#<- i am filled with longing and yearning for reasons i do Not understand

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

@teddybeartoji

our beautiful life when it’s filled with shrieks by christopher citro

[astonmartingf]

VOODOO DOLL ; LH44

lewis hamilton x mercedes driver!reader

. . . hamilton is a penchant for opposing teammates, and after the previous one he somehow got stuck with another, but after years of dominance new emotions develop between the two.

amgf i am a sucker for yearning and fluff and this is exactly that, lewis the man that you are... also if the format is different from previous posts it's because i'm testing out formats

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

[2025]

“You called us for this?” Alonso raised his brows looking pitifully at you sharing the same expression as Nico from the left side. You groan in your palms, hiding your face from the two men.

“This is a big deal okay. Why are you invalidating my feelings?” Mumbling under your breath, you reason out hoping for a sliver of understanding. It’s been so long since you bottled your feelings, and as much as you hate to admit it, you might start-

“No one is invalidating your feelings other than yourself amor, otherwise why would you call us to convince you that you actually like-”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up will you, it’s like you want the whole world that I like…” You turn around, checking the surroundings. “Lewis.”

Nico pressed his lip into a thin, a short sigh leaving his mouth, “You’re in denial and in love.”

You shot Nico an incredulous look, a scoff escaping your lips, “I am not in love. Alo, tell him.”

The older Spaniard grimaced, shaking his head. “At this point, you may as well be- four years? He’s already moved to Ferrari for God’s sake and you have yet to make a move.”

You groan once more, reminding yourself of the signs and signals you missed or accidentally dropped towards Lewis. “I have made a few moves…” Your voice thinning as you feel two pairs of eyes staring right at you.

“And I’m embarrassed to say that they also flew over Lewis’ head. So no, don’t ask me what I said, or did- just ignore what I said.” You rest your head down on the table, sad and moping.

Nico laughs at you, “Look at the state of you, hung over a boy.”

“He’s not just any boy Nico, gosh you’re acting like you moved on quickly from him- this is Lewis we’re talking about. Heck that was a semi-platonic relationship you had going on there, how am I supposed to cope with actually knowing that I can’t be in a romantic relationship with him?”

A gasp left your lips, hands shaking as your cover over them. Avoiding Nico’s gaze who was still laughing at you, despite your jab at his relationship with Nico and Alonso who took a sip from his cup of tea.

“So you admit it…”

Alonso broke the silence leaving you nodding to yourself.

“I actually- Fuck.”

[2023]

Lewis sits in silence, watching Nico squint his eyes from the other side of the table. “When was this?”

Gulping, Lewis didn’t think this far. He was ranting first, and then eventually spilling in some white lies in between before Nico filled in and connected the dots. He should’ve known Nico would catch on- Lewis is being too obvious. At least that’s what he thinks.

Sighing, Lewis mulled over his thoughts gathering his words before speaking it out into existence. The three words he’s been replaying over his head for the last two years- When did things get complicated?

“Two years ago? I thought about it far longer than I’ll admit. But I’ve recently come into terms with it…” Lewis nods his head, sitting in silence with Nico.

“And what happened? What’s different?”

Smiling to himself at the thought of you, Lewis goes through all the times you’ve managed to tug the tiniest of his heartstrings causing him to malfunction like the current state of their engine. It was pitiful, not just the team, but the state of his heart.

“I don’t even understand… Which makes me even more furious! How could she do that to me? I think about her all the time, she’s not even racing anymore. She’s nowhere near me, yet she’s all I think about, it’s driving me insane. And don’t get me started on whenever she’s actually on the paddock- I see her what? Once a month, I go to the F1 Academy races to get a glimpse of her. I'm such a loser. And her face! How could I not stop by and greet her, she’s always enthusiastic whenever I’m there- Not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty good company, and we are friends but God I wish she’d take in the signs I’m putting down. I like YN- too much at this point, I can’t believe it. And you! You’re laughing at my misery.”

Lewis raises his head, far too into his thoughts only realizing that Nico has been laughing at him for the past minute. His back flushed into the seat, legs crossed with arms resting on the table.

“At least one of us is enjoying this, because I’m a suffering loser, who can’t get a grip. She’s actually doing things to my mind. I’m acting crazy because of her.”

Nico bursts into laughter, “You’re- you have a lot to say about YN.”

Lewis scoffs, giving his friend a pointed look, “That’s all you have to say? Wow, I miss talking to you, but this- this is a personal attack towards me.”

Shaking his head, Nico wheezes at Lewis, “No, no, no… Think about it- look at you. It’s just funny to me, I remember when you first talked about her. You said, and I quote, “I will never like her as a teammate.” and you also compared her to me. Look at you now. I think it’s funny.”

Lewis shakes his head, disappointed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.”

“No- you’re not taking all that back. Go on- tell me more.”

Lewis raises his brows suspiciously, “What? So you can tease me?”

Nico raises his hands in surrender, “Hey if not me who else would listen to you talk on and on about YN?”

“I know Seb would listen to me without judgment, and maybe Charles…” Lewis lists the few people in and out the grid who are aware about his feelings towards YN.

Nico raises his brows laughing to himself, “Oh Lewis, you truly are living in your own bubble- you’re too good for yourself. Guess how I know what you’ve been talking to Seb about? Right, he calls me to check on you.”

Lewis pales at the realization, how Nico is somehow always available, how he calls on the right time.

“And Charles, who calls Seb, who calls me. Right Lewis, there’s three of us- and you’ll always end up with me if you don’t get your act right.”

lewishamilton

liked by nicorosberg, charles_leclerc, and 21,582,953 others

lewishamilton me when my crush finally noticed me...

view 1,648,592 comments...

user1 EXCUSE NE? WHAT HAPPENED TO HELLO AND HI?

user2 am i seeing this right?

user3 the power of yn

user4 why would you assume it's yn?

user5 i mean who else could get lewis to post like this?

user6 bro got 21 million people watching this confession

nicorosberg this is what you got from our conversation two years ago? embarrassing, even i can do better than this

sebastianvettel5 he's trying, leave him be

charles_leclerc is this what we've been waiting for the last four years? the bar is actually low

user7 what do you mean 4 years?

user8 HELP, they're actually implying that this is for YN

user9 there goes the lewyn fans going crazy it could be anyone 🙄

user10 can't a girl have their fun, jeez leave people alone

user11 it's embarrasing

user12 they're actually eating lewis up with this

nicorosberg this is your plan?

lewishamilton yeah, it's working is it not?

nicorosberg i don't think so man

charles_leclerc is she even on instagram?

lewishamilton ...

sebastianvettel5 for someone who has a crush on this person for the last 4 years i might add this is actually embarrassing behavior

user13 what is happening?

user14 i love this too much what the heck

user15 i know they're grilling him in the messages

user16 another one for the history books 😤✍️🔥🔥🔥

user17 it's blow after blow for hamilton

user18 he's a loser in love actually, does it make you stupid?

lewishamilton i don't care if i look stupid i want her to see this

amgf ahahahahaha the end! uhm... enjoy 👍 this actually had me giggling and shit wtf, maybe it's lewis maybe it's the fluff but /sighs/ the lore i can add to this fic... just you wait 😤

[insidemyrottenbrain]

First dinner with Henry after a long long time

Finding out why he has been searching for you all these years

And what he wants now

Years later - 2

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Continuation at the request of my dearest anonymous

Out of guilt and dread you end up leaving Vermont and building a new life. Just as you thought you escaped your past, you once again find yourself in its grasp.

Henry ended up inviting me to dinner, insisting that he had a nice place in the middle of London. It was strange not only because of the rapidness with which he managed to obtain such a place but also because it was deeply uncharacteristic of him to own one in the city’s storm eye. Contradicting my rational thoughts not to go, I accepted the invitation to a promising home-cooked meal.

That is why I now stand at the candle-lit dinner table in his scarcely furnished flat, idly sipping from one of the two glasses filled with the white wine I had brought and had been saving for a special occasion. I watch Henry move around the kitchen as if he hasn’t aged a single day, with the same self-awareness of an old ballerina. Being alone with my thoughts more often than not brings certain things to light. My attention is now enraptured by the reality that I am fighting a losing battle with my yearning for He who never once ceased to infect my mind and torture my soul. 

Henry’s lips gently tug at me by rolling my name off his tongue and he pulls me back to reality by setting two dishes on the table. ‘You seem to be devoured by your thoughts, cupitus.’

‘I didn’t know you cooked.’ I remark as he finds his place on the chair opposite to mine.

‘It is a fairly new development.’ Henry nods. ‘Please, tell me how you find it.’

I pick up what looks like a succulent bite along with some garnish, and eat it. The flavours bless my taste buds.

‘You once again meet my great expectations, Henry. Is there anything in which you don’t excel?’ I half-smirk at him out of habit. I should have expected him to be good even at mundane things such as cooking.

There is a silence. I can feel the atmosphere in the room change into something thicker, more suffocating. Henry seems to be weighing down his words, utterly torn between them. He takes a deep breath as if to steady himself and levels his cold gaze with mine. ‘In existing without you.’ He finally slices through the dense silence. ‘I spiraled into utter madness when you left Vermont. Nothing made sense. I failed to realize how much you influenced my life until your departure.’ He is vigilantly tightening the rosary around my neck.

‘You must understand why I left.’ I say instead of acting on my consuming impulses that beg me to soothe his beating heart.

‘I do.’ Henry nods solemnly. ‘However, knowing the reason for your absence does not bring normality back to me.’

‘Normality is not eternal.’ I say without thinking.

‘It is not.’ He agrees. ‘Regardless, you must be my eternity.’ 

The sentence is so obnoxiously irrational that it has managed to break my whole being, including my equanimity, leaving behind raw emotions on my face. This did not escape Henry’s eyes.

‘I am aware of my thinking’s quixotic nature, yet I fear you must take it as it is.’ He pauses to light up a cigarette. ‘Will you come back to Vermont with me?’

‘No, I-’

‘Then I shall stay here with you.’ He interrupts not wanting to deal with anything that might be in antithesis to his wishes. Once he sees I remained quiet he takes a drag from his cigarette and speaks again. ‘The matter of location is settled then.’

‘I suppose so.’ There is no point in disagreeing with him. I pick up my fork, remembering the food in front of me. We eat in silence, while he finishes his cigarette and lights a second.

‘Let us move on to the matter of our relationship.’ Henry gets up and slowly moves towards the balcony, an unspoken order for me to follow. My feet move on their own accord and I end up by his side.

The city is breathing. It incorporates everyone, blurring mismatched stories and human lives together into one single homogenous mix of souls, yet somehow omitting us. We stand above it, two mortals playing Gods, overlooking a sea of indistinguishable humanity while we ourselves are an obscure pair of animae, strangled and twisted around each other far above recognition. I now understand that he is here because of my holy chains spiraled around him, constantly tugging and demanding his devotion, forbidding him from developing any organized thought or rational emotion. We endlessly torment each other with separation until our transit existences are nothing but purgatory.

I take the cigarette from his lips and bring it to mine, then let its remains fall below. I allow the warm smoke to escape my lungs and brush against his face. Henry desperately inhales it like oxygen.

‘I missed you.’ He whispers, vulnerability clear in his eyes.

I smile at the sight of which I never even dreamed and once again, after countless years, lock my breath and limbs with Henry’s.

[max1461]

Manifesto of the Hallwayists

We have to replace everything with hallways. If a guy walks somewhere and he takes too long, you see, if he takes a detour, that's a problem. Because he could have spent that time working to Advance Humanity and reduce suffering, but instead he spent it taking a detour. "It's only a few minutes, it's no big deal" you say. Well, when millions of people are taking detours, every day, for decades and decades, that time adds up. Millions of man-hours. Man-hours that could have been spent advancing medicine, curing cancer. People are dying, you see, dying because we allowed those detours. So we should replace all the space with hallways that take the shortest path between locations. The shortest path between your quarters and the office, between where you are and where you need to be. Anything less is letting people suffer, and die. Letting an innocent child die in its mother's arms. Is that what you want?

You yearn for a life of aristocratic leisure, you opponent of the hallway-world, while I yearn for justice. For the wellbeing of humanity.

Some say we should lay out the hallways by central committee. Others think the free market lays hallways best. Some think a hallway-building AI might be the way to go. I'm not quite decided yet, there are a lot of factors to consider. Reasonable disagreement by reasonable minds, to be sure.

Minds... god I love minds. In the hallway world there will be no more things to worry about. Only minds. I love minds.

"But", you say, "people won't like living in hallways!"

Regressives. Reactionaries. Small minded savages, or petite bourgeois enemies of mankind. One of the two.

The smart people, the kind people, the people who don't want to see even one more child die in its mother's arms... they'll understand. I'll explain to them that hallways are the Rational Choice, and being kind and rational people they will understand. They will stop wanting irrational things, like parks and flowers, and aimless walks through the city... evil things, vile things. Things that take time and space and resources away from what really matters. From Doing Good.

I hate to say this, for I am a deep and abiding pacifist and a lover of mankind, but if there is anything that inspires in me the desire to kill, to cleanse, it is these vile things. Parks and flowers and aimless walks through the city. When I think about them I shed a tear. I shed a tear for the children dying, the mothers weeping. And I am filled, much unlike me, with a passion for destruction. Destruction of these evil vile things. Obliteration of this retched disorder that holds us back. One day, I hope, I dream, the world will be good. This awful yoke of chaos under which humanity finds itself will be shed. The world will be beautiful. The world will be free. The world will be hallways.

[themusedump]

The Horror And The Wild - a sentence meme from The Amazing Devil's 2020 album The Horror And The Wild. Feel free to adjust as needed!

The Rockrose And The Thistle

"I know the kindest thing is to leave you alone."

"I've run out of my words, my song."

"Just let me die."

"I could try to calm you down but I know you won't."

"And you'll wail, you'll scream, but I'll never stop 'cause it's all that I have left. "

"I know the kindest thing is to never leave you alone."

The Horror And The Wild

"They said it all comes down to you."

"You are that space that's in between every page, every chord and every screen."

"You are the driftwood and the rift, you're the words that I promise I don't mean."

"We're drunk but drinking."

"They thought us blind."

"Remember me I ask, remember me I sing."

"Give me back my heart you wingless thing."

"Think of all the horrors that I promised you I'd bring."

"You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child."

"I steal the hours and turn the night into day."

"How bold I was, could be - will be - still am, by God still am."

"Remember me I ask."

Wild Blue Yonder

"Without you, I'm stronger."

"How wrong you were."

"You told me I was younger, that I was filled with wonder."

"For you. I would have gone so much blonder."

"So one last time, love, come and rip my clothes off."

"Get a grip, we're grownups."

"Let's wander, till the fuckers demand an encore."

"So hold me, lover, like you used to."

"Every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view."

"I surrender what was, what could have been."

"Every brick you hurled, I'll use to build this world."

"I'd bruise you."

Welly Boots

"A storm is coming on."

"What do you mean you've lost your scarlet welly boots?"

"Do y'know what they cost?"

"Wear a raincoat or it'll soak you to the bone."

"It's just like falling snow, I am above you and I love you."

"Don't you know that I'll be with you all along, as long as you are kind?"

"'Cause when it's cold, I'll wrap my scarf around you."

"Just because I left doesn't mean that I'm not still there."

"I get to watch you grow up now and make me proud."

"Get drunk for me, sing louder than you've sung for me."

"'Cause you were always strong."

"When you were young, you'd kick things just to see if they would fall."

"That girl, she's wrong"

"I'll stick up for you, even though you haven't got a clue."

"You haven't got a fucking clue."

"And I'm so proud of you."

"I'm not alright!"

"You were supposed to be my light and keep me safe against them all!"

"How could you leave me here!?"

"I know you're strong enough to do this on your own."

"I've been so scared."

"You left me here behind, do you not care?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to carry on without you here?"

Farewell Wanderlust

"You look like I need a drink."

"And you are?"

"I'm the hardest goodbye that you'll ever have to say."

"I promise you I'll be better."

"I promise you I'll try."

"It's my curse to try and make it right, but by trying make it worse."

"You brought me to this party but you left me here behind."

"So long to the person you begged me to be."

"You gave us such a fright. We'd hate to see your mascara drip into your pint."

"Let's take this outside 'cause we're one and the same."

"Our gods have abandoned us, left us."

"Take up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead."

"I promise you I'm not broken."

"I promise you there's more. "

"Goodbye to all my darkness, there's nothing here but light."

"Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night."

"You brought me through this darkness but you left me here behind."

"Now take a good long look at what you've done to me!"

Fair

"It's what my heart just yearns to say in ways that can't be said."

"Today I somehow understand the reason I was born."

"I try so hard to make you laugh at me."

"Oh, darling, please be mine."

"It's not fair how much I love you."

"It's not fair, 'cause you make me laugh when I'm actually really fucking cross at you for something."

"How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do."

"I spend my days so close to you 'cause if I'm standing here, maybe everyone will think I'm alright."

"I know exactly what I want and it's this life that we've created."

"And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all."

"Christ, you'll be the death of me."

"I'll spend my days so close to you 'cause if I'm standing here maybe everyone will think I'm cool."

"Where have you been?"

"It's not fair 'cause you make me ache, you bastard."

"I'll stand here with you."

That Unwanted Animal

"There's a second wind coming."

"You try so loud to love me. I cannot seem to hear."

"Can't you hear that scratching? There's something at the door."

"Be good to me."

"Can't you hear it?"

"What's the time Mr .Wolf?"

Marbles

"You couldn't lie then and you sure as hell can't lie to me now."

"You stole the best years of my life."

"Do you think I'm sexy?"

"If one more guy calls me darling then I swear to you and to God I will murder them all."

"All the bastards applaud when I show that I'm flawed."

"You're not flawed darling, you're just a little under-rehearsed."

"I don't know, but I'm here."

"I've loved you, for a hundred years."

"Certainly fucking feels like it."

"The minute I met you, the colours of my life began to pour."

"I'm scared of the dark."

"And now, even though you're mad and these memories won't stay. That's okay."

"'Cause then I get to meet you for the first time every single day."

"And I will wait and hope."

Battle Cries

"I'm at the brink, don't laugh."

"And that drink, will it fix all those questions unasked?"

"Who'll save you when you fall?"

"Who died and made you king of it all?"

"Who wins this war?"

"Now the wind feels so warm on the back of my neck."

"Don't be uncouth, be a man."

"Tell the truth to me, love, does my hair look as nice?"

"Don't lie with your eyes, you know I despise that look."

"I know that I've been through the wars."

"With you, I could summon the gods and the stars."

"I won't leave without a fight."

"I won't let you turn our last night into this."

[bonefall]

#also ur all lucky we're not going to be facing Sakura in the next round guys#Sakura is my fucking white whale

What does that even mean? Is this a Moby Dick refrence? Do you have some crusade or vendetta against her?

If so, what is it?

okwithout getting toomuchintoit

Naruto was basically my first anime fandom when I was in middle school, it's THE reason that I made several deeply meaningful connections that I still have to this day, and it was My Thing through several of my formative years. I fell out of love with WC for a long time around OotS and Naruto filled that gap. (along with Another notorious thing that was coming out around that time but the Other thing wasn't AS impactful to me as naruto)

Aaaaand I got deeply emotionally attached to Sakura in particular. I adored her, she was my girlie, I was a total Sakura Stan and I would defend her honor like a knight in SHINING armor.

You do not understand how personal that woman is to me. Sakura Stanning was a major part of my personality when I was but a 'paw.

And let me tell YOU, Nonnie, nothing teaches you what disappointment feels like quite like experiencing the ending of Naruto Shippuden as it happened. Kids these days are incapable of being so profoundly emotionally destroyed as I was, after spending years brawling the misogyny of the late aughts to early 2010s, only for Sakura to end up as a forlorn housewife cooing for a stupid bastard emo to glance in her general direction. I was laid low by the warriors of the ancient world and their like is NOT in the world today, and THEN I was BUT YOUNG AND TENDER, BUT NOW I AM STRONG, STRONG, STRONG.

To this DAY my friends know that We Don't Talk About Bruno around Bones, unless you want to trigger a 5 hour unskippable cutscene in which I lose my marbles screaming about how the ending of Naruto and the war arc broadly betrays every theme that Kishimoto established previously. EVEN NOW, you have NO idea how much strength it's taking me to just drop it. I can hear the Doom music behind my ears, banging like a war drum, awakening a sleeper agent.

I am now a loyal vassal of My Lady Bumble. Yet, on rare occasion, I feel the calloused touch of my old sweet, and I yearn to defend her honor. It would be a cruel thing to put me on the two sides of the war within my heart.

So basically I'm very normal about her

[firenati0n]

y'all it is 5:10am, but stay with me for a second, okay?

apologies and bear with me for being embarrassing and effusive and gushy on main yet fucking again (i cannot be helped!) but I had just the most utterly garbage day connected to a particulary shitty week [insert "lemon, it's wednesday" gif here] and I was just feeling very out of sorts for a myriad of personal reasons and decided to read (and subsequently reread) a fic by the lovely @myheartalivewrites called Paper Chains.

I had been saving this specific fic for a day I was feeling low and needed some real pining longing yearning slow burn (yeehaw!). That day arrived. Here I am.

When I tell you...my ass has been thinking about this fic on loop. I need all 25k words tattooed behind my eyelids. I reread it about half an hour ago with ugly anime-worthy tears streaming down my face. I felt a bruise and crack very deep in my heart start to heal over. I cannot tell you why, for I do not understand it myself. All I know is that when I started reading, my chest hurt in the worst way possible, and now it hurts in the best way possible. So now I'm the town crier, here to tell you to go read it if you haven't. And if you have, go reread it.

Everyone go read Paper Chains right the fuck now. Go!!! And then report back to me for screaming purposes. I'll be here. 💛

p.s. the fic also features and links some truly wonderful art by @lizzie-bennetdarcy (that you can find here and here, for starters...I won't spoil the fic one!!). A delightful addition to the experience. Big fan of your work always!! ❤️❤️❤️

I will always be in awe of artists and writers and creators—you pour SO MUCH of yourselves, hearts and souls and all, into your work. When I consume it, my cup fills yet again. Thank you! A privilege, as always.

[motherdolores]

Dear Mother,

Thou art alive, amidst the dance of a small sorrow. Thou lovest me greatly, yet thou hast not seen the sin I have caused. I have mysteries to conceal, and I need to be saved by the right hand of that mercy. It is a pact of difficulty that I wish to explain in the sanctuary, though each historical word shall captivate that tormented man and woman pursued by mortal sin. Full of life art thou, my dear Mother. Forsake me not among the churches, nor let my tears heal the echo of the little angels.

As I documented these musings, the strong words I write bring forth the slightest balance of my sins. For many reasons, I wish to improve with thy aid. It is difficult to find peace when thou art wretchedly empty in that gray sun. As I seek to express to thee through these letters, I promise to share every feeling I have from this valley for thee, my dear Mother. It is a nightmare through which I am passing and through which the future of misery shall continue to collide. I see eyes, attempting to aim at my poetic heart. Though I have vowed to the crucifixion of Jesus that no one shall be able to reach what I have accomplished during these months of pure and sinister killings. Soon, I shall seek our peace in the sanctuary thou hast built with thy ethereal dreams, and embrace me until the end of my spilled blood.

Since my dawn's childhood, I have committed sins, Mother... Grave sins for which I shall not obtain forgiveness from the ethereal heavens. I am the worst of all who dwell upon the earth. I pray, and yet, I shall continue sinning forever. But in thy heart of savior, I wish to protect, even if thou rejectest my actions. Throughout my life, I have borne the heaviest burden of the flesh, wretchedly withered like myself. Thou continue to yearn for thy beloved solitude, yet thou obtainest a sword with a protective rosary. I have forced myself to be perfectly like thee, free from sins, pure, and holy with a sinister devotion. Even across the centuries, I have been betrayed, weeping beneath the garden. Forsaken, as thou readest in this sad and nostalgic tale. Worst of all, I have suffered stabbings of wretchedness. And each day, I feel more sinful...

In the sanctuary of confession, I shall lay bare my soul before the eyes of God. I shall confess my sins and beg for His mercy. I have not been the best for His warm heart. Yet, I long to witness the true definition of His merciful forgiveness. There are many sins for which I believe I shall not be forgiven, and I shall never obtain the palm of divine peace. And I have tasted the suffering and the ashes of humanity. With the rain, I beg for hope. Though in the evening of the church, I sing the final song of the mass. In the presence of God, I must seek peace, even if it costs me suffering in that hell.

Breathtaking, thy testament of compassion and devotion. Little by little, thou dost embrace me, of love and errors committed that shall soon be forgiven by thy sacred heart. I have felt thy sword in search of vengeance, though Mother, thou dost not wish to sin in the manner that I sin, and I shall always perform wicked acts. A guide to find clarity during those terrifying nights of war. I desire to comprehend thy heart and thy devotion towards me. Though thou mayest detest and reject my putrid soul, I still understand the situation between us. I have heard the whisper of prophecies about my death, and soon, thou shalt see those letters of mine bleeding... All that befalls us deserves a great effort of embrace. I promise to share my innocence and yearn for thy motherhood; wise, and a fighter for blessed love. Thou dost love thy children, though it is difficult to forgive every sin they have committed in the past and present. Above all, thou hast a great capacity to devote thyself to them in their torment.

I doth beseech thine aid, dear Mother. Do not betray thy paths filled with celestial wisdom. Thou art, and shalt always be, my blessing. With thy sacred name, I shall always remember what thou hast done for me. And beneath the earth, I shall seek thy aid, though it may cost me greatly with all the depth of my soul. Stay by my side until the last solitude of the Lord God. Thou mayest weep for my death, though I shall understand some reasons why thou dost not wish to pray for my corpse. I shall always love and praise thee for who thou art and for what thou art doing in thy life, covered in bitter sorrows. And for thy fragility, as gentle as a swan with a broken neck, thou shalt sing my favorite song of the basilica. When I become a rose, I promise not to wither away but to care for the garden that wept so much to find peace and to kneel for my sins.

In the court of society, I have been the worst daughter to thee, Mother. Humanity shall never understand this pain of mine. And I believe that as the years pass, this world shall never comprehend my tears. I shall be criticized, humiliated, tortured, beaten, yet never forgotten. I am the worst sight for this valley, spilling my rotten blood. Still, amidst all situations, I shall always be an innocent and sensitive child to thee, my divine Mother. I am a weeping soul for the cemetery, seeking my happiness when moths try to fly with their broken wings. During my death, I have been able to observe other children trapped in a mortal suffering who shall soon seek the cry of vengeance. O, my Mother, of pure heart, hear my love for thee, and witness my burial in the forsaken cemetery. Desperate to plead for my death to become a protection for thee. And at the moment of my altar, I promise to leave a small part of my heart for thee.

With all mine adoration and venial sins committed by lamentations,

Mother Dolores.

Mother Dolores, "Mother, Daughter, & Son: Letter of Sanctuary."

[meowcats734]

[Soulmage] Some dragons are much too small to ride, so they're treated more like a dog. But then some are so small that they actually make a pretty effective weapon.

The hearth dragons were out in flocks tonight, gamboling beneath a cloudless moon. I clambered up the rickety, icy footholds that Lucet had made for me, plopping down on the bell tower balcony and lying down face-up to catch my breath.

Lucet's shyly smiling face peeked over mine, blotting out the moon. The distant shadows of hearth dragons crisscrossed behind her long, flowing hair like acrobats behind a curtain. A show without an audience. "Sorry about the climb," Lucet said. She straightened up, then laid down next to me, gazing up at the moon. "I usually come up here when I want to be alone. If the path wasn't difficult, it wouldn't be my sanctuary."

"Doesn't seem so difficult for these guys," I said, pointing up at the hearth dragons. The gentle snowfall kicked up as the breeze momentarily intensified, and in the flurry, it was impossible to tell living, willful bodies from helpless flakes caught in the wind.

The gale died down, and Lucet said, "They have freedom. They have it easy."

Another man would have reached out to touch her, to kiss her words into anxious mumbles, to slip a hand where it wasn't wanted and tell her that this was what she needed. Another man was the reason the only place Lucet could find peace was at the top of an empty clock tower beneath the silent eye of the moon.

I said and did nothing as the dragons wheeled overhead.

Eventually, I broke the comfortable silence to say the words that needed to be spoken. "You could leave him," I said.

Lucet nodded. "I could."

"Will you?"

She let out a frustrated breath. "It's not that easy. You wouldn't understand." She paused, then stood. "Although... Here. Let me show you something." She reached inside her pocket for a twist of frozen meat and stood. Curious, I sat up, watching her. She let out a piercing whistle and held up the bait.

Soon enough, a smaller hearth dragon—about the size of a gremsquirrel or a glowpup—circled down lower, enticed enough by her offer to get sucked into her orbit.

"Here, girl. Good girl. You're beautiful, you know that? I've never seen anyone like you. You're wonderful. I love you. Come here," she cooed reassuringly, clicking her tongue as the hearth dragon drew closer.

The hearth dragon landed, its signature warmth filling the room as it perched on the railing. Lucet held out the treat, and the hearth dragon's neck stretched out, yearning to take a bite—

Her hand was a blur. I barely registered what happened before she slapped the hearth dragon onto the floor, dazing it as its tough-armored body bounced off the floor. "Look what you made me do! Did I say you could eat that? You hate me! You're a whore and a slut and you hate me! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

The unfortunate dragon tried to flap its wings, but in a flash, Lucet's tone changed once more, back to the reassuring croon as she cradled the hearth dragon in her arms. "Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay. I've got you. I'm going to take care of you. See? You can have a treat, for being so good." She fed the little meat twist to the hearth dragon, and the poor hungry thing gobbled it up. "I love you, sweetie. Don't you ever forget it."

Then both the fury and the falsehoods sloughed off her expression, and she set the dragon down, grim-faced.

It stared at her, confused, not knowing whether to expect another blow or a reward.

"That's what it's like," she said. "With him."

I could see the sticky black thorns around her soul, the same ones that ringed mine, and I simply said, "I'm sorry."

Her expression shifted into the weak, frozen body of what had once been a smile. "So am I."

She knelt down by the hearth drake and helped it up.

"Sorry," she repeated, to the hearth drake this time. "I... I'm just a mess. I just had to get... I just had to get it off my chest."

The hearth drake stood, its armored body unharmed from its tumble, and took off into the sky. In a week, it would be more focused on its next meal than remembering that any of this had ever happened.

We were not so lucky.

She sat down on the railing, legs dangling off the edge. After a moment, she brushed off the snow beside her, patting it in a wordless invitation.

We sat there together, two children on the edge of the world, as toothless dragons flew overhead.

"Not all dragons would have taken that well," I said. "I mean, hearth dragons are fairly harmless, but others... they're practically living weapons. A riftmaw would have sent you running for your life."

"So which am I?" Lucet's eyes crinkled. "The riftmaw or the hearth dragon?"

"You're whatever you want to be," I said. "They cannot take this from you."

Lucet looked away, and with a spell of sorrow and frost, her tears blended right in with the falling snow.

Then she turned back to me and leaned on my shoulder.

After a heartbeat, I leaned back on her.

And we watched the peaceful dragons soar, circling beneath a silent moon.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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[rozieramati]

11/27/23

i miss having someone to write to. or maybe i miss having someone to write about? it's both. texting had become my modern-day version of letter writing in a way. for a time, i could fill my day coming up with clever musings for my favorite person. what i understand now is that anyone can be my favorite person. it's just a matter of me choosing and devoting myself to them fully. i know how to make myself obsessed. but the pain is too much for me to do so without reason. the last time i did it was to write my album. the next time i do it will be for the same.

i could keep writing and make myself cry if i wanted to. i could.

the truth is i've become incredibly numb to attachment in all forms. there's not much one can do to make me attach myself to them because i have found complete, and i mean absolute complete, fulfillment on my own. i could spend years with very little, with my mind, art, and nature alone and be fulfilled. so long as i can think and create i am okay. i can even conjure an imaginary person to write to. i've done it before. their name was river. i haven't written them in a while.

i miss the blank page you let me write on. i miss your dry humor that you followed up with incredulous sweetness. i miss the contradictions in your character. i miss the hand you held out for me. i'm crying now. i miss the words i could shape for you. the words i could send to you. the words we shared and left in a thread for us both to cradle before we fell asleep. no one's come close to that. to what that was. but i made it so. i wanted to know what it was like to devote myself, and i came to find the horror and the sublime in the answer.

love is tragedy and doesn't really last. how could it? nothing special really lasts. that's why it's special. that's why we remember it forever.

i'm still young. i know nothing. i'll find this a while down the line and laugh at my naivety.

i hope.

that would be the best truth, to know that i was wrong about love. i'm so impossibly convinced it's never a beauty i can catch. it'll only flutter past my ear every now and then, like a blind butterfly. never to hold, only to mistakenly bump into my flesh and tickle me until i laugh into a sickness. that's what love is to me right now. and so i hope i'm wrong.

there's moments like today when i'm slapped in the face with yearning once again. there are triggers. they are people. and i cannot avoid them. it's my duty to distance myself from my pain when it may interfere with the art. strange, i know, because most would assume the pain is what makes the art so great. and while that is true, it's also true that too much indulgence in pain prevents from art being made at all.

[plesstandby]

And I yearn

to be a strikingly-good poet. not even to be renowned as the best in my field, but to be recognized as someone who could flood senses with mere words. to silence the salt-burn of life's rigid reasoning and to tap into the mind's eye of my humble audience with something as incisive as memory.

dear reader. although the pursuit of translating thoughts and feelings into words is taxing, aches at my neck and crunches my spine, it would be a travesty to forsake my gift for writing. I find that there is love in expressing. whether or not we succeed or fail in making others understand what it is that we feel inside is not the purpose. instead, a beauty that comes from shouting, into the crags of the void. a joy, in hearing another shout back.

capturing the feelings of a moment is in itself a chore that I could not as more abhor than to like, but I do it anyway. Feelings are sacred little things. elusive fairies that dart away from any quick advances in trying to capture it. it is only in stillness, I believe, will we be ever as close to feeling the fullness of a moment. its ephemeral nature, its elegant poise and nuance. I am drawn to complexity. The good kind that is fashioned so delicately by reality to produce a compelling machination that shifts and errs. the stuff of reality that changes at every point in perspective you pick to view them in. humans are complex in that aspect. arguments, ideas, creations. philosophies, history and situations. take any point and see as your world changes. as it expands and perhaps in its goodwill, ignorance receded. How I was a few minutes ago, when I donned on this forest green military jacket, was the most centered I felt in a long time. It was like I was in prayer without the praying hands. introspective and delicate piano arrangements filled the room in a cascade of feeling. It reminded me of Mass, and of the prayer services my class section would attend at 6:45 am on occasion. Oh, school. This school year is ending soon, and I have barely talked to my classmates.

how I yearn, to say what I am feeling and to be freed from these idiosyncrasies that remind me time and time again that I am human. and that is to mention my mid-sentence stutters or my awkward pauses-- those of which give me considerable time to think before I can be myself once again. but i suppose that this is how i am and ever will be. i am a reflective individual and i swear on my duty as a human to respond as i can ever completely to the shouts coming from whichever cavern from wherever void.

To be human, and to be a good human at that, is who I yearn to be.

[feralchaton]

There are the years that make us. I have been healing for the better part of a decade. It is at the point where I can talk about my story but don't feel the need to. However I do feel the want to get some things out and it will probably be messy and uncomfortable for a while, but that's how things often are.

The memories don't tear at the wounds anymore. Gentle tugs maybe, burns a little, and that may always be the case, but with high tolerance it is bearable. I am also not alone in my journey, although it often feels that way. When I post of love, deep understanding relationships, D/s...these aren't fantasies or hopes, it's often sentiment that mirrors what I, we, have. Things I believe, embody, share, keep learning, and live, daily.

I do yearn for friendships, genuine connections, a tribe (I have secluded myself for a long time, necessary but...) as I am open to it now, perhaps that hope will fill in, in time, baby steps and I feel beyond fortunate for some that I've met here. You have no idea what kindness and presence can mean to someone, even if it's just seeing a familiar avatar/notification.

Are relationships work? Um...

Are relationships technically every single interpersonal dealing and exchange not just those we deem honored by our presence? Yes. Why isn't that considered work? Isn't everything worth having and doing technically "work" anyway? Why do we call it work as opposed to effort, which is all it is? With parenting, friendships, family, co-workers, strangers you meet (or don't)...There is no clocking in and out, no breaks, no vacation or sick pay maybe because it's not a fucking job!

Labors of love, effort, with no clear reward or condition. Love. There may be one word for something that encompasses a few hundred thousand different emotions/feelings/circumstances/reasons/excuses/truths (love doesn't lie) so maybe we can chill with limiting parameters based in nothing but fear and the unknown.

Besides, the relationship with others isn't the difficult stuff, it's the relationship with ourselves that may actually be work but that also has nothing to do with anyone or anything else. Being honest, communicating earnestly, kindly, truthfully, openly and being and embodying that which we yearn and hope for. Sounds so much easier than it is.

My husband, partner as I prefer to say, and I hold ourselves and each other to this. 16 years together, half of that time considered to be a D/s relationship (no it didn't start out that way!) I took over a position he was holding and our professional nature, plus a very sweet and innocent misheard moment, solidified the actual love at first sight. We fought to be together. Yes, these things do happen. Often. People often try to ruin beautiful things so I don't feel the need to broadcast. We had established and enacted what works for us and revisit, discuss, and evolve as needed or wanted. Every single day we show up for, and with, each other in whatever capacity that means. It is far from always being sunbeams and rainbow unicorn farts but, no matter what, we have each other.

Be present, be aware, be open and keep moving forward. Allow yourself the grace to stumble, fall, maybe even take some extra time getting up, but hiding behind insecurities and masks to remain comfortable isn't going to do it.

Find comfort in your discomfort and forge ahead. It's worth it, all of it, every single part of it and if you don't know that, just wait, you will.

feralchaton

[schmem14]

(Hello, my Tumblr is the only account I have that isn’t Katbeth86, but I love it’s name too much to change it 🙈)

Peculiar Prompt: Harry/Luna, Hidden Soulmarks (each person know where their own are, but the marks can’t be seen by others unless they choose to expose them), angst is fine, but I would please request a happy ending 🙈

What are peculiar prompts? Click HERE to find out and join in the fun!

Lost and Found

CW: none

Pairing: Harry Potter x Luna Lovegood

Rating: T

WC: 1.9k

*Disclaimer: There is a depiction of the Jewish Holiday of Passover/Seder in this story. I am not of the Jewish faith, but I did my best to research the traditions and holiday in preparation for this ficlet.

*****

“All finished, Harry,” Ron grunts as he stacks his stack of gleaming plates on the counter. “I think I did a fair job of it.”

Harry looks up from dusting a bookshelf to where his friend has been scouring every dish until they’re clean enough for tonight. 

Harry sets his rag down.  “Thanks for helping me. I’ve got the rest squared away.”

He plasters what he hopes is a pleasant smile on his lips, but for some reason, it’s harder this year to pretend he’s okay. 

“No problem, mate. I should get going. Gotta pick up the kids from King’s Cross on the way to get Hermione from work. We’ll all be back by sundown, brisket and all.” 

Harry nods but doesn’t trust his voice not to wobble. He’s grateful Ron came to help, but even his leaving for a few hours feels treacherously like abandonment. Every goodbye does when you’re as alone as Harry is.

Ron sees something in Harry’s expression and pauses. 

He ambles over to Harry to enfold him in a hug. 

A torrent of vulnerability so long dammed breaks free. Harry’s breath shudders and hitches with pitiful sobs that soak into Ron's sleeve as he pat's Harry's back. 

“Harry—”

“—I know, alright? I—I can’t find her, whoever she is. I can’t seem to fill the hollow space here,” Harry pulls away to clutch his heart. “I’m not getting any younger, Ron. I’m not sure when I’ll find my soulmate, not after two decades of searching. I feel so alone. I need her.”

Ron sighs and leans against the couch opposite Harry, arms folding as he contemplates. He finally asks the thing he’s suspected, ever since Harry first told him about the soul mark hidden on his palm. “Does Ginny know that’s why you divorced her?”

Harry nods and flips his hand to rub his thumb over the smooth skin, concentrating on making the glamour dissipate. 

The mark had appeared in the centre of his palm eight months after the last battle. At first, he’d thought Ginny would possess its twin, but when he’d asked her about it, she’d been as bewildered as him. 

They’d both been too young and too in love to fathom the weight of marrying when he was soul-bound to another. It became a widening chasm between them, preventing him from feeling at home in Ginny’s embrace. 

“Hermione and I worry about you,” Ron says. Of course, they do. “I know you have the kids, but they’re at Hogwarts most of the year. And even if Ginny is still on good terms with you, it’s not enough. Maybe you should try again, Haz. Maybe it’s time to give up on your mystery soul mate and find someone a little closer to home.”

Ron’s only being a good friend, and Harry doesn’t bother to explain that someone who hasn’t been soul marked can’t understand how every other intimate relationship is a poor imitation of who and what he yearns for. 

Ever since divorcing Ginny, he feels the lack more than ever. He cherishes a hope after this month of preparing, the Passover celebration tonight will spark some much-needed joy after a lonely winter. He’s even prepared this home, pretending she’s coming like Elijah of old to fill the space he left her. 

“I’ll be okay, Ron. I’ll see you later.”

Ron claps his large palm on Harry’s shoulder. “You sure?”

“Yes, Ron. And thanks.”

“Anything for my best mate.”

*****

Hours later, guests begin to arrive. 

Ginny is first with their kids, who fling shoes and coats onto the floor of his sparkling entryway. 

“House looks great, Har…” Ginny kisses him on the cheek. “Jamie! Get back here and hang your coat! You too, Al and Lils!”

They grumble under their breaths but comply. Normally, Harry’s house isn’t so immaculate, but this is a special time of year. 

Ginny produces a crock from under her arm, charmed to stay hot. “I made the matzo ball soup, just like you asked.”

“Smells amazing, Gin. Thanks! I’ll take this to the kitchen.”

Next to arrive is Harry’s one Jewish friend from Hogwarts, Anthony Goldstein and his dangerously pregnant wife, Padma Patil. “Good to see you, Harry! Thanks for hosting this year…” Anthony winks before herding Padma to find a comfortable seat on the couch.

Hermione and Ron arrive next with the precocious Rose and exuberant Hugo in tow. 

“Mum, can I try the wine this year? I’m fourteen, and Jamie gets to have some!” Rose whines at Hermione. 

“Absolutely not. Jamie is nearly of age, and you’re not quite old enough,” Hermione explains in a longsuffering tone. 

“I’ll give you a little sip of mine,” Harry catches Ron whispering to Rose seconds later as he winks at his scowling wife. 

Anthony calls from the kitchen where he’s removing several parcels from the bag he’s brought. “Where do you keep the seder plate, Harry?”

“Just a sec, I’ll grab it.” Harry dodges the giggling train of Lily and Hugo as they race past him. He locates the precious porcelain plate with its six cups and unwraps it with careful fingers. It’s one of the few things he’d been able to salvage from his childhood home and his first clue of the lost heritage of his father’s family. 

He sets the plate on the counter and helps place each element—Horseradish, Charoset, Potato, Shankbone, Egg, and Lettuce. 

When they sit at the table together, Harry opens his copy of the Haggadah and begins to read. 

“Prepare the meal of the supernal King. This is the meal of the Holy One, blessed be He, and His Shechinah…”

It’s a solemn affair, less boisterous than in years past. 

They speak in hushed words as they sample the Karpas. 

The crack of matzah is loud in the reverent silence that even the kids seem to be observing this year. 

Lily’s voice is soft and melodic as she recites the four questions. 

Later, when she and Hugo search for the afikoman hidden earlier by Anthony, they don’t shriek and thump about quite as loudly as they usually do. 

The candles burn low. 

The food dwindles from plates and bowls. 

Harry pours the fourth round of wine followed by Elijah’s cup at the last empty chair of the table. 

Every year, he waits for this moment, secretly hoping that as the Jews hope Elijah will grace their tables, his soulmate will somehow be waiting at the door. 

Harry stands and walks to the entryway with shaking fingers. His heart pounds faster and faster. He feels hot inside, burning, full. 

He lifts a hand to the doorknob, ready to open it when three sharp raps on the door splinter the silence. 

The room seems frozen in amber, every eye huge and expectant, craning to watch Harry welcome the unexpected guest. 

Harry twists the knob, pulls it open, and sees her. 

*****

When the soul mark appears on her palm on the day of Xenophilius’s funeral, eight months after the end of the war, Luna sees it as an omen. 

Not in the sense that she longs to chase it, but that she longs to turn the other way and never stop running. 

She’s not one for great displays of sadness, but that doesn’t mean her foundations don’t crack with the newfound knowledge that one thread of love has the power to hurt her this much. 

Luna leaves Hogwarts, education incomplete.  She flits from country to country discovering all manner of cultures and magic. She loves people and things with her body and her mind, but her heart is reserved for the one whose sign she hides under a permanent glamour. 

Years pass, and she never stops moving, though she does stop marking time. 

Sometime around the first silvery grey strands threading through blonde, Luna finds herself getting pulled in the undertow of fate to the thing she’s avoided for so long. 

It’s an early spring morning and she’s curling her toes and arching her back in a languorous stretch, wiggling closer to the warm body beside her in their battered canvas tent.  A surge of urgency wakens within her. 

He needs her. 

She’s known his identity for years but refuses to get in the way. Last she heard, he married her best friend, had a litter of kids, and got a proper job at the Ministry. 

Huddled and comfortable as she is against Rolf in their campsite in Grindavik, Iceland, Luna realises it’s time to come home. 

She rolls off his cot and locates a pair of cargo trousers—hers, she thinks, but they’re about the same size and colour. He’ll never know either way, hyper-focused as he is on his research. 

Rolf rolls over, grumbling for her to come back to bed, but Luna’s already in a rhythm, the need to move so powerful she has no time to waste.

Everything she owns fits in a shabby rucksack patched with scraps of fabric scrounged on her travels. She slings it over her shoulder now, toeing on her boots as if she’s running the race of her life. 

Luna dashes out into the cold dawn air, the last vestiges of northern lights snaking away from view. Luna quickly locates her broomstick and flies toward the glowing embers of sunrise. 

Toward home. 

She flies all day, never stopping once, not even when her fingers ache and her stomach growls in hunger. She follows the homing beacon in her heart, getting closer and closer to him. 

To Harry. 

She’s never been to his cottage, but it looks warm and comforting in the glow of lights from the window. Luna stops before the gate, her heart thrumming with nervous energy. There’s a large oak tree out front, the sturdy boughs bending in a protective shade over the yard, a crude swing hanging from the lowest of them. 

Luna can see herself on that swing, his hands warm on her back as he pushes her. 

She can see herself kneeling in the humble garden, planting all her favourite clippings from every land she’s ever seen. 

She can imagine spreading a tablecloth on the weathered picnic table while Harry brings dinner out, their towheaded child tottering along behind him, thumb in her mouth as she follows the smell of food. 

She can imagine cosy nights before the fire, and eternal mornings binding every sinew of hers to his as they make love. 

Her heart clenches at the sudden longing, the unfamiliar desire to put down roots.

She opens the gate and approaches the house. Her fingers won’t stop shaking as she raises her fist to knock. 

The door creaks open, and there he is. Time has worn crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and there are whips of grey in the curls at his temples, but other than that, he’s the same. 

“I’m home,” she says, the words tasting right in her mouth. She lifts her palm and concentrates, making the glamour fade. 

Harry’s heart is in his eyes as he presses his palm to hers, a perfect mirror of marks humming against one another. She’s never felt so complete in her whole life. 

“Welcome home,” he says. “You’ve come at just the right time.”

[apilgrimsjournal]

Heaven on Earth

“Son,'he said,' ye cannot in your present state understand eternity...That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, "No future bliss can make up for it," not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say "Let me have but this and I'll take the consequences": little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of the sin. Both processes begin even before death. The good man's past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of Heaven: the bad man's past already conforms to his badness and is filled only with dreariness. And that is why...the Blessed will say "We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven, : and the Lost, "We were always in Hell." And both will speak truly.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

I believe it is safe to say that all children of God yearn for Heaven. Sons and daughters of the Holy One of Israel were made to dwell in His presence even before the foundation of Earth. And it is so, I long for that country where I have not been. But if I may say so, with precaution, that I know of Heaven here on Earth. I do not claim that Heaven can be anywhere. The prince of the power of the air is also here in this world and friendship with this world would mean enmity with God. What I mean by Heaven on Earth is His people.

My brothers and sisters in Christ give me a glimpse of what Heaven could look like. In trials, most especially in darkest valleys, their love endures and glows brighter. The family of saints does not hesitate to help and bless others. As channels, His love flows through them. Like a river that runs deep, so is their genuine concern for one another. I am blessed to be one and experience such love that transcends all understanding. Surely, we love because He first loved us. Knowing His love is the reason why anyone could love selflessly, not wanting anything in return. Just yesterday, I tasted and saw this, once again. They celebrated my birthday in advance even when I did not expect anything from anyone. I find it unnecessary to be celebrated like that but I guess that comes with being cherished. You cannot love without showing it; it is bound to burst and overflow. One cannot love without actions.

Honestly, I enjoyed every bit of it. Unexpected joy is a fulfilling joy. I am so grateful to those who took the time and made the effort to really be with me yesterday. It is my lament how little I could express my gratitude but I hope they know how much I am thankful for each and everyone. Ultimately, I am most grateful to my Lord for giving me a family who loves Him. I do not deserve anything from Him but He gives abundantly.

Truly, the blessing of the Lord makes rich, and He adds no sorrow with it.

“Blessed are you, O Lord, the God of Israel our father, forever and ever. Yours, O Lord, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the victory and the majesty, for all that is in the heavens and in the earth is yours. Yours is the kingdom, O Lord, and you are exalted as head above all."

[jenyifer]

If you want to skip the rambling skip to the see more for a treat of the first 3 paragraphs of part 2 of my Boston Ray fic

I have good news I’ve got the rough draft of the remaining 3 done. Bad news I need to rewatch only friends to make sure I have Ray in character. I worry because I jokingly say Oh yeah Ray is me. I get addicted to things easily. I lost someone important to me as a teen. I love music. I often am indecisive and can get angry say shit I don’t mean. I have the same 🪄zest for life. So I worry Ray not enough like actual Ray. Maybe I’m just projecting. I do write a lot of Boston. So… let’s…. Rewatch only friends and not watch the BostonNick bits…..

Only watch the Ray bits Jenny for the love of J-Hope and Off Jumpol

No I can’t help it look at them

Okay okay I’ll give you a little preview of part 2 so that I will have motivation to finish it quickly and not obsessively post about BostonNick. Although I might post about SandRay because i never did that while it was airing. Okay here’s the first paragraphs of part 2 of my BostonRay fic I’ll edit them down but whatever. You get a little taste 🙌🏻🙌🏻

Eight-year-old Boston found himself fixated on his flip phone, desperately waiting for a call that he knew deep down was unlikely to come. His mother had left him in the care of his father, choosing to travel instead because she claimed she "couldn't bear to stay here any longer." The absence of his mother weighed heavily on Boston's heart, prompting him to seek solace in her green room at the back of the house. Surrounded by the plants she used to photograph and take notes on, he had hoped to ask her about them, yearning for just a little more of her attention and affection. However, as the sixth consecutive day passed without a single call, Boston felt tears of disappointment threatening to escape his eyes. He couldn't help but feel weak, just as his father and Ter would often accuse him of being. They dismissed his emotions as childish, labelling him as someone who clung onto memories. Overwhelmed by a mix of frustration and sadness, Boston let out a yell and impulsively kicked over a large snake plant. In that moment, he didn't care that the shattered pot left his hands cut and bleeding, as he desperately tried to release his pent-up emotions.

Ter's exasperation quickly transformed into concern as he picked up the squirming child, his hands covered in blood. "Kid, I've told you countless times that there are punching bags for a reason. You have school, you know," Despite the frustration evident in his voice, Ter carefully carried Boston to the bathroom to tend to his wounds. As he bandaged the little boy's hands, he couldn't help but notice the blank expression that washed over Boston's face, a sign of the emotional turmoil he was experiencing. Over the years, Ter had developed a deep attachment to Boston, despite the teasing from others who referred to him as a nanny. In Ter's eyes, he saw himself more as a brother figure to the privileged child. With a gentle ruffle of Boston's hair, Ter tried to lighten the mood. "Today, I'll be in charge of you. What would you like to do after school? If your hands weren't hurt, I was thinking of taking you to a batting cage again."

Boston's immediate desire was clear - he longed for his mother. However, understanding that he couldn't fulfill that wish, he looked for a substitute to ease his loneliness. "I want to make a pillow fort with Ray," Boston declared, knowing that his friend could provide some comfort. He turned to Ter, his eyes fluttering and a hesitant smile forming on his face. "Ask Mae if he can stay over tonight, please?" Boston remembered how Ray had a way of charming others, and he hoped that Ter could make it happen. He yearned for the warmth and companionship that Ray's presence would bring, even if it couldn't completely fill the void left by his mother's absence.

[careful-fear]

my prompt machine seems to be broken atm so I shall ask instead about shrike and thorn! are you still thinking about adding the second love interest? why/why not? alternatively/in addition please ramble about your wip as much as you’d like, I want to hear it all!

i am soooo glad you asked this because the entire concept has been rattling around my brain. at the current moment i am leaning towards no, but quincey will recieve an ally (kind of). shrike & thorn is about their love, and how their love was created out of isolation and desperation, and the decisions they make because of it. adding a second love interest would change the direction of their stories in a way that doesn't match the original intention. i love stories about people changing, and quincey is in the perfect role for it, but i think there's a tragedy to the self denial of that journey. and it's meant to be a tragedy.

i also feel like it would have... belittled shrike in a way. i have no idea how to word it, but the reader needs to understand why quincey would love shrike outside of the reasons that drove them together. outside of an idealised version. to understand shrike as a character without being in their head requires time and even positivity that another love interest would take away from them.

i want the reader to look at this doomed, tragic love story and root for them and think they could be happy in a better world, or just better circumstances. that these people are fucked up but there is something good in them.

speaking of better circumstances, i have a self indulgent modern au. shrike is an exhausted desk worker, quincey is an ambitious fashion designer, neither of them are emotionally competent. instead of asking to move in together they simultaneously and secretly sabotage each others' apartments and it's really helpful in establishing what vibe i want for them.

which is just, erotic and sensual and somehow filled with yearning. they have each other but not entirely. or safely. everything they do is for each other. they spend every second apart longing to touch and listen and to just drown in each other.