lovely young thing with me to the gallows.” He lifts your chin with his thumb, flashes that stupidly roguish handsome grin of his, but a grin, you suspect, that is tainted with a hint of the deepest misery and regret.

It frustrates you to no end how clear (you think) it is how much you want each other while he monologues on and on about how bad he is for you. What can be done though? If he says he does not want a relationship with you, that he is in fact not falling for you, (Are you nothing more than just a brief dalliance?) then there is nothing more that can be said or done. You realize now that the music is no longer playing and that you’ve suddenly come face to face with a future where no one will ever take notice of you again and the only love you are afforded is the kind you get by living vicariously through customers who have someone to rush home to. After all, Julian only ever stumbled across you in his search for Asra, and it’s hard to not notice someone who has thrown a bottle at your head. These past few days with Julian have felt like a dream, and you now find you are in for a rude awakening.

The dance has ended, and you watch as your counterpart bows before you, takes your hand in his, and kisses it oh so sweetly. His lips linger longer than they should. You find it very hard to stay convinced that he is not also falling in love. Just like you to be so naive, you think to yourself.

“Thank you for the dance and the good company these past few evenings.” He offers a sad smile. “Let me walk you home.”

[tricksterlatte]

It always makes me sad whenever stories with hopeful messages or lighthearted moments are sometimes dismissed as unintelligent or weaker than tragedies. Isn't joy and hope what makes a dark journey worthwhile? Not every story needs an unhappy ending to serve as a lesson.

I will forever be a fan of stories that say hey, maybe the world is a rough place, and it will always be this way, but you can make a difference with the people who matter to you. Even if no one else will know, even if no one else will remember, the ones you loved, and who loved you in return, will remember. People who are holding onto you, even at the end of everything else. People who remind you that new beginnings are born from the ashes.

My favorite stories will always end with love, hope, and the sun rising on the horizon after hell and high waters. The world can be so cruel, but we can choose not to be as individuals. Joy is as human as anger and sorrow. Joy is what we reach for when we are at our lowest, whether we realize it or not. We want what was lost back. I love stories where the characters reach the light at the end of the tunnel, emerge on the other side, and are allowed to heal. Even if they’ve done bad things, even if they aren’t perfect, isn’t that true of all of us?

[rataltouille]

an hour into using obsidian and like what do you mean this was always available and free to use AND NOBODY TOLD ME

[bookishjules]

i hate her, i hate her, i hate her, i say, because anything else would be an admission of my admiration-- would tell the tale of a girl with nothing to lose except the wall of her will (topped with barbed wire as it is), a wall that should scare me, that i should hate, but that calls to me night and day: cross me, it says, break me down, tear me apart, build me up again in that image you pretend to hate so much.

[amalgamationink]

NAPOWRIMO24 #12: the pyrite age of pyracy

[mcybree]

martyn inthelittlewood is a toxic fh truther. we stay winning

martyn inthelittlewood has always been a toxic fh truther. one of my worst most fondest memories of 3rd Life was when I watched Scott’s pov and made ten million self indulgent AUs in my head where Martyn tries to help Jimmy away from Scott, something I was convinced I was making up the possibility of. So imagine my fucking surprise when I watched episode one of Jimmy’s POV for the first time,

[danikatze]

I've been using Evernote for 10 years and was really pleased with it all this time, but now they're forcing me to get a subscription and I don't use it often enough nowadays to justify paying like €100/year for that. If I could buy it i would, but I hate subscriptions. Does anyone know a good free app that synchs to multiple devices?