#in conclusion don't write comfort with mascara on

[sagau-my-beloved]

On one hand, having venti pamper me and take care of my every need.

On the other, pamering venti and taking care of all of his needs

I cannot pick a side

-Rapid

Just like me fr 😔

I wanna comfort the absolute fuck out of him, I wanna cook for him and smother him in affection and play with his hair and give him the entire universe

Just imagine holding him and giving him kisses and telling him over and over how much you love him <33333, that you'll always be there because he's your world, then flustering the hell out of him with words of praise and comfort

That's my default, pls let me just wrap him in a blanket and give him a forehead kiss, he deserves it, he's been through so much and deserves all the good things, let me treat him as if he's the most precious thing in the world cause he is and I love him so much

But on the other hand

Venti brushing your hair out of your face with gentle eyes, telling you how you'll always be ok as long as he's there, how he'd do anything for your happiness, how nothing in the world would ever stand in its way and god help anything that tries

Just getting a hug from Venti after a particularly rough day and him whispering that it's all right, you're ok and you did so good today, he's so proud of you for pushing forward and you'll never have to worry about any of that with him

And he'd be so insistent on doing everything, every time you go to get up, to be a more productive person, he's there immediately to take on whatever burden himself with that same warm smile, one that just radiates how he wouldn't prefer to be anywhere else

Then the sugary sweet phrases, the "Please let me take care of the most important person to ever grace the universe, the world's been so rough on you recently hasn't it, let me take care of it all for you" between gentle kisses that make you lose your entire train of thought, how he's so quick to silence any protest with a kiss that barely covers the intense desires behind it

Venti, with all his charisma and emotional intelligence, with his strategically placed touches that make you wonder if it really wouldn't be so bad to just give into what he promises you, the promise of happiness without conditions or limitations

[bardic-tales]

4.30.23

Good afternoon everyone. Today is better than yesterday. I've been writing most of the day.

Have you ever had a relative that won't stop talking from the moment they come and see you to the moment they leave? It's draining for an introvert for that to happen, but it makes it impossible to write and actually drags a person's WPM down. I love them, though, but it's just so hard to concentrate.

Author’s commentary:

I decided to finish this with a wordcrawl. Outside of that, I really don't know what to say about my process today.

The conclusion snuck up on me, but it makes sense for it to go the way that it is. Ellen sort of took the ending and was like "this is what we are going to do." As an author, what can you do about that? Nothing.

I was debating whether or not to leave the ending ambiguous and allow my readers to draw their own conclusions, but it didn't turn out like that. It's a tearjerker. That much is for sure.

Snippet: (tw: death.)

As always, this is my trash draft. There will be grammar issues and sometimes incorrect grammar. It is unpolished.

Tears sparkled in her eyes. She lifted her arm to her face and swiped across her eyes and the bridge of her nose. IF she would wear mascara, it would have run and smeared on her face. Ellen preferred to note wear any makeup or anything. Maureen would, as she liked to feel pretty. In fact, Ellen had picked out a nice shade of red lipstick to give to the mortician to use on her girlfriend’s lips. She hoped that Maureen’s family would have some comfort knowing that their daughter was loved wholly in life and in death. That was why she had to stay and turn herself in. She would have to bury both Maureen and Donagh, ensuring that they were next to each other in the cemetery. It seemed like such an impossible task, but what else could she do? She was sure that Maureen would want to be buried next to the child she carried for nine months, the small boy who she would bandage his skinned knees and elbows. In death, they would lay side by side as a mother and child for eternity. Ellen would always remember her girlfriend as a beautiful thirty year woman. Donagh would always be that shy boy who would hide behind his mothers’ skirts with his rosy cheeks and curly, red hair.As she looked to the left, a dirt path broke off of the main path through the forest, traveled down the embankment to the river.