#sometimes I just write for future me to read it!

[readreidsworld]

Pedro Pascal x Female Reader

Summary: Pedro likes to write you letters

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A Letter On The Morning Of Your Wedding

Mi amor,

If you’re reading this, it means you’re probably barefoot and gorgeous, standing in front of your dress, wondering if it’s okay to cry before the makeup team even shows up.

(It is. I already did. Twice.)

I was going to wait to tell you all of this when you walk down the aisle but you know me. I’ll cry, forget half of it, and just stand there grinning like an idiot. So here it is, written down. A little piece of my heart, on paper, because you already have the rest of it anyway.

I don’t know how I got this lucky.

I don’t know what I did in this life or the last to deserve someone who looks at me like I’m something soft and good.

But I swear to you, I will spend every single day earning this.

I will protect your heart with both hands.

I will keep your laugh sacred.

I will remind you every morning and every night:

You are my home.

If you’re nervous good. Me too.

Not because I doubt a single thing. But because loving you this much makes everything feel holy.

I’ll be waiting for you.

In the suit. With the hands that still shake when I touch you.

And the heart that’s already yours forever.

Con todo mi amor,

Pedro

____

A Letter On Your First Anniversary

Mi amor,

One year.

One whole year of waking up next to you, kissing your shoulder good morning, hearing you laugh in the kitchen, falling asleep with your head on my chest.

And somehow, it still doesn’t feel like enough time.

I feel like I just met you and also like I’ve known you forever. I think that’s what love does it makes time feel both brand new and ancient. Like I’ve loved you in every lifetime. Like I’ve been waiting for you for centuries and finally, finally, I get to keep you.

You’re my home. You’re my breath. You’re the first and last thing on my mind.

I’ve learned your sleepy noises. Your favorite side of the bed. The way you stir your coffee even when there’s nothing left in the cup.

And you’ve learned me, too.

You see all the quiet, nervous corners of me and you don’t just tolerate them. You hold them. Like they’re worth loving.

I still don’t know how I got you.

I still don’t know how I’ll ever deserve you.

But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.

So here’s to our first anniversary and all the ones to come.

I’ll love you on our worst days and our quiet ones.

I’ll love you when we’re old and grey and still sneaking kisses in the kitchen.

I’ll love you when your hands are wrinkled, and your laugh lines are deeper, and your hair smells like shampoo and Sunday mornings.

I’ll love you even then.

I’ll love you always.

Yours Always ,

Pedro

____

A Letter When You’re r Pregnant

Mi vida,

I still don’t have the right words for what you are to me but now, somehow, you’re even more.

You’re growing our baby.

I know your back aches, and your ankles swell, and sometimes you cry because you dropped a spoon, and your hormones make everything feel huge but when I look at you, all I see is magic.

You are creating life inside you. Our life.

I still wake up and reach for you like I’m afraid you’re a dream.

And now, I put my hand on your belly and feel something move, and it’s the closest thing to holy I’ve ever known.

I want you to know no matter how tired, overwhelmed, or emotional you feel I see you. I love you.

You’re not just my wife. You’re the mother of my child.

And that will always be the greatest thing I’ll ever witness.

You’re strong.

You’re beautiful.

You’re carrying our future. I already love them but I’ll never stop loving you more.

Yours Always,

Pedro

____

After Your First Argument

Mi corazón,

I don’t know if you want to hear from me right now.

I don’t blame you if you need space.

But I had to write this because my mouth never says the right thing when I’m scared.

And I was scared.

I still am.

I’m terrified of messing this up. Of hurting you. Of becoming someone you can’t look at with the same softness in your eyes.

But I need you to know I love you.

I love you even when we’re angry.

I love you when we’re quiet, when we’re distant, when we’re lost in our heads.

You’re still my home. Even when the lights flicker. Even when the doors slam.

If I said things I didn’t mean, I’m sorry.

If I made you feel small or unloved swear to you, that was never in my heart.

I am not going anywhere.

I am still here.

I still want this.

I still want you.

And I’ll keep showing up not just with flowers or words, but with effort. With softness. With everything I have.

When you’re ready, I’m here.

And I love you.

Yours Always,

Pedro

____

You Write Pedro A Letter

My Pedro,

I don’t know where to start.

You always have the words. You always say the right thing even when you’re rambling, even when your hands shake, even when you don’t think you’re making sense. You do.

But I wanted to try this time. I wanted to put it in writing.

Not because I think you’ll forget but because I never want me to forget.

I never want to forget what it felt like to be chosen by you.

What it felt like the first time I saw you cry when you looked at me in my wedding dress.

The way your voice cracked when you said “wife” like it was your favorite word.

I want to remember how safe I felt when your hands were on my stomach, whispering to a baby we hadn’t met yet.

I want to remember the way you held me when I thought I wasn’t enough and reminded me I was everything.

And I want to say thank you.

For showing up. For staying soft.

For making our house a home, even when the laundry’s piled high and we’ve had cereal for dinner twice in a row.

For kissing me like I’m still new.

For making me laugh when I’m tired.

For making love to me like time stops every time you touch me.

You are the safest place I’ve ever known.

You are everything I prayed for.

And if we grow old and gray and quiet, I hope we’re still writing each other letters.

And I hope you’re still holding my hand like you never want to let go.

I love you, Pedro.

With my whole heart. With every version of me I’ve ever been.

Forever yours,

Your Wife

[darkbluekies]

Hey Eddie Weddy my wittle husband,

So I'm off and out of here for a few days, dw I let the guards know before I booted it out of the castle. When I get back we need some serious couples counciling, I am finding myself more repulsed with you then normal recently (not like you locked me IN THE DUNGEONS WITH THE RATS AGAIN- IF I CONTRACT THE PLAUGE IM INFECTING YOU TOO).

I get it, sweetie, I'm amazing and stuff but everytime I express an opinion you throw a tantrum and it's just not manageable okay?

Anyway, this alone time is super nessisary for me, I'm gunna get my ankles out and grove in some tavern and you can go whoring with those ladies again. It's a win win, I'll be back and then we can sort the real problems out.

Ps: if you kill my maid in retaliation I'll make sure there are no future heirs between us, got it, eddie?

Lots of love mwah mwah

"My dearest posession,

Sometimes I really do regret having the ability to read.

Such a brat you become when no one keeps an eye on you. Girls like you need to be constantly reminded or else you get out of control. Good thing I'm home tomorrow evening. You're theatrical, though. I'll give you that. Use that to entertain me instead of pissing me of.

Speaking of theatrical, you say that I throw a tantrum, but what is this letter if not a tantrum? I picture a three year old when reading this. Either that or you're drunk. That would explain your accuses of me whoring around. I am a whore for one person only, thank you.

Before answering your letter, I made sure to write my assistant one cussing him out for his incompetence. He's promised me you won't stray again. You'll be lucky if you're able to leave the bedroom.

Your maid? Last time i checked, all staff are under me. You have no one. What I do with my staff is none of your business, but if you're going to be difficult, I'll do you this: your maid will be spared and you stop with the childish behaviours. Have fun with the rats when I get back. Maybe the plague will make you think straight.

Don't do anything stupid, I will see you tomorrow

— your husband that will definetly bring you along next time"

[frownyalfred]

Hi! Just off ao3 on various storms and saints, ( Left a long comment - hope you like it, and my question is: What did Alfred and Pa talk about during that time on the porch? I'm just picturing Alfred, who has seen firsthand the complexities of living a dual life and dealing with intensely protective parents (like Bruce's own history, and his relationship with the Bat-family), and Pa, who is grappling with decades of fear and the recent, terrifying reality of Clark's powers saving his life. What happened there? What wisdom did Alfred share? How did he help Pa start to process what happened and perhaps begin to understand the "other world" that Clark lives in? Did he perhaps share anecdotes about Bruce's own dangerous life, or how he, Alfred, learned to cope with it? I just imagine Alfred being the perfect person to help Pa bridge that gap between his fear and his immense pride for Clark.

Also, what if: *Lois* had been present for that dinner, instead of Diana and Bruce (or even in addition to them)? That past relationship tag really got me thinking! How would her dynamic with the Kents have played out, especially during that intense conversation where Pa shuts down discussion of Clark's 'other life'? Would her journalistic instincts kick in during the crisis? How would she have reacted to the whole situation, given her own history with both Clark Kent and Superman? I feel like her presence could have either made things incredibly more complicated:)

Ahhh thank you for asking me about this! Even though it was so quick to write, that fic really took over my brain for weeks. I very much appreciated your comment, I've re-read it like six times now to get through today haha.

Alfred and Pa

In my mind, they were talking about Bruce and Clark, yes. But I don't think it was an immediate connection. Pa balked at Alfred's softer, elegant explanations and said "You have more of a right to be just as much of a basket case about this as I am, your boy can get hurt" and Alfred has to gently backtrack and dig into why that's an issue for Pa. So what is he afraid of, if it's not Clark being injured? Pa would then talk about how some people revere Superman, sure, but so many people don't. People spit on him. They want him arrested. They want him put on trial for the lives he "took" in Metropolis during Black Zero.

What Pa is truly afraid of is the people who hate Superman, because that means hating the good, kind boy/man underneath the cape. And Clark cares, so damn much. Pa worries about people taking advantage of that. Of digging into his past and using him. He didn't like Lois on paper or on sight because he thought she was just using him to get to Superman for her articles. Not entirely untrue in this fic, but not charitable to her either.

Alfred can work with that. People hate Batman, even more than they hate Superman. Everyone wants to unmask him. Half of Gotham wants to torture him on a good day. No good deed goes unpunished with him, ever. And Alfred has to sit there and watch it happen. Watch Gotham beat down a son who cares for it so dearly.

The wisdom I think Alfred ultimately shared with Pa was that those halves/lives/masks aren't as discreet as they sometimes appear. You couldn't take Gotham from Bruce Wayne, you couldn't take Batman from Gotham, and on and on. They bleed into each other. The only true undercurrent is the care. The devotion to the mission and higher ideals. That runs through every version of the man, past present and future.

Getting Pa to admit that he's worried people won't treat Clark well because of Superman and vice versa is an important step. Then having him listen to Alfred describe how Bruce cannot be someone else, even when he is. Clark has this other life because he needs it, and he's made the choice to bear those insults and threats. Across all of his lives. Denying it in one life would create chaos elsewhere. Imagine a Bruce who could only hurt people as Batman, without Bruce Wayne's fundraising and welfare apparatus. Imagine a Bruce who had to perpetually sit at a table and pretend to be less than, dumber, less involved. No gaps, no breaks. It would be torture.

Clark does it to make Pa happy. But it hurt him. He tried to make Lois happy in the opposite direction, and it ALSO hurt him badly. She wanted Superman more than she wanted Clark Kent. I think because she didn't truly understand Clark Kent, because he kept his lives so stiff and separated. I think it would have been a good conversation for her to witness, but it would have been such a world-rocking kind of realization, seeing Clark Kent for Superman and Superman for Clark Kent, that I think she'd need time away. If their relationship was already on the ropes, this wouldn't help.

I think the only reason the conversation worked is because Bruce and Diana were there and 100% on Clark's side. They backed up both versions of him when Lois and even his parents couldn't. They did the farm visit and the family dinner and they did the JL emergency all in one breath.

[sabxhere]

CRASHING BACK HERE. I'VE COME TO GET YOUR ASS PEANUT, CAUSE WHAT THE FUCK. GRABBING AND SHAKING YOU LIKE A DOG WITH A DOG TOY, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I CAN NOW FULLY SCREAM ABOUT THIS

First of all, I gotta say: I DIDN'T KNOW THAT WAS YOU, WHO WROTE THOSE FICS???? LIKE, I read and reread your fics many times, especially when I was getting into the fandom, and I hadn't a single clue for some reason that it was you who wrote them??? And just. Gosh. They always make my heart flutter cause they're so well written, the characterization is so accurate and their relationship always so fun to read and soft and ughhhhhh you're really both an amazing artist and writer, gosh😭😭💖💖💖💖

NOW, FOR THE FIC: LIKE I SAID EARLIER, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKGWJWNWJWNWMW. I read it yesterday and the way it filled me immediately with joy and excitement was akin to someone injecting caffeine straight up in my veins, THE ARTWORK????? I THINK I STRAIGHT UP LET OUT SOME KIND OF CONCERNING SOUND IRL WHEN I SAW THAT, IT'S JUST SO FUCKING SOFT, THE BLUSHES ON PETEY'S FACE AND DOGMAN'S EARS, THE SOFTNESS AND CARE IN DOGMAN'S HOLDING HIS HAND BRINGING IT TO HIS LIPS????? I SUDDENLY BECAME VIOLENTLY ILL AVHWBWBWHWWHWJJWWJWWHSJWJSJSJWJSJBWWJJ💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

AND THEN I SCREAMED MORE WHEN I SAW YOU POSTED A FIC FOR IT, AND IMMEDIATELY WENT TO READ IT, CAUSE OFC I DID, SCREAMED MORE CAUSE I SAW IT WAS A 1/2 CHAPTER, SO SUPER EXCITED TO ANYTHING ELSE YOU'LL ADD TO IT IN THE FUTURE AND STARTED READING IT AND AHHHHHHH I remember you mentioning in the past them probably being more affectionate or opening up only if very drunk or something, it's nice to see them drinking together, genuinely brought a smile to my face. There's something nice in the thought of this being routine for them, drinking together and catching up on everything that happened since they last saw the other, it also greatly speaks of how much they trust and feel comfortable with each other at this point in their relationship, especially for dogman, who had decided to abstain from it for most of his life, very sweet, gosh

"It didn’t feel right, for a space full of children to be silent as a graveyard." This hit me so hard, for some reason, that comparison had me gasping, it was so interesting and could really feel and understand his unease, omg, ALSO DOGMAN'S POV, I FUCKING CHEERED SO LOUDLY, YOU WRITE HIM SO WELL, LIKE, BOTH THEIR POVS, BUT I REALLY LOVE YOUR DM POV SO VERY MUCH, it's so nice to see them both in this fic!!!!💖💖💖💖💖

"Like a moth to a flame" " “Guess who brought wiiiiiine,” Petey singsongs to him in greeting, wiggling a hefty glass bottle in his paw." GENUINELY WAS FILLED WITH SO MUCH NEED TO KICK MY FEET AND GIGGLE AT THESE. AND THEN SCREAM GAY GAY GAY GAYYYYY, THERE'S A GAY CAT AND DOG IN THIS ORPHANAGE, THIS IS NOT A DRILL, also I looooove how like, petey fills the hole in his life that his repressed ass doesn't even realize is there, when petey and lil petey come visit him, both metaphorically (making him feel more happy and content when he's there) and LITERALLY with the humming filling the silence that was making him feel uneasy, lorddddd

I know I already gushed about it, but the way they just. Understand each other. And fit together so well, and the way you descrive it, with petey loving to yap and talking about nothing and everything, and dogman understanding that, and listening to him, and being understood as well by petey with a single glance or expression, no words necessary sometimes or how he completely focuses on dm when he's speaking to him is genuinely, GENUINELY, fucking me up so badly, WGGWHWBWBWBWBW

" “You should come with us,” Petey half jokes, after he failed to describe some machine or invention he had seen with Li’l Petey. He found that he always made this joke when he visited. He wasn’t sure if he meant it or not anymore. As always, Dog Man shakes his head, smiling." BASHING MY HEAD REPEATEDLY AGAINST A WALL TILL CRACKS FORM ON IT AND MY FOREHEAD BLEEDS. I'M GONNA KILL M *remembers kms jokes aren't healthy* yyyyou. I'm. gonna kill you, peanut. Sleep with one eye open tonight🧍‍♀��/silly WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK. WHWATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUFJK

THE SCAAAAAARRRRRRR, PETEY'S GUILT AROUND HIM AND ABOUT HURTING HIM AND GETTING INVOLVED IN THE CROSSFIRE BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL, OWING TO HIM???? TO EACH OTHER???? I NEED TO KILL THESE STUPID GAYS WITH MY BARE HANDS, my god, gay repressed people will literally say anything but say the words "I'm sorry" and "Thank you for everything" and say them in the most roundabout and complicated ways possible, I FUCKING SWEAR, ROLLING MY EYES/SILLY though jokes aside, oh my god, they literally saved each other, from heaven and from himself??? I was reading that part with my jaw open and covering my mouth, oh i'm gonna be sick, I didn't know that about dogman, I mean, it makes so much sense, but thinking that he contemplated ending his life made my heart throb so hard, petey trying to joke about it, but clearly shaken by it, maybe thinking of how everything would have gone down without dogman, both the battle, but his life too, his and lil petey's???

"I'm a sweet boy???" Close!!! Gay boy, actually!!!! :DDDDD PUNTS THEM BOTH INTO THE SUN. FUCK THEM WHAT THE FUCK, HIM LOOKING AT PETEY FONDLY AND WITH SO MUCH LOVE "I only visit 'cause I feel bad for you," Petey splutters weakly, trying to fight off the vulnerability of the moment. "Keep feeling bad for me, then." It's a demand, a plea, a prayer. I HATE THEM SO BADLY, I HATE THEM SO BADLY, BREAKING DOWN WITH SOBS, THE WHOLE FUCKING SCENE AFTERWARDS, HIM HOLDING HIS HAND CLOSE, CLOSE ENOUGH TO BREATHE ON IT, LIPS JUST BRUSHING IT, REVERENTLY, I NEED TO BE FUCKING STRAPPED TO A CHAIR AND FOR SOMEONE TO GIVE ME A TRANQUILIZER RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, PEANUT PEANUT JESUS CHRIST, WHAT THE HELL, PETEY'S DISGUISE SLOWLY SLIPPING FROM BEING FLUSTERED???? THEY'RE TURNING ME HOMOPHOBIC IN THE MONTH OF PRIDE, I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THISVWHWBWJWBWNWNWNWNW

Sighing. God. Hhhhhh, orbiting around each other indeed, close enough to be in the other's life, but never bridging that gap that separates them, yet every time that space is briefly bridged, they can't help but linger, to not pull away quite fast enough for it to be casual, because they both want and need this closeness, but will never acknowledge it, not really. God.

This is really a long rounded way to say I NEED TO SCREAM AND JUMP UP AND DOWN AND SPIN AROUND YOU, BUT ALSO TO EXPLODE YOU, PEANUT YOU'RE SO FUCKING COOL AND SUCH AN AMAZING WRITER, AND I NEED TO KILL THOSE FUCK ASS DEMON CAT AND DOG LIKE, RNRNRNRNRN, WGHWHWHWHWJWJWJWJWJWJ💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

DIV LIB DRABBLE UPLOADED ON AO3 RAHHHH RAHHHH RAHHH IM CRAAAAZYYYYYY!!!!!! i lit alrready have like two more ideas in my head RAHHHHHHHHHHH IM SO FUCKING CRAZY FUCK YEAH BABY

[m3lin03]

Shape of the unknown pt.1

other parts: 1 2 3

Hi!! First, I want to say that (disclaimer) I’ve never written before, more so a fanfic. Also english is not my first language, so I may have some mistakes. Second, this is a work that doesn’t really respect everything that is canon (some things yes, others not so much) .

Sylus x reader (not MC), MC is also present though

Warnings: kinda angst, kinda fluff, suggestive, a little bit of stalking ig??

(written on artemas - how could you love someone like me, if you want the whole vibe I had writing this :) )

Tarus was the place for many kinds of people: thieves, traitors, murderers, so on and so forth. That doesn’t mean that everyone was a criminal, most people were just poor, therefore vulnerable.

You knew very well what it meant being vulnerable, used for transactions as if your life or death meant nothing more than a few coins. First years of your life were spent being a slave until one day a woman appeared before you. She was the epitome of beauty and calm. Her eyes scanned through the lines of slaves until they fixed on you. It might have been fate, might have been pure luck, but she took you under her care. This way Tarus became your home.

The woman was the Oracle of Tarus, teaching everything she knew: astrology, science, art and healing arts. However, the one thing that was not taught to you, a natural talent that brought her to become your protector and teacher: the gift of understanding what there was not to see and knowing what was to come.

The Temple of the Oracle was the only place where Tarus people would trust to be safe and taken care for. Sometimes you would see some that had a skin too clean, without the blemishes caused by the burning sun, lack of food and numerous fights. Their poor clothes looked too intentional. Those were aristocrats that hoped to get answers for their dilemmas, own diseases or to try and buy an oracle for themselves. They were usually welcome as the money from them played an important part in helping those who needed it.

Then the time came, yours became the title of Oracle.

Sylus didn’t care in the beginning about the new novice, even though he saw her many times. He had a strong bond with the precedent Oracle. When it was the time he promised to keep protecting the Temple and help the new priestess, if needed. He offered most of the funding, believe it or not.

With time, he got maybe even closer to you than anyone else before. Even though the veil you wore as a custom that marked you as a woman of the Temple, didn’t completely hide your face behind it, it’s soft opacity didn’t allow them to be clear – which sometimes, in the beginning at least, stirred something in him as he couldn’t read your reactions, nor feelings.

Sylus would request quite often for you to spend the evenings at his cave. Time would go flying as you two would chat on different subjects. Your presence was much appreciated by him, giving him an almost sense of peace.

Eventually, the visits didn’t happen so often. Your duty calls, as he did not. No-one needed to tell you why, as dreams came months before to whisper of the future and as objective and cold as you tried to be, your veins felt like they burned of anger?... sadness? broken heart? Maybe all of them? Needless to say, it’s no surprise when one afternoon your presence is requested to his cave. But you know it’s not him, but her.

The dark mauve veils that your dress was made of flowed like liquid around you. A headband made of woven metal kept in place the veil of your head, making you feel heavier than you already felt. Breathing was a hassle. Once you entered the cave, long silver locks welcome your eyes. A pair of blood red eyes welcome yours, but they were not his, your heart’s restless desire. The Sorceress’s lips form a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. As beautiful as she was, you could swear she could at any time start hissing like a viper.

“You called for me” rolls of your tongue in a calm tone.

“I did. I have a question”, her voice is beautiful too, has something upbeat to it.

It is easily noticed that Sylus is not here. For sure she is in no way a stranger to your closeness to the dragon, which means that you can easily be called a foe. It's quite plausible that she would want to talk to you alone.

“It is said that your words ring only truth - “

“My words are the truth for a moment and a place, as future obeys no rules. Ask me a question and I might give you the best I can in the moment” the words fall from your mouth, trying to control your tone, not knowing if you succeed or not.

“Then tell me what you see in my future” she proceeds, getting close to you. So close that you feel her breath on your face.

You do not really know what game she plays at. As you close your eyes for moments, images start flowing from your dreams, others new appear, morphing into timelines and possibilities and most of them leave you choking on air. Your head starts spinning and a sheer layer of sweat appears on your skin.

“War is in your mind, leaving your hands dirty in blood that you can’t wipe off. Eons may come and go and blood will still be pouring, as it’s spoils your heart and the gem that you so much want will be forsaken in the thick, red liquid”, escapes out of your mouth almost unwillingly.

Her eyes fall to the floor for a second then she doesn’t even care to tell anything more, a sign it was time to return. As the thoughts of her stare, your mind seeks an answer for why must she do this. Why try and find out the future if she knows already what will happen? Why talk to you? Does the Sorceress want to be sure you won’t interfere?

Little did you know, another pair of ruby eyes follow you coming out of the cave. He heard your words. Sylus notices how your steps are hurried, breathing heavy, hands trembling. Something coils around his heart almost painful. The voice in which you delivered your prophecy, was not something he was used to. He thought how he wanted to see your face clear, look deep in your eyes and find out answers for his unasked questions. Sylus’s mind wanders to you in so many ways. At first he wanted to keep you close as it was no lie that the ability you possessed was much more cultivated than anyone’s. The ability to shape the unkown in different timelines, from the least to most possible and see time like a living and breathing creature was nothing short of breathtaking. Just as you.

In the end, in the middle of the night, something pulls him to the Temple. What he didn’t expect was finding you bathing in plants with such alluring smell that his eyes closed for a few moments. However, he opens them as curiosity peaks in his chest. Your eyes shine so beautiful, even more than the jewels in his cave. Your hair is sleek on your head and back from being wet. Your skin looks so soft and delicate. Sylus can’t move. In his head, he knows it’s not right, he should leave, at least wait for you to be done… but hidden behind one of the drapes that decorate your room, the urge to watch is more powerful.

His mind becomes preoccupied by thoughts of touching the skin, hair, looking at your eyes up close.

As you are too caught up in some inner monologue, a dragon awaits a miracle to move away or closer.

-Reupload-

[rebuke-me]

hm

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[kaisollisto]

“Are you here?" Ava barely breathes it, there's a tension in the air that she can't recognize, an energy that squashes her. Her throat feels scratchy and she can feel the Halo slotted between her shoulders. Ava's flat on her back head turned to look over at Beatrice. She feels wimpy like a stomped flower, her left arm dangles dangerously close to Beatrice-territory. She wants to reach out, to touch Beatrice to confirm that she's here but something stops her. She feels so silly, she could easily shift over to touch Beatrice, shake her gently and - 

Beatrice slides over, a firm sleepy sister warrior knife wielding badass with frumpy hair poofing from what remains of her low bun. She moves towards Ava, inches away from her but moves to answer her. It’s rare for Ava to see her like this. Beatrice is clearly fighting sleep, rubbing her eyes and doing her best to move in hopes that it’ll shake the sleepy spell. 

She’s dressed in one of Ava’s ugly loose white shirts, a huge bass clashing with faded big blocky lettering that just reads “FISH”. Beatrice had looked at her weirdly when Ava had dug it out of the bins at a thrift store disheveled and ecstatic. 

Ava had spent hours coaxing her into it doing her damn best to hide Beatrice’s laundry when she wasn’t looking. It fills a warm feeling in her chest and Ava wants to burrow further into it. It was a fool proof plan. 

Ava found her shortness made it exhausting to reach up towards the Beatrice-level-cabinets. The halo pulls at her pinching and knotting up the muscles in her back after a long day of training. She feels it alive within her, an uncomfortable reminder sealed inside her back. 

At the end of the day Ava settled on hinging at the waist. She had slowly started integrating Beatrice’s sleep shirts in cabinets that Beatrice had to bend down to reach. Ava always tried to situate herself at the scene of the crime doing her best to seem inconspicuous while she leaned over hungry for Beatrice’s reaction. Ava thumbed her findings down in the recess of her mind, her finger tracing over it in a hurried desperation. The time would pass and she did not want to forget. 

(It helped, the imagery of Bea’s furrow when she would find her sleepwear underneath the sink when Ava would have to tuck her spine into the halo as she placed the shirt somewhere clean.) 

Thanks to her genius planning Beatrice had finally caved and worn Ava’s huge “FISH” t-shirt after weeks of her persistence. She looked adorable, she was drowning in it and constantly tugging at it. She had found Beatrice loved to tuck it into the band of her sleep shorts creating puffy funny creases distorting the text even further to say “FSH”. It looked so ugly and old and endearing. 

She looked out of her depth and it made Ava’s heart thump funny. Beatrice with her weird posh mannerisms combined with the peaceful unguarded look when she slumbered made her feel hot all over. 

It was the prospect of the future, a glimpse into her life with Beatrice, of when they would grow old together. It shakes her, the idea that Beatrice will get wrinkles with her. She takes it seriously, a study that she isn’t well versed in but preparing for. It is a long hard internal debate flipping between what wrinkles will show first. Ava selfishly hopes it’s smile lines, that Beatrice will smile at her as much as she does in secret. She’s happy to be wrong, Beatrice’s forehead crinkles have always been cute. She hopes that Beatrice never stops looking at her, thinking of her. She wants to spend a long time being the source of her wrinkles. And just for right now she can handle the role of being just her friend. 

Beatrice blinks one eye open, the other pressed against the pillow as she stifles a yawn. Her hand blocks her mouth in a delicate way and Ava can see her nails are short and uneven in places. Ava wishes she could touch them, study them in a way no one has done before. She wants to press against Beatrice hard enough to watch her skin fold around hers. Some sort of truth that she was here, that she is here. 

Beatrice scoots over slowly, her elbow tucked under the pillow. She stops inches away from Ava, a frown set in her jaw. Ava mirrors her position albeit more awkwardly and more wiggling than Beatrice’s but she finds a place where the Halo won’t bite her back. 

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs it, a quiet thing between them. 

Ava closes her eyes hoping Beatrice won’t notice her shakiness. She blinks a few times before she presses closer, the arm she’s laying on moving to support her head underneath the pillow. 

There’s so much to tell her, anything and nothing at all and Ava doesn’t know where to start. It constricts her throat, the constant stream of consciousness from inside of her heart. It’s horrible and she can’t stop it as the feeling balloons inside of her lungs. Ava wants help, she so desperately wants to feel okay again, to feel anything other than the stupid fucking halo. It grates on her nerves and muscles, a burning hot metal ring poking and prodding at the entirety of her upper torso. It leaves her reeling, a sort of anger that beckons for her to hurt (hurt something, hurt someone, hurt), disregarding the aftermath of tears and shame. 

Ava is sure she’s shaking, a layer of sweat gathers between the space of her shoulder blades as the Halo lights up with her inner turmoil. It’s a faint pitiful thing that Ava would be ashamed of if not for the bone aching tiredness. 

She wants to say she’s sorry the words clawing their way up her throat and it feels wrong to feel anything but that. There’s a sort of unspoken shame that haunts her with the Halo. It’s a thing she’s known long before any of this. 

Beatrice drags her out of her turmoil with her hand hovering near Ava’s pinky. She has a gracefulness to it, like she has practiced it a hundred times over. It’s weird, to be in a bed, a soft and lumpy bed looking at Beatrice. Beatrice with such plain features and subtle cheekbones that Ava can’t stop looking. It pays off, watching Beatrice, Ava knows it when Bea smiles a grin too wide for polite acknowledgement and Ava can see her dimples pronounced. 

“Can I?” Beatrice’s finger lingers near her hand, a hovering itch that Ava needs scratched. It’s so wholeheartedly Beatrice that Ava can do nothing but nod. Something inside of Ava aches harder than the rest of the organs inside of her. It’s the unwavering crushing thumping feeling that squeezes around her heart. The sincerity of Beatrice. 

She places her hand over Ava’s and squeezes her gently. Beatrice’s hands are firm and soft. She can feel the callouses on her palms prodding at the back of her hand and wonders if Beatrice has ever had them fade away. If she’s had the pleasure of unscathed palms. Her hands are warm but not sweaty, not like Ava’s.

Ava can’t feel Beatrice’s pulse but she tries her best to match it. She imagines it would be a slow melody playing a duet with a classical track. Some sort of tune that spurs comfort or a feeling of nostalgia. She briefly wonders if Beatrice listens to music, if she seeks out music that has spoken to her. If there was a song that shook her to her core so deeply she had to sit down and digest it. There’s so much she still needs to know and so little time. 

“I admit I’m not sure what you need from me.” Beatrice whispers it quietly, she’s hunched awkwardly, hovering close in Ava’s space but too far away for her own comfort. 

Ava clamps her mouth shut, sure that “come closer” will betray her. That she will reach too far into Beatrice and take far too much. 

Beatrice pays no mind to Ava’s silence and slowly caresses her hand, it’s a small little gesture that seems to have no set course. Ava briefly wonders if it’s the start of a massage or if Beatrice is looking for her joints underneath her skin and touching her tendons in apology. 

It should be awkward, Beatrice and Ava orbiting each other in a lopsided manner. A rotational tilt that is unfamiliar to both of them and yet feels intimate. An unknown dance with their eyes closed and their breaths mingling. (It’s easy to follow Beatrice’s lead, Ava knows love.) 

There’s nothing Ava can say to her, she chokes up at the prospect and they both blink at each other. She’s not sure what she needs, only that it’s nice having someone here. 

Beatrice drowsily blinks rapidly and slowly at the same time as Ava watches swallowing the bits of her smile. Her hand has slowed its pathing, opting to curl on the inside of Ava’s fingers. It’s endearing watching one of her favorite bad ass sister warriors lose against sleep. It softens the edges of Beatrice who is always carrying some unseen obligation. (Here it is only the two of them free of their past and future burdens, just two girls sprawled thinly on hopes and dreams). 

She can feel Beatrice’s grip loosen, she’s going to fall back asleep any minute now but Ava doesn’t have the heart to keep her up. Beatrice is no doubt tired, powered by her own sleeping and eating habits unlike Ava who has the artifact to juice her up. 

She isn’t quite unwound but she feels manageable now. It’s weird to be within reach of Beatrice, someone who cares about her. To be in proximity of someone who will look for her, be in step with her, maybe it’s duty but Ava holds it close to her heart regardless. (It’s all the same to her, devotion, loyalty, love). 

She clings to Beatrice afraid to let the moment go, she had called and someone had answered, Bea had answered. Ava can feel her eyes watering, it almost feels like a distant dream. She tucks her chin closer to chest and thinks, how awful to be loved. 

She can feel her throat closing up and she squeezes Bea’s hand just a tiny bit harder. (She answers in the twitch of her hand, clearly on the cusp of sleep). The Halo still thunders in her back throbbing some fatal fate but here in the hush of night grounded by the touch of Beatrice she has some reprieve.  (Part 1)

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

I’m the anon who sent you that ask about Sonic and Shadow’s relationship in the Chronic Sonic au. If your post saying you ignore long asks was directed at me, can you please just… post the latest version without answering? I would prefer to save it to my likes and maybe have other fans read my thoughts.

thank you

Well no, it wasn’t just directed at you, there are a couple long asks in my inbox (some of which are positive and very beloved and i cherish, Dopambles I’m looking at you <3). But you’ve sent your ask twice now and this one too so I’ll answer this one. I don’t really want to make this a big long thing, but I also don’t really wanna leave ya hanging when this seems so important to you so lets do this (everyone else can ignore this if ya want I’m going long-winded through everything.)

So, reasons i don’t like to respond to or even post long asks sometimes lets do this [cracks knuckles]

1. I don’t like posting things onto my blog that I haven’t checked over first. I struggle a lot in reading and comprehending long asks. I don’t know why, it’s weird, okay. Let’s leave it at that. I’m not gonna blindly post walls of texts to my blog without checking them over first, because I want to make sure I’m filtering asks so nothing harmful gets posted to my blog. You’d be surprised at how whack a lot of anons can get. Not to say your ask was whack, but I also am struggling to read it so it’s hard to say for sure! It’s not due to the nature of your ask, it is simply because my brain be like dat.

2. Sometimes, I just don’t like having to scroll through walls of texts that aren’t my own to get to my latest posts. I get a lot of asks as it is. I do love answering them, but when they get long, the amount of time it takes to scroll through em makes it hard to refer back to my previous posts and is just is not intuitive or fun when interacting with my own blog, which leads me to my next point

3. This is my space. My blog is by me for me. I choose to post and share to interact and have fun with other people but at the end of the day this blog is my space. I did not create it for anyone other than me. I welcome the people who find joy in my stories here, but this remains my space. If i was being paid for this it’d be different, I’d absolutely curate and change things to make it a better and easier experience for those that i charged to be here, but like… I’m not being paid for this? And to ask me to do what you want in my space so that you can have the experience you want is… i dunno it sounds a little entitled. (I’m not saying that you ARE entitled, only that it sounds like it to me personally.) Contacting me even after I expressed my difficulty in answering asks to try and convince me to post it for your sake is a little rude. I’m not a professional creator, I’m not a person with fans, I’m just a random dude trying to have a good time with other people on a dumpster-fire website. I’m not a creator trying to make sure everyone else is having a good time. This is what i do in my free time to relax and—

4. —being a moderator for other peoples hc’s and conversations is not personally relaxing to me. My blog is not a public confessions blog and I am not a public message board. I am honoured when people share their personal stories and how what I doodle has helped them feel seen and that things will be okay, but I’m not a place for other people to come say what they want to each other, I’m a person, not a message board. How other people use Tumblr is up to them, however, I am not going to change how I use tumblr so that you can have a better experience when it will make the experience worse for me.

5. If i answer asks, I don’t draw. And I like drawing. If I’m posting asks (even without answering them) and stressing about being the middle man in conversations that I will have to regulate to make sure conversations stay kind, that takes a lot of time and energy and I got so incredibly burnt out when i tried to do that. So i stopped. And I will not be starting up again simply so you can have a good time, because I will have a bad one. And this is my space to not have a bad time. If something stresses me out, I will not do it here, it is as simple as that. I have my whole irl to be stressed about.

These are some of the reasons I don’t like to post long asks. I have notified you that I struggle to read, I don’t understand why you continue pushing. I have amazing anon’s who send wonderful long asks who have been kind and considerate with me about my struggles reading and processing. They continue to send their wonderful asks and have assured me it’s okay if I never post them. I am confused as to why you cannot seem to respect my decision as well.

The final reason regarding my hesitance in posting your ask in particular is simply that your hc was not accurate to how I was aiming to portray the characters in the current timeline. You are more than welcome to hc and speculate, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I cannot simply post it without answering it like you suggest because I would need to clarify that it’s not true. When I used to do that, people would start to misinterpret my au’s and it stressed me out. It takes hours for me to write up responses to things sometimes because I want to make sure I’m being kind and thoughtful and accurate. I am honoured that you shared something personal but what you wrote is simply not where the characters are at right now. It could be them in the future, but it is still early in the au so that kind of resentment hasn’t set in yet. Shadow is hurting because he’s taking the brunt of Sonic’s negativity but he is resigned to it because for him nothing else matters as long as Sonic stays alive, even if he has to be the person Sonic hates in all this and that is heavy. He’s angry at him when he does not take care of himself, but he is not resentful. Sonic struggles with being a burden on all of his friends, not just Shadow. The way you described the relationship was closer to how Tails and Sonic interact than Shadow and Sonic and even then, there’s more going on that I just don’t have the time or energy to really walk through. And besides, I want to save that energy to draw out things later.

As i shared with another commenter who asked something similar, I can absolutely DM you your ask back if you want to save it. However I don’t understand why you need me to post it to save it your likes if you simply want to save it. You have your own blog you can post it to. Why does it need to be on my blog? Why do I have to do extra work so you can have an easier time to do what you want? I am very grateful for your interaction and love of my comic, and I understand it’s frustrating when people make things harder for you to have a good time, but that’s exactly what you’re doing to me by asking me to change how I use tumblr to suit your wants instead of what is easiest for me. I am not a public service you pay for. I am a person, a full time student with family issues, struggling siblings that I’m trying to help, a person who is struggling myself. I have a limited amount of energy in a day, I get tired quickly. If i want to continue to find joy in drawing I have to set boundaries. You may not always know why someone does something, I guarantee there is more here that I will not share because it is personal. Sometimes you just have to be okay with not knowing, you have to be okay not understanding, and you have to be okay without an explanation that makes sense to you. All you need to do is understand that often times there is a reason people behave the way they do. It’s not a reflection on you or their opinion of you, it is simply many other factors at play that lead to such an outcome.

I sincerely hope this did not offend you, I am not angry with you, nor do I wish for any of this to be taken as scolding or upset you. If it has come across that way, I apologize. I am sorry I am not in a state to give you what you want, and I’m thankful for your patience with me in reading through this and I hope it is enough to at least paint a little bit of a picture as to why I will not be posting your ask. It’s unfortunate that I ended up spending hours addressing this anyway both to you and to another commenter—the very thing I wanted to avoid—but I value you as a person and did not want to leave you feeling negatively if I could change that. I hope this does not affect your enjoyment or experience with how you were having fun with my au, and if it does I am deeply regretful. However, I do have to set boundaries and make sure I’m doing okay or there would be no AU at all. Thanks for your understanding and I hope you have a day as kind as you are.

[fionnaskyborn]

People like this have made me terrified that I am mischaracterizing my favorite character by playing into his strengths and emphasizing them so much... That I'm making things "too anime", "too over-the-top", and by doing that straying away from the groundedness that made the character compelling in the first place... But I think it's better to be a fan who loves someone so much they're willing to step into goofy over-the-top showcases of strength and morals out of love than being a fake fan who only ever rags on what they proclaim is so dear to them. I dunno. I don't think I'm wrong in saying that. I'm hella insecure when it comes to my own writing, especially with this guy because I want to do him as much justice as I possibly can as a writer. But I have to convince myself that it's not too much.

[charlesreedscoolhat]

Charles: and how do I contact you in the future?

Johannes: you don't 🌟 bye you soggy bitch ✨️🕺✨️🕺🟨🟨🟨

[flurry-of-stars]

︵‿︵‿୨✩୧‿︵‿︵

*taps microphone* New chapter for These Hollow Halls coming soon--

[loregoddess]

sometimes I see genuinely earnest writing advice about writing fiction, but the advice is written as a blanket statement for a narrative device that honestly? only works for certain types of fiction, not all types of fiction, and therefore the advice ends up missing out on the fine nuance between "fiction that is written literally" and "fiction that is written figuratively" and also how literal vs. figurative narrative devices function differently in different types of genre--but like, I don't want to come off as a pretentious brat, so I just skip the post w/out saying anything

[fluffle-writes]

I wanna. Pick them up in my mouth and shake 'em around like a dog obliterating a squeaky toy

[itspileofgoodthings]

tags continued from prev post.

[greghatecrimes]

also p.s. if i'm quiet for a few days it's nothing personal. i'm probably just resting. moving & new job & new place & getting out of crappy situation really sucked the spoons outta me

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