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ohcolinbridgerton · 4 months

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First of all the social media au is amazing!!! Like very, very amazing, love it 🪩💜 since requests are open, can I request sweet blurb for colin x reader, where they are childhood best friends and reader gets jealous when Colin comes all hot and sizzling after his travels, please <33333 dearest author !!!

hi!!! thank you for this kind message - so glad you love the social media au!!! i love this request so i hope you enjoy my take on this!

biscuits | colin x reader

summary: a childhood best friend, dreams of travelling and lots of biscuits

warnings: none

word count: 2.2k

requests: open

masterlist

a/n: based off of this lovely requests. hope you all enjoy and feel free to send more requests in - this was fun to write x

It had always been Colin and Y/N. Or Y/N and Colin, depending on which of the two you asked. They had been inseparable since the pair were young—their friendship first forged years ago on a cobbled street in London.

A cobbled street in 1797 to be exact, when the Y/L/N family arrived , their carriage creaking to a halt on the cobblestone street in front of a modest Palladian-style townhouse, a home that housed the Bridgerton family. The Y/L/N’s journey from their countryside estate had been long and tiresome, but as the family disembarked, they could feel the buzz of a new beginning in the air—unending possibilities, opportunities, and challenges ahead of them.

John Y/L/N, the patriarch, was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a kind but determined look in his eyes. He had recently inherited a small sum from a distant relative and decided to invest in a shipping business, a venture that required the family to relocate to the bustling city of London. His wife, Augusta, a woman of grace and practicality, supported the move wholeheartedly and believed it would provide their children with a brighter future.

With letters back and forth to her old friend Violet Bridgerton, Augusta had decided that the first place the family was to visit on their arrival was the Bridgerton house. Years of friendship and correspondence meant a shared trust was formed within the two families, and a sense of familiarity was exactly what the pair needed as they embarked on a new adventure with their children.

Their eldest son, Edward, stepped out of the carriage first. At fifteen, he was on the cusp of adulthood, his green eyes wide with wonder as he took in the sight of the flowered building and family that stood before him. His younger brother, Thomas, a quiet twelve-year-old, clung to his mother’s skirt, his eyes curious and apprehensive. And then there was little Y/N, a small but energetic six-year-old, who followed suit with her eldest brother, practically bouncing with excitement as she jumped out of the carriage.

And that’s how they met, at age six, with Y/N flinging herself out of a carriage and almost bumping heads with the boy that she’d grow to know as Colin Bridgerton. Their first words spoken to each other consisting of ‘’Ow!’’ and ‘’Sorry,’’ mixed with a few childish giggles and the scolding of their parents.

From their initial meeting, they had been known as the ‘Troublesome Duo’, being the same age and fuelled with the same levels of idiocy as one another. Wherever one went, the other followed. If Violet found an empty tray of biscuits and crumbs trailing the floor of the Bridgerton drawing room, she knew the culprit was not only Colin but Y/N too. And if John Y/L/N discovered a bottle of his finest scotch had been tampered with, he knew to blame the teenage duo of Colin and Y/N, who could be spotted in the garden laughing and pushing one another on the wooden swing that hung from the family’s favourite Willow tree.

The pair spent countless hours exploring the woods around their houses, sharing secrets and dreams of the future. However as they grew older, the ‘Troublesome duo’s’ paths began to diverge. Colin, with his adventurous spirit, yearned to see the world beyond the walls of the Ton, while Y/N knew there was no possibility for her, as a woman who was expected to find marriage in her season’s out in society, to have the opportunity of travelling , so instead she took comfort in the familiar, cherishing the close-knit community and the life she had known since moving from the countryside.

So when Colin finally announced at the age of one and twenty to both of their families that he was leaving to travel in hopes of finding comfort in Greece or maybe even Spain, Y/N put on a brave face. She had always known it to be the two of them, and the thought of her counterpart going off to explore the world and do all the things she could only dream of—well, she was envious, to say the least. Envious, but proud nonetheless that he was doing the one thing he had spoken of since before they could even count to a hundred or play pianoforte.

She hugged him tightly at the train station, her heart heavy with a mixture of pride and sadness. "Write to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Every chance I get," Colin promised, his eyes bright with excitement. "I'll be back before you know it."

The months that followed were filled with letters from far-off places, each one a reminder of Colin’s incredible journey. Y/N read them eagerly, her heart warming with each adventure he described. But as time passed, she couldn’t ignore the growing emptiness in her chest—the feeling that something vital was missing from her life.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Colin returned. The two families gathered to welcome him home, eager to hear his stories. Y/N, however, stood on the outskirts of the crowd, watching as everyone flocked to Colin, their eyes wide with admiration. He seemed taller and more confident, his tales of distant lands captivating everyone who listened. His skin had browned from the golden sun of all the cities he had visited, and his fashions seemed different—perhaps a new coat and blue cravat from Paris or one of the other places he had visited. He looked different—a nice difference—but it was not what she’d remembered him to look like.

But it wasn’t until Lady Danbury’s ball that Y/N really felt the pang of jealousy in her heart.

Colin Bridgerton had always been the life of the party, his charming smile and quick wit making him a favourite in London’s high society. There was no denying it. But with his new-found look came even more favourable glances from debutante’s, flocking around him, fluttering their lashes, and waving their fans in his direction. The pair had always made a joke about it, whether that was about a Lord almost jumping from his spot to fetch Y/N some lemonade or a girl practically begging Colin to write his name on their dance card. Colin and Y/N had always found the whole thing preposterous, completely uninterested in meaningless flirts and instead wanting to go off and cause mischief that would later have both of their parents scolding them. But now, from what she could see over the crowd of feathered headpieces, Colin was absolutely loving the attention that he was receiving; she was almost certain she’d even seen him wink at Cressida Cowper, and it was then that Y/N felt like she must have been dreaming, or perhaps the lemonade had been spiked, because never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she’d see the sight.

The sharp twist in her heart was something she couldn’t quite understand. She wanted to be happy for him, of course she did, but the sight of Colin surrounded by admirers and not a glance of attention her way made her feel invisible. So she found herself slipping away from the crowd, retreating to their favourite spot in Lady Danbury’s garden, an old oak tree that they had sneakily carved their initials into summers ago in their childhood.

A few minutes had passed as she pondered but it felt like only mere seconds before she heard footsteps behind her breaking her away from the fortress of thoughts that flew around her head. She knew it was him before she even looked up - he was the only one who ever knew where to find her. “There you are," Colin said, a hint of concern in his voice. "I’ve been looking for you."

Y/N forced a smile, smoothing out the layers of her gown that had become creased from her cross-legged position under the tree. "I just needed a moment alone. You've been busy."

Colin stood before her, his familiar presence both comforting and unsettling. A laugh escaped his lips as he spoke. "It's been overwhelming making up for time lost with everyone,” he admitted, not quite believing all the attention that he’d been receiving from all the young ladies at the ball. "But it is you I missed the most, Y/N. I’m not quite sure I even remember the names of any of those ladies I was speaking with and I doubt that they cared about the tales of my travels.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart aching with a realisation that hit her like a bolt of lightning. The jealousy she felt wasn’t just about the attention Colin was getting. She knew him better than to know that he wasn’t truly interested in the dramas of courting and dancing and listening to debutantes talk at great length about the many languages they spoke or the instruments that they were taught to play. And he said it himself, he couldn’t even remember the names of the ladies that he was speaking to nor did he think they card to hear about his adventures. The jealousy she was feeling was because she missed him more deeply than she had ever admitted to herself.

She had always cherished their friendship, but now she understood that her feelings ran much deeper. The sight of his blue eyes in the darkened garden only made her realise that. It wasn’t normal how much she longed for his return or the fact that she’d rushed down at the break of dawn each day to see if a letter had arrived in her name. Or even that when she did receive a letter from him, she’d read it over and over again, tracing his words with her fingertips before trying to write her own response, crumpling several pages and spilling ink as she struggled to find the words she wanted to write.

‘’I’ve missed you too, Colin,’’ she weakly smiled up at him, and before she couldn’t even start a new sentence, he was sitting down opposite her, mirroring her crossed legs and taking her hands into his own.

‘’Do you remember when we were twelve and we snuck away from Lady Danbury’s house whilst our mama’s were inside having tea?’’ Colin spoke gently, taking a squeeze of her hand as he watched her nod, unsure of where he was going with his words.

‘’We ran outside with dozens of biscuits in hand and found our way to this very tree.’’ Colin paused, looking at the large oak that stood behind them before continuing, ‘’and I was annoyed because you had managed to get all the good biscuits—my favourite ones, might I add—and I had been left with the terrible ones that no one ever really wants. And then you said that I could have the good ones and you would be happy with whatever was left.’’

‘’Colin, why are you talking about biscuits?’’ Y/N’s eyes furrowed. She’d wanted a moment alone, yet here he was talking her ear off about sweet favours—she was confused, to say the least.

‘’What I’m trying to say is that you always put me first. No matter what, you always let me have my way or let me do what I want.’’

‘’It’s just biscuits, Colin.’’

‘’But it is not. It is more than that. Even with me going off and travelling to all these new places , you’ve been so supportive, even though I know that you’ve shared that same dream since we were young. And while I was away, as much as I enjoyed it, the only thing that was missing was you. None of those adventures meant as much as they would have if I was with you.’’

‘’Colin-’’

‘’Y/N, every day I was away, I only thought of you and how much I missed you. You are the only person I have ever shared my dreams with, and you are the only person I wish to be part of all my future ones.’’

‘’Colin, what are you trying to say?’’

‘’I’m saying that there is no one else in the world that I’d ever dare share a biscuit with, and there is no one else in the world that I am completely and utterly in love with as I am with you.”

‘’You’re in love with me?’’ Y/N choked, wanting to pull her hands away from him in disbelief but unable to do so as he continued to squeeze hers gently.

‘’It took me being away from you to realise it, but yes, I believe that I am in love with you, and if you’ll have me, I’ll never go away again, not unless you are by my side.’’

Relief washed over her, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek. She hadn’t even realised she had started crying. All her feelings that she had no explanation for finally made sense when she heard them from the mouth of the person that shared her soul, her counterpart, the other half of her ‘Troublesome duo,’.

‘’I am in love with you too, Colin.’’ She confessed, barely believing that the words had been voiced aloud as her throat felt so dry from disbelief.

And then Colin smiled—that familiar, warm smile she had missed so much—and she knew she had always been in love with him, despite not fully knowing herself or the meaning of her feelings. His smile was enough to melt her heart and bring it back to life again. It was a smile that she had adored since the first time she had seen him, and now with him across from her, their hands intertwined, it was a smile that she’d never get tired of seeing.

"So, what do we do now?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Colin held her hand tightly. "We start a new adventure," he said softly, "together."

‘’With biscuits?’’ she laughed.

‘’With lots and lots of biscuits.’’

a/n: hope you all enjoyed my first little blurb!! feel free to request anything bridgerton related <3

#fanfiction #bridgerton #fanfic #bridgerton s3 #colin bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #romancing mister bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x reader

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randomfoggytiger · 2 months

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All Things: Fellig's Fate, Scully's Immortality, and Waterston's Healing

I never subscribed to the "Scully is immortal" theory, but... there might be evidence pointing to, perhaps, a momentary brush with eternal life.

CLYDE BRUCKMAN'S FINAL REPOSE

"All right. So how do I die?"

"You don't."

Two infamous lines from an infamous episode.

Setting aside Darin Morgan's thoughts on the matter (that this was a kindness on Bruckman's part, not foreshadowing), the show has, thus far, provided no through line for immortality to be considered a possible end goal.

Until Season 6.

TITHONUS

Fellig was cursed with immortality after callously hoping Death would take the life of an innocent-- one who was trying to save him-- in his place. The episode showcased his barren existence and empty, unending eternity with a punctuated, nihilistic statement: "Seventy-five years is enough. Take my word for it. You live forever... sooner or later, you start to think about the big thing you're missing and that everybody else gets to find out about but you.... Love lasts seventy-five years, if you're lucky. You don't want to be around when it's gone."

But Fellig was not blessed, nor did he bless others, with love-- an endeavor of sacrifice and respect-- while he lived. More rotations around the sun hadn't worked on that deadened part of himself until he put aside his own goals (quite literally setting his camera aside) to humanely address the tragedy unfolding in front of him (Scully dying.) Even then, not without selfish intent-- hoping to pry the jaws of Death from its newest victim and turn them onto himself.

This leads us to the crux: was Scully given immortality?

Let's presume yes, for this theory. In that case, Fellig's expressions while Death stood over her, her expression after Mulder's rationalizations at her bedside, and the lessons she had yet to learn before all things add up to a grim picture that neatly mirrors her personal journey.

Fellig stopped taking her photograph because he saw an opportunity previous victims hadn't "offered": Death had taken an unusual interest in Scully. Fellig's face changed as he lowered the camera, demanding "Did you see him?" until Scully gave a dazed acknowledgment of some kind-- implying that Scully, like Fellig, saw Death as she lay dying; and Fellig knew it. (But did Scully see Death? That appears to be left up for interpretation-- did she write off what she saw later, or was she blind to Death's presence and thought Fellig was projecting his perceptions or delusions onto her?) Obeying the photographer's instruction (because she believed him, which she half-confesses in the hospital), Scully closed her eyes and lived while Fellig, finally, died.

At Scully's bedside she admitted to but brushed aside her immortality concerns ("You know, Mulder, I don't even know how I entertained the thought. People don't live forever.") However, Mulder's assertion-- "No, I think he would have. I just think that, that death only looks for you... once you seek its opposite"-- destroyed her rationalizations and leaves us, the audience, with similar, unanswered questions.

Death seems discriminatory. But why?

Since Emily, we've known that Scully fears attachment to others-- to life, in a own way-- because of her disruptive childhood. Tithonus pointed out those correlating factors between herself and solitary, loveless Fellig: although his form of detachment is ruthlessly different than hers-- considering human attachments a drag rather than a source of comfort or strength-- both model a form of distancing self-preservation.

If that be the case, the immortality theory could be viewed in a new light: that Death teaches lessons hand-in-glove with Life. Life would give others the chance to attach and learn and grow together while Death would be the respite from those lessons and pains and griefs. And, more importantly, that Death would deny itself to those who haven't learned and grown in Life. Perhaps a concept not dissimilar to Scully's Catholic purgatory, or perhaps one that aligns with the return of restless or reincarnated souls. Perhaps both.

ALL THINGS

all things is the culmination of Scully's advance-and-retreat to life, addressing her choices, doubts, coping mechanisms, and relationships. And while I posit it was necessary for her and Mulder to have started a romantic relationship in order to kickoff the episode's moral crisis (post here), I concede that Tithonus and its ripple effects would still echo behind each step she took regardless of the status of her partnership.

Not only that, but all things also smacks of the more personal aspects of Mulder's and Scully's cases littering Season 6. The episodes following Fight the Future address the irreparable bond of their partnership, from The Beginning to Field Trip; but, more importantly, Season 6 wove Fate-- others' and their own-- into each case: those who were doomed to its inevitability and those who accepted its inevitability in order to change it. Monday's Pam is the prime example of inevitable Fate, but Drive's doomed Crumps and Triangle's lost crew members and Dreamland's disrupted men-in-black and How the Ghosts Stole Christmas's cursed ghosts and S.R. 819's controlled Skinner and One Son's burnt conspirators and Agua Mala's isolated Dales and Arcadia's terrified neighborhood and Alpha's lupus-ed Berquist and Trevor's superpowered Rawls and Milagro's heartless Padgett and etc. all fill the spectrum between Pam's helpless victimization and Fellig's self-victimization. Mulder and Scully were directly affected by these victims: Tithonus was to Scully what Monday was to Mulder; and The Unnatural through Amor Fati was to him what Amor Fati through all things was to her.

We know that Fate has its fatal way with Mulder and Scully's life. Mulder often states (during moods of higher inclination) that their quest is fated, and Scully often saves herself or her partner from various impossible situations. (If one subscribes to The Field Where I Died, she also releases them from a reincarnation cycle-- post here.)

all things itself draws a fated comparison between Scully's choices and Mulder's presence, even in absentia. He is the choice she must make; or lose him, and herself, forever in the annals of some forgotten record book in some secluded library remembered sparsely every few decades. And Scully is deeply afraid of losing herself (to Mulder's quest or through her own choices), at first incorrectly hiding from that fear in Daniel's comfort and their rose-colored past.

In that light, this episode achieves quite a few aims under the umbrella of personal freedom. Scully is enlightened, leading to her spiritual and personal freedom; that enlightenment leads her to embrace life, honoring the choices she made with regards to the men of her past and present; and that embrace allows her to break the chains Fellig passed on to her. She is ready to live-- "death only looks for you once you seek its opposite"-- and die.

A SECONDARY SPECULATION: PASSING ON IMMORTALITY

I have one last thing to posit: Death found in Fellig what Fellig discovered in Scully; and Scully purged herself of that element-- and her immortality-- whilst saving Daniel Waterston's life.

Fate, again, comes to the fore: Mulder sent Scully on an errand for his case-- a loop to Never Again's disgruntled feelings and "orders"-- but that informant taught Scully how to heal herself and "let go." Scully was subsequently drawn to spiritual healing, and brought in a healer to save Waterston before he succumbed to his heart condition.

Spiritual healing, in this case, becomes another word for Death's lesson: thwarting Fate by accepting it. Fellig threw away his life and his happiness by first sacrificing someone else's, Scully was given immortality through Fellig's sacrifice, Colleen Azar saved her own life from self-destruction; and Daniel Waterston is given a second chance because of Fellig, Scully, and Colleen's shared lesson and redemption. And thus, we arrive at the moment of Daniel Waterston's recovery-- or, rather, the moment Scully's immortality is passed on to Daniel, miraculous healing included.

all things ends on the conclusion to Scully's arc, not Waterston's; but reconciliation and change loom largely in the form of his daughter Maggie. If Death is giving Daniel Waterston a second chance, it's up to him to turn it from a curse to a blessing.

However, there's a hitch to this theory: the nurse held Fellig's hand, and Fellig held Scully's hand while immortality played hot potato from one person to the next. all things lacks a scene where Scully passes along her immortality by touch to Daniel Waterston (except their brief contact before his cardiac arrest and after his spiritual healing.) However, the immortality exchanges in Tithonus differ in the minutiae-- the knowledge of the people involved, the health of the people involved, the cooperation of the people involved-- and leave us without any concrete "method" point to. Other than, of course, the reality that Death and Fellig were playing their own game with its own rules; and that Scully's immortality only fits into their picture if she is able to play the same game and beat it. Daniel Waterston squeezes into the final rounds only by a technicality; and his entry could still be debated to the end of time.

POSSIBLE STIPULATIONS

Death, in Tithonus at least, appears to be an impartial agent, passing immortality to the person currently avoiding his eyes. In that case, he would be a neutral-- even malignant-- figure rather than one teaching Dickensian ghost lessons. Death takes life and leaves decay without mercy, burying both the nurse and the photographer eventually.

Yet, we are given this perspective by Fellig himself, a man who views Death as a toying entity.

Separate from Fellig's observations, Death is depicted as a fair but clever judge, one who spares and punishes lives equally. Further, Mulder's examination of Death's motives implies one dark and one redemptive side: "death only looks for you once you seek its opposite" would be inconceivable to a man like Alfred Fellig but could be understood and changed by a woman like Dana Scully.

Fellig's brush with Death began with the barter of one woman's life, bringing to light the cold, calculated part of his personality. He continued to exist in that darkness until one unselfish act foisted his curse upon another woman. Scully, by comparison, internalized the lesson her predecessor avoided most of his unnatural life, and saved herself and another embittered man in the process.

If coincidences are coincidences, why do they feel so contrived?

CONCLUSION

Immortality in The X-Files is either a curse or a kindness, a multidimensional consequence of one's choices and fate.

Fellig, a man consumed by his own motives, viewed it as a cruel, cyclical punishment of Death's. Scully used it as a tool to break her own cycles, save Daniel Waterston, and set herself free. Daniel-- perhaps now similarly cursed-- might have used it to move beyond his own moral failings; or succumbed, again, to the cycle of his own making.

Death, Life, and Fate are the essence of The X-Files's existence, the tools by which its world and characters are shaped. Those who wish to circumvent them are chastised. Those who work alongside them are rewarded. And those who persevere with righteous action and truthful intent despite them are awarded a new path forward.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #meta #mine #All Things: Fellig's Fate Scully's Immortality and Waterston's Healing #S3 #Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose #S6 #Tithonus #S7 #All Things #Scully #Alfred Fellig #Daniel Waterston #Mulder #xfiles #x-files #the x files #xf meta

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adrift-in-thyme · 4 months

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Fairy Time and Fairy Hyrule hanging out? :)

- hero-of-the-wolf

I didn’t expect to enjoy writing these two as much as I do. Alskdldjskdj my precious little fairy boys 🥹

No warnings for this one just some light angst

——————————————————

“Come on!” Hyrule casts a glance over his shoulder, smiling through the rain that runs down it in unending rivulets. “It’s not much further.”

Behind him, Time pushes aside a large leaf, seemingly unbothered by the water that cascades from it.

“What do you mean to show me, Hyrule?” He asks, eyebrow raised. The blue of his eye, the navies and crimsons of the markings on his face and adorning his wings — they almost glow in this world of mossy greens and stormy grays. “You’ve claimed that it’s ’not much further’ several times since the start of our journey.”

Hyrule chuckles. He clambers up the slippery surface of a sizable stone, wings spread to help him balance. Time follows suit.

“Well, this time it’s true.”

He comes to a halt and straightens, peering through the downpour.

A fond smile lifts Time’s lips. “Is it now?”

Hyrule grins. “Yup. Cause we’re here!” He spreads his arms in presentation and sends water droplets flying in all directions. “This is what I wanted to show you!”

“A fairy ring.”

Time breathes the words more than speaks them. A quick glance at his awed expression and Hyrule’s face splits into a grin.

It was no easy feat convincing the hero to follow him out here. If he has learned anything about Time in the past months, it is that the man takes his responsibilities very seriously. A brief break to tell stories along a long path, or a laugh with the others by a crackling fire — those he will take. But to leave the heroes, to go off and explore of his own accord, is something he is less likely to do.

The rain, however, had proven unexpectedly helpful. Time is inexplicably drawn to it. It’s as though there is something in its endless curtains of slate that only he can see, a call only he can hear.

It had been enough, enough to coax him here.

Hyrule flits down into the midst of the dancing mushrooms, excitement fluttering within him. There is great magic in fairy rings. Magic to bring a Hylian peace or healing. Magic to make a fairy feel whole.

He has treasured his time spent in the ones back home. They have soothed his aching body and soul, provided salvation from harm, brought him joy and good company. And now, he wants to be able to share all of that with the man who he believes is beginning to trust him.

The man who is becoming his friend.

“I haven’t seen one of these in a long time,” Time murmurs, tone distant, fond. He runs a hand over the tops of the delicate fungi, watches as their pinkish spores float lazily upwards. “They’re rare in my Hyrule. Well, in all parts except for one.”

Hyrule sprawls out on the moist grass, stares up into the rain.

“Where?”

He can imagine the slow smile on Time’s face, the almost shy duck of his head.

“Kokiri Forest.”

He comes to sit beside the traveler. His wings waft gently back and forth, sending raindrops dancing out of their natural path. Fairy dust floats around them, enveloping the two fae in a haze of purples and pinks, emerald and blues. Hyrule turns to peer at him through it.

“Kokiri Forest…I don’t think you’ve mentioned it before.”

“I haven’t?” Time’s lips lift in the ghost of a grin. “Ah, well, it was my home. Before Malon, that is.”

He looks up at the sky and the rain cascades down his face like tears. “I suppose, a part of me will always rest there…though I can never return.”

It is silent for a long moment. Then, Hyrule sits up and gently bumps his shoulder.

“You know my favorite part of fairy rings, old man?” He asks, grinning. “No matter how far away you are, no matter how long it’s been, they always make you feel like you’re right back there. Back home.”

Time sighs and it trembles a bit at the end. But he doesn’t pull away from the traveler’s touch. He leans into it instead, if only slightly, and raises a hand to try and catch some of the more energetic pieces of dust.

“Yes,” he murmurs, softly, as the forest sings with the notes of an oddly familiar song.

“Home.”

#tysm for the prompt <3 #lovely hero-of-the-wolf #trin writes #fairy time au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #lu hyrule #fluff #I love fairy rings #I saw one on a hike once and got giddy lol #idk they’re just so cool #and coming up with headcanons for them here was fun #gonna have to write about them again sometime

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steddieunderdogfics · 2 months

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: Cchapsticck! @cchapsticck has 9 fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@dreamwatch recommends the following works by @cchapsticck

UNTITLED RECORDING rcd ca. 1987-1988

ANACRUSIS ca. 1987

RED ATMOSPHERES rcd. 1995

THE UNENDING HOWL EP rcd. 1999

wait, runner

"cchapsticck's Eddie is one of my all time favourites. It's one of the most complex depictions of Eddie I’ve every read; every work is a beautiful character study. Eddie’s history and trauma are laid bare; it feels real, and it hurts. cchapsticck’s writing is just insanely good, lines hit like massive gut punches. I love the METALHEAD series so, so much, and if you're a fan of 'musician Eddie' fics then it's a must read. Every fic is incredible, hit after hit. Writing this good deserves to be celebrated." -- @dreamwatch

Below the cut, @cchapsticck answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’ll be honest, it's probably exclusively because of Eddie. I’ve been a fan of Stranger Things since its original release but wasn’t really participating in the fandom side of things until season 4. As a Dungeons and Dragons nerd with an abrasive taste in music myself, of course there was the kindred spirit-ness of Eddie’s introduction to the series, but more than that he made the normal midwestern town of Hawkins feel more a character than a setting to me than it had been previously, and that really amplified my interest in his character and the space he takes up in the narrative environment that were only just then learning about. There were so many implications about him and about Hawkins that were just left on the table that I couldn’t get enough of. Prior to season 4 Steve had been my favorite character, I’d always been invested in his little redemption roadtrip and his “otherness” stumbling blocks over the seasons. How he’s cultivated this arc of rallying against an archetype that’s comfortable but worse for him in the long term - and I found myself really excited by Eddie’s sort-of inversion of that same journey as Steve’s. Both of them still sort of stuck in their ways assigning social value based on arbitrary factors and are comfortable in the more judgmental impulses they have when they first really meet, but they’re coming from opposite perspectives on the nerd/jock hierarchy and the self imposed tensions between them there and what it might take beyond the actual end of the world to overcome those things. I love a mess.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I wouldn’t say that I’m a reader who specifically seeks out any one particular trope over another in the strictest sense, I have the capacity to be just as invested as an enemies to lovers as I am a childhood friends to lovers, kind of thing. But generally speaking I love a character study - I genuinely enjoy works that have the creators really deeply held headcanons and making a whole world with and around it, I love some angst - I’ll never say no to a little melodrama. I really enjoy work with a really strong point of view, and I like to be sad.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love an unreliable narrator, I love a flawed perspective, I love a narrator who lies to themselves (and you, dear reader) a little about what’s going on. I have a lot of fun as a writer getting into the way we talk to ourselves about the things we’re living with and the shapes we bend ourselves into to do the living.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is hard, I have read so many impactful fics I could easily fire off 5 right now but for the sake of brevity I will say this: I rotate afterlight by Kostas around in my head like a rotisserie chicken on the regular. There’s such a deeply felt and embodied sense of Eddie’s past throughout, and how it manifests in his present - as well as some genuinely charming details about Eddie’s present and his benign quirks that have only helped compile his bad reputation and how the life he had prior to getting wrapped up in the supernatural fits into the public narrative of canon events. The very nostalgic vibes of fall and what we of the American midwest get up to at that time feel so real. And it's so genuinely sweet, the getting-togtherness, while also being not-that-simple. It has so much going for it, really truly, and navigates and emotional complexity and honesty that I’m envious of as a writer.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve written very little about Dungeons and Dragons in all of my writing about Eddie and Stranger Things (I guess a lightweight AU not withstanding?), and that feels like such a missed opportunity for me to have a lot of fun. I’ve been playing Dungeons and Dragons since I was in high school, I have such a deep love for ttrpgs and collaborative storytelling but man, 1e of D&D is so dense and incomprehensible part of me wonders if it's actually really boring to write about to-hit statistics and spreadsheets but alas it stands as a really nerdy sirensong to me.

What is your writing process like?

It's a whole mess. It’s genuinely a wonder I get anything done. I tend to get fixated on granular character things that I want to explore and it all sort of explodes outward from there. I’m almost entirely a stream of consciousness writer, and I usually only loosely have specific beats or emotional landmarks I want to hit when I begin writing but it's a pretty amorphous sense of what I’m trying to write. I tend to write mostly chronologically while I’m in that first pass of story dumping and it’s pretty rare the structure changes dramatically after that. From there I make several editing passes to fix anything from grammatical errors to character voice. I’m pretty sure I could be in the “nit pick it to death” phase forever and have to bully myself into calling it quits in order to publish.

Do you have any writing quirks?

My perspective might be a little flawed, but I think I tend to write without an abundance of plot? I think it's a product of how I write; where there aren’t a series of events that I hope to navigate, but more a series of emotional car crashes I wish to describe? I also make playlists for everything. Sometimes a playlist is 3 hours of music, other times it’s about 4 songs I listen to on a loop while I write. Each of my published works have a pretty distinct “theme song”.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, finished writing - no question. I cannot be held to a schedule, I’m so allergic to it. I am horrifically at the mercy of my fickle creative drive. I struggle with writer’s block not infrequently and I’ve definitely put myself in situations writing on a schedule where I felt like I had to brute force my way through the block to meet a publishing goal and ultimately wasn’t happy with what I put out there because I didn’t give myself the kind of time I need to work.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I think that goes to dog at the door. It definitely was the fic that gave me the most trouble, and challenged me the most with what I wanted to accomplish and how it forced me to deviate from my normal writing process, I’ve never written suspense or horror before and I genuinely do not have an objective read on how successful that was. I have mixed feelings about the piece as a whole, but I’m proud of the work and of myself for sticking with it and getting it out there despite the way it challenged and frustrated me at times.

How did you get the idea for UNTITLED RECORDING rcd ca. 1987-1988?

I grew up in the Great Lakes area in the not too distant future of the events of the show in a semi-rural/semi-suburban town that Hawkins always reminded me of. Similarly, I spent a lot of my teenage years in go-nowhere bands and driving around the state at basement shows for other go-nowhere bands and I had been thinking about the kind of community that experience that built for me at that time, and at the time - in the fandom, I was seeing a lot of Rockstar Eddie and I was very charmed by this desire a lot of people in the fandom seemed to be having about affording him a kind of positive notoriety, for once in all of our various hypothetical futures. And that personal reflection of a period of my own life, plus what was spinning around the ecosystem of the fandom at the time sort of coalesced into this character study I wanted to do about The Midwest and Alternative Music and Finding Yourself Authentically within the boundaries of those spaces. Steddie wormed its way into the concept because one, I like it. Two, as much as it's clear that Hawkins is a burden to Eddie and his character, I think the same can be said for Steve, but again, a little in reverse. It's good to leave your hometown, even when you’re comfortable and welcome there. It felt like an appropriate experience for them to both have, together, to different ends.

When writing UNTITLED RECORDING rcd ca. 1987-1988, what was something you didn’t expect?

That there was going to be so much of it! METALHEAD, the series, was initially just the first UNTITLED segment and when I’d wrapped that up I realized there was more I wanted to do. Both with form and I just felt like I wasn’t quite done with this version of Eddie I was writing, it didn’t feel like the whole story even though I felt like I’d written the whole story. No idea if that even makes sense.

What inspired ANACRUSIS ca. 1987?

Honestly, I think I mostly just wanted to try to write Steve’s voice and perspective. I only briefly described the “getting together” moment in UNTITLED and I thought it would be kind of fun to have that exist more concretely, but I’d already established Eddie’s perspective on it by that point and to retell that moment from his perspective felt needlessly repetitive, so there really seemed like there was only one appropriate narrator. And while I was writing it I think I realized I wanted there to be some kind of indicator that despite things going well and being good in UNTITLED, they were still sort of missing each other where they were at, in that moment.

What was your favorite part to write from RED ATMOSPHERES rcd. 1995?

The periodical segments! I actually had a lot of fun looking up back issues of genre magazines from the time. I definitely lost a lot of writing hours just reading Metal Edge. I used to read Kerrang! and AP when I was a teenager and I remembered the articles in those magazines always had a certain kind of journalistic voice and I wanted to try to capture some of that from those periodicals. Ultimately I think I ended up abandoning a lot of that specific tone and erring a little more contemporary with the focus and tone because I wanted the journalistic perspective on Eddie as a sort-of public figure to serve a specific contrast to the reality of his inner life, but it was a fun research project to be sure.

How do/did you feel writing THE UNENDING HOWL EP rcd. 1999?

I think HOWL had about 3 or 4 false starts, I had all these ideas for it to be a lot of different things when I first set out to wrap up METALHEAD and I stalled out on every single one of them. The scope was really broad and I was struggling to pull out anything that felt important in what I was writing. It was really discouraging for a long time because I felt really committed to this final element of the series and I wanted this sort-of catharsis at the end of it all, fragile as it kind of ended up being, but I just could not write something that was working for me. I couldn’t say why or how, but it was actually a The Wonder Years song that made everything click into place about funerals and closure and yadda yadda yadda but up until that moment there was a lot of doubting myself and floundering to finish the series. I think my relationship with HOWL is still a little fragile, as a result of me feeling really insecure about its process, but I think ultimately I’m proud of being able to just to finish an undertaking like METALHEAD.

What was the most difficult part of writing wait, runner?

Fighting the desire to make everything okay! runner started its life as a lot of scrapped sections of UNTITLED and some cut material from my first ST fic, sunflower broke because it became clear to me I was preoccupied with certain elements of Eddie’s inner life; staying in Hawkins, being a pariah, self medication, etc. and so much of that and its place in a post-canon-Eddie-lives world is tremendously bleak. So it felt dishonest to make some kind of unambiguously and clearly happy way forward, but the self loathing and self doubt I was writing in that piece felt so oppressive I kept catching myself trying to mitigate some of that and make these characters happy and I kept having to back down from it because it wasn’t really the point of any of these writerly meditations on this character.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I really enjoyed writing the very low stakes banter in head line, particularly Steve and Eddie being able to talk about their respective reputations without getting too deep into it: “Well then let me fill you in: I’m bad news. Headline bad news.” “Sure, but I like you.” Sure, like he agrees. But, like it doesn’t matter.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Not so much! I have a few fics in the works that I’m hoping I can massage into something fit for public viewing but I’m not really working on a timeline right now.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Oh gosh, not much. Just a thank you to who nominated me, I am genuinely touched. But also to thank the mods of this blog, this is really wonderful work you’re doing here!

Thank you to our author, @cchapsticck, and our nominator, @dreamwatch! See more of Cchapsticck's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers

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sae-rins · 2 years

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Your Dear Academic Rival

Reo Mikage, Rin Itoshi x Reader (separated)

genre : fluff

Reo Mikage

Upon arriving to school, you sat in your typical location. You take your textbooks and begin reading right away. That is, until you identified Reo Mikage attempting to take a seat next to you. That was the person seated next to you. Your ultimate rival at school.

Then you asked him after giving him a puzzled expression. Why are you seated next to me? I'm not interested in dealing with your obnoxious girlfriends. He took a very long time to respond, but he eventually said. Our teacher teamed us up for a performance task, did you not read her message at the class group chat?

You then apologized and said. I didn’t have time to open my phone, my apologies.

You and your partner went to the library to discuss the assignment as soon as the teacher ended her discussion. You each took the books you needed for the assignment and sat next to one another once more.

While exchanging concepts, you two stared at one another. Reo continued his unending explanations as you started writing them down. The moment you realized Reo had stopped talking and was instead just gazing at you, you came to a stop.

What? You asked him with such an curious expression. Immediately afterward, he said. Nothing. You are really lovely.

Reo, your academic opponent, had just called you "lovely," and you were surprised to hear those words. You cannot, however, pretend that you did not also believe Reo to be incredibly attractive and wealthy. Although being aware of your crush on him, you decided to keep it a secret.

You thought you were way out of Reo's league, and there were plenty of girls who idolized him who were far better compared to you.

But you weren't expecting him to compliment you on your beauty. Was it merely a compliment, or does he have feelings for you? Right now, your head is spinning with ideas.

You didn't even realize you were looking directly at Reo, but he was staring back. He then took hold of your hand. And it jolted you awake. He went on to say.

Please give me a chance. I understand that it may appear that I despise you because we are academic rivals. But deep down, I've always admired you; you're both smart and beautiful. I've been watching you for a long time. I like you, so please accept my recognition.

You were surprised to learn that he liked you. There was no longer any reason to suppress your emotions. You then said, Reo, I may be rude to you at times, but I adore you; I've always admired you, but I assumed I was out of your league. I genuinely like you, Reo.

Itoshi Rin

The wind was cold, blazing through The windows of the school. Your hair sways within the breeze, You did not have a Jacket, Nor did you have any Gloves to protect you from this Cold Weather.

Being Beleaguered, You continue your walk to Your House. Bushes and trees rustling throughout Your Circumjacent.

Focused on your journey home, you did not notice Rin beside you.

Rin has always infuriated you. He's been your academic rival for ages, but because you're neighbors, you often see one another when you're on your way home. It's always awkward, but you try to strike up a conversation all the time.

Hey Rin.

Yeah?

Why are you so hostile toward me? You stare at me like I'm some hideous creature.

I don't hate you; I just appear to be like that.

Oh.

Rin was simply breathtaking. If looks could kill, he would have killed you long ago; you think he's charming but wouldn't allow yourself to admit it because the manner in which he stares at you as if you're a creature prevents you from confessing to him. You were afraid of being rejected by him.

Rin began to notice your hands shivering a bunch. Because your jacket was too short to reach your hands, you began to rub and blow on them in an attempt to warm them up.

Rin grabbed your hand and held it. He wasn’t looking at you but you were looking at him. He was blushing, you could see he tried to look at the other side to hide his face but you could notice the blush on his ears.

You didn’t wanna hold back your feelings anymore so you decided to tell Rin.

Rin I like you.

I like you to you lukewarm creature

Maybe you shouldn't have told him you liked him since he had simply labeled you a lukewarm creature.

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love-and-deepspace-fanfic · 4 months

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Rafayel Fanfic - Echos in Crimson Wine

I’m writing this delulu in honor of my bestie fishie Selene. Hope you have fun with my delulu so far!

Imagine if your first encounter with Rafayel is at the bar…

Echo in Crimson Wine

Selene swirled the amber liquid in her glass, the dim bar lights deepening the crimson hues of the wine and mirroring the melancholic mood that clung to her like a shroud. Today had been a relentless assault on her spirit. From her boss's lecherous ogling to her backstabbing colleague's envy, her days at the small company felt like an unending cycle of frustration. She'd naively believed it would foster independence, but the company's hierarchy was a viper's nest, leaving those like her, stuck in the middle, with nowhere to turn. Advancement wasn't based on merit; it was a ruthless game of nepotism and sycophancy, a game she refused to play.

Though raised in an orphanage, her adoptive grandmother had instilled in her the value of self-reliance. Yet, sometimes, her strong will was no match for the physical and emotional toll of the day. Now, she found herself drowning in a sea of self-doubt.

Perhaps the source of her melancholy wasn't solely work-related. Her beloved grandmother's recent words echoed in her mind, fueled by the neighborhood gossipmongers. At 26, with her looks and personality, they'd whispered that her success reeked of manipulation, a notion that worried her grandmother and prompted the suggestion to find a partner.

Selene didn't scoff at love. In fact, she craved a passionate, all-consuming connection. But settling for just anyone because of societal expectations was anathema to her. She yearned for a soulmate, someone who mirrored her mind and spirit, someone who knew what he wanted, and in that wanting, included her. That was the kind of love she sought. But a strange hollowness gnawed at her. There was a gap in her past, a time before her grandmother, a missing piece she couldn't grasp. It felt shrouded in mist, a forgotten memory just out of reach. These feelings often manifested in dreams – strange, interwoven tapestries where she'd walk underwater one moment and traverse a scorching desert the next. The dreams felt real, and within them, a constant presence: a figure that sometimes observed silently and sometimes walked beside her, a companion on a long, arduous journey. But whenever she woke, the figure remained a hazy silhouette.

Closing her eyes, she let the alcohol numb the turmoil within. A sudden prickle of awareness sent shivers down her spine. The feeling was so familiar, it felt like an extension of her dreams. She looked up, her vision blurred. The bar was quiet, save for the bartender. A lone figure sat a few stools away, his form shadowed by the darkness, only his eyes glowing with an intensity that both captivated and unnerved her.

Fueled by the liquor's boldness, she slurred, "Excuse me... mister, is your hobby... hic... watching pretty women at bars?"

Though she couldn't see him clearly, a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. Could her day be so miserable that even a stranger felt compelled to mock her? The alcohol muddled her thoughts, leaving a bitter taste of resentment. She pushed herself up from the stool and swayed towards him, her eyes straining to pierce the dimness. As she drew closer, she realized he was even taller and more handsome than she'd imagined. His sharp features were framed by neatly styled hair, and his eyes seemed to shift between the cerulean blue of the ocean and the fiery red of burning embers, adding an air of mystery to his already captivating presence.

A hint of something unreadable played on his lips as he spoke, his voice a deep, captivating rumble. "Good evening miss, my name is Rafayel. And watching pretty women is certainly not the only reason I'm here."

Intrigued, Selene raised an eyebrow. "Then what brings you here?"

Rafayel took a measured sip of his drink, his gaze locking with hers. "I came here," he said, his voice a low caress, "to meet you."

Selene's breath hitched. What did he mean? Did he know her?

A knowing smile graced Rafayel's lips. "Don't you remember me, Selene? We've met before."

She strained to recall, but her memories yielded nothing. The man before her was a complete stranger, yet a strange sense of familiarity tugged at the edges of her mind. With a face like his, surely she would remember. But her past remained frustratingly opaque. Despite the mystery surrounding him, there was a curious sense of security in his presence, a feeling of coming home, a feeling that echoed from her dreams. Wait, why was she feeling this way about a complete stranger? Who was he?

Confusion warred with curiosity, furrowing her brow.

The inebriation weighed heavily on her, slowing her thoughts and reactions. Before she could voice her question, Rafayel's arm shot out, catching her as she began to lose her balance. His gaze held a depth that seemed to speak volumes, a swirling mix of intensity and a hidden fire, as if harboring secrets locked away for years.

Leaning in close, he murmured something cryptic in her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "It seems not all is lost."

His words washed over her like a wave, strangely calming despite their enigmatic nature. A sense of peace settled over her, as if she were submerging herself in the cool embrace of the ocean. Letting out a soft sigh, she leaned into his touch, her eyelids fluttering closed. The intoxicating scent of his cologne, mingled with a faint hint of sea water, filled her senses. A strange sense of contentment washed over her, chasing away the anxieties of the day. The alcohol finally claimed her, pulling her into a slumber, safe and secure in the arms of this enigmatic stranger.

Rafayel gently stroked her hair, his touch feather-light. Scooping her up effortlessly, he carried her towards the exit, the barkeep offering a respectful bow in his wake. Longing coursed through him, a fierce possessiveness threatening to consume him. He yearned to hold her close, to whisper the words that had been locked away for so long,

“I’ve finally found you, Selene. And this time, there will be no escape."

#rafayel #rafayel x mc #rafayel x reader #lada #lads #lads x mc #lads x reader #love and deepspace #romantic #bar #fanfic #fanfiction #lnds #lnd x reader #Spotify

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pranaextirpated · 1 year

Text

Appease

genre: explicit smut (mdni) pairing: al-haitham/reader word count: 0.8k

tags: f/m, rough sex, doggy style, creampie, married couple, some fluff

a/n: an older fic i wrote back in september. i remember writing this so fast when sumeru was just released lol

He’s frustrated. Extremely frustrated.

The reputation of a lunatic is to be upheld by none other than Al-Haitham, whose apathy overrides any resemblance of criticism flung at him. As long as his rationality serves him use, he isn't going to adhere to the standards set forth by the Akademiya or become the Grand Sage’s menial guinea pig.

But everyone has their own limits. Al-Haitham’s breaking point had finally snapped, and to counteract that— what other way can he relieve himself from the dreadful coil than fucking you?

Archons, he dearly missed you— a week has passed since your last physical rendezvous with him, as his journey to research a mysterious knowledge capsule in Port Ormos required overnight sojourns for completion. It wasn’t his intention to use you as a personal outlet like this, but the ridicule that he was reprimanded by earlier today leaves a bruising grip on your hips as he pounds into your slick cunt from behind.

You don’t have to listen to the reasoning behind his attitude tonight. After all, the position of the Scribe entails a heavy commitment to the unending quest for knowledge. Al-Haitham is an incorrigible man to please most people except you.

Your hands tightly fist onto the crumpled sheets below, back arching from the searing pleasure as each pronounced slam vibrates against your walls. Al-Haitham is far more aggressive than usual, evident by the harsh exhales and uncontrollable carnal growls from his parted lips. A thin sheet of sweat dampens the grey fringe to his forehead, tiny beads rolling off on his sculpted torso.

Your mind can’t comprehend his inhuman stamina, too hazy by the lewd smacks of his balls slapping onto your butt cheeks. He’s rutting into your heat as if he’ll combust anytime soon, dripping semen from previous orgasms soiling onto the sheets below. Your arms falter from the lack of strength, allowing your head to plop onto the ornate pillow below as Al-Haitham ravages every inch of your insides.

“Those damned sages… Calling my dissertation— blasphemous? A week gone to waste,” he scowls, eyebrows deeply creasing in further vexation. “Pacifying those senile fools is nigh impossible, even if it means overworking to death!”

Any coherency is dissipated from the tip of your tongue as debauched moans and mewls reverberate in its absence.

“Fortunately, for me… I have you,” he hovers closely, the warm breath fanning the shell of your ear. “A lovely wife... deserves to be fucked by their husband, isn’t that right?” He taunts in a hushed tone, earning him a pitiful whine in feedback. All forms of self-control are buried underneath the depths of lust and desire, with the way his vermillion pupils dilate from the washing waves of raw pleasure.

No warning is uttered as your core crumbles into fragments, involuntarily climaxing and clenching around his cock again. Al-Haitham catches up shortly after, hips stuttering erratically from the impending orgasm. The milky ribbons coat your walls in a final round— he furrows his eyebrows and screws his eyelids shut, stilling himself to relish the fleeting moment before the cusp.

Al-Haitham’s features relax as he ejects himself out of you, leaking cum and proceeding to drip onto the plushness of your thighs. Your legs fall limp like a ragdoll, too fatigued to turn over as your husband leans over to the drawer and extinguishes the lone candlelight with a quick blow. He plops down next to your trembling figure, tugging the bedspread to barely cover the immodesty and enclosing his arms around you for security. A twinge of guilt pokes his heart.

“Ana aasif yaa qamari. Was I too rough?”

“N-no… Do not fret, love. I enjoyed it, really,” you offer a weak squeeze to his wrist for reassurance.

Al-Haitham hums, unconvinced. As another form of his apology, his lips make way to your trapezius, delicately trailing a small path of butterfly kisses to tickle your glowing skin.

His biceps flex around your sides, hand cupping yours to intertwine his calloused fingers with your dainty ones. Your eyelids droop from the numbing fatigue, lulling you into a deep slumber, but not before he professes—

“To’brini yaa galbi.”

—

You suppose that the inevitable would happen, to discover him absent the next dawn as the young maids will tend to your needs in his place instead. The orange sun begins to supersede the silver moon, orange hues clashing with twilight blues in a gradient as the warm colors overtake the sky.

To your slight surprise, Al-Haitham silently remains at your presence, with unmoving hands still lovingly clasped together on the bedsheet. However, it also pains you that you’re unable to view his face in this moment— surely, any sudden movement would cause a disturbance to his rest. It’s a tranquil sight as you imagine— serenity etching on his smooth contour and shut eyes, coupled with the steady tone of his quiet breathing— a stark contrast from the previous night.

A meek confession fills in the lingering quietude.

"I love you."

Sleep washes over your crystal eyes to drift you off once more, and the subtle, hidden smile blesses his lips.

#alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #alhaitham #genshin #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #alhaitham x you #writings #i added arabic lol

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bnuuywol · 1 year

Photo

WOLCRED WEEK 2023

Day 4: RAIN│SPARKS

Just like that, it was as if they were back on their first mission together that rainy day in Thanalan. Just the two of them. Urianger insisted.

Thancred feels similar to how he did then. Oh, how Phoenyx used to fawn over him, too nervous to admit how he felt. Thancred reveled in it, not realizing that he’d fallen for him as well until it was too late. How deeply he yearns for him now as he once did all those years ago. It should be easier. After all, they spent some time in a relationship before his soul got swept into the First. But now, plagued by the fear that grew in the five years without him, he knows not where to begin again.

Phoenyx is right there in front of him, standing amongst the sparks shedding from the endless Light above them... and yet, he’s never felt so far away.

#ffxiv #ffxiv wol #wolcred #wolcred week 2023 #thancred waters #phoenyx eldritch #a realm reborn era #shadowbringers era #my edits #my writing #i swear one of these prompts will be angstless #the unending journey

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doyouknowthischaracter · 8 months

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RANDOM ASKS GRAB BAG

Putting a bunch of answered asks in one post so I don't spam your dashes too much. Under the cut because it's a very long post. If your ask isn't here, don't worry! The ask box is far from empty, and I'm sorta trying to group them by topic. Enjoy?

Anonymous asked: you mentioned in another ask that there were a few things you were probably going to check out from doing these polls and I was just curious which ones those are, if you don't mind sharing fjdjsj

I don't mind sharing! I had to go through the archive to remember which ones I wanted to check out, but a few of them would be The Walten Files, Red vs. Blue, The Murderbot Diaries, I Am In Eskew, and The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality. Many of the characters posted here look interesting, but I'm such a slow watcher/player/reader/etc. that it'd take me decades to go through everything lol

Anonymous asked: Have you considered doing like uhhh idk how to explain properly, but statistics/data from loads of polls in a summary every so often? I've seen some poll blogs do a most known/least known type bar graph every so often. And I would be super interested in seeing this sort of thing for this blog!! It's fair enough if not though, obviously this would create a lot of extra work for you. Anyway, thanks for running this blog :-) Anonymous asked: I just asked a question about seeing the data statistics/ bar graphs - please ignore it! Just reread your pinned and realised I'd missed that bit :'). BUT, last point remains, thank you for running this blog and putting up with repetitive anons I bet aksjskdjsk

I haven't put the data in a graph yet, but if I figure out how to organize that in a way that's both comprehensible and actually tells us something new, I'll give it a try for sure. Until then, we do have the spreadsheet. And no worries, I'm glad you're enjoying the blog! :)

Anonymous asked: *sees a poll blog* "I must answer each and every poll I can"

Godspeed on your journey and remember to stay hydrated! 🫡

Anonymous asked: this is my favorite blog! Every morning I wake up and check the polls like they're the paper, just to say "I don't know them" Truely a humbling experience!

Happy to be your neighborhood paperboy!

@iceice-baeby asked: Are olyou fearing the day someone submits Solid Snake from MGS and you will choose the wrong picture Because everyone always seems to choose the wrong picture

The only difficulty will be in not using this one:

Anonymous asked: Just scrolled back through your blog up to posts from Dec 3rd and I know why those polls are closed now but I cannot describe the genuine anguish I felt seeing Mr Orange and going NO I KNOW HIM - I KNOW HIM!!!! Anyway I found this blog like ten minutes ago and I love it

Don't worry, he's A-OK! 👍

(Also, thanks! I appreciate your dedication.)

Anonymous asked: scrolling through to catch up on the characters and knowing a whole three of them was so bizarre. im not supposed to press the yes i know them button, im supposed to do my sworn duty and vote no with unending confusion. the world has been flipped on its head 😵‍💫

I bet the next 30 were characters you've never heard of, just for balance to be restored.

Anonymous asked: Whenever i misclick I feel sooooo bad like im sorry my dear friend for not recognizing you I apologize for my rudeness

No polls so far ended with only one vote difference between answers, so you don't have to feel too bad. For now. 👀

Anonymous asked: this is fun cause i’ve definitely submitted some characters but i’ve immediately forgotten who. so i’ll also be pleasantly surprised to see my beloveds on the blog.

A gift from you to you, courtesy of unreliable memory! Sweet!

Anonymous asked: Devastating. I keep missing the voting for the only characters I know.

You'll do it one day, I believe in you!!

@iceice-baeby asked: Would you consider writing in the tags if YOU know a character or not You have done it sometimes before, but I'd be curious if you do recognise some of those random niche as all hell blorbos Also I can't wait for my Blorbos turn. Because either He-and-she is gonna take most obscure place, OR I will actually find maybe more than two people, myself included, who know him-and-her and who I can ramble at for hours until they block me

Oh yeah, for sure. I didn't think anyone would be interested to know, but I can do that when I remember to!

Did your blorbo show up already?

Anonymous asked: I have been having the opposite problem of everyone else, apparently. I'll see a name and be like, "I don't know who that is". But then I see the picture and realize… Yes I do!

That's why I take the time to include fitting pictures, helps jog the memory!

Anonymous asked: I feel very superior every time I know a character most people don't

Hey, nobody likes a show-off. (<- Joking)

Anonymous asked: Wait, has Beetlejuice not been submitted?? I could've sworn I submitted the musical version! Anonymous asked: Oh wait no I didn't submit musical Beetlejuice to you, got you mixed up with @/every-character-ever-poll lol my bad

Indeed he hasn't been submitted yet, maybe next time!

@thetisming asked: sorry for saying something negative in the replies to a post someone was being a dick about jukebox musicals

No worries, but don't let it get to you. People are allowed to dislike your favorite things even without any good reason. It's a matter of taste, which is highly subjective. It's more constructive to focus your attention on people who do enjoy the same things as you!

@autism-criminal asked: What is your favorite color of the rainbow (red orange yellow green blue indigo purple) ?

Orange! 🍊 What's yours? :)

Anonymous asked: "data is not accurate" bro if ur going to a tumblr poll blog for accurate data you NEED to reassess some things asdfghjkl; anyway this blog is great thank you for running it it's a lot of fun and has resulted in some very funny interactions between me and my fiance. notably "what the fuck do you MEAN 6% of the sans undertale website doesn't know who sans undertale is" and "i'm sorry i simply don't believe that ANYONE doesn't know who DRACULA is"

Different people come here with different expectations, I suppose. Which is fine, I don't mind, but they're bound to be disappointed if they expect 100% accuracy all the time. But anyway! I'm happy to hear I can provide a new form of enrichment for you and your fiancé!

@sweetpollyolliver asked: So many manga and anime characters and I know like 1% of them 😭

I'm ngl, I'm not a big manga/anime connoisseur either, so I'm just as lost as you most of the time lol 🤝 (<- shaking hands in solidarity)

@cringelordofchaos asked: If I go insane one day I am going to try to make an English translation for Mesec Boje Purpura so everyone can know who veštica Noks is

I'm fully behind you! Keep us updated if you do.

Anonymous asked: I scroll through your blog. I don’t recognise any of these characters. ‘No,’ I click, ‘no,’ ‘no,’ ‘no.’ I am content in the darkness of the rock I live under. But, alas, all things must end. I continue my scroll, the glee of the irrelevant rampant in my veins. But what’s this? It can’t be… My shelter is cruelly ripped away and the brutal light of knowledge seeks me out like a bloodhound, it gives me no place to hide. ‘Yes,’ I sob, defeated, ‘Yes, I do know the jjba character.’

A modern-day Greek tragedy, truly 💔

Anonymous asked: was really surprised to vote and see that a character was 100% know them. then I noticed I got there early enough to be the only vote

For one shining, brilliant moment they were 100% known and surely that counts for something.

Anonymous asked: You should make up a character and make a poll for them and see how many people lie or misclick

Well....... I'm not going to comment on that. 🐰

Anonymous asked: I follow this blog and another blog that does smash or pass and occassionally I will come to one of your posts and examine the images to decide and then remember this blog's gimmick before trying to hit smash

Imagine voting smash there and then coming here to vote "I don't know them at all" on the same character. Brutal.

@ink7blot asked: *sees big naturals* I hate that. *reblogs*

A job well done, then 😌

#dyktc chatter #asks #not a poll #anonymous #iceice-baeby #thetisming #autism-criminal #sweetpollyolliver #cringelordofchaos #ink7blot #phew that was a lot

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peterrefur · 5 months

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The days we knew ⅏ Wilbur Soot x GN!Reader

Summary: Wilbur returns from Limbo. Reader reminisces about L'Manberg. Wilbur visits Reader's restaurant, and they recognize each other. Notes: Hey Mate!!! I’m Peter and I say right away that English is not my first language. I’m curious to hear your opinion about this work in the comments! Enjoy!

I am trying to get back to writing after a long break. This story is not the pinnacle of my abilities, but it is the beginning of my return to writing.

𝒲hispers and rumors spread like wildfire about his return from hell. A hell that he referred to as Limbo .

𝒜ccording to tales, this was where every soul must journey after departing from the mortal world, each Limbo tailored to the individual's experiences and memories. Some say his Limbo took the form of an endless underground metro system, with never-ending tunnels and trains that always arrived at the same station no matter how many times he boarded them.

𝐻is screams were said to be so deafeningly loud and relentless that they would echo through the night and linger for weeks, until he inevitably started screaming anew upon waking. Each scream was like a violent eruption from his chest, tearing at his vocal cords until blood filled his throat and spilled from his lips. His cries were like a tortured symphony, haunting and unyielding, they painted a picture of his anguish as a tortured symphony, echoing through the corridors of his mind long after reality had fallen silent. His knuckles, once sturdy bastions of strength, now lay bare, stripped down to the bone by the unyielding assault against the harsh concrete wall. The bones beneath threatened to breach the surface, a grim testament to his unwavering resolve. Deep furrows marred his palms, etched by the relentless barrage, a stark reminder of his unending battle. Deep grooves crisscrossed his palms from the repeated beatings, leaving behind a permanent reminder of his struggles. His nails, once neat and trimmed, were now jagged and torn off in places from desperate attempts to claw his way out. They bent backwards, painfully pulling away from the fleshy tips of his fingers.

𝐹or years, he had drifted in and out of sleep, unsure if he was truly awake or trapped in the never-ending purgatory of Limbo. He had grown accustomed to the unchanging landscape of darkness and despair, where hunger and pain were constant companions. But eventually, he came to the realization that this was an eternal torment - a hell without end. No matter how much he struggled or what he did, death would not release him from this cursed existence. His only escape was to endure and hope for some sort of redemption beyond this bleak realm.

𝒩o respite, no escape - just an unending abyss of torment.

𝒜t least that's what they say in town when Reader goes to get groceries from their quaint little restaurant. They fondly remember the days when their establishment was nestled within the borders of L'Manberg, a place where soldiers sought refuge after grueling battles and found comfort in the hearty soups and flavorful dishes they cooked up. Aromas of savory herbs and spices wafted through the air as customers eagerly awaited their meals, their spirits lifted by the warm atmosphere and delicious food.

The memories flood back to them as they recall the prestigious guests who frequented their restaurant. The elegant President of L'Manburg himself had made special visits for diplomatic meetings, seeking the comfort and privacy of their establishment. And they always made sure to serve him their nationally famous dish - Noodles with meat. The aroma alone was enough to make mouths water - a rich, savory broth simmered for hours, perfectly cooked hand-prepared noodles that they could tell were ready just by the color and texture, tender pieces of pork carefully placed on top. But it wasn't just about the taste - the presentation was just as important. Carrots, chives, and other fresh garnishes adorned the bowl, along with a sprinkling of sesame seeds and a dollop of fiery chili paste for those who dared.

𝒯his dish had become synonymous with significant events in the history of this young country, and the Reader couldn't help but feel proud knowing their humble restaurant played a part in shaping its culture and identity.

A very pleasant past that Reader misses. They remember those times with a smile.

𝐻owever, amidst the comfortable thoughts in their mind, there are also haunting memories of Pogtopia. They can still feel the weight of poverty and fear that shrouded their daily life like a thick fog. The memories of living in the canyon for what seemed like endless months flood back to them. Yet, as they try to recall the time frame, it all becomes a blur, the days and years blending together into one hazy period of turmoil. Such is the impact that time had on their memories of that place.

𝒯he unrelenting grip of poverty, the constant gnawing fear of death, the monotonous routine of preparing potatoes day after day. They had so many potatoes that they ate them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, struggling to find new ways to cook them - boiled, roasted over a fire, mashed into a purée.

𝐵ut in the end, they always seemed to give up and serve them simply boiled. The bland aroma of boiling water filled their small ravine 'kitchen', as they resigned themselves to yet another meal of plain potatoes.

𝐼t was a reminder of their meager existence, a symbol of their struggle to survive.

𝒟espite not having a large customer base, they relish every opportunity to cook for someone and bring joy to their day. The thought of someone not having to worry about food at home and being able to come to them for a satisfying meal fills there with a sense of purpose. For a small fee, they serve up bowls of steaming noodles or simple dishes that they customize to each person's liking. The aroma of herbs and spices wafts through the air, enticing passersby to stop and sample their cooking. Their humble kitchen is filled with warmth and welcoming energy, creating a haven for anyone in need of a comforting meal.

As they enter the kitchen, their arms laden with fresh produce, they quickly tie a crisp white apron around their hips. They waste no time in placing the vegetables on the counter and rinsing them under a steady stream of cool water. With practiced efficiency, they pull out a large mixing bowl and various containers to store the ingredients. The cutting board is carefully wiped down, its surface gleaming beneath the bright kitchen lights. They run a hand over its smooth surface before grabbing their sharp knife and getting to work.

𝒲ith a practiced hand, they reach for their favorite knife, its blade catching the sunlight and gleaming as they slice through the ripe tomato with precise movements. The crisp skin gives way easily and the sweet scent of the fruit fills the air as they carefully carve an even chunk and place it into the container. Moving on to the cucumbers, they expertly cut them into perfect strips, each one identical to the next, before adding them to the growing collection of vegetables in the container. Each ingredient is selected with care, from the vibrant red peppers to the deep green kale leaves and bright orange carrots. Finally, they add to earthy mushrooms their spongy texture completing the colorful array of ingredients that will soon become their customers' daily dishes. As they work, a sense of pride and satisfaction fills their heart, knowing that these fresh and carefully prepared vegetables will bring joy and nourishment to those who eat them.

𝒲ith the grace and ease of someone who has spent years perfecting their craft, they carefully wash their sharp knife before deftly cutting into the succulent meat. Every slice is deliberate and precise as they expertly remove any unwanted bones and gristle. The stray cat that frequents their restaurant in the evening is the only customer who doesn't have to pay, so they always set out a small plate for it in appreciation. It's become a familiar routine, just like the comforting scent of freshly cooked meat that lingers in the air of their cozy establishment.

𝒜s the ten o'clock hour strikes, Reader interrupts their preparations and goes to the front door and pulls down the wooden covers that protect their glass window, with a sign that Tommy, one of the former members of L'Manberg, painted a few years ago. Reader opens the door wide and lets fresh air into the small room, which seats less than ten people.

𝒜s the clock strikes ten, Reader pauses their preparations and strides to the front door with determination. They slide down the wooden covers that protect their glass window, adorned with a hand-painted sign by Tommy, one of the former members of L'Manberg. The aged paint peeling off reveals glimpses of vibrant colors from years past. With a firm grip, Reader pulls open the door, allowing a gust of cool air to sweep inside the small room. A cozy space, barely enough to seat ten people comfortably. The scent of fresh air intermingles with the comforting aroma of food and freshly brewed tea.

𝒯heir days pass, every so often consumed by thoughts and doubts of the rumors swirling about the resurrection of L'Manburg's President. Memories flood her mind- of the ravine where he had stood, surrounded by his people, pleading for them to stop calling him President. They remember the look of despair and desperation on his face, a stark contrast to the once hopeful and confident leader he used to be. The transformation he underwent is etched in their mind, from a man filled with eager ambition and hope to one broken and desolate by the loss of his country. It's a haunting image that lingers in their thoughts, a poignant reminder of what once was and what could have been. As they reflect on these memories, they can't help but feel a sense of sadness and disillusionment for the fallen leader and his shattered dreams.

—

𝒜s the time for cleaning up arrived, Reader moved with swift and precise efficiency. Their movements were like a choreographed dance, each step executed with perfect control and purpose. Without a moment of hesitation or uncertainty, they sorted through the items on the table, placing them carefully on the cat's plate or in the rubbish bin. It was as if they had been programmed for this task, carrying it out flawlessly like a well-oiled machine. The clink of dishes and rustling of paper filled the air as Reader worked, their focused expression never faltering. They were masters at their craft, turning chaos into order with each calculated movement. With a sense of accomplishment, Reader stepped back from the neatly organized items in front of them. Their duties were complete, each task executed with precision and attention to detail. A satisfying feeling of completion washed over there, leaving a smile on their face as they surveyed their flawless work. It was as if each item had found its rightful place, creating a symphony of order and efficiency.

𝒲ith a poised and graceful step, the owners of the charming restaurant emerged from their kitchen, their faces glowing with a warm smile. In one hand, they carried a delicate plate, its contents arranged in an artful display that could rival any high-end eatery. The scent of spices and herbs wafted through the crisp autumn air, drawing in any nearby feline companions. Each carefully selected ingredient had been placed with precision, creating a feast not only for the senses but also for the palate of any fortunate cat.

As they walked towards their favorite spot outside the restaurant, a small cat curled up under their legs and wrapped its tail around their thighs in grateful contentment. It was clear that this furry companion held a special place in their heart for providing it with nourishment every evening.

𝒯he frigid and forbidding darkness of the night hung heavy, engulfing everything in its path. The cold air prickled at their skin, heightening their senses as they gazed upon the lone figure standing in front of their restaurant. His silhouette loomed large against the dimly lit street, casting a daunting shadow that seemed to swallow up everything around it. The glowing moon above served as a watchful guardian, its silvery light bathing his features in an eerie glow. His intense gaze locked theirs, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as they stood alone in this deserted city.

𝐻is voice cut through the silence, sharp and forceful. "Are you open?" he demanded, his words like shards of ice in the stillness of the night.

The man's appearance is strikingly unkempt, emitting an aura of poverty and potential homelessness. His hair, a mass of shoulder-length brown curls, appears tangled and greasy, with strands protruding in all directions. Among the chaos, a solitary white strand stands out conspicuously, almost luminous against the disorder. It's as if he's aged a decade overnight. His eyes, bloodshot and encircled by a rim of red, convey a sense of sleeplessness that spans days. The profound, dark circles beneath his eyes surpass any exhaustion I've witnessed, even among the most fatigued hybrids or humans.

𝐻e dons a tattered yellow jumper, its fabric worn thin and punctuated by tears. Draping loosely over his shoulders, a patched coat, once a lively brown, now bears the weight of dirt and grime, concealing any semblance of its former vibrancy. Wrapped around his arm, a bandage, tainted with a red hue, poses a mystery—blood or perhaps wine? Despite the neglect evident in his attire, one detail stands out: his trousers, meticulously pressed, hint at a pride in appearance amidst adversity. Yet, they're juxtaposed with scuffed and grimy shoes, evidence of a journey endured with little regard for appearance.

"Unfortunately, it has just closed," Reader says with a warm smile, their gesture directed towards the now darkened restaurant front. "But fear not, for I will be open again at 10 tomorrow morning." As they speak, they absent-mindedly pet the purring cat perched on the counter, savoring its meal of freshly prepared food. "The only customer being served now is this cat. You don't look like a cat, I'm sorry," they add, their hands gently stroking the animal as it enjoys its feast.

At this, the man chuckles and responds, "I may not look like a cat, but I wouldn't mind meowing or snuggling up to your leg if it means getting some of that delicious food," he laughs. "I wish I could help you," Reader says with a chuckle, "But I'm afraid my only clients after hours are of the feline persuasion."

𝒯he man's hearty laughter echoed through the street, blending in with the soft purring of the cat. The tension from earlier seemed to dissipate, replaced by an ease that felt strange but also comforting. "Fair enough," he said, smiling at the Reader. "I think I'll have to find another place then." "Just down the road there's an all-night dinner," they offered. They pointed towards the end of the street where a neon sign flickered intermittently. "They should still have something warm for you." "Thanks," he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. He turned to leave before hesitating and turning back towards Reader "Do you remember cooking noodles with meat in L'Manberg?"

𝑅eader paused, a flicker of surprise passing across their face. Their eyes, which had been warm and inviting, cooled as they studied the man before there. "Why would you ask me that?" they said, their voices betraying a touch of guarded curiosity.

The man gave a rueful smile. "It's a memory I've carried for years," he admitted with an odd sort of vulnerability, his gaze never leaving their face. "A chef who cooked the most delicious noodles with meat in L'Manberg." Their faces softened as they listened to him, their initial wariness fading into curiosity. "That was a long time ago," they finally said, more to themselves than to him. He nodded slowly. "Yes, it was," he conceded. "But for some reason, those noodles have always stuck with me. I suppose...I've been looking for them ever since."

𝒜 silence descended upon them then, as they each absorbed what had been said - and perhaps what hadn't been said too. The cat finished its meal and hopped off the counter, brushing against Reader's leg before slipping out into the night. "Have we met?" Reader said finally. Their voices were soft but resolute. "Yeah..." he says and puts his hands in his pockets "I'm the one who let you open the restaurant and was the first to eat those noodles." says the man, at which Reader takes two steps backwards and only now in the man does they recognize the former President of L'Manburg.

"Mr President..." whispers Reader.

The man's expression softened at their recognition, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his eyes. "Please, just call me Wilbur," he said, his voice carrying a note of sincerity. Reader's mind raced with memories of their time together in L'Manburg, the moments of camaraderie and hardship they had shared. They couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion at the sight of him standing before them, a stark reminder of the past they had tried so hard to leave behind. "I never thought I'd see you again," they admitted, their voices barely above a whisper. "Not after everything that happened."

𝒲ilbur's face took on a serious expression; his eyes seemed to be searching the ground for answers. "I understand," he spoke in a hushed tone. "Being brought back to life is just as shocking for me as it is for others.”

Reader paused, gazing at their small restaurant with its quaint decor. "If you'd like, Mr. President - Wilbur, I believe I can whip up some delicious noodles with savory meat for you. However, it may take a bit of time." A small, genuine smile graced Wilbur's lips at Reader's kind offer, the corners of his mouth turning up as if pulled by invisible strings. "I would be delighted," his bright brown eyes shone with gratitude, reflecting the warmth in his voice as he replied, a hint of nostalgia woven into his words.

𝒲ith a graceful sweep, Reader disappeared into the kitchen to prepare their meal. Wilbur followed, sinking into a plush chair at one of the empty tables. His mind wandered back to the days when L'Manburg was a bustling nation, overflowing with life and possibility. Memories rushed in like a powerful river, each one bringing a flutter of nostalgia and longing as he waited patiently for the mouth-watering aroma of food to permeate the air once more. He could almost taste the rich flavors and feel the warmth radiating from the kitchen as Reader worked their magic.

𝒯he kitchen was alive with a symphony of sounds, as Reader moved with dancer-like grace and purpose. The clinking of pots and pans echoed through the air, each utensil playing its own instrumental part in the culinary orchestra. The scent of simmering broth, infused with aromatic spices, filled Wilbur's senses, wrapping him in a warm and comforting embrace that made his stomach growl with anticipation. It was like being enveloped in a cloud of savory goodness, beckoning him closer to the source of its alluring aroma. After spending years in the desolate realm of Limbo without any sustenance, the mere scent of these noodles sent a wave of hunger crashing over him. He could practically taste the savory broth and chewy strands as if they were right in front of him. The aroma was so enticing, he felt like he could devour liters of it without hesitation.

𝒜s Reader emerged from the warm, bustling kitchen with a steaming bowl of noodles in hand, Wilbur's eyes met theirs with a mixture of admiration and longing. The aroma of savory broth and freshly cooked noodles wafted through the air, enticing his senses. As he took the first bite, the flavors exploded on his palate, each mouthful a symphony of tastes that transported him back to simpler times. With every swallow, he could taste the heart and soul that Reader had poured into the dish. "You have truly outdone yourself," Wilbur exclaimed between bites, his eyes never leaving Reader's face as if trying to convey his gratitude and appreciation through their locked gaze.

𝒯he words hung heavy in the air, thick with disbelief and awe. "I was at your funeral," Reader's voice trembled as they took a seat in the chair next to Wilbur. "And now I'm serving you noodles." The steam from the hot meal rose and mingled with their breath, a surreal scene unfolding before them. "You really have been revived," Reader marveled at the miracle of Wilbur's return from death. "Believe me, you're not the only one having trouble adjusting to this." Wilbur says between mouthfuls of steaming noodles. He pauses to take a deep breath, then continues with a tinge of gratitude in his voice, "But thanks to my hero I am back alive. Dream." He lifts his bowl up in a gesture of gratitude towards Dream, who is now behind bars in prison. Reader can sense the tension and unease between Wilbur and Dream.

𝐼t's clear that something has changed between them, something that Reader doesn't quite understand or enjoy witnessing.

𝒯he word fell from Reader's lips with a bitter tone, carrying with it the weight of past struggles and disappointments. The mere mention of "Dream" conjured up a flood of negative memories - the root cause of L'Manberg's seemingly endless problems. "Dream? Eh, Wasn't he perhaps enemy number one in L'Manberg?” Reader asks.

𝒲ilbur's gaze darkened at the mention of Dream's name, a storm brewing in his eyes. "Yes, he was," Wilbur admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and betrayal. "But he was also the one who brought me back from the Limbo." The conflicting emotions within Wilbur were evident in his tense posture and furrowed brow. Reader could sense the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface, the unresolved issues and complicated history between Wilbur and Dream hanging heavily in the air. "I know it's hard to understand," Wilbur continued, his voice softer now, laced with a hint of sadness. "But things are never as black and white as they seem, especially in a place like L'Manberg." He took another bite of noodles, the warmth of the broth offering a momentary distraction from the weight of their conversation.

𝑅eader watched Wilbur closely, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together in their minds. Despite the tension between them, Reader couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Wilbur. The weight of expectations and responsibilities had taken its toll on him, leaving behind scars that ran deep.

𝑅eader smiles and refills the broth in Wilbur's noodles.

"It's good to have you back."

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #mcyt wilbur #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot #wilbur x you #wilbur post #wilbur soot x y/n #Reader #revivebur x Reader #revivebur x you #mcyt x Reader #revivebur fic #revivebur

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thtdamfangirl4 · 1 year

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I tried really hard to bring my hopes down so I wouldn’t be disappointed by the RWRB movie and despite both my best efforts and some truly great scenes from the actors in the movie, I was so upset by it.

The Paris scene was gorgeous and intimate and IMPORTANT. Sarah as Zahra was literally flawless. Taylor and Nick were infinitely better than I thought they were going to be. The chemistry was good. I liked Uma Therman.

But.

I was never going to be happy with this movie. It was rushed (due to the nature of it being a 2 hour movie) and cut out not only important scenes for development, it cut people who are integral to the plot and entire plot lines that were paramount to the book’s intention.

It needs June. It needs Nora and Pez to be ACTUAL characters. It needs Ellen and Oscar to be divorced and have the family dynamic that makes Alex who he is. It needs Rafael Luna. It needs Catherine. It needs Bea to be flawed and have a personality and not be sanitized for no discernible reason. It needs the full progression of Alex and Henry’s relationship. It needs emails. It needs better coverage of the email leaks and aftermath. It needs friendship and queer community. It needs 23 year old protagonists. It needs Alex spiraling and figuring himself out.

If I’m honest, that omission might be what disappointed me the most and I haven’t let myself ruminate on it until these words were being tapped out by my fingers. Alex’s bisexual awakening in the book made me feel more seen and understood than any other book I’d ever read, any character I’d connected to. And it resonated within his character throughout the book. Without him learning about himself, the importance of this story is diminished for me and my own journey and connection.

RWRB is my favorite book of all time. I turn to it when I’m happy, sad, anxious, confused, tired, wired, and everything in between. It’s literally perfect to me, no matter anyone else’s opinion. I relate to Alex more than any other character in any other media. Henry is my favorite fictional character, period. I wanted so desperately to like this movie.

There were scenes I loved. But so much in between reminded me starkly of what it was missing.

This is not a hate post about this movie, nor does it stand to denigrate the actors or writers or crew, etc. Nor does it serve to shame anyone who DID love this movie. I hope you DO love it. I hope it brings joy to those who loved the story before and invites those who are unfamiliar into these characters. Most of all, I hope it provides joy to young queer audiences who are seeing themselves represented in a romcom.

But this process feels almost like grief, which sounds so dramatic. For me and people like me, whose souls were unwittingly bared on the pages Casey McQuiston wrote years ago. For people who found an anchor in this novel and hold on for dear life so we don’t drown. To me, this book is perfect, and to alter it in any way was going to disappoint me.

My hope is that in the coming weeks, I can find a way to truly separate this book and my unending catalog of feelings about it from this movie adaptation, which I probably would have loved if I wasn’t a die hard book fan, so that I can enjoy both and recognize that only a piece of the book made it to the screen.

(Truthfully my greatest hope is that they personally grant ME the rights and unlimited budget to write and direct a full miniseries adaptation that is a faithful interpretation to the letter, but no one is going to do that.)

I’ve seen like hundreds of posts already saying that we shouldn’t shit on this movie or take away from other people enjoying it, and I agree. And I apologize if you feel that’s what I’m going with this post. It’s not my intention. But I do want to say that you’re also allowed to be disappointed. You’re allowed to feel like you would’ve wanted it to be different. Just don’t walk around disparaging the book or the talented people who made it possible, and certainly not the fans who are just loving the story and characters you love too, just maybe in a different way.

Idk, this blog is a mess and a safe space and I just wanted to put my initial feelings somewhere because they have kind of taken over my brain. I’m tired and still processing, but if I don’t get out this spiral, I’ll stay in it.

I want to like it. But there were just too many changes. It felt like a different story. As Alex and Henry have both said, “we all must learn and grow.”

#rwrb #prince henry of wales #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex and henry #rwrb spoilers #red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue spoilers

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honeyjars-sims · 9 months

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The 2023 Simblr Gratitude Awards by STK

Part 1

In this first round of awards, I wanted to individually highlight some of my favorite simblrs that I've engaged with this year. Not only do I enjoy your content, but I have appreciated our interactions as well. (presented in alphabetical order)

🥧 The Sweet as Pie Award 🏆 goes to @aries-sims for being an engaging mutual and because your Just Desserts Legacy gameplay is simply delicious!

💞 The Legendary Legacy Award 🏆 Over the past several years @cinamun has been sharing the life of Indya Drake here on tumblr. We've cheered for the Drake family's triumphs 🎉, cried through their heartbreaks 😢, laughed at the memes 🤣, taken in lots of advice 📝, and maybe opened a private browser or two 🔞 Your creativity and interactions are much appreciated!

🍀 The Lucky Us Award 🏆 The recipient of this award is @hannahssimblr for sharing her beautiful writing and compelling characters with us. It was us who were the Lucky Girls (gender neutral) all along 🤭

🎆 The Creating Chaos Award 🏆 shall be given to @havenroyals for coming up with characters who really know how to bring the drama. I love being a fly on the wall of your chaotic world!

🎭 The All the Feels Award 🏆 is awarded to @lynzishell. Just like the peaks and valleys of Mt. Komorebi, my heart has experienced highs and lows thanks to your dynamic storytelling! And your insightful comments on my story always give me the warm fuzzies!

🤝 The Gracious Host Award 🏆 This one goes @nexility-sims, who was kind enough to create the best writing group ever. Thank you for giving us a place to have wonderful conversations and for making everyone feel welcome and included! I'm also looking forward to becoming more familiar with your story!

💎 The Forever a Fave Award 🏆 has gone to @rebouks because you are ever present in the community. Not only have you shared the emotional journey of Oscar Finch (and a seemingly unending cast of characters) with us for what feels like forever, but I and many other storytellers would be lost without your poses!

📖 The Riveting Raconteur Award 🏆 is awarded to @stargazer-sims for your ability to not only create so many multifaceted characters but to write about them so beautifully!

🥂 The Rooting for You Award 🏆 goes to @theosconfessions for writing a character who cheats on his partners and has questionable parenting skills, but I'm still somehow rooting for him. Now that's powerful characterization!

👐 The Helping Hand Award 🏆 I'm giving this one to @tipsy-clouds because you have helped me out a lot over the years and I really appreciate your support, kindness, and your content!

I have more posts coming soon!

#simblr gratitude day

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winterchimez · 1 year

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Eyes On Me | Lee Sangyeon

summary: Lee Sangyeon was determined that you were the right one for him, and he was going to make sure that you'll only have your eyes on him

pairing: ceo Sangyeon x employee f!reader

genre: suggestive

warnings: kissing, basically making out with your hot ceo 🤪

word count: 2,435

a/n: behold my very first fic for the loml ❤️ and yes this is written based on their jp track from their latest album! a huge shoutout to @sungbeam for helping me loads bcs ya gurl does not know how to write sexy 🧍🏻‍♀️ (ilysm beam 🩵)

It was a usual uneventful morning as the CEO of Lee Corporations sat in front of his desk, desperately trying his best to get to the hundreds of emails he had received for the day.

Lee Sangyeon had been promoted to the head of the company, ever since his father retired from the industry 5 years ago. Frankly, it was never his choice to work in the business industry.

Coming from a well-off family, it was difficult for the man himself to turn his back on his parents' high standards and expectations. Ever since his older sister was married off, he had no choice but to follow in the footsteps of his family’s business which has been passed down for generations.

Adding insult to injury, that also meant that his parents were also in control of his love life. He has been set up multiple times in the past with a variety of different girls, from high school up to college, and eventually now in the work industry. None of them truly matched his values and desires and he always broke things off with them, the longest relationship only lasting about 2 years.

Since he was already 27 years of age, his parents were desperately trying to get him to settle down for good. Hence, they found him yet another girl, who also came from yet another well-off family.

In fact, both families have been business partners for the past 2 decades. When their one and only daughter decided to work in Lee Corporations, eventually rising up to the ranks of being Sangyeon’s personal assistant, it was a win-win situation in both families’ eyes.

A knock was heard on his front door, and he decided to shut down his computer screen, already knowing who it’ll be visiting at this hour.

“Come in.”

Within seconds, the door swung open and a female dressed in a stylish, matching pencil skirt and blazer set brought in his favourite choice of coffee, iced americano, and placed it onto his desk.

Sangyeon stood up, and eventually made his way towards the female before both parties having their bodies pressed against one another, arms winding around each other’s bodies.

“How was your day, babe?”

“Just the usual, nothing much.”

The woman noticed how gaunt he looked. Clearly, he was pretty worn out due to the unending amount of crap he has to deal with being the CEO.

Loosening his tie, she immediately threw it to the ground, before cupping both of Sangyeon’s cheeks as she decided to go in for a kiss.

“Let me take away all of your worries, babe.”

As their lips met, the female snake both of her arms around his shoulder while Sangyeon wraps his around her waist. Both were having a passionate kiss, as one would like to say, tongues exploring each other’s mouth.

As much as one would think that Sangyeon loves his fiancé, Rachel, who is also his personal assistant, what nobody knew was how he had his eyes on a completely different individual.

Although physically occupied, Sangyeon happens to open up his eyes as he notices a familiar female employee that just made her way onto the floor to pass on some documents required to her superior.

You began your journey here at Lee Corporations earlier this year when you were promoted from a small humble company on the outskirts of Seoul. Apparently, your superior in your former job had an acquaintance that informed him that the Lee Corporations were in dire need of more capable employees to join the team as they continue to expand their business.

Your former boss knew very well how you’ve always excelled at your job, and insisted that you applied. Hence, he immediately signed you up and you were packing your bags and leaving your home village for the heart of Seoul within the next couple of weeks.

It was hard to leave everything behind, especially when you’ve lived almost your whole 25 years of life back in your quaint, little village. But you knew in order to support your family, you had to take on whatever job that had the best and highest pay.

The first few months were tough, coming into a city filled with strangers. Hell, even joining one of the most prestigious companies in Seoul gave you little to no reassurance or confidence. But luckily, as time went on, you came to have found a comfortable place to be, as well as having the best co-workers surrounding you on a daily basis.

In fact, it was you who caught the attention of the one and only, CEO of Lee Corporation.

There was something so intriguing about you, even the man himself couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. The way you’re always so focused on your job, the way you smiled and giggled whenever you were talking to your co-workers, even the way you munched on your favourite bagel that you always got from the local bakery down by the street.

You had everything a man wants: long silk light brown hair that always seemed so perfect no matter how you styled it, a pretty smile that would melt the hearts of the people around you, and a perfect sculpture, both facial and body-wise, that captivates the CEO himself.

Lee Sangyeon was strongly attracted to you. He himself would like to say that he’s practically drowned in love, like a sailor to a siren if you will. Ever since you introduced yourself to him on your first day at work, something had felt strange to him, to the point he constantly get these little butterflies in his stomach since that day, even until now whenever he laid his eyes upon you.

At this point, his entire universe might as well revolve around you, but it was definitely not easy to come clean to his and his fiancé's parents about this since wedding preparations were already on their way. And to think of how both businesses would suffer if there were to be a scandal that comes to light because of a third party that is involved.

But what they failed to note was how persistent Sangyeon can be. When he lays his eyes upon something he truly loves, he’s prepared, by all means, to do what he must to get what he wants, even if it meant using his status to do so.

A party was going to be held tonight at the Swiss Grand Hotel, one of the most well-known luxury hotels in Seoul. A lightbulb dings in his mind, knowing how he is going to make full use of this entire event that was going to take place tonight.

He was determined to let the world know that you were his.

You arrived with a cocktail dress you somehow managed to borrow from one of your co-workers. There was no way you were going to buy a new dress in the heart of Seoul when you were already struggling to pay your monthly rent.

But the dress you chose for the night was still elegant and appropriate, which painted you in a totally different light. The Y/N you knew of who grew up in the village would’ve never thought to be able to wear such fancy attire, let alone attend one of the most prominent figures in Seoul high society's party in the city. However, you thought it was good for a change, and you were definitely going to savour this whole night of finally being able to let loose and enjoy it to the fullest.

As you entered the venue, sure enough, the entire room was decorated to be as extravagantly as possible. Gold confetti balloons were scattered throughout the entire room, and an all-you-can-eat buffet and bar were stationed on the far side of the room for all employees of the company to devour as much as they would like.

“Rich people things,” one of your co-workers whispered to you in the ear, and you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

You tried your best to blend in as much as you could, clearly, you were still unfamiliar with this kind of environment. You had a bit of a bite and a drink down at the bar, before the lights in the room started to dim, indicating that it was time for a dance between employees.

You weren’t much of a party girl, so you decided to watch from afar, by the door, with a glass of champagne in hand.

That was until you felt someone grab your wrists and pulled you out of the room, dragging you down the dimly lit hallways and eventually into a dark, empty room.

You were terrified, to say the least. Were you about to get kidnapped while in the midst of a company party? Whoever this was and what their intentions may be, you definitely did not want to know.

Before you could let out a scream, a palm was placed over your mouth, followed by a hush sound coming from the individual himself.

“Shhh.. Y/N. It’s all okay.”

Wait a minute. You recognised that voice.

That deep husky voice could only belong to one person, and you were hoping that it wasn’t the person you had in mind.

You opened up your eyes and sure enough, you found your boss leaning into you while your back was pressed up against the wall.

Holy smokes, this is Mr. Lee!

You were panicking, thinking of the multitude of things that you might have done wrong at work so far to trigger your boss enough to take you into a private room to talk things out. That is, until your boss was the one who broke the silence.

“Listen, Y/N. I know this may seem crazy and all, but you have no idea how much I’ve waited for this day to come.”

Wait. What on earth?

“I can’t tell you how much you make me go insane, and how desperately I have waited for this day to come to truly make you mine.”

No. This has to be a mistake-

You begin to talk through your muffled voice, which caused the man to let go of his palm that was still covering your mouth. “I-Umm… with all due respect sir, I mean, Mr. Lee, this can’t be real… I mean you have your fiancé here tonight-”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand.”

Now, he leans further into you, taking both of your arms and pinning them above your head. He leans his head down close to you as he whispers into your ear. “You are the one that I’ve always wanted all along. It has always been just you in my universe ever since you came into my life. And tonight, I will claim you and you will be mine, and mine only.”

And then his lips are on yours as he begins to devour you like you’re his last meal. Your eyes widen at the sudden move, your entire body frozen.

You were desperately trying your best to rationalise this entire situation you were stuck in. Because, heck, for one, he was your boss for goodness sake! And two, you were unfortunately too weak to fight against his strong grip over you. And three, you were at war with yourself—you weren't supposed to encourage this behaviour, but why did it feel so good?

Oh my god. Sangyeon was completely in heaven at this point because you had the most luscious, soft and warm lips he has ever kissed. And now that he has tasted your lips, he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

Plus, the fact that you decided to spray on his favourite perfume, Mémoire d’une Odeur from Gucci. There was no doubt he recognised it right away for sure. The airy and musky scent that it produced, and how it always made him feel at ease. So every time you walked past the hallway, the scent seemed to linger and always made him anticipate your visits. Oh, how he enjoyed so much how the scent seeped into his lungs and suffocated him.

He moved his lips down to your jaw and to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over your sensitive spots. In return, you elicit a soft, pleasurable moan, honey to his ears.

“Y/N, baby. You sound so good," he groaned, lips inking the words into your skin.

Whimpering a little, you tried your best to mutter out the words that were stuck in your throat. “Ple-please… what do you want from me?”

“Oh, baby… I don’t even understand myself anymore at this point.”

As he begins to suck on your earlobe, he frees one of your arms so that he is able to snake his hand under your dress, touching your soft and sensitive thighs.

“I can’t control myself Y/N.”

As you continued to whine as he begins to suck aggressively on your collarbone, you knew that this man was far from done with you.

“Oh my god. Mr. Lee… I-I can’t…”

“Sangyeon. Call me that, baby.”

“S-sangyeon… please….”

But your entanglement was interrupted when the doors burst open. An angry female voice boomed, and Sangyeon knew precisely who it was without having to turn his head back to take a look.

He quickly tucked your head down into his chest with his other hand, not wanting to expose your identity and to keep you safe.

“How many times are you going to do this, Sangyeon. For God’s sake we have finally found you a suitable partner It’s about damn time you settle down and stop being stubborn!”

“No, Mother. For 27 years you and father have always been in full control of my life. Now that I have finally found the perfect partner for myself, I will not let you both rule over my life ever again. The wedding with Rachel is over.”

Knowing how she is practically unable to win against her son, Sangyeon's mother huffed and stormed away down the hall to take care of the mess that was bound to happen now that the cat is out of the bag.

Turning his attention back to you as he lifts up your head, he places another soft kiss right onto your lips again.

“I want you to see me, Y/N. And in return, I will completely surrender myself to you. So have your eyes on me only, to the point of breaking.”

Snaking his hand back into your thigh, he leans back down and whispers into your ear.

“Next time, maybe consider wearing red lingerie instead. That would definitely turn me on even better.”

a/n: ever since @sungbeam convinced me that sangyeon is most def into red lingerie it has been implanted deep in my mind i love hate you for that 😔

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 (join my permanent taglist here!)

#deoboyznet #kvanity #k-labels #kflixnet #the boyz #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz x imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #tbz scenarios #sangyeon #lee sangyeon #sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon x reader #sangyeon imagines #sangyeon scenarios #the boyz suggestive #sangyeon suggestive

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