#i stabbed myself accidently so many times :(

[orcelito]

ok SO i went and got out Most of my knives (i remembered I have a nonbinary knife only after i took the photos & also idk where it is currently. just imagine all these plus a nonbinary flag knife ok? ok)

HERE ^ is the most of them, minus that nonbinary knife. look at that fuckin mess. 32 shown here (i think) plus my nonbinary knife makes 33 blades (minus cooking knives, i dont count those for these purposes)(also counting the swiss army knife as only 1 bc lol)

& some explanations for them! gonna put these under a readmore bc it got Kinda long on accident whoops. Read Ahead if u wanna see me nerd out about my knife collection.

STARTING WITH my big ones.

my spear (gifted to me), my cane sword (from anime convention), my shitty $20 sword (also from anime convention. low quality but cool as hell), my teal mini sword + matching throwing knives (from online), my decorative axe (from a local store), my twin blades (my sharpest blades, theyre actually kinda scary how sharp they are, but i love them bc of it. from online), red saber (from online),

ANDDDDDDDDDDDD my favorite hefty bitch of a machete that i sleep with in my bed frame on the very right (inherited from my grandpa bc i was the first one who spotted it at Family Claiming Day)(this thing really is as long as my leg & much heavier than Any of the rest of the blades pictured here. i love it)

another view of the blades so u can better see how long they are. the big boys. they're lovely. 2nd heaviest blade is the cane sword when it's in its cane, mostly bc that handle has some Heft. tbh id feel safer using it as a bludgeoning weapon than a stabbing weapon, but having a cane sword is just plain cool

AND my smaller blades!

i have a lot of pocket knives. starting from the top left: golden pocket knife (from online), rainbow dragon (from online), rainbow HEFTY boy (heaviest pocket knife, from online), spider knife (from online), stiletto jade (from online), pathetic army boy (from local store, this knife has NO redeeming qualities, but it's mine <3), black stiletto (from local store), plain dagger man (from online), my damascus steel knife (was a gift, probably my singular most expensive knife. fancy boy), Dull Dagger Man (first blade i ever bought, from anime convention)

& for bottom row: teeny black knife (first pocket knife i owned, gift from my dad), lil rainbow knife (from local store), plain steel knife (from sketchy shop in gatlinburg + one of my Favorite knives), green dragon knife (from online, a real beaut), triple throwing knives (also from same sketchy shop in gatlinburg), the baby throwing knives again from the Big Boys pic but i included them again bc they r so teeny tiny, my keychain key blade (from online), swiss army knife (from online), & the pair of claw keychain baldes (from online)

many blades, many stories, so little time. theyre great tho.

SOME FOCUSES:

^ these are all my spring-assisted knives, sorted from worst feel to best feel to open. based on quickness, ease, & general satisfaction. leftmost is leftmost bc i didnt even Know it was spring assisted, bc it doesnt have a nice lil tab on the back to press. no u gotta press on one of the rungs. but once u do it Does spring open, so i included it. next 3 are just Average in feel (these 3 are sibling blades anyways, nice of them to be together). jade stiletto is smooth and quick, nice to open. Hefty Boy rainbow has some THUNK to it when i open it. like that babey's got PURPOSE to it. added to the general size of it & it's just pretty great. AND THEN MY TWO FAVS, green dragon is a perfect beautiful knife & feels very great to open. and then Steel Sketchy Knife aka my 2nd pocket knife & first i bought for myself. it looks plain in comparison to the others, but she's anything But. quick, light, Sharp. it has the Best feel to open, bc it's just a fast SHHK. probably my knife that's seen the most use (aside from my small black knife) just bc of how great it feels to open. i love that knife so much for Real.

& the final highlight, somewhat related, are the knives I actually use the most in my daily life!

on the left are the knives I keep in my bag by default, & thus the ones I carry with me Everywhere i go. small black pocket knife bc she's Ol' Faithful, & a pretty lowkey knife for basic tasks when I dont wanna raise any eyebrows lol. silver knife bc as previously stated i Love using it so much. i take it out when i gotta breakdown a lot of boxes at work, & it Never disappoints. small rainbow keychain key knife bc it's cute & i like to keep it on my keychain. & swiss army knife bc Obviously im gonna keep the swiss army knife in my bag for if i need an emergency tool.

on the right are the three knives I keep out in my apartment. black stiletto lives on my bathroom counter, for bathroom knife needs. green stiletto i keep on my table next to where I hang out in my bedroom, for any couch time needs. & then green dragon beaut camps out on top of some shelves by my front door bc it's Great for opening boxes, aka something I will do for packages I receive after pulling them in the front door. it works for me.

all the rest of my knives live either in a box (for small ones) or my closet (for big ones). i may have a lot of knives, but somehow I never feel like i have enough. i just love collecting them so much <3

[avariceaside]

Pros of knowing how to sew:

make cool clothes!

repair old clothes

partake in the joyous act of creation

Cons of knowing how to sew:

Ough back pain :(

the sewing machines can Smell Fear

pin roulette every time you grab a project

[mammoneythegreat]

I wont be online for a while! But before that, who tf made needle eyes so small?? Im trying to fix my clothes and my bigass fingers cant get the rope through it :/

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Scars

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.3K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: mention of smut but nothing too vivid, Tav history but nothing horrible, kinda funny in some ways, really enjoyed writing this one and if you don't like it - I hate to tell you but you are wrong (I don't make the rules here sorry (I def do make the rules)), I'm so sleep deprived lord help me

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

You laid across from Astarion, enjoying each other's company as the early morning rays of golden sunshine cascaded into the tent. It was the first night you had slept together of Astarion’s own volition. After defeating Cazador, he decided to try living again and he wanted to indulge in every way possible, including indulging in you. It was sweet, gentle, thoughtful lovemaking. Ensuring you were both comfortable and consenting was at the forefront of both your minds. You laid on your combined bedrolls nude, your lower halves covered by a thin blanket. Astarion traced over your face deftly, his fingers subconsciously tracing over the scars that crossed your eye, cheek, and lips. 

“How did you get these?” he asked suddenly.

Your eyes opened completely, waking from their sleepy haze to find his.

“Forgive me, that was rude… you don’t have to tell me.” he said, shaking his head. 

You smiled at him, kissing him briefly. “I’m just as old as you, I have quite a few scars if you’d like to hear the many tales.” you smirked.

He let out a relieved sigh, worried he had offended you somehow. He nodded at your question, finding the raised blemishes to be quite beautiful against your skin. 

“These,” you said gently moving his fingers across your eye and cheek, “are from a devil. My very short stint fighting in the Blood War gave me these.” 

“And this,” you said tracing over your lips, “from a dog. Bit me when I was 7.”

You moved his hand to trace over the large scar that spanned across your neck, “A near death fight with a Bhaal spawn. Nearly took my head off, thankfully I had quite the healer with me.”

Astarion grimaced at this scar. He couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. Being bitten by Cazador had felt like a shard of icy glass being plunged into his neck. Having your throat sliced open by someone as vicious as a Bhaal spawn, he could imagine the immense fear seeing all the blood seeping from you, your life slipping away slowly. He thanked any gods who were listening for the healer who saved you long ago.

“How old were you?” he whispered.

“For my neck?” you asked, “I was 80, my first time in Baldur’s Gate actually. Quite the welcome.” you chuckled. 

You carried on with your little tour of your body. “This one,” you said, tracing a very faint scar of three little dots on the top of your chest, “I gave to myself. Turns out forks are quite dangerous if you trip with them in your hand.” 

Astarion scoffed, a breathy laugh coming out after. As gifted of a fighter as you are, you are also the most accident prone individual he has ever met. 

“Lets see…” you continued moving his fingers to your upper ribs where a deep, jagged scar lay, “A worshiper of Loviatar “blessed” me with that one.”

“Blessed you?” he said, quirking an eyebrow with a hint of confusion in his eyes.

“Let's just say Loviatar worshipers enjoy all manner of things in the bedroom.” you blushed. “It was truly a blessing though, the knife they so graciously stabbed me with was infused with magic. Makes me harder to kill since I “embraced” Loviatar.” 

Astarion smiled at that one. He had noticed how slashing didn’t seem to have much effect on you in battle, now he knows why.

“This one,” you said, moving his hand to a scar that spanned from your belly button to your hip, “Particularly brutal - a Lolth sworn drow and a drider came after me while I was knocked down. Turns out spider legs are sharp as fuck. And the venom? Lord, I have yet to feel a sting quite like that again.” 

Astarion frowned, he always despised spiders. Now he has even more reason to dislike them.

“This,” you moved his hand to your upper right thigh, “Another self-inflicted accident. Swam in the Black Lake, which is forbidden and for good reason too. Giant eels leave quite the electric burn.” 

“Why were you in a forbidden lake?” he asked, thumbing over the patchy scar.

“Why not?” you winked at him with a smirk.

Gods he loved your rebellious spirit, quite matched his own. Trouble seemed to find you both all too easily and yet, you always managed to make fun out of it. 

“This,” you said as you dramatically slapped his hand to your ass cheek. He felt for a moment before feeling a raised “X” shape. “An arrow of Ilmater from a particularly pissed off dwarf.”

“And, pray tell, why was he pissed off?” he said with a smirk of his own. 

“I may or may not have been trying to steal a particular magical necklace.” you grinned.

Astarion hooked his finger under the golden chain around your neck that always had a slight ethereal glow to it. “I’m assuming you managed to steal said necklace?” he said before tugging on it to pull you into a kiss. 

You giggled when you pulled away as his lips followed yours, you pecked them again before continuing. “Yes. Well worth it though, it prevents me from being poisoned. It’s come in handy more than once.” 

You moved his hand to your knee but not before he gave your ass a final squeeze. You squealed as you leaned into him. He would never get tired of your toothy grin, it was like sunshine to him, he loved to bask in it. 

“This one,” you said as you moved his hand to feel over two parallel scars, “from a mermaid. She tried to drown me so I kicked her off, but not before her scales dug into me.” 

“Why was she trying to drown you?” he asked.

You gave him a sarcastic look, “Have you ever met a mermaid? They don’t need a reason, they do it for sport.” 

Astarion nodded, making a mental note to not venture too far into mermaid infested waters. 

“Kept the scales though! Worth a fortune since they make elixir of water breath.” you said jovially, finding the positive in said situation.

“Elixir of what?” Astarion asked, searching his mind for this unknown elixir. 

“Water breath; you can breathe underwater for quite some time once you drink it. Rather rare though, getting scales off a mermaid is a pretty deadly task.” you shrugged.

“Any more?” Astarion said, his eyes running over all the scars that littered your body. So many stories, so many emotions. 

“Just two…” you said as you raised your foot up so his hand could feel over the top of it. A “Z” shaped scar. “This one is from a Zhentarim, hence the “Z” shape. Got caught trying to break into one of their hideouts. Left me with a lovely little scar to remind me not to try again.” 

Astarion traced the shape, you jerked away at the ticklish feeling. 

“Finally,” you said moving his hand between your legs right where the plush of your thigh meets your groin, “this one is from the best lover I have ever had.” 

Astarion felt for a moment but couldn’t feel anything. He looked up at you confused, “There's no scar here?” he said, waiting for you to guide him to the proper spot.  

“Not yet. I suggest you get to it, fangs.” you smirked at him. 

Astarion gave you a wicked smile when your words clicked in his head, “I’d be honored to add to the collection…” he said as he trailed himself down your body, leaving feverish pecks and little nips as he descended before licking over your thigh and sinking his fangs in. 

You arched your back while you carded your fingers through his white curls. You never wanted to leave this bed, this tent, or him. And luckily, you didn’t have to, not now. Not ever. He would alway be yours, and you his.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! :D I am so fucking tired but also very awake right now working this overnight. I fucking love this piece so I hope you all do too! Fun fact, the fork scar is an actual scar I have because I am, in fact, a clumsy bitch lol. This felt very fluffy to me and just generally made me feel better so I hope it was comforting to ya'll as well. Talk soon, thanks for everything!!!!!!!! TTYLXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!!

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen)(Ch. 1)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 3.0k+

Warning(s): Mentions of past car accident, mentions of minor character death/parents dying, swearing, implications of past bullying, mentions of high school lacking services, blood mention.

A/N: YAY i finally have this done. I’ve had this idea since before i started grad school and finally got it done! I hope yall enjoy :) This series takes place before Victoria’s army comes to Forks and Edward may be OOC but like, oh well.

Also in this series, Bella and Edward had a mutual break up w/ no hard feelings <3

Series Masterlist

---

"On foot

I had to cross the solar system

before I found the first thread of my red dress.

I sense myself already.

Somewhere in space hangs my heart,

shaking in the void, from it stream sparks

into other intemperate hearts."

--Edith Södergran, 'On Foot I Had to Cross the Solar System'

On one unfortunate night when you were seven, a drunk driver hit your parents car. Your mother on the passenger side died instantly, your father later succumbed to his injuries in the hospital. You were injured severely, but the doctors managed to keep you alive... At the cost of your voice. Chunks of glass tore through and stabbed your neck; the damage to your larynx was the worst, the second was nerve damage. You could speak in a very harsh, almost whisper-like, voice but it caused an intense amount of pain. You were upset. You hated that driver for what they took from you.

Your aunt and uncle took you in, and were able to help you adjust as you grew. They learned and taught you sign language, they helped you cope with the loss of your parents as best they could, and were always supportive. Despite their work lives keeping them away, they always tried their best to give you attention when they had the free time.

You found ways to enjoy life again, particularly in the stars. They were almost comforting to you when you were alone, looking out your bedroom window. You weren't sure why you have such an affinity for space and what it holds. Maybe because your father brought you out at night to point out all the constellations and their stories. Those moments with him started your interest. And now, you believed your parents were amongst the many stars in the vast universe.

You grew content with not having a voice. You adapted and overcame the curveball life sent your way. You just wished the pain wasn't constantly lingering.

---

It was the day you started going to your new highschool in Forks. It wasn't ideal transferring to a different school, but your uncle's job called for it. He was a firefighter and he was offered a sizable pay increase and rank promotion to fire captain if he took up the position for the Forks station. Your aunt, a nurse, was able to transfer to Forks hospital. They discussed the idea of moving with you of course, and you not wanting to hinder your uncle's promotion or damper his excitement, you supported the move from California to Washington.

You could already tell this rinky dink school wouldn't have anyone that understands ASL and the school said they are still looking to hire someone to be an interpreter of sorts, so you were mentally preparing yourself for the mess you may be entering. At least you transferred only three weeks into the new school year, that would make any school work you needed to catch up on relatively easy. It also helped it was your senior year as well.

As soon as you got out of your car, all of the heads of the student body snapped in your direction. You guess they've never seen a new kid before. You make your journey towards the building, hoping that no one would bother to talk to you. You already saw a teen walk up to you, he had straight black hair and a toothy grin.

"Hi, I'm Eric. You're the new kid." He seemed friendly.

You offer a little wave and sign, hoping he would get the inclination you could not speak.

"Shit... I don't know sign except..." He gave you the sign sorry before pointing to his ears and back to you. You shook your head and tapped your throat. "Oh! You can't speak." You nodded. "Sorry about all the confusion. Welcome to Forks High, home of the Spartans. I'm pretty much the eyes and ears."

You simply nod along when necessary and smiled as he gave you the very quick run down of most of the immediate gossip of school, which was centered around you, the new kid. He seemed like a nice guy but glancing at the clock you passed by in the hall you knew it was close to your first class.

"And don't get me started on the Cul-What?" You interrupted him as you held out your schedule to him, pointing to your first class. "Oh yeah, guess class is starting soon. Lets see... you're in 103 for English with Mr. Baker which is..." He glanced up. "Right down the hall. I have History right next door."

You smile at his help and follow him through the sea of students.

You wave Eric goodbye and enter classroom 103. You felt eyes of everyone land on you, but none more eye-catching or captivating as the gold pair near the back of the classroom. His gaze was intense, eyes wide, as he stared at you. You held his gaze. You weren't sure what to think at the moment but before anything could come to mind, an older gentleman walked in and stole your attention. You assumed correctly this was Mr. Baker.

---

Edward was the first to arrive for his first period class. He was always punctual, but there was a difference now. He no longer had Bella in tow.

It was a mutual end to their quick relationship. While her blood did appeal to him greatly, the fastness of their relationship hurt them both emotionally at the end. It was purely fascination of each others beings that they mistake as something else. While it did hurt, Edward could admit to himself he wasn't distraught over it. They remained friends and he was content with that.

Slowly, other students began filling the classroom as the clock ticked on. Everyone filling seats they usually sat in despite there being no assigned seating. No one ever sat next to him, often feeling intimidated by his status as a Cullen. The vampire paid them no mind, occupying his attention to watching the typical Forks rain traverse down the window he always sat by. He tuned out everyone's thoughts the best he could, letting his usual melancholy about his nature linger in his mind.

Edward perked up when he heard an fast-beating heart breakthrough his attempts of zoning out. Shifting his focus to the doorway his eyes latched on to the new student.

You.

It didn't take reading thoughts to feel the buzz of a new student arriving in the small school.

He felt... strange. Much like with Bella, your scent invaded his senses and made him thirsty, yet, that wasn't what caught his immediate attention.

It was the eyes. Something about them captivated Edward. He wasn't sure what about them had him staring at you, who now stared back at him. The vampire attempted to discern your thoughts and he caught an inkling of curiosity starting to bleed out before the teacher took your attention away.  His stayed on you, and didn't pay him any mind or had any idea he wad, and focused his enhanced hearing on the conversation.

"Hello, new student?" The teacher greeted and softly spoke your name. The auburn haired male watched as the you nodded.

Edward's curiosity peaked when he finally heard their thoughts, clear as the days outside of Forks.

"Yes, that's me. Do you know sign?" He heard their thoughts as he watched their hands easily relay in sign language. I'm expecting a no they internally sighed.

"Oh shoot I wasn't told..." A worried look passed on the teachers face as his sentence trailed off. Edward can hear his thoughts complain that the school failed to inform him about the new student outside their name and grade. A look of exasperation briefly flashed on your face.

Who would of fucking thought Forks High, a small-ass school, would not inform their teachers. Fantastic. Wonderful. I love it. It was a pointed statement that had Edward both mildly shocked at the language and pretty amused. I wonder how much others outside of Eric will put up with me here.

Edward sighed. He knew he shouldn't involve himself with another human but he couldn't help it. Whatever captivated him and the resignation you mentally expressed already had moved him. He got up from his spot and quickly moved to the front of the classroom.

"Apologies, I don't mean to cut in but I know sign."

---

You blink at the golden-eyed student he approached you and the teacher. You felt a grateful smile tug on your lips as you faced him. Immediately, you felt some appreciation and felt good about being wrong on your previous assumption.

"Thank you, Edward." Mr. Baker smiled in relief. Edward gave the teacher a small, tight lipped smile at him and faced you. The teacher introduced you to him. "And this is Edward Cullen."

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience." Edward spoke as you signed, his voice soft and velvety. Observing his face, you watched as his brows furrow at your statement, which became almost a second nature for you due to the way your previous school treated you. You often faced irritated glances or your existence ignored entirely outside the feo close friends you accumulated.

"Please relay to them-" Mr. Baker spoke but you immediately shook your head and held up a hand.

"I am neither deaf or hard of hearing, sir. I just can't speak." Edward translated for you again. "I look forward to class with you both." A smile appeared on his face again.

"You too. And you aren't being an inconvenience at all. It's the fault of the school, really." Mr. Baker offered a kind smile. Edward left the two of you, as if knew he wouldn't be needed again. "Take a seat wherever you want, I don't do assigned seating unless it becomes an issue." Mr. Baker gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to pick out a seat, while he moved to the classroom computer. You take a glance around, only seeing three spots open.

Your eyes landed on the one next to Edward, causing you to perk up. Though, you hesitated, his small smile and the single, subtle nod assured you it was fine to sit by him. Holding your backpack strap a little tighter, you move between desks to join him.

---

Edward watched as you sat next to him. You offered him a quick smile before you started pulling out your notebook and your small pencil case. You didn't look over at him as you stared up at the board, waiting for class to start.

The vampire was curious and while he knew it was an invasion of privacy, he couldn't help but try and focus in on more of your thoughts. Except he was met with...

What? His brows furrowed. Edward felt overwhelmed for a moment, his sense felt almost deprived as he tried peering in your mind again.

Edward suddenly saw what he perceived as a galaxy. Stars, planets, moons, a sun... it was vast and it was breathtaking. It wasn't something he never saw before, this detailed, in a humans mind. He was able to view this scene for just a few fleeting moments until he suddenly felt warm energy push against his mind.

The vampire blinked. His presence was back in classroom 103. He glanced toward you. Paying close attention, he didn't see anything that indicated you were in any way aware of what just occured. He heard the teacher swear under his breath as he attempted to get the projector working, and used this moment to speak with you.

Softly, he called your name, bringing your attention to him.

"How are you liking Forks?" Edward recognized he was a bit awkward, but you gave no inclination that you minded or judged him.

"It's wet. But I don't mind it. The scenery is nice." You signed and it was as if the cosmos that warded him from your thoughts was lifted. Hearing your thoughts again after being blocked out by the cosmos left him perplexed and curious.

"Forks does have its charm in scenery." He chuckled. "But I assume that isn't why you moved?"

"No, but it definitely is a bonus." You smiled. "My uncle got a promotion so we moved up from California."

"What does he do?"

"He is now the fire captain here."

Edward had a kind smile and offered a small congratulations to him. He then spoke again, "What does your class schedule look like?"

You reached into your zip up hoodie pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, you slid it to his desk. His golden eyes scanned the paper and he felt some sort of happiness that your schedules almost align completely. The only class difference was your last two classes, which would have you taking gym and history without him.

"Looks like we will be seeing each other a lot. We have almost all the same classes."

That's a relief. Edward suppressed a smile at your thoughts. I hope we can be at least friendly with one another.

"Since we have most of our classes together, would you like to be friends?" He asked. He could already hear Rosalie scolding him for getting involved with another human, but he didn't particularly care what she would think.

You were another anomaly to his, otherwise, stationary life. He has no plans to try and initiate a quick romantic relationship again. He simply was curious to the stars that lingered behind your eyes.

---

It was nearing lunchtime. You glanced out the window of your math class while the teacher closed out her lesson and began explaining what the homework was going to be. You were very grateful for Edward sticking by you in each course. He was able to help you talk to your teachers, answer and ask questions, and made Forks high a little more welcoming.

You had met two of his siblings in that time frame, Emmett and Alice, who were both a delight. Alice already expressed how much she was excited to finally get to know you, which you assumed she was wanting to meet the new kid, and Emmett offered to watch your back in gym with the biggest grin you've seen on a persons face. It also warmed your heart to find they also knew sign too.

The initial worry of being a forever outsider like before began melting away. So far things have been pleasant unlike your last experience.

As you mind wandered off to old school memories of bullies and loneliness, you were still unaware of Edward trying to discern your thoughts again. You missed the look of confusion and frustration on his face. Although, you did manage to hear him make a noise that sounded like frustration, which snapped your attention on him.

"Everything okay?" You ask him. He glanced up at the teacher who was now facing the board writing the homework down.

"Just... wanting class to be over." Edward gave you a tight lipped smile. "Mrs. Johnsons' classes are usually a bore."

You nodded with a smile and silent chuckle.

The class bell rang, signaling an end, and practically everyone ran out for lunch. You eyed the crowd trying to leave and shrug your shoulders. You scribbled down the equations Mrs. Johnson assigned before putting your class materials away and preemptively pulled out your brown bag lunch.

You glanced to Edward while you both stood up. You weren't sure if you should continue sticking by his side until it was time for your last two periods or find your own corner to decompress. Perhaps giving him a break from-

"Are you ready?" His soft voice cut through your thoughts. You blink, pausing for a moment, before nodding.

"Lead the way." You smiled, though you were sure it came off as nervous. There will be so many people...

"Would you like to sit with my family and I, or would you like to go somewhere quiet?" You looked at him a bit shocked, were you that easy to read? You could see the twitch of his lip like he was going to respond but he kept quiet.

"Somewhere quiet, just for today."

"Follow me then."

---

Rosalie sighed as she leaned against the table, waiting for her siblings to join her and Emmett for lunch. She then looked to her partner and leaned against him, who laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Her golden eyes followed Bella's form with a glare as she sat down with her friends.

"Come on, babe. Her and Edward have no hard feelings." Emmett spoke in a quiet tone.

"It's still a danger to us." She grumbled.

"Nope! She still becomes a vampire like us." Alice suddenly sat down with a bright smile.  Jasper was quick to sit down next to her.

"Even after what happened with the Volturi and James?" Emmett asked.

"Yep. While the course of her and Edward's relationship definitely changed, she still becomes a part of our clan."

"Great." Rosalie rolled her eyes and then glanced around at the table. "Speaking of Edward, where is he?"

"Probably off with the new kid." Emmett smirked. "They seem pretty nice. Edward's been helping them since they can't speak."

"Another human?" She looked to her partner then to Alice. "Did you..."

"Have a vision of them? Yes. The day before Edward and Bella parted their romantic relationship, I had a vision of them coming to Forks. And then after meeting them, I saw them and Edward, looking pretty close." She smiled and giggled.

"Great, another human who is going to choose to be a vampire." Rose scoffed.

"Rosalie-" Alice's usually bright expression drops. Everyone at the Cullen table looked at her with worry as it appeared her eyes glaze over. Jasper immediately gripped her hand under the table as he could feel a wave of sadness wash over from her.

"Darling?" Jasper whispered.

Alice blinked rapidly. She looked to the others with a worried expression. "I... I didn't see the specifics but... It wasn't their choice."

It was silent between them. Rosalie's eyes were wide, Emmett clenched his fist under the table, Jasper tried his best to calm everyone, and Alice simply blinked and tried looking to the future again.

She could see you, crying and writhing as the venom from a bite on your arm took hold, blood all over you. Edward and Carlisle were right by your side, speaking. But she couldn't hear what they were saying.

All she heard was a high pitched ring.

And then the vision flashes a blinding white and she swears she could feel intense heat against her face.

She was back at the table again with her family. It was the same vision as before. Never had she seen such a bright light, heard such a noise, or felt anything like that from a vision.

"We have to talk to Carlisle."

[dy6nsty]

Can I request sleep token x reader with a reader who is accident prone? Today alone i have slid on ice, smacked my head off a shelf, and stabbed myself with a comb.

══════════════════════

I LOVE THIS PROMPT. YES, YES YOU CAN‼️I also hope you’re doing good after all that..

Sleep Token x GN! reader who has a tendency to get injured

Relationship— Romantic

══════════════════════

Vessel:

Suddenly has eyes in the back of his head. Knows you’re picking something up. “Put it down.”

Leaves you alone for a couple of minutes and comes back to chaos. Chaos in this scenario was you breaking something.

Blueprints things in his head to figure out if there’s anything that could possibly put you out of trouble.

Was considering getting you one of those child leashes so he can keep a better eye on you.

Follows you around sometimes to make sure you don’t injure yourself or break something. Watching you bump into 70% of things you come across.

Puts rubber counter protectors on surfaces with sharp or hard corners, just so you won’t bang into them on accident.

If you can’t walk in a straight line (I can’t do it either don’t worry guys! 😊)— he’ll help you get around. “Left- right! RIGHT!”

His worst enemy is winter and spring. We have icy grounds than slippery grass. But is also your frenemy.

Is now stalked up with bandaids, glue, tape and other necessities he might need for the future with you. Which is probably a lot.

If you come to him with an injury he’ll let out a long sigh before asking what happened. Let’s you ramble on about how you’ve gotten hurt now while he fixes you up.

═════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════════

II:

Call him the gigglesaurus at this point. Will watch you stumble than fall and start cackling before realizing he’s not supposed to laugh..

Likes the chaos it can bring! But he still gets a mini panic attack when he realizes you’ve disappeared from you once were: beside him.

Learned how to treat wounds, bruises, and stuff because of how often it started happening. Also learned how to fix mirrors!

Wants to know all of the dumb or serious stories you have. He’s all for it.

Likes to keep an arm around your waist to ensure you won’t get into any inconvenience.

Tries to help you with tasks you might accidentally fuck up. Reaching for things, organizing glasses, cleaning, or even will escort you around areas so you don’t trip over your own feet!

Counts up how many bruises or any marks you have at the end of the day. If he notices a new one he’ll ask what happened. If it happened in a dumb way he just stifles a laugh.

Watches you from afar sometimes to make sure nothings happen so far. If he does see you get hurt he’ll rush over to see what’s happened, again.

Feels like he’s on a news channel at this point. Honestly wonders if you have some sort of curse to how often he’s found you in these exact scenes.

Does not trust you holding glass, plastic, porcelain, or metal objects. He’ll hold them with you but he’s not wanting you to break any of those by falling over, or maybe even dropping them on yourself.

═════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════════

III:

Stays serious about it but once saw you run into a door and almost lost his shit. Wanted to laugh so hard.

Keeps bandaids, a small thing of bandage wrap + tape, and tissue in his pockets. It’s become a habit.

Carries you around areas that have many things cluttered on the ground so nothing will end up broken.

Trusts you enough to look away and not keep an eye on you 24/7 but still has a physical reflex whenever he hears a crash, bang, or a small sound of something colliding.

Often times will try to fix any messed you might’ve caused. Hiding any evidence that something had happened.

Kisses any minor injuries you get. “It hurts? Want me to kiss it so it feels better?”

Deals with your injuries or things you might’ve smashed, asks how it was caused so he can prevent them from happening further on.

Moves things around if he’s noticed it’s a common occurrence for you to bump into it with the object in the room / it’s placement.

Will take over / help you with certain scenarios if it becomes a problem to where you always end up hurt afterwards.

Warms you about things he sees coming your way: “Wall, you’re gonna walk into it.”, “There’s a plate of glasses, don’t walk into it.”

═════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════════

IV:

Feels like superman sometimes when it comes to you. Steadies things in your hand if he notices you’re unbalanced.

Will also laugh at you. Unless you’re bleeding. He’ll run over to make sure everything’s all right.

Stocks up on ice packs and replaceable items for ones you might knock over later on.

Makes sure you won’t knock into anyone while your walking, or into anything.

Starts following you around when he can to make sure that you’re not getting into any trouble.

Also an enemy with winter. Especially if you want to try any winter sports. You can try but he might mentally face palm if you get ran over by a kid in a sled.

Starts requesting for plastic cups instead of glass. He can’t risk fancy glasses being broken any longer.

He gets into trouble in his own way, but he swears he’s more safe than you.

Picks you up and carrie’s you away when he senses that something just might happen. Spidey senses over here!!!

He can’t walk in a straight line so your both screwed. Your bumping into each other like you have sea legs.

═════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════════

i’m sorry if this turned out a little bad! i’m currently on the verge of sleep but rlly wanted to finish this! ^^

[physalian]

Writing Tone in Fiction (Or, Pacing your Story, Part 2)

See this post all about pacing and as the two go hand-in-hand. If you read that, I may repeat myself a little here. Tone, and how abruptly you change it, how radically you change it, and how you break it whether on purpose or on accident says a lot about your experience as a writer, and how well you planned out your plot.

**Trigger warning for mentions of mature themes**

What is Tone?

“Tone” is the maturity of the work, signaling whether or not your characters have to censor themselves for young readers. It’s also restricted by the genre, whether this is a comedy and what kind – slapstick or gross-out humor – or a scary movie about ghosts, but not graphic body horror. It sets expectations about the amount and degree of romance readers can expect, if the scene will fade to black before anything happens or if you’re in for a raunchy sex scene, or somewhere in the middle. It also helps audiences gauge whether or not characters can die in this universe, and how graphically if they do beyond Disney’s tried and true “villain falling ambiguously from a tall height” deaths.

OSP recently did a piece on Tone Armor, a device similar to but less obvious than Plot Armor where the established tone means that, no matter how dire the circumstances, your hero won’t actually die, the world won’t actually end, and a happily ever after is on the horizon. Red also discussed what happens when you break your established tone with the shocking death or mistreatment of a character, but more on that later.

How to Decide Your Tone

Depending on your genre and intended audience, content for younger readers demand quite a bit of censorship (though can get away with many, many things worse than death). In the US at least, movies go through the MPAA rating system to determine what’s permitted by the rating given – how many swear words, whether you can show blood, topless women, graphic assault, graphic violence, if and how characters can be killed or how gummy and resistant to damage their bodies are.

If you’re writing for children, you both have less freedom to write violent carnage, and more freedom to get really creative within the limits of your tone box. I can expect the kid protagonists of my fantasy adventure to murder countless monsters that dissolve into gold dust, not bloody carcasses. I can expect the villain to perhaps die from a stab wound, but probably not get decapitated, disemboweled, or drawn and quartered, at least, not ‘on screen’.

If you’re writing for adults, adults do still expect a warning for how graphic anything can be, whether that’s sex scenes, fight scenes, murders, assaults, bloody battles, garish injuries, dead pets, dead children, etc.

Unless you’re already planning to break your tone, you need to know fairly early on whereabouts you want to set those expectations. If none of the characters even allude to sex and you write in a graphic assault, your audience is going to be pissed, and horrified. If none of your characters even allude to sex, and you hint that one was assaulted off-screen, you will still upset your audience if you don’t give them time to prepare for the possibility.

You can soften the violence and graphic content you’ve previously established and few might complain about it not being gritty enough, but going the other direction puts you in a very precarious position. Choosing more mature themes will inevitably alienate younger readers, those with triggers, and those that just want to have a lighthearted good time. The trade off? You’ll invite readers with a work that’s exactly what they’re looking for.

Establishing a Tone

I’m writing this post today because I finally sat down to watch Game of Thrones. One can’t avoid spoilers for a series as massive as that, so I was prepared for the graphic violence, all the gratuitous sex, the infamous Red Wedding, murdered kids, horribly bloody battles, and the like. GoT, the TV adaptation at least as I can’t speak to the books, establishes exactly what to expect in the very first scene: Three people happen upon the site of a graphic mass murder, limbs and body parts strewn everywhere, kids among them, who come back to life as ice zombies to kill them.

That episode continues with a beheading, incest, more incest, attempted child murder via defenestration, a brother selling his little sister into marriage, rampant nudity, and… I’m sure I missed something.

**Spoiler Alert for Season 4**

What I was not at all prepared for was the graphic death of Oberyn Martell (Pedro Pascal). It’s quick, it’s violent, it’s graphic and gruesome and incredibly well-acted… it was also far more horrifying than the Red Wedding, at least to me. Murder is murder but the way this character went out almost had me quit watching right then and there. Google at your leisure.

It wasn’t necessarily outside the realm of possibility, but most everyone else died via stabbing, arrows, beheading, burning, falling, eaten by wolves, crushed, etc. This was deeply unsettling, particularly because it’s live action, not a cartoon like Invincible.

It did its job, and it’s the only moment to feature in nightmares and make me lose my appetite, so… well done? In the following Previouslies (correct me on the actual word) they don’t even show it, cutting around the actual moment because it’s just that horrible.

This was four seasons into an eight season show and nothing like it had happened before. In a tone already as dark and explicit as TV can get, poor Oberyn pushed it over the edge entirely. It broke the established tone.

Amazon’s The Boys treads the same very thin line, only these people have superpowers for a whole new level of deeply disturbed body horror.

So, when you’re establishing a tone in the realm of “less graphic than Game of Thrones but still terrible,” you can go one of two ways: Horrify your audience straight out of the gate, or slowly creep up to it with allusions and hints until they’re fully prepared for it when it hits.

If your characters have free reign of every swear in the dictionary, start with the “f*cks” and “sh*ts” as quickly as you can as part of their vocabulary, whether you intend to use the words sparingly or after every other word in their dialogue.

If you’re writing a multi-series work that intends to ramp up the rating as it goes, you don’t have to cold open with a murder, but establishing that characters do at least die in this world is a start. Establish that assault happens in the background, that killing happens, or animal cruelty. Your readers with triggers will thank you for it and read something else.

Unless you intend to shatter the tone and shock your audience with it later.

Breaking Tone via Killing Characters

The most effective tonal breakage I can think of that wasn’t even graphic, just dark and incredibly well done: Disney’s animated Mulan. The movie had been your standard Disney musical complete with grand animation for its sing-along song. Soldiers singing, dancing, laughing as they march off to war, all for a girl worth fighting—

The singing stops. The score stops. Their smiles drop. Cut to the scene before them that has murdered this Disney musical in cold blood and it’s a decimated battlefield, the snow-covered and burned bodies of their far better trained and more competent fellow soldiers, and the love interest’s father.

Mulan only briefly reprises one track in the climax, but otherwise, this happy-go-lucky sing-along has rudely and horrifyingly become a war movie. It’s still Disney, so it doesn’t get violent or graphic, but they shattered the tone in glorious fashion.

Breaking tone happens all the time, for minor events and major character deaths. It doesn’t become an issue of “you just alienated your audience” unless the tonal breakage is the aforementioned sudden graphic assault or other sensitive triggers.

Major character deaths are a whole separate monster to tackle and I’d like to, but for today’s purposes I’m talking about killing major characters when the possibility of any of our heroes dying was never established.

For anyone who never read Lord of the Rings and didn’t know the curse of anyone played by Sean Bean, losing Gandalf to another ambiguous high fall was one thing, but Boromir straight up dies in battle. Sure the story is surrounded by death and darkness but you expect heroes in a world like this to have some pretty hefty plot armor – and Boromir had so much room left to grow. In the grand scheme of the story, though, Boromir’s death was as far from shock value fodder as possible.

Sirius Black is another heartbreaking loss, but not entirely outside the realm of possibility – killing off Ron or Hermione would have been. Any mentor figure is automatically doomed with rare exception, especially ones in fatherly roles.

Bianca di Angelo is a different matter. She’s not the first death mentioned in Percy Jackson but she’s a brand new character and despite all the dangers the heroes have already been through and the warnings from the prophecy, actually killing her off for good broke the tone. Suddenly this war was real and there were lasting consequences.

Game of Thrones’ “Red Wedding” didn’t just shock audiences because a bunch of people died, it was which people that died. Robb Stark, eldest son and heir to Sean Bean (so of course he’s dead) and one of the siblings of the “hero” family had been leading a war effort to rescue and then avenge his father. He gets betrayed and murdered, along with his mother and a fair chunk of his army, caught by surprise at a wedding, because he broke an oath and married for love instead.

I knew of the scene and knew that Catelyn Stark was there just from the one time I’d seen the clip years ago, and as it got closer I worried it was Robb’s wedding, but I still wasn’t prepared for the death of the hero of the show. Jon’s off in the north doing his own thing and so is Danaerys. This was the bright-eyed usurper, the avenger, the never-lost-a-battle upstart. No author would ever kill that hero.

They’d established that anyone can die, similar to the Walking Dead in some ways, but this was a whole new level of boldness, killing off Robb. At the time of this post, I haven’t seen past season 4, but I know more deaths are coming.

Deciding to murder your hero, in any other story, would not go over well with your audience. Killing any major character is a decision that should be made with a deep understanding of the consequences or else you end up like Walking Dead after they killed Carl for shock value and never recovered their audience viewership.

—

It’s not just dead protagonists, it can be worldly tragedies, the heroes actually losing a battle, or the war, a uniquely horrifying monster or cryptid or villainous act. Or it can be a character beginning to contemplate self-harm and possibly attempting to end their own lives. It can be the reveal of an abusive relative, or an incestuous relationship. It can be mental health problems, sudden and un-curable disease and disability.

It can be less-dire things too, but I’m not much for writing comedy.

Tone, like pacing, doesn’t have to remain consistent throughout the entire story. If it’s a lighthearted comedy, let it stay a lighthearted comedy if you want to. You can change tone progressively, with hints and near-misses, or drop a bomb on your audience with a big reveal. What you do and how you implement it is entirely dependant on the story you’re writing.

Most audiences expect a book that isn’t written for elementary schoolers to mature over time and most genres come with set understandings. But hey, I hear Animorphs can get incredibly dark with a bunch of mature themes.

In general, killing a character just for shock value is rarely worth it in the long run. In general, writing in triggering subjects without warning to an audience that wasn’t prepared for it also isn’t worth it in the long run — save it for a different book.

If fanfiction authors leave author’s notes everywhere warning about the subject matter ahead, published authors can do the same, in my opinion. Content warnings should be a thing and it doesn’t have to spoil the surprise. Include it as a forward to your book, letting potential readers know that such and such work they’re considering spending real money on contains mentions of, or explicit depictions of, any and all mature and sensitive themes. You never know who’s out there picking up your book expecting a good time. Do right by them and give a little heads up and you might gain a fan you wouldn’t have otherwise.

[girls-alias]

Embarrassment - Sam Winchester

Title: Embarrassment - Sam Winchester Words: 672 Relations: Sam Winchester X reader. (Platonic) TW: Clowns.

Prompt:

Telling Sam embarrassing stories.

"Oh come on it wasn't that embarrassing," I chirped as I held an ice pack to his shoulder. 

"How many people can say they say they were stabbed by a spoon?" He asked seriously but I couldn't help but laugh. He looked at me disapprovingly but I couldn't help it. It was ridiculously hilarious. I continued to patch him up as I composed myself. 

"It's funny, not embarrassing." I shrugged but he didn't look humoured. "You want to know about embarrassing?" I asked and he nodded slightly. "Okay, so one time I was seeing this guy and his dad was a cop, anyway we were out and ended up thinking 'You know what would be a great idea right now? Skinny dipping'" I quoted my past self. 

"Oh, you didn't," Sam commented trying not to laugh. 

"Oh, we did. So we were out swimming and it was freezing, by the way. We weren't in long but just as were getting out a cop car pulled up. It turned out to be his dad and sitting beside him was my dad. We're stood there butt naked, looking at our dads." I chuckled but Sam was laughing hysterically. "So we get dressed and we're driving home and no one says a word. When we got home my mum asked where we had been and my dad out of nowhere says 'I saw her naked, do we have any eye drops?' And he was being deadly serious." I explained and Sam couldn't hold in his laughter. I was feeling embarrassed so pushed his stab wound a little making him wince and stop laughing. "My dad ended up putting a whole bottle on his eyes and got an eye infection in both eyes and since everyone asked him about it he'd tell them, before the end of the week everyone knew about it, even our dentist," I finished explained and Sam laughed again. 

"Okay, that's embarrassing." He commented making me nod. I sighed as I continued to patch him up. After a few minutes, Sam laughed remembering the story when Dean walked in. 

"What's so funny?" He asked and I knew Sam would rat me out. 

"Sam was stabbed with a spoon," I quickly said so Sam wouldn't be able to snitch on me. Dean laughed which seemed to egg Sam on. 

"Y/N was caught skinny dipping by her dad who told everyone about it," Sam quickly added and Dean looked more weirded out than anything. I chuckled knowing I had won. Sam scoffed as he watched Dean's reaction. Rolling his eyes, he knew I had won. I smirked triumphantly, gloating with my smile as Sam shook his head. 

"Who stabbed you?" Dean asked, I chuckled, excited for Sam to say it again. Ahhhh, We are never letting him live this down. Sam sucked his teeth. 

"A clown," He explained quietly. Dean looked at me trying not to laugh. I pulled my lips into a tight line to stop myself from laughing but I couldn't help it. As soon as My laugh erupted Dean couldn't hold it in either. Sam groaned as got up and went to the bathroom. I tried apologising through my laughter but I couldn't stop it. It was so funny. No wonder he's terrified of clowns. 

"What happened?" Dean asked, his voice sounding funny as his laughter had taken all of his breath. It only made me laugh harder. I composed myself, wiping tears from my eyes I was laughing so hard. 

"We were doing interviews for the case and there was a kid's party, there was a clown and Sam was terrified so the clown played on it to try and get laughs. Sam was backing away from him and the clown tripped," I couldn't hold my laughter back anymore. Tears freely fell down my cheek as Dean hunched over laughing. "He was holding a spoon and tried grabbing Sam's shoulder so he wouldn't fall but stabbed him by accident. The best part was Sam screamed more than the kids," 

Masterlist

Working On

[doberbutts]

As Disability Discourse 2.0 crosses my dash yet again I am left sort of wondering where the line is.

I am physically disabled. I am also neurodivergent. I do not consider myself mentally ill but I know that there are people out there with my exact diagnoses that do consider themselves mentally ill.

I have a brain injury. You can point to it on an MRI. I have the images to prove it. I had to re-teach myself how to speak. Those weird typos I have sometimes? Yeah my brain just reads letters wrong and sometimes spits out the wrong word or tense or grammatical structure sorry, that’s what happens when your brain gets shaken around in your head like a maraca following a serious car accident. I have a permanent tremor in my right hand and arm which results in me being incapable of fine motor control when having a flare. I am photosensitive and relatively intolerant of stress. I knocked an eye loose and was thankfully able to keep it but occasionally need to cover it or else it feels like someone is stabbing me directly in the brain when there is literally any light or movement whatsoever.

Did you know that over 30% of people who survive TBIs debate and even attempt to kill themselves within the first year? It’s still a bit unresearched but many neurologists believe it’s because many survivors have a hard time adjusting to their new normal when it feels like they have lost all control over themselves. I did not get that bad but I had many meltdowns where I would sob uncontrollably because it was all just Too Much, and the knowledge that it would be Too Much, Forever was curse over comfort.

Is that a mental or a physical disability? A part of my brain is damaged, like a scar. It is entirely neurological and mental in its symptoms.

I was diagnosed with a different brain condition, one that affects the autonomic nerve within my brain, causing fainting episodes, out-of-control mast cells, horrific digestive problems, and joints that bend a little too much. Average quality of life after diagnosis is roughly equivalent to someone with end stage heart failure.

A part of my brain is faulty and always has been. It is entirely physical in its symptoms. Is this a mental or physical disability?

My knee hurts. I was knocked off my bike one day on my way home from college. It was a hit-and-run driver and I didn’t have the money or the insurance to do more than slap a brace on it and limp around for several weeks while it healed. Less than a decade later it gave out. I was completely unable to walk for months. I lost my job. I ended up switching careers entirely so I could sit. I walk with a cane. I have to physically drag myself up stairs with my arms and my “good” leg. I spend nights grasping at my knee willing it to stop spasming as I try to get some sleep. I’ve had to beg for painkillers. Surgery will not help it. My knee is Completely Fucked, Forever.

This is a clear physical disability, that much is for sure.

I recently went to see Spiderverse. I warned my friend that it was entirely possible I’d need to duck out at some point because the movie would overwhelm me. I also warned her that I would probably need to immediately rest or go home and would not be able to hang out because I was anticipating it to be Sensory Hell. I went in prepared with my own snacks, tinted glasses to take the edge off the flashing, and even looked away during some of the worst of it.

I needed to duck out after an extended chase scene which featured a lot of flashing lights. I was able to come back and finish the movie. I needed nearly an hour of rest to stop shaking and be safe to drive myself home. I immediately went to bed upon getting home at about 4pm and by the time it was night had a pounding headache and shivers. I knew this would probably happen because the first one was very bad for my brain injury and I’d been pre-warned the second one was worse about it- truly I think it is really those movies’ biggest flaws is that they are very not friendly to people with problems with bright flashing lights.

My knee did not prevent me from entering the building. The theater was wheelchair accessible.

But even with sensory provisions, my brain injury and faulty nerve made it a monumental task to just finish a two and a half hour task of literally just sitting there.

I could go in. Staying was the part that was in question.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hii! How about a slightly darker marilyn x animal shapeshifter female student reader? Reader is a shapeshifter that only shapeshift into animals not people. Reader is so enamored with Marilyn that soon the classes and aiding Marilyn with her plants and doing whatever odd job for Marilyn just isn't enough, she shapeshifts into a cat and acts like a stray persuading Marilyn to feel sorry for her and adopt her.

Though an accident happens and reader takes an injury for Marilyn, she forgets that the injury transfers over to her animal form as well and Marilyn notices her cat has a familiar injury to reader, plus she realizes the reader and her cat has the same color eyes and angry she grasps reader/cat by the scruff of her neck and demands she shapeshifts back to where she interrogates crying apologizing reader. She puts 2 and 2 together and realizes the reader has a crush on her and it's like switch is turned and Marilyn's turns all sweet and degrading, "oh, is mommy's little pet in heat? Did you like spying on mommy? Watching me in the shower, getting dressed, touching myself late at night? Dirty little kitty" and then smut ensues, 😁and she ends up putting a collar around reader's neck before you go to class.

So maybe a squint of heat/breeding kink but lots of possessive mommy!dom and pet play, but no beastility! Just sex in human form lol

Thank you! Hope this ask was ok, and of course I always assume the reader is 19 or 20. You're frigging amazing!

Yess!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it!!! Sorry about the language mistakes!!!

Black cat, dark desire

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem Student, Shapeshifter! Reader

Warnings: smut, kinks,

Word count: 5,014

Summary: You’re crazy about her, and you can take it anymore, you think about doing something crazy to be with her…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“And what do I do with this?” You asked with a pot of arms. The plant gave you chills, it moved.

Marilyn, your teacher, smiled and pointed you to a corner of the conservatory.

“Leave it there, let’s try it to not bite someone,” she said, looking at you, funny.

You put the pot a little further from you and a little scared. The redhead laughed and made a gesture with her hands to indicate that it was not true.

“Calm down, (Y/N), it was just a joke,” she told you between laughs. You sighed with relief and left the pot where she indicated.

It was an afternoon like all the others. You weren't a girl who was nice to teachers with no reasons. Marilyn wasn't just a teacher to you, she was so much more. You spent your nights dreaming of being with her, her classes passed too quickly, you needed to spend more time with her. In Nevermore there were a lot of people you could fall in love with, but your stupid heart decided to fall in love with Marilyn Thornhill, that adorable and innocent botany teacher.

You could spend all day admiring her beauty, melting with her kindness, listening to her sweet voice as if it was some kind of heavenly song. You thought you had lost your mind to her when you asked her if she would let you help her after class, but your whole world lit up when she told you that you can do it. Her smile was going to drive you crazy, even more than you already were.

“Luckily, I wouldn't like a plant to bite me,” you said awkwardly. It would be giving them reasons to laugh at me.” Marilyn smiled again.

“I wanted to thank you for helping me. Not many people are interested in plants,” she told you, taking off her gloves.

“Well, I do,” you said, blushing.

The redhead smiled even more and looked at the old clock on the wall.

“You should go back now, I can take care of this,” she told you, sighing.

That phrase always made you feel like a stab wound through your heart. That day was worse. There were many things to do and thanks to that, you were able to spend more time with her. All good things always have an end.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Miss Thornhill,” you said politely, trying not to sound as sad as you felt.

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” she replied.

You left the conservatory sighing and looking back, keeping the ridiculous hope that the redhead would call you from the door to tell you to come back, to stay with her, forever if possible.

You went back to your room to wash up a bit. Digging in the dirt and transplanting plants wasn't exactly the cleanest job.

You washed your hands and looked at yourself in the mirror, sad to feel so horribly frustrated.

“Surely if I was one of her plants she would pay more attention to me…” You murmured to yourself. You opened your eyes immediately after. An idea crossed your mind. A great, but a terrible idea at the same time. You had already crossed the limits of common sense, there was nothing that sounded bad to you anymore if it meant spending more time with Marilyn.

You took off your uniform jacket and left it on top of your bed. Luckily your partner wasn't there to see the madness that you had come up with. With one last cautious look, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Everything started to get bigger and a layer of fur started to cover your body.

You were a shapeshifter. But not one like the other shapeshifters. Your abilities only allowed you to transform into animals, whichever you wanted. Many times you transformed into a bird and took flight, feeling great freedom. You never thought of using that advantage for your crazy ideas, but that day you were especially attracted to the redhead. You had to try it at least.

Now you were no longer (Y/N), but a beautiful black cat with shiny fur. You knew Marilyn's sympathy for those animals. You'd crossed the line into insanity, stalking, but it felt awfully good to be a cute little kitten instead of a young lady crazy about her teacher.

You struggled, but you managed to open the door and start walking down the halls. Obviously in Nevermore it was possible for you to not attract someone's attention. Cats were more than common within those walls.

“Okay, there's no turning back, here I go,” you thought. You couldn't speak but you had great power instead, you could be extremely adorable.

You left the building and continued on your way to the conservatory. Many of your classmates tried to pet you and talked to you like you were a baby. You didn't want them to do it, you wanted her to do it.

The conservatory door was open. Perfect. You wouldn't know how to get her attention if it wasn't.

You crept past, to see your dear Marilyn working on some papers at a desk. It was very strange to see her doing anything other than taking care of her plants. You approached stealthily, and you sat on the ground, licking your paws.

“Oh, my God!” Marilyn yelled when she realized your presence. “What are you doing here, kitty?”

You stood up, approaching her, who was looking at you curiously.

“Are you lost?” She asked you with a tender voice, bending down.

You didn't make a move, you just purred, rubbing your face across her knee. She laughed at your unexpected gesture of affection.

“Oh, but how affectionate you are, aren't you?” She said, gently caressing your head. That she didn't know you weren't female didn't bother you at all. If your plan worked out, she would soon find out. Your purring intensified and you closed your eyes to enjoy her caresses even more.

“Are you thirsty, kitty?” She asked, as if she thought you would understand.

You meowed to answer “thirsty for you”. Fortunately she didn't understand you. She got up and went for a small plate, which she filled with water from a bottle.

“Here, drink,” she said leaving the water on the floor. You resigned. You didn't like having to drink like an animal, but you had to stick to the plan, and not arouse suspicion.

You drank from that water while the redhead looked at you affectionately. She sat back in the chair and continued with her paperwork. You weren't going to let yourself go unnoticed and you moved gracefully, jumping into her lap.

“Oh, do you want to be here with me? Fine, but be a good cat…” She said, scratching your neck. You were excited by that contact. You were a cat, but at least you could feel her hands on your skin, or rather your fur.

You were sitting on her lap while she corrected what looked like the works she sent you the week before. You moved to take a better look. Luckily you didn't have the vision of a cat, you could see things clearly, with all the colors. Otherwise, you would not have seen that she was correcting your work.

As if wanting to attract attention, you put your paw on top of the paper. Marilyn looked at you curiously and smiled.

“It's a good one, right?” She commented to you, subtly removing your paw from the paper. “(Y/N), one of my best students…”

You looked at her. It was just what you wanted, to talk about you. You wanted to know what she thought of you.

“She's attentive, a good student... And she's very pretty, by the way...” She whispered that last phrase, as if it were something she shouldn't say. You meowed almost helplessly. “But don't tell anyone that I said that, they would fire me...”

You meowed again, as if you promised to treasure that fantastic comment.

You kept doing that every afternoon, trying to get her to finally take pity on you and take you with her. One really cold day she finally decided to take you to her room. You couldn't describe what it was like to have her carry you in her arms. It was an indescribable feeling. You had gotten used to licking her hands, her face, which made her laugh affectionately. It was inevitable that she would want to give shelter to an animal as adorable as you.

It was difficult for you to adapt to this new life. You had to be in her room, but at the same time you had to be in Nevermore, like the student you really were. At night, after watching like a stalker how the redhead took a shower, you would sneak out the window and return to your room. Fortunately, your roommate stopped asking where you were all the time.

One night you didn't left. One night you stayed in her room. You thought you should go to jail for that, but when you saw that Marilyn didn't exactly get into bed to sleep, you decided to put your conscience aside, and enjoy the show. She didn't seem like the type of woman who enjoyed touching herself, but really, everyone changes when they're alone, and she's a woman after all. She also has her needs.

That night you couldn't sleep. You thought about everything you had seen and heard. Adorable and innocent Marilyn seemed to enjoy herself in a slightly wilder way than you might have imagined.

The next day everything had to go back to normal. You were in her bed, curled up on yourself, enjoying the thought that she was naked under the sheets, but the sun was peeking through the window, you would have to leave now, unfortunately. When you went back to your room and transformed again, you thought about the morality of your actions. You were lost, you had become a stalker, you had taken advantage of her kindness and you had deceived her. You didn't give it any importance. If that was the only way you had to be by her side, it was the right thing to do.

Everything was going normally. Marilyn didn't suspect a thing and you were still able to enjoy those little moments with her in your human form.

“I hope I can show her to you some day. I don't know why, but every morning she sneaks out the window,” The redhead told you, taking care of one of her plants.

“That's cool, I love cats,” you said, pretending that she wasn't talking about you.

“She is an adorable cat, and very good…”She commented, looking up at you.

You nodded, feeling a little guilty. You looked up, where a glass jar teetered on top of a bookcase.

“Watch out!” You yelled, pulling Marilyn out of the way of the jar, which shattered on the floor. One of the pieces of glass went through your arm, making a cut that immediately began to bleed.

“My God, (Y/N), are you okay? Oh... Your arm...” She told you, looking at your wound, worried.

 “It's nothing,” you said, hiding the dizziness that seeing your own blood caused you.

“It's a very ugly cut, honey. Come, let's heal you,” she told you, taking you by the wrist.

She sat you down at one of the desks and went for the first aid kit, taking out several bottles and some bandages.

“By the way, thanks, that thing would have fallen on my head,” she told you, while she showed your wounded arm. It was definitely much better to transform into a cat than to receive a cut on the arm. Her hands touching your skin made you tremble, but in reality the wound hurt, you couldn't think much about it.

“Sorry, it's going to hurt a bit,” she said, pouring some liquid on a cotton ball. You closed your eyes and pursed your lips so as not to complain.

It stung a lot, but appearing brave was your priority at the moment.

“You can complain, I know how much it stings, honey,” she told her softly, rubbing the wound delicately

“No, it's okay, it's not that bad… Ahhh!” You yelled when the pain became unbearable. She smiled, watching your facade fall. You cursed to yourself.

“That's it... Just hold on a little longer,” she told you, trying to calm you down. Her voice was like a sedative to you and soon the pain was gone.

Carefully, she put some bandages around your wound and patted your leg.

“Done. Now go back to Nevermore, I have to pick up all of these glasses and I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore.”

You nodded head down and left the building.

You didn't come back later like a cat. You weren't stupid, you didn't want to step on any glass, you'd faint if you saw blood again.

You decided to wait for the sun to go down to escape through your window. You had to remove the bandage. That made you sad, she had done it with all her love. But you had a date with her caresses, and that was more important.

Her window was closed, but she was already in the room. You meowed intensely and scratched at the glass, drawing her attention.

“Oh, you're here kitty,” she said, opening the window. You jumped into her and rubbed against her legs like you usually did. “Where do you go every day? You make me very worried.”

She caressed your back affectionately. Another meow came out of your mouth, as if you were trying to carry on a conversation.

“Surely you've spent the day chasing birds, right?” She asked you affectionately.

You jumped on her bed, purring. She took the plate with water that she had for you and went to change it, with a tender smile, the one she always had. You went down to the ground again, when she left your plate full of fresh water and caressed you between your ears. It looked like she was going to turn around, but something caught her eye.

“Oh, you're hurt, what happened to you honey?” She asked worriedly, picking you up and examining your paw.

“Shit,” you said to yourself. Your cut on the arm was still there, no matter what you transformed into, all the details of your skin showed up too.

“Come here, let me examine you…” She said, sitting on the bed and looking at your injury with concern.

She frowned when she saw the cut, surely it looked familiar to her. It was time for evasive action. You started to writhe in her arms, but she had more strength than you in that state. She got to keep you off. You snorted desperately.

“Stay still, don't move,” she commanded, keeping her grip on you firmly. “It's not possible…” She whispered, running a finger over your wound. It obviously didn't look like a wound made from a tree branch. She was treated and cured and surely that was what she was thinking.

She held your head and looked into your eyes. Another thing you hadn't noticed. The color of that cat's eyes was the same as yours, they even had the same imperfection in the iris that you had.

Her face went from worried to angry in a second.

“(Y/N)?” She asked incredulously.

Your meow was more like an agonized wail, and you tried to wriggle away again, to no avail. Marilyn snorted and grabbed the skin of your neck, holding you in the air and preventing you from moving. Cat stuff.

“Tell me it's not you, that I'm imagining it,” she told you angrily, while she held you. You meowed, unable to move. “Very good, young lady. Show yourself.”

You meowed, denying yourself. The redhead shook you roughly, losing her patience.

“Do you want us to call Weems? She is also a shapeshifter, I'm sure it won't take two seconds to her to recognize you,” she told you, threatening. You meowed desperately. “No? Well show yourself.”

Marilyn put you down. You thought about running away and you looked at the window. The redhead was faster and she closed it before you could even think to jump.

“Not so fast, young lady,” she told you, putting her hands on her hips.

You were cornered, you had nowhere to escape. Your heart was beating very quickly and the desire you had to cry clashed with your animal condition. You decided to give up, face the consequences of your actions. You sat on the ground and little by little your human form began to be glimpsed. Of course you weren't wearing any clothes.

At last you could cry, when the fur began to disappear from your skin. You drew your knees up to cover yourself as best you could.

“Oh, for God's sake, wait, I'll find something for you to cover yourself with,” the redhead said, sighing, going to a coat rack. She grabbed one of her coats and threw it at you rudely.

You cried desperate, ashamed. Clumsily, you covered yourself with the coat, covering all your shame.

“I would like to hear an explanation, (Y/N). It's been you all the time, right?” She asked, visibly upset.

You nodded, unable to stop crying. That was the most humiliating moment of your life.

“Stop crying, (Y/N). I want to know why you did it,” she told you, crouching down in front of you.

“I…I…” you sobbed. The redhead raised her eyebrows.

“You what? Did you have fun spying on me? Did you want to embarrass me? Is this some kind of joke from your classmates? Come on, talk.”

“No! It's not any joke. I did it because I wanted to, nobody knows, I promise,” you said abruptly. She nodded and sighed, her expression relaxing.

“And why did you do it?” She asked, with a softer and more pious tone.

“I… I… I… like you…” You said murmuring, avoiding her gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise and she stood up again. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know what I was doing...”

“I think you did know, (Y/N). Get up,” she told you, offering you her hand to help you. You picked it up and stood up, always covering yourself with her coat.

“I, I'm sorry…” You sobbed. “Please don't say anything to Weems, I won't do it again, I promise.”

She blinked rapidly and flashed an unsettling smile.

“I'm not going to tell Weems anything. I just want you to tell me one thing…” She whispered, taking a few steps closer to you. You were terrified, at no time did you think about the tone with which she said that phrase.

“I…I…Sure,” you said, wiping your tears with your arm. Suddenly Marilyn lunged at you, pushing you against the wall. You were surprised and a little scared. She was looking at you with a wicked smile, she seemed to enjoy looking at the skin that peeked out in the middle of the two parts of the coat.

“Did you enjoy being on my lap?” She asked in your ear. A chill ran through your body. “Did you have a good time when you saw me naked in the shower?”

You didn't know how to respond. You could tell the truth, that they were the most erotic moments of your life, or you could lie and miss out on that opportunity that was in front of you. It could be a trap, but you didn't think about it at all. She would never do something like that with a student if she wasn't doing it for real.

“I…” You whispered.

“Don't be shy, you weren't when you spied on me… But how can you be so cheeky, (Y/N). Me thinking that you were a poor lost kitten, and it turns out that she was one of my students... A very perverted one...” She hissed, running a hand over your chest, caressing the bare skin that went from your clavicle to your belly.

“I'm sure you enjoyed it even more last night... You were there, next to me when I was touching myself, right? You heard all the things I whispered as I pleasured myself. It had to be overwhelming for a kitty as dirty as you.”

You were shaking. Those words came from the mouth of the woman you loved for a long time. You couldn't deny that you were turned on by the way she talked to you. She didn't look like the lovely Marilyn Thornhill.

“I…”

“Answer when I ask you, (Y/N), don't be mean…” She told you, making a pout. “Did you enjoy seeing mommy naked? Talk.”

“Yes,” you finally said, closing your eyes, afraid of her reaction. She just laughed, moving closer to your mouth.

“Do you want to kiss me? Would you like me to do those things you saw me doing last night?” She asked, with her lips touching yours. You nodded after which you kissed her hungrily and passionately. She kissed you back, cupping your face with her hands.

“You got lucky. I couldn't stop thinking about you... I never thought that you really wanted me...” She said between kisses. “We're going to have a great time, you and me.”

The kisses were hot, unrestrained, filled with an almost unbearable desire. She laughed as she enjoyed the way you melted.

“What a pretty pet I have... So obedient, so needy...” She whispered, taking her hand between your legs, sliding down your wet center. “Umm, what's wrong, kitty? Are you in heat?”

Her voice was tender but her words were dark, wicked. You couldn't do anything but nod. Feeling her hand running through those places on your body was a sensation capable of completely paralyzing you.

“You're soaked, my pretty kitty…” She whispered in your ear, before kissing your neck and biting it greedily. “Come here, mommy will take care of you...”

Saying that, she grabbed your wrist, taking you to the bed and pushing you on top of it.

“Take this off, darling, you don't need it, you're with me…” She said as she slipped her coat around your shoulders. “That's it... How beautiful is my kitty...”

You felt a current of cold pass through your body. You were trembling, waiting for what you had wanted for so long. She was looking at you hungrily as if she had been going through the same thing as you. Her abrupt reaction to knowing that you felt something for her told you that indeed, it was so.

“Let me ease you, my love…” She whispered, leaning into you, her hand back between your legs. “Don't move, ok? Be a good pet to mommy.”

You nodded, propping yourself up on your elbows. Your eyes couldn't get away from hers, which looked at you studying all your little reactions when she skillfully moved her hand around that area.

“Don't be so quiet, I want to hear your sweet voice, darling…” She told you, moving closer to your entrance.

“I… I…” It was stupid that you could only say that. You were overwhelmed by events.

“Say how much you want mommy to do this to you. I want to hear it,” she ordered you, darkening her tone of voice a bit.

“I… I want you to do it, Miss Thornhill…” You said shyly. She laughed and slapped your leg, digging her nails into your flesh.

“Wrong, honey. You shouldn't call me that way. Do you think you should call that way to who has been taking care of you all these days?”

“No, no,” you answered, hissing in pain as you felt her nails on your skin.

“Do it properly, honey…” She whispered, removing her nails from your leg and continuing her sensual caresses in your center.

“Mommy… Please,” you said, sure that was the correct way to refer to her. You didn't find it disturbing at all, you dreamed of much worse things.

“That's it, honey, very good. Open those precious legs for mommy…” She ordered you.

You obeyed, lying on the bed as you began to pant. The pleasure you already felt intensified when you felt her fingers slowly entering inside you. You wanted it so much, you had been imagining how it would feel for so long... The reality was definitely much better.

“Do you like it, honey? Do you like how mommy takes care of you?” She asked, while she kept a constant rhythm that made you see the stars.

“Yes… More… Please,” you asked as if it were a dark wish, as if your desire spoke for you.

“Shhh, my girl… Patience.”

You couldn't afford patience. You had been waiting too long. You gripped the sheets tightly, while your moans came out of their own accord. The shame you felt disappeared, you only felt pleasure. She kissed your legs, she caressed you, whispering words of love and care while she did it. You felt her, but she was far from you, you couldn't touch her body. It made you a little desperate.

You felt how her fingers curled into you, sending you straight up to heaven. The moan you emitted was so loud that Marilyn had to ask you to shut up, to lower your voice. You made a great effort to do it. Suppressing the pleasure you felt only made you more aroused and finally, you hunched your back. Bursting with pleasure.

“Do you feel better now, kitty?” She asked, climbing on top of you.

You nodded, surrounding her body with your arms, kissing her with passion and gratitude for the pleasure she had given you.

“You're a good girl, (Y/N), I've been so lucky to find you…” She whispered, caressing your cheek in a slightly different way, tenderly. “Will you be my cute pet? Will you do everything I ask you?”

You nodded as she watched in astonishment as she slowly undid the buttons on her blouse.

“What a good girl…” She said, letting her garment fall from her shoulders. “Come here, my love, show me that you can make mommy happy,” she told you, pulling your hand for you to sit up. Her clothes gradually disappeared while she took your place, lying on the bed.

You stood in front of her, who spread her legs suggestively as she caressed herself gently. She waved her hand for you to come to her and you complied, still trying to recover from what had happened before.

“Give me your love, (Y/N), I want to feel your lips on my skin…” She whispered, pushing your head between her legs.

You could hardly react. That feeling was even better than before. You had her in front of you, you could taste her, touch her. It was like in your dreams. Your mouth melted into her skin just as you imagined when you returned to your room. You wanted to make her enjoy, show that you were good, that you were worth. You moved impatiently, grabbing her legs to keep her still while your tongue ran through the most private part of her.

“You're so sweet, (Y/N)…” She sighed, beginning to pant as your tongue moved faster, motivated by her words.

Her gasps turned into soft, discreet moans, at least more discreet than yours. You were going crazy, you were the cause of those moans, of those words of love and affection.

“Stop playing, honey. Make love to me now... Mommy is impatient to have you inside her...” She ordered you, gently pulling your hair.

You obeyed, looking up to see her eyes. She frowned at you and took one of your hands, guiding it to her crotch.

“Like that, my love…” she told you, moving your hand along her folds. After a few seconds, she took her hand away, leaving you free to touch her however you preferred.

Feeling her warmth on your fingers was an explosion of love, of desire. That hot and wet sensation reactivated your senses again. She was so cute… Little by little, you began to pick up the pace, feeling her moans grow faster and higher.

“My precious kitty…” She gasped, moving her hips to make you speed up your movements. You paid attention to her discreet signals.

After a few minutes in silence, only listening to moans and fuss, her breathing quickened and her hand went back to your hair, pulling it hard, while letting herself be overcome by the pleasure you were causing her.

“Oh, my good girl… You have made me so happy…” She sighed, kissing you on the forehead.

“I love you,” you said almost without thinking. She looked at you and smiled.

“Oh, I know, my love… Me too…” She told you as she got up from the bed. She went to the bathroom and put on a towel. “I think Mommy needs a shower, honey. You should go back to your room.”

“Can I…?” You asked. You didn't know if she would let you do what you were thinking, but to your surprise, she nodded without you finishing your sentence.

The shower was affectionate, nothing sexual. You hugged each other while the hot water ran over your bodies.

“Now you really should go back,” the redhead said, combing her hair. You agreed. “You should turn into a cute kitten if you don't want to go naked through the halls…” She joked.

You were about to leave already, but she stopped you, grabbing your wrist.

“Wait, (Y/N), I have something for you,” She said, going to look for something in her bag. From it she took out a collar, obviously for a cat, but it was pretty, no one had to know that it wasn't for a person. You smiled when you saw it, while the redhead approached to put it on.

“I want you to wear this, my love. It was for my kitty, but I think that it also looks good on you,” she said, buttoning it up. “Now go away.”

You nodded and transformed again, jumping to the window, which the redhead opened.

“Oh, and (Y/N)…”

You meowed.

“The next time you want to see me, you don't have to scratch the window. Just scratch the door...”

[theregencywriter]

Lost in Silence 1 - Theo Sharpe x Reader

A/n - Okay so I'm obviously rewatching Bridgerton (are we surprised???) and I realised there's really no fics of Theo???? I mean of course there are but not many and I feel like he's underrated so I needed to put this out there! Still not completely sure which direction to take this in so pls message or comment if you have literally any ideas but uh, yeah! Hope you enjoy <3

The air was thick with tension. Y/n’s mother paced back and forth whilst her daughter Y/n, only ten, sat watching. The cobbled streets of London were cold and unforgiving but with no more room available in the room they were forced to wait outside. Hours passed before the doctor came out, his already stained robes marred with a fresh tint of crimson blood. He romoved a glove and placed his hand onto her Mothers arm as he spoke. “The bleeding was too much. There was nothing we could do and yet we still exhausted all options. I’m sorry.”

And then began a shriek from her mouth that young Y/n could swear rattled the nearby windows, as she shrank to the floor. It was odd, Y/n would recall years later, she never believed her mother to be truly extraordinary, and yet seeing her reduced to a blubbering mess on the floor was an unbearable sight. Y/n took off, her feet taking her as if by their own volition, running down twisted streets until she was pounding on a door.

“Y/n?” Theo asked, puzzled and tired as he opened his front door. He looked at his friend, and before she replied he was holding her in a deep embrace. Though he was only two years older than her he was naturally protective of her like no one ever had been. “He’s, he’s, oh my god!” It was as if by saying out loud for the first time it would become real, concrete and solid. “He’s what? Who’s what? Y/n please” Theo begged, his already panicked face deepening with worry. “Father!Oh Father, he was stabbed by a highwayman on his way back from the countryside! He’s gone!” Theo pulled her in closer. He had known that Y/n’s father, a coworker of his own at the butchers, was going out of London to look for work elsewhere. He also knew how worried Y/n was, and heard from his father that she was seen pleading with her own for him not to go, out of fear of a robbery.

Theo held her for a while until her mother came looking, and when he looked at her though mere hours had passed the once vibrant face of Y/n’s mother was sunken and worn. Before Y/n left with her, Theo gave her a vibrant blue notebook. “For company, when I myself am not there.” He smiled, only faintly as she left.

—

Y/n fidgeted with her bow. “Is it not too garish? I thought so all night” She asked. “Nonsense Miss Y/n, it is beautiful” Her maid replied as she helped fix it into her updo. In the years that passed since her fathers death her mother had remarried to a Lord Reginald Harrington, his wealth only matched by his cruelty. They had one child together other than Y/n, an Arrabella Harrington, now nearing twelve. Her birth was scandalously close to their wedding, yet she seemed to finally snap her mother out of the haze she had been in. To say having Arrabella had saved her would be a stretch, Y/n often lay awake at night worrying what could’ve happened had her mother not fallen pregnant and found a new purpose in life.

It was no surprise to anyone then that Y/n would be treated lesser than her sister by both parents. Y/n’s mother, now Lady Isadora Harrington, saw Arrabella as a second chance, whilst Lord Harrington naturally leaned towards the child that was his through blood. Despite this, Y/n was still sent through the marriage mart each season, attending balls and accepting callers. It wasn’t that she tired of it, per se, as she did find comfort standing on the sidelines with her two friends. It was moreso the matter of feeling like an imposter, knowing if it werent for a terrible accident that she wouldnt be here. That was something Penelope and Eloise simply couldnt grasp seeing as they were born into the lavish life they lead.

Whilst Y/n wasn’t closed off to the idea of marriage and preparing for life as a dutiful spinster, any man who attempted to court her never made it past the first two weeks. There were too many differences, she supposed, in their upbringing. After the first five men came calling it was clear they wanted a wife, not a companion. Seeing how regular people saw love most definitely shaped how Y/n saw the marriage mart. In the lower classes marrying for love was more common, as there were no titles to be exchanged. The marriage mart seemed to be just that in comparison- a business exchange. 

It was after one of these balls where Y/n found herself, being undressed by her lady’s maid. It was a remarkably unremarkable one, where she was once again stood by the edge like a wallflower. “I just don’t understand miss,” Her maid, Rosalind spoke. “Is it not a great honour to attend?” “I suppose,” Y/n replied as wrangled out of the embellished dress “Yet at the same time it feels so futile. There is no use in pretending, it is simple. I am an imposter.” Rosalind looked up, puzzled as Y/n continued. “I do not feel love, or anything. It feels like business there. No emotions to be had.”

Rosalind stopped pulling down Y/n’s stockings and paused. “Miss, I have been attending to you almost since you first day at this house. You have always been so closed off to everyone, were you like that before the?” She quit her sentence but they both knew she meant the accident. “No, not really” Y/n confessed. “I used to be open and vibrant before it all. It wasn’t even the accident in truth it was the whole combined affair. Not only losing my father but just mere weeks after losing all of the people I had ever known by moving to Mayfair. Even now I feel as though I am playing a role, that one day I might return back to the old house.” Y/n was smiling as she reminisced, unaware Rosalind was done.

“Miss, excuse me for speaking out of term if I do, but you cannot return. You have no reason to. Goodnight” Rosalind shut the door behind her as she left. Y/n sat on the edge of her bed and looked up at the vast array of books on the wall to her right. Tucked away, hidden in the very top corner, was a notebook. A vibrant blue with gold embossing on the spine it seemed to shine in the candlelight. Rolling her bookshelf ladder across to retrieve it she ran her fingers across it, taking in the delicate imprints where the gold pigment lay. After Theo had given her the book, she had never written in it. She had never even seen him after he had given it, seeing as they took no callers for their mourning period and soon moved to Mayfair to be with her new Stepfather. Y/n clinched the book in her hand and contemplated.

—

As she snuck out of her family home’s side door and caressed the dim streets of London it dawned on her the severity of what she was doing. She was unsure what would be worse, to encounter a madman alone of fall victim to the quill of Whistledown writing about an unchaperoned outing. She found her way towards Bloomsbury after several wrong turns, and while some landmarks were vaugley familiar, the majority were not. As she entered the only place on a street that had its lights on, a pub, she asked one of the patrons where to find Corral Street. The patron in return said a couple of slurred words, before turning to the stage and cheering some half hearted gibberish as a woman took to the stage. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, If I may steal you from your drinks for just a moment, I find myself compelled to speak on a matter of great importance - the rights of women.” Y/n drew closer, as if entranced, and sat on the second row of benches. “In this new age of enlightenment, where minds are expanding and horizons are broadening, it is imperative that we do not neglect the rights and freedoms of one half of humanity simply based on their gender. For too long, women have been relegated to the sidelines, their voices silenced, their aspirations thwarted by societal norms and expectations. Let us not forget the brave women who have come before us, who fought tirelessly for the rights that we now take for granted. Let us honour their legacy by continuing their struggle, by raising our voices in solidarity until every woman, regardless of class or station, is granted the respect and dignity that is her due!”

The place erupted into cheers, and Y/n joined them, though restrained due to her latter years of education. As she rose up and looked around, confused on where to or how to find directions, her eyes fixed onto a man. Though taller and more rugged than the sensitive boy she once knew, it was undeniable. 

It was Theo.

[prettybirdy979]

Hugfest Fic: Aziraphale & Crowley - The Pointy End Goes The Other Way

For the Ace Omens Discord Server’s Hugfest 2024. Today’s prompt was ‘Accidental hug’. This can also be found on AO3 here

‘You know angel, most people put the pointy end in the other person. Not themselves.’

Aziraphale can’t help beaming when he looks up at the voice. ‘Crowley!’ he calls, gesturing to the bed beside him. ‘Crowley!’

The demon rolls his eyes behind his glasses and takes the offered seat. ‘You’re on the good stuff then?’

‘They wouldn’t let me skip it,’ Aziraphale complains. ‘Poured a whole bottle of some foul liquor down my throat. And now I can’t sober up because then it’ll hurt and they’ll give it to me again.’

Crowley huffs a laugh before snapping his fingers. The tent freezes around them.

Or the people of the tent? Tent people? People.

‘You’re on the really good alcohol,’ Crowley says, raising an eyebrow. ‘Come on then, I’m here to spring you from the glorious care of whatever poncy git you stabbed yourself to avoid stabbing.’

‘I did mean to stab him,’ Aziraphale says earnestly, as Crowley helps him up from the bed. ‘But he was only duelling because-’

Crowley cuts him off. ‘You stabbed yourself because you felt sorry for him?’

Aziraphale thinks this through for a moment. ‘No,’ he says finally. ‘I stabbed myself because I missed.’ 

He hopes he doesn’t sound as pleased as he feels about that.

Crowley shifts his grip on Aziraphale’s side. ‘You missed?’ 

‘I missed!’ 

Okay, that might have been too gleeful.

For a moment Crowley is silent. Then he begins to laugh. ‘You missed,’ he repeats. ‘You!’

‘Missed!’ Aziraphale agrees. ‘I’m not much of a swordsman anymore,’ he adds.

Crowley’s grip tightens for a moment, before he takes in a deep breath. ‘No, you’re not.’ He sighs and tries to adjust his grip at the same time Aziraphale tries to take a step forward.

‘Oop!’ Aziraphale says as Crowley loses his grip on him and he starts to fall sideways. This was not the right way to move.

‘Fuck,’ Crowley curses and then something - someone! - catches Aziraphale in a hug, stopping him from hitting the ground.

He looks up at Crowley and grins. ‘A hug!’ he says and leans into it. ‘Nice hug.’

‘Accidental hug,’ Crowley grumbles as he hauls Aziraphale back into an upright position. ‘Come on, let’s get you somewhere I can sober you up and we’ll get you healed.’

‘And drunk again,’ Aziraphale says. ‘It’s much more fun with you.’

Crowley goes a lovely shade of red at that and moves, so he’s not hugging Aziraphale anymore. Pity, Aziraphale was rather enjoying that. 

More hugs, he thinks as Crowley leads him away. Next time they’re drunk, more hugs. 

(it is surprising how many accidents an angel and a demon have over the years that end up with one of them holding the other. Very surprising indeed)

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: corinthian x male reader

req: no | wc: 1350 | old guard x the sandman

summary: "Did you just stab me?"

warnings: stabbing, blood, knives, swearing, smoking

a/n: I only had the beginning in thought, bullshited my way through. Was it meant to be a serious fic in the first place? From the first line, definitely not. Didn't think about where this was going, so ending it somewhere pretty stable. Fun to write, anyway.

1917

"Did you–did you just stab me?"

Corinthian was mortified.

"Seriously—I'm just minding my own business."

To the nightmare's utter horror, you pull the knife out from your chest and bring it in his direction with much vigor.

Corinthian catches your wrist in his hold before you can stab him, but it doesn't seem like that was your intention. Instead, you press the blade flat against his chest, no doubt staining his white shirt. If not death, it's what he deserved, honestly.

"I–"

Then, his eyebrows raise impossibly higher. The wound on your chest begins to heal, going through about a month's healing within the minute. No treatment, no magical oil, and certainly no (at the very, very least) prayer to God.

You mutter something in what he can only discern to be a language derived from Latin. "You're what? Sorry?" You scoff, "Sorry's not gonna cut it. We don't even know each other."

Was he dreaming? Nightmares didn't dream, they didn't even sleep. He wasn't even in the Dreaming.

"Well–"

"What are you gonna say? "Well, it was an accident."? You're telling me you knew someone, thought they were me, and wanted to stab them?"

When Corinthian was in trouble, he resorted to killing. It was in his nature. But first, when he dealt with something, he used his charms. It had never been the other way around; then again, there was always a first time for everything. Killing always came second when it came to pleasure, anyway.

"Let me talk, darling." Your eyebrows furrow and you're speechless at his audacity. "Let me explain myself."

"You–"

He cuts you off this time. "There's an explanation. I can assure you." He was lying through his teeth. He sticks his, still bloody, knife back in its holster and only allows a mental grimace. "Really, I can."

"So far it's only been bark, no talk." You point your finger at him. He raises his hands in surrender.

He racks his brain, and yet there was no plausible bluff to answer. You were an immortal, clearly, he couldn't kill you and flee. So, he takes off his glasses. "This is a way of… courting, where I'm from."

You raise a brow and say, tentatively, "Courting…"

"Yes." He says proudly.

"You're not gonna kiss me with your… eyes, are you?"

"No, no." He laughs genuinely at the suggestion. He's never tried—he has, actually. "We need at least a year for that."

"If whatever realm you come from–after a thousand years, anything's possible–really does court by… murder, then…" You run a hand through your hair with a huff, "you have to realize you're in the human realm. They're not immortal, and certainly not keen on being stabbed."

"Well, I found you." He offers with a grin.

"I'm not keen on being stabbed." You laugh, anyway. "But you did find an immortal."

This was fucking working. Corinthian's grin spreads wider, despite the uncomfortable feeling of the blood seeping through his white shirt and the disgust of not having cleaned his knife.

And, if pleasure came in after all, he didn't quite mind.

1945

For immortals, life was fleeting.

You had lost everything only after the first half a century. Your parents, your siblings, they were all gone; your childhood home refurbished for another family. And then, when all things "homely" weren't enough, your "home" empire fell.

And mortals. You always did love them, and many times, you had forgotten they weren't like you. For as long as you've lived, your heart's been broken over and over, whether metaphorically or physically.

People died early, people aged. When they did, and you didn't, they begged for a piece of your life. The first couple of times, you wished you could. You prayed to whatever God granted you the power of immortality to give it up entirely to age with them or to even give them a piece of it. After a several centuries, you accepted that the God(s) would never reply; and as the greed of humanity grew, you resorted to leaving before death could visit.

When the big things in life didn't stick around, the smaller things were even worse.

Your favorite pub disappeared after half a century. Your favorite food stand, and Andy's favorite Baklava, tried its hardest to last for a full century. The pets never lasted long, your favorite book was banned somehow, and old things were replaced by the year.

Nothing ever really stuck around.

Then again, you never really stuck around either.

Andy, Nicky, Joe, and Booker led quite the nomadic lifestyle. The Old Guard went where they were called. The only place you could call home anymore was the Church in Goussainville.

And, well, them. They were your home.

But, sometimes, they were like siblings. Siblings often separated as they came of age, but not you guys. For almost as long as Andromache has lived, you have known her; for a thousand years, you have known Nicky and Joe; and, for the last hundred, you have known Booker. Each bleeding moment of each fighting day, you spent it with them.

You can't blame yourself when you want a break from it all; when you want a break from the gunfights and constant death and revival, or when you want a break from your immortal friends.

It was a cold fall evening. You were tired. A month prior, you had brough a war to its end. You deserved a break.

The breath from your lungs comes out white, cold and visible. That didn't matter anyway when the breath from your cigarette comes out visible too. (Being immortal had its perks, and not "dying of cigarette" was one)

"(y/n)."

You sigh and flick the ash from your cigarette. Then, you turn, leaning your back against the railing. "Do I know you?"

You just wanted a bit of peace, serenity, and solidarity.

Maybe you should've taken note of the English, or the deep voice, or the familiar glasses.

Corinthian raises his arms to each side and tilts his head forward, towards you. His blazer opens slightly as he does, revealing his knife holsters.

"Corinthian?" You grin ecstatically, flicking the last of your cigarette away without a care in the world. "You're alive!"

"Of course I am, I'm immortal."

You huff, "You didn't think it would've been nice to mention that twenty-seven years ago?"

Before you can make your way towards him, Corinthian steps forward himself. He traps you between himself and the wooden railing. "When? After you left me?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry for that." You raise your hands in surrender, but Corinthian groans at that, so you place them back around him. "But, you know, lovers always beg for a piece of immortality. I can't grant them that."

I know people who can, Corinthian thinks. "We both have things to apologize for. You, your disappearance; me, my secret."

You chuckle, "Then let's leave it at that."

Corinthian brings you in for a kiss, using one of his hands to cup your cheek and bring you forward. You don't protest at the force he uses, for Corinthian was always a passionate lover.

"You know, you never really apologized for stabbing me."

"I didn't feel the need to. You know, tradition." You raise a brow at him. "Alright, yeah, I am from another realm, but murder is not a courting strategy." His eyebrows furrow as he thinks about your previous relationship. If you were questioning it now, why not then? "Did you know that back then?"

"Andy smacked the sense into me." You laugh, "If Gods can't grant me the wish of living out a life to its end after all my begging, then Gods don't exist. Similarly, other realms don't exist."

Corinthian tilts his head to the side, not a bad reason. There was still a major flaw, though. "But men with teeth for eyes do?"

"I didn't tell her that part."

After the end of the war a month ago, you thought to rest. Maybe you wouldn't be doing much of that.

"Hey, is that fire I smell?"

[bear-boi-5]

Random facts/hcs

I'm super bored and in a brain dumping mood, so take some facts about my AU

-Each planet has something different about it/it's inhabitants that makes it different from each other

-Ohri is a Australian based planet. Hot, has a lot of bush land, scattered rivers and dams that often dry up in the hotter months (self projection cause I like adding Australia into my AUs in one way or another cause I'm an Aussie myself and we need more Australian rep)

-Ohri had an ancient civilization that most Ohrians are related to. The only time they wouldn't be is if they migrated from other planets. Yonny and Dingo are related to said ancient civilization

-Ohrians tend to be darker skinned/tanned due to the heat. Dingo is a different case because his father is from a different planet. His mother however is from Ohri. Both of Yonny's parents are from Ohri

-Nijo is the wealthiest of the planets, this makes a lot of Nijoians have expensive tastes, be quite rich and in some cases be snobby. Not all Nijoians are snobby however

-Because Nijo is a wealthy planet, not many people can afford to live there so it's one of the least populated planets

-Nijo also has one of the largest music industries, many Nijoians are musically gifted, are interested in music or are naturals when dancing

-Giya is one of the many agricultural planets. Giya focuses more on the meat industry making it the primary source for livestock

-Collin, Shepherd and Russ have prominent canines due to being more carnivorous, they're also decently wealthy, being able to afford things like Golden PikPik Carrots from Hocotate

-Both Dingo and Yonny have Aussie accents, Dingo's is more heavy. Yonny will only really use the accent if he's annoyed or pissed off

-Yonny is Trans :DD and performed his own top surgery, along with many other surgeries

-Dingo has some anger issues and self esteem issues. He tries to cover his low self esteem by being egotistical but he has a fragile ego-

-Yonny, while being able to be pretty tolerable to most things, can be quite easily ticked off. This makes him also have anger issues, he's just able to control it better than Dingo

-Collin and Shepherd have known each other since they were 5. They picked Russ up when they were around 13

-Collin used to be quite short compared to his peers, this made him a victim of bullying or ridicule. Shepherd stood up for him however

-Collin dropped out of school because of the bullying when he was 16. In the time of his teenage years to adulthood, he shot up in height, making him one of the tallest Giyians

-Like Bernard, Collin job hopped. One of the jobs he did was a job as a bouncer. He can be quite serious when needed and intimidating due to his height. Because of his time as a bouncer, he picked up on some helpful self defence

-Shepherd has been training space dogs since she was 6. She's very knowledgeable in the topic and a very good trainer

-Shepherd has autism :DD She doesn't pick up on social cues often, needs things carefully explained to her and hyperfixates on subjects, primarily space dog care

-Pom is the rookie trainer. She teaches newbies and is very athletic. She, like Shepherd, is a great trainer. She also has high stamina (ik I haven't shown/talked much about Pom in the main AU so I'll get onto that)

-Russ, like in canon, is a Mama's Boy. Loves his mother to death and often sends her gifts when he comes back from missions since he likes collecting trinkets he finds

-Russ has a heart condition that if his heart rate is suddenly increased to a high point, he could die within 10 minutes. When he has an adrenaline rush, he can get stabbing pains, the higher the adrenaline, the more intense the pain

-Russ also has prosthetics. A robotic arm and a robotic leg, along with a monitor to help his heart condition. He does have burn scars from the accident and is quite self conscious about them, best not to bring them up

-Bernard has very expensive tastes, so much so that he will only really eat exotic crops/animals. Unless he really needs to, you wouldn't catch him eating cheap foods

-Bernard's pretty laid back and often has a lazy feel to him but when he focuses, he focuses. You bother him while he's flying for instance, he'll get pissed. He's also a pretty forgiving person, the only person he hasn't forgiven is Dingo

-Bernard holds grudges tightly when he gets them, even though they're extremely rare. He won't let it go until he gets his revenge on whoever made him angry

-Bernard smokes, quiet a bit. He usually smokes 2-3 times a day. He says it helps calm his nerves. Yonny has warned him and told him he should cut down on the smoking, Bernard loosely listens to him though. He didn't, however, smoke once while recovering from the early stages of leaflifcation (since Yonny had threatened him-)

[underratedandoverit]

You Wanna Wish Away Your Sins (3/3)

After losing to Best Friends at Arcade Anarchy, Kip undergoes shoulder surgery. One person reaching out to him afterwards sends Kip spiraling, turning all the pain and suffering in him into… Flowers? Flowers growing in his lungs?

Kip Sabian/Chuck Taylor. Hanahaki disease. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Emotional hurt/comfort. One-sided attraction. Also tagged this from now on with manipulative Kip.

Marked Mature on AO3 for general content. Warnings for mentions of hospitals, surgery, medical stuff. Described feelings for choking and vomiting.

Other characters on-screen include Penelope Ford, Orange Cassidy. Rest of Best Friends are mentioned. Background ship of Penelope/Kris is heavily implied, but never specifically shown.

part 1 || part 2

On AO3

Finishing this took way longer than I intended. Oops. Mental illness and whatever be damned yada yada. But it's over now. And I am content. It's a whole fic and ended just as I wanted and had planned, surprisingly no surprises during writing lol. I hope it makes sense, there's a little bit there that doesn't get explained, but I have convinced myself that people can put the pieces together considering the mental state Kip is in and how the hanahaki disease works so. Yeah.

If you have read this far, thank you so much, I really appreciate you and your patience if you have waited for this to finish since I originally posted in early September. I see all the kudos and subs attached, they mean the world to me. Would love to hear your thoughts of this now that it's over, as there was a lot of time (obviously lol) and love put into this, so it would mean a lot ;; But I appreciate you all so much either way, thank you for sticking by and reading!! 💜💜

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate @ss-trashboat

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

Kip tried to keep his eyes on the television, but he wasn’t registering anything he saw on the screen. Even if he was technically interested in watching the game that was being played, Kip would have much rather been looking at something else. Or someone else. That someone being the man sitting on the couch next to him, being much more into the activity of playing a video game that he was partaking in that Kip was.

While he was glad that Chuck was coming over far more often these days, at the same time it did grind Kip’s mind that they had fallen into this false routine of a casual friendship. Chuck would appear on his doorstep, bring a movie or a game with him for them to busy themselves with that day, maybe some snacks and energy drinks, and the rest of the day they would just hang out, consume the media of the day, and that would be it.

Same talking points every single day. Sitting in the silently designated spots on the couch just far enough from one another that even by accident their hands wouldn’t brush against each other unless they were passing the food and drinks around. Eye contact was brief, almost uncomfortably so if it managed to exist in the first place, and only when one got up from the couch and asked if the other needed something or something similarly surprising happened. Maybe a laugh could gather a quick glance, maybe a sneeze, a cough. And even then it was more often Chuck doing that to Kip, while Kip was trying to steal looks into his direction any chance he could, hoping Chuck would catch a hint.

It had been days, weeks even, maybe. How many, Kip had lost a count somewhere after the first few days, partially because of the pain he was going through, partially because he still found the whole situation so absurd. But the thing he knew for sure, was that it had been too many for comfort.

Every time Kip watched Chuck walk out the door of his house again at the end of the day, his breathing became a little bit tighter, the stabbing pain in his chest more prominent, the sleep during that following night a little shorter.

He was so tired of it all, and with every day that passed him by, it was pushing Kip closer to the realization that he finally had to do something about things. Before the pain was too paralyzing, before the thoughts became too much. Before he just couldn’t do anything about it anymore, before it was all too late.

“…Hey? Kip?”

The Brit blinked blankly a few times, finally registering the voice calling out to him after the words had been repeated a few times. His eyes slowly dragged away from the television screen, facing the brunet sitting on the couch next to him, Chuck looking at him with worry and concern. It was almost adorable to Kip how his brows furrowed and eyes darted around his facial features in clear worry. Almost.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Chuck sighed, Kip trying to offer him an apologetic smile as he watched Chuck running a hand through his hair, eyes turning away from the other man again as he shook his head a little. Kip had been too deep in his own head, with his own thoughts to notice Chuck had even tried to talk to him, the guilt almost immediately gnawing on him at the mere thought. He was supposed to try to pay attention to him, to try to make Chuck realize the situation, how close they were, to understand his feelings, to close the gap, to --

“I just wanted to know if you were hungry. We could order something in, maybe. If you’d like.”

For once Kip was thankful that Chuck wasn’t looking straight at him, his cheeks flushing red for a brief moment as he registered the words. Ordering food? Together? At his place, like this, out of the blue? For the first time?

It almost sounded like a date night proposal in Kip’s ears.

He quickly shook the thought from his head, turning away from Chuck to make sure he didn’t even by accident catch a glimpse of the blush decorating his face, desperately trying to not have the words caught in his throat, only partially succeeding.

“Ye-yeah that would be great.”

Chuck was so sincere about this question, just like he always was about everything, he was probably just hungry himself, and Kip was overthinking it all. Once again. But also, what if…

“Great. What would you like to eat?” Chuck’s words cut Kip’s thought process off again, his eyes slowly returning to the other man, watching Chuck pull his phone out of his pocket, eyes landing onto it, seemingly to avoid eye contact with Kip, who just shrugged a little. “I don’t know. Whatever sounds good.”

Chuck’s brows furrowed, suddenly looking back at Kip, making the Brit jump a little. This wasn’t the kind of reaction Kip had expected to his words, swallowing a little surprise lump in his throat as all of a sudden he was very unsure again where this was going. He hated nothing more than the unpredictable nature of their relationship, not being able to read Chuck at moments like this, mostly due to his own emotions and thoughts clouding his judgment and understanding of what the situation called for from him.

“…Okay, I’m going to be fully honest with you.”

The suddenly rather serious tone of Chuck’s voice made Kip’s eyes widen a little, he could feel his whole body tensing up at the sudden shift. Chuck offered him a small smile, most likely in hopes of trying to calm down Kip’s very obviously surprised demeanor, but seeing that smile just made Kip’s whole mind skip another beat instead.

“I’ve been worried about you recently. I actually talked with Penelope yesterday after I left, and she feels much the same way as I do.”

Chuck? Worried? About him? Chuck? Kip’s head was spinning, but he just nodded his head, not even acknowledging the fact that Chuck was also talking about Penelope being involved in this. All Kip cared about was that Chuck was thinking about him, outside of this room, outside of this couch, when he wasn’t around.

Chuck was thinking, and talking, about him.

“You’ve been… Seemingly getting worse each day I see you. You lack sleep, you lack food, you lack energy. I understand you are in a lot of pain with the shoulder and all, but you need to take care of yourself, Kip. Mine and Penelope’s help will only get you so far.”

Kip just looked at him quietly, trying to process the statement in his head, but all his thoughts retracted back to the overall realization that Chuck was worried about him. Thinking about him. That Chuck at least seemed to care more than he led on directly to him, at least before this very moment at hand.

“If there’s something wrong that you need help with, other than what we have been providing so far, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask, you know?”

Kip felt his head nodding itself, despite not approving of the movement in his mind. He was running on a practiced autopilot, still afraid that one casual movement might fuck all this up for him, not being the kind of response that Chuck wanted. This seemed to be enough for the brunet for now though as Chuck nodded back at him, eyes slowly returning to the phone in his hand. Right, he was ordering food. Right.

“So, again: what do you want to eat today? You can get anything you want, as long as it makes you eat. We just want to make sure you take care of yourself.”

At the same time it was endearing that Chuck was doing this for him, but Kip also knew he had to put a stop to this, all of it. While yes his current and constantly worsening condition was making him neglect his own basic needs, both which directly as a result affected his appetite and energy levels, Kip knew that trying to eat some proper food one day wasn’t the answer to his problems. Above all else, his condition was making it not only difficult to breathe, but the pain in his chest and particularly in his lungs made eating at this point a near impossible task.

As the silence from the Brit continued, Chuck glanced towards him, spotting Kip just looking back at him. Whether he was deep in thought or just staring, Chuck wasn’t quite sure.

“Kip?”

“I’m not hungry.”

At least it wasn’t a lie in a sense. Chuck raised a brow at him, slowly lowering the hand holding his phone onto his lap, eyes narrowing a little. Chuck’s eyes lingered on him just a little bit too long, forcing Kip to look away, back towards the television with the frozen game pause screen on it.

“You need to eat something.”

“Food can’t fix this.”

Kip could feel the confusion radiating from Chuck’s face, probably his entire being at this point, but he just couldn’t look back at him. It was so much easier for Kip to process his thoughts if he wasn’t looking at what he was sure was a very worried expression on the brunet sitting on the couch a few feet away from him.

He heard Chuck sigh. Not a very good sign.

“If you eat something, you get energy. You feel better. I shouldn’t need to explain all this to you. Kip, please --”

“This isn’t about food.”

Chuck fell silent as Kip cut him off, probably a bit more aggressively than necessary, but he was tired of this. All of this. Both his inability to do anything about the situation even though he desperately, so very desperately needed it, and the way they both seemed to just dance around the topic and the issues at hand. To Kip, Chuck offering to order him food was nothing but a detour that he couldn’t afford to wait to take to where he eventually needed to be. Kip had suffered long enough, mostly due to his own faults, yes, but Chuck jumping in to push his buttons like this, while a step in the right direction, wasn’t a fast enough track to where they needed to be.

Where Kip needed to be if he wanted to make it through all of this, it seemed like.

“…Are you mad at me?”

Kip’s eyes narrowed a little, but he still didn’t turn to look towards Chuck. All he heard was another quiet sigh.

“I don’t know how many times I can apologize for what happened. You know it was an accident. I’m sorry --”

“I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t care about that.”

If something, it was supposed to be Kip who apologized for everything, and he knew that painfully well.

“Then what is it?”

Kip swallowed thickly, being absolutely certain that Chuck could not only see it but also hear him do it. Kip’s eyes slowly dragged back to him, watching the confusion all over the brunet’s face. If the situation wasn’t so dire and heavy, Kip would have found the look on him endearing. Right now though, seeing Chuck not put the pieces together so easily, filled him with dread instead, along with the knowledge that Kip knew exactly what he needed to do next and the can of worms that he needed to open if he ever wanted to have a shot at things getting better again.

“I need…” Kip stopped, the confusion on Chuck’s face slowly melting into a more expecting look. Both of them were still clearly hesitant, Chuck not knowing what to expect out of him and Kip not being so sure how he was going to phrase this so it made even some sort of sense.

Just say it.

“I… I need you to kiss me.”

The silence that fell into the room felt like it was knocking all the remaining air out of Kip. The longer he looked at Chuck and the unreadable look lingering on his face after the words slipped out of Kip’s mouth, the worse he felt about everything. For once he was being honest about this entire situation and what he wanted out of it, and yet it felt like a worse mistake than anything he had lied to Chuck about so far.

He wanted this. He needed this. This was the trigger Kip had been so afraid to pull for so long now, but he knew that if he didn’t finally say those words, no matter the reaction, it would have terrible consequences for him. He was already suffering, the roots of his problem crawling deeper into his lungs every single day he put it off without even trying to make anything out of it. Kip was tired of it, he was suffering immensely because of it, he just needed to do something. Anything.

After what felt like forever of Chuck just staring at him, Kip was snapped out of his thoughts as Chuck took in a sharp breath, the only way Kip was able to describe his expression being polite confusion.

“You, uh… You what?”

Not sure if Chuck was just making sure or if he really hadn’t understood the statement, Kip bit his lower lip as he turned away from the other man. He inhaled slowly, preparing himself to say those words again. Kip did it once, he could do it again. It was a necessary step forward.

“I-I need. To kiss you. You to kiss me. So-something like that.”

As Chuck didn’t reply for a while, Kip stole a quick glance towards him, trying to gather an overview of the situation. Much to his surprise, Chuck looked like he was in deep thought for a second, as if he was pondering over the request. At least he wasn’t outright denying it from Kip, which in turn as he realized it, made his heart jump back into his throat.

The burning as Kip nervously waited for an answer was worse than the thorns poking inside of his lungs at the moment.

“Would that help? Make you feel better?”

Kip nodded almost instantly, the motion almost frantic, something he couldn’t control. Still clearly in his thoughts, Chuck nodded as well.

“I mean,” he muttered, a hand slowly reaching closer to Kip, the Brit’s focus turning on it with slightly widening eyes, “If… If it helps. I guess.”

Kip watched his hand stopping to hover close to him, slowly his own hand reaching for it. He could feel Chuck’s fingers gently wrapping around his hand, giving it a little tuck, an invitation to come closer. Kip followed suit, shifting over on the couch to slowly make his way to sit down right next to Chuck. For the first time since they had started doing this, for the first time since Chuck had started to spend the days over to keep him company. There had always been a cold, untouched gap between the two of them on the couch, but this was the first time it had been broken, filled, fixed.

And all it took was a small request that Kip should have been able to do in the first place, but it took him weeks and actual concern from Chuck to get to this point.

But there he was now, Chuck still gently holding his hand, running this thumb over his knuckles. A soft, still kind of unsure smile crossing his lips as he was looking Kip straight in the eyes. Chuck clearly wasn’t budging back on this, honestly much to Kip’s surprise, as his free hand slowly crept up to the Brit’s face, palm pressing against his cheek. Chuck’s hand was surprisingly cold against his flushed skin.

“…You sure?”

It was almost as if Chuck was asking that from himself more than Kip, but he pushed the thought aside, just nodding his head again. Without another word, Chuck leaned closer, finally closing the gap that had been antagonizing Kip these past few weeks without remorse, locking their lips together.

The kiss was awkward and hesitant at first, but slowly it felt more natural as they both seemed to relax into it. Soft and homey, but Kip could taste his own desperation in it despite all of it. He knew how badly he not only wanted, but needed this. While he could have joked that it was the matter of life and death, to him it was actually no joke, but merely the cruel reality he barely understood himself at all. Feeling Chuck’s lips finally against his, after the excruciatingly long amount of time of craving and needing nothing more than to taste him so desperately he was suffering from the withdrawals more and more every day, Kip’s mind went blank. He could feel Chuck close, hear his breathing, slowly allowing himself to enjoy it, running a thumb over Kip’s cheek.

Kip had been waiting for this moment for so long, craving for this so badly, that he needed more now that he finally had it, pushing the boundaries first as he found himself without a single coherent thought giving a small bite on Chuck’s lower lip, a silent, desperate request for a deeper kiss. A deeper meaning.

A request that was granted to him, but was also almost immediately and far too fast ripped away from him as Chuck suddenly jolted away, as if he had suddenly in the midst of all of this realized what he was doing and thought better of it.

Eyes opening as Kip felt the hand disappear from his face, he leaned slightly back, watching in emotions swimming in disappointment and confusion as Chuck’s eyes were suddenly on his phone again, the piece of tech buzzing on his lap, suddenly demanding his attention. Almost as if it was mocking Kip and how close he had finally gotten.

“So-sorry, I have to take this.”

Kip just nodded, feeling the body heat of the other man disappearing from around him as Chuck’s hand left his, grabbing a hold of the phone before he stood up, answering the sudden call. He could still salvage this, it wasn’t all lost. Chuck hadn’t denied him this, by the way he was acting it was obvious to Kip that this wasn’t just all in his head. Maybe the kiss had been brief, but there was compassion behind it, he was very gentle about it, there --

“What do you mean that was today?”

Kip’s eyes slowly traveled up to Chuck, watching the brunet run a hand over his face as he sighed. “Yeah I know, I know you need me there for that, just… I was kinda in the middle of something…”

The silence that followed that statement and the way Chuck couldn’t look back at Kip made a familiar lump climb its way back in his throat. Kip tried to cough it out quietly, not to attract attention to himself, just watching as Chuck stepped a little bit further away from him.

“I can be there in twenty minutes, I guess. …Alright, I’ll see you then.”

As he hung up the call, Chuck didn’t even need to say anything. He was sure Kip had heard most of it, and the apologetic eyes and the small smile he offered to him as he finally turned back towards the Brit really didn’t help the case.

“Sorry, I completely forgot we had a photoshoot to do today, I… I gotta go.”

Kip nodded his head, but remained silent as he stood up from the couch. At least this was a start, they were going somewhere. He had put at least part of his desires out there, for Chuck to reach out and react to, if nothing else. This was a beginning, hopefully for the better. Kip wasn’t sure how fast he was supposed to be feeling the effects of his love and affections being returned to him, but so far he was blaming the sick feeling in his throat on the sudden change of pace in the room rather than Chuck not returning his feelings like before.

Maybe he had read all of this wrong. Maybe the sickness had caught up with him just because he didn’t know this was mutual. That had to be it, right?

Kip walked him to the door, Chuck turning back to him again as he rested his hand on the door handle.

“Look, I’m really sorry I have to go, I just completely forgot about this. You know, with having to worry about you and all.”

Kip could feel a smile tucking the corner of his lips, allowing at least a part of it to show. As sad as he was having to watch Chuck walk away yet again without a resolution to this whole problem, at least there was hope. Chuck smiled back at him, leaning closer to press a quick little peck on Kip’s lips, catching the Brit off guard, leaving him looking back at him with wide eyes as Chuck opened the door, stepping outside.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, alright?”

Kip could only nod before Chuck closed the door, leaving him standing there, heart racing and beating loudly between his ears. Kip leaned against the closed door, inhaling deeply before he sighed, the content smile on his lips only wiped away as he coughed softly, eyes shooting open to witness the handful of purple tinted rose petals he let out of his mouth.

No.

Chuck Taylor still didn’t love him.

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

“…Are you sure it’s him?”

Cassidy shrugged his shoulders a little. “I mean, who else could it be? Besides, he has photos of himself that he signs and hands out and a big board on the table with the name ‘Kip Sabian’ on it, so…”

Chuck sighed, running a hand over his face before rolling his eyes. “You could have led with that information, you know.”

Cassidy didn’t reply back to him, just observed the brunet on the couch through his sunglasses. “I thought you would have known. Aren’t you two friends or something?”

Chuck avoided looking directly back at him, trying to make it seem like the question didn’t sting. He hadn’t seen Kip since that day, he never opened the door when Chuck came over the following day or answered any of his calls or texts since. He had been living in complete darkness over what had actually happened with Kip, even Penelope refused to tell him anything apart from a general ‘he’s fine’ every time Chuck asked her something.

“I told you, that was months ago.”

Cassidy just nodded, stopping to observe Chuck as the other man just tried to focus back on lacing his boots. After a long, lingering silence the blond broke it as he spoke up again.

“Do you want to go see him?”

Chuck stopped, eyes slowly dragging up to Cassidy again. He seemed sincere in that question, and if Chuck was being honest, that had been the first thought in his mind since Cassidy had waltzed into the locker room with the news that Kip had been sighted inside the building. The premise seemed rather odd to him, but at the same time, he wouldn’t have put something like that past Kip. A silent man with a suit and a cardboard box on his head, doing a signing that hadn’t been advertised for anyone beforehand. Sounded like it was just down Kip’s alley, in some really weird way, to him.

“Is he still there?”

“Probably,” Cassidy shrugged again. “He seemed to be just setting up when we went into the cafeteria like twenty minutes ago. I doubt he has left yet.”

While he wasn’t quite sure how to take any of it, let alone how Kip was going to take it if he showed up, Chuck nodded a little, still a bit hesitant. Cassidy mirrored the movement, before nodding his head towards the locker room door, asking Chuck to follow him. Not that he didn’t know where the cafeteria was in the building, they had walked past it when they had entered earlier, but maybe his hesitance was on the surface enough that Cassidy thought taking the lead was going to make him regret this less. Make it easier for him.

Chuck followed Cassidy outside, tracking through the hallways for a moment before they arrived at their destination. It was extremely easy to spot the individual not belonging into the group of people in the big, bright, well-lit room, the man standing in the middle of it all by a large table messed up with multiple scattered photos around it, hands behind his suited back as he was observing the room through the eye holes poked on a box over his head.

Chuck swallowed thickly. It didn’t matter if he didn’t see his face, all that was enough for him to recognize him immediately, no matter how many months it had been since or how much things had changed between now and then.

He was so focused on reading the words on the front of the box that Chuck didn’t notice the eyes inside of it land on him. The distance made it a bit harder, sure, but the lights were bright enough and the dark circles surrounding the eyes made them pop for Cassidy to notice the stare at first, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Hey,” he muttered, carefully elbowing Chuck to the side to get his attention. “He sees you. I think you should at least go say hello.”

Blinking himself back to the situation, Chuck glanced at Cassidy on his side, the blond just shrugging at him a little. Maybe Chuck’s nervousness was obvious, maybe Cassidy quickly put two and two together from what Chuck had told him before about how their last meeting had ended, but he only sighed, once again leading the way towards the man in a suit and the box, Kip’s eyes never leaving Chuck as they approached. Chuck on the other hand tried to look at everything except him, until he was stopped to stand right in front of the other man he hadn’t seen in months until now.

Through the eye holes of the box Chuck could see his vacant stare just blankly staring back at him, saying it all without saying anything at the same time. Kip looked at him briefly, before providing a photo from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, pulling a marker seemingly out of nowhere along with it. He scribbled something quickly on the photo, handing it to Cassidy, and walked away without looking back or acknowledging either of them further.

Cassidy looked at the photo for a moment before handing it over to Chuck. It was an old promo picture of Kip, in his Superbad gear, with his face crossed over with a red marker and some messy text scribbled next to him.

‘Time changes us all. Embrace the change.’

[reddeadlywine]

"The story of my growing up" or "How I came to know Formula 1".

Before you start reading this.

I want to warn you that I am not a native English speaker and there may be mistakes here. This story is not fiction, it is a true story of my life.

Trigger warning: bullying, depression episodes, parental divorce.

2014

It was May, the Monaco Grand Prix. My father was watching TV as usual and accidentally switched to a sports channel, there was a race on. I was nearby and my attention was caught by the TV, I started watching and after 15 minutes I couldn't tear myself away from the TV, it was like I fell in love at first sight. During this Grand Prix, Jules Bianchi scored the first points for his team, finishing in 9th place. I was amazed by the applause and joy of his team and himself. From that day on, he became my favourite driver. I was just a kid I was not well versed in some important things like the leaderboard, what teams even existed (but I definitely knew Mercedes and Ferrari). I was just a little kid who watched the races mesmerised and Jules was the ultimate winner for me.

Unfortunately, I didn't know about the race schedule and hardly saw any of the races, but I did get to see the Japanese and Russian Grand Prix. The first one was Japan, I was very excited to see Jules again on the same channel on my TV, I was watching the whole race, I was jumping at every interesting and high-risk moment. Until all of a sudden Jules had a terrible crash. I didn't realise what was happening, I kept going back and forth around the living room to find out what had happened. I only learnt about Jules' condition during the Russian Grand Prix when the commentator said about the accident Jules had been in. From that day on I didn't watch the 2014 season anymore. Every time I came to the TV and realised that Jules wasn't there I went to my room upset.

2015

I went back to the sports channels looking for information about Formula 1. It was the beginning of summer, with a couple of months to go until my birthday. For the first time in months, I saw Formula 1. It was the Canadian Grand Prix. Again without Jules. I knew he needed to recover from the accident as I had been in an accident myself a couple of months before and had a head and arm injury. I thought that since I had been treated and was running and having fun again, he would soon be on the TV screens in his race car, with his incredible smile that I had grown to love so much.

17 July 2015

My next birthday, family and friends gathered to celebrate. Even my godfather, who I haven't seen in so long but still love so much, came along. Everyone around was having fun and enjoying themselves, but in the evening I felt strange somehow, I couldn't describe it. And it's very difficult for me to do so to this day. A few days later, the Hungarian Grand Prix took place. At the moment when the commentators announced that the young driver's heart had stopped beating on the evening of 17 July, I couldn't believe what I heard. I couldn't stop the tears, I felt a sharp pain inside me as if a thousand daggers had been stabbed into my still very young heart. I cried for the rest of the day and all night. I didn't eat or drink well for days. I was insanely sad about the death of my most favourite rider.

I vaguely remember what happened next.

In 2016 I had not much time to watch races, my father often punished me for every little thing, forbidding me to use the computer and TV.

In 2017, my parents made the decision to divorce. My heart was once again full of daggers. I couldn't make many friends in the new city where me, my mum and my brother moved to. I had completely forgotten about Formula 1.

In 2019, I decide to switch on one of the sports channels I recently found. I was watching Formula 1 again. I was happy as a child, watching the drivers again. I started to understand more, I started to transcribe the racers' radios myself, because by then I started to understand English much better. Every time I thought of Jules, tears came to my eyes, but I stopped thinking about it.

In 2020, people at school started bullying me. I get depressed, I try to get away from bad thoughts any way I can, I watched old Grand Prix (very badly remember which ones) but it didn't help.

In 2021 I'm getting better but I don't watch F1, I took extra assignments at school. But I also ended friendships with many close friends, I couldn't keep anything in my head, my memory deteriorated. I got into an car accident again with my father, who I had been visiting for the summer all this time.

In 2022 Formula 1 stopped broadcasting in my country because of the political situation. I knew I had wasted too much time not watching it earlier. In the same year, I stopped communicating with my close internet friend who often supported me in difficult situations. I felt worse, I didn't know where I could now see my favourite sport again. I started to see Formula 1 videos on TikTok more often.

Since the start of the 2023 season, I haven't missed a single practice, qualifying, sprint or race. I fell in love all over again. It was a new breath of air for me, a return to my childhood, where I was a little kid who didn't worry about anything. I started to see more videos of Jules Bianchi and Charles Leclerc. I began to cry more often because of my longing for Jules. At the end of October my longing doesn't go away, I cry a lot because of the TikTok video with Jules. I remembered my dream from my childhood: I wanted to become an adult to meet him in real life. Unfortunately, that dream will never come true. I also cry a lot remembering this very talented man, his incredibly beautiful smile.

Every time I look at Charles, I see Jules next to him, his godfather, his close friend, his guardian angel, who is now forever with him, though not physically.

Jules Bianchi will always have a place in my heart, in my soul. He has been my favourite racing driver since 2014 when I was a kid. I'm not a kid anymore, but he's still my favourite racing driver. He made me fall in love with Formula 1, made it the meaning of my life.

"Time heals, but that part will always be missing."