#(at least I hope it is when I share more of it with posts in the future ( ´Д｀)=3)

[dduane]

Erotica and anniversaries

...The big E, first. Here she is. Isn't she lovely?

...Right there upstairs at the Library of Congress, on the second floor. (I noted at the time we passed through some years back—and continue to smile at the memory—that her artist has included his copyright statement right there, to make sure no one misses it.)

...Anyway, where were we? ...Oh yeah: the local takes on erotic writing and smut.

This subject seems to come up every couple of years. What nudged me into revisiting it this time was the notes off a comment to a post earlier today, responding to someone working on an explicit-leaning AU, and discussing the writing of (story) bibles for projects.

Anyway, the notes:

#love that the advice was not just 'stick to porn' or 'don't write porn at all' but 'ah yes; common problem; let me explain to you how to write a series bible'

Well, disclosure here: in my case, it can't really be otherwise. :)

Let this act as everybody's sort-of-biennial reminder (if needed) that I'm not going to be caught condemning people for writing smut, as I've written it myself. (And continue to do so when the mood moves me.)

The post from very nearly two years ago, discussing the issue in more detail, is over here. As you'll see if you read it, there were some folks who experienced brief episodes of cognitive dissonance on learning I was a cheerful writer of explicit material. Some of the surprise was probably due to the fact that a lot of people see me—mostly due to the relatively-higher profile of the Young Wizards books—as primarily a writer for younger readers.

But that's not how I got started. My (1979) debut novel centers a universe where the following exchange between two of the protagonists appears—they then being wrapped up in blankets and afterglow in the wake of a prolonged and enthusiastic post-reunion shag:

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Nor was this a one-off. This book and its sequels contain a fair number of passages in which human (and occasionally non-human) sexualities, both in the abstract and the experientially concrete, take center stage. And the mode in which they're expressed and discussed is intended for adults. Those sequences can probably be described as at least borderline erotica. (I certainly try had to be as graceful about such passages as I can, when and where it's appropriate to be.)

With this in mind, it's worth repeating what turns up in that earlier post, which came off a query to a ficcer about "how do you feel knowing that people may be jerking off to your work?":

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say...

Other people's art in these modes certainly is entertaining for me: and I desperately hope mine is for other people. (Almost all my more explicit writing is published only pseudonymously, which from my point of view is just fine. There's a fair amount of writing work out in the world that [for contractual or other business reasons] doesn't have my name on it. This is just more of the same.)

(Per that, adding here again my own tags from that earlier post:)

#and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:)

Anyway, finally: from that earlier post—on nearly the thirty-eighth anniversary of something happening to me that would, just a year before the event, have seemed wildly unlikely—this note, unusually apposite because of what today is, and what's coming tomorrow.

I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed…) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you’re willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it’s to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-plus-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and more than three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added… let’s just say nuance. 😏

So, happy Valentine's Day to all those who choose to celebrate, in whatever mode.

And to the Man Upstairs:

...See you in a few, sweetie. :)

[drabbletron]

Walk Me Through It: Hound x Reader Smut

|| So glad I could finally post some smut for this guy, and just in time for Valentine's Day!! This one's for you @hoiststowline! For making me fall in love with this green to-good-for-this-world mech! Thanks a bunches!! ||

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

"Oh, darlin’ you look so beautiful like this, and you’re taking my spike so well. Just a little more, can you do that for me?”

With Hound's gentle coaching you slide farther and farther down his spike and the stretch is almost too much. Each node rubs and presses against your walls just so, and you can't help the pleasured haze that falls over your mind. It's just the way you imagined taking him would feel like. All those nights of him dancing through your mind couldn't compare to having him finally inside you to ease that dull, persisting ache.

“That's what I like to see,” Hound purrs when you finally bottom out. He gives you plenty of time to adjust while a servo lazily circles your clit, hoping to stimulate you to make more lubricant. It can't be easy taking all of him, even with the prep he put you through and the mass displacement.

“Hold on now, I'm going to start moving.”

Hound effortlessly lifts you up his spike before gently bringing you back down again slowly, very, very slowly. He's not sure what he'd do if he actually hurt you so he's sure to keep a close watch on your face for any signs of discomfort. All you can do is whimper and mewl as he keeps an even pace.

Eventually those noises break away to deep, pleasured hums and groans.

“Is this good?”

Your head falls back in response as he slowly lets you take control back to bounce on him, your pace spryer than his. Still his servos never fully leave you, cupping your thighs to support you.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Hound struggles to keep his vocalizer even. You're just too damn pretty using his spike like you are. Light sweat covers your skin, and your eyes are heavy lidded and glazed over as if in a daze; You're so blissed out, and he can't believe that he's the one making you feel like that. Can't believe that you'd share something so intimate with him as your bare body. It's sweet.

Your head is empty as you brace yourself on his chassis to change the pace from restless bouncing to hedonistic grinding. Every part of you wants to touch every part of him and your undulations connect your bodies just right, keep that knot in your abdomen tight in all the right ways, that you hardly register all the moaning and groaning you’re doing. With your head so far away, you barely hear Hound's encouragement.

“How’s a mech supposed to last with you making noises like that?” he laughs. That gentle sound as he rearranges your insides has you seeing stars, and you look at him like he put the sun in the sky. How that love snared look will forever be burned into his processor.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that and I'm going to overload, darlin’,” he vents almost in warning, or maybe in a soft threat. This was supposed to be a gentle love affair. His and your first time without the holomatter avatar was meant to be sweet and slow, but the way things are looking now, with how you're chanting his name and begging him not to stop, it makes it hard to not roll you both over so he can show you all that he can do.

"Oh, you sound so sweet," I could spark you right now!

That last part he'd never say out loud. At least not until much later in the relationship if you'd ever have that conversation with him.

Focus Hound. This isn't about you, right now. They need you to take care of them!

Deep in thought he almost misses the faint tremor of your insides before you curl in on yourself and your walls clamp down hard on his spike.

"I know, sweetspark" Hound coos when your orgasms finally crashes over you. "Just ride it out, now. There we go, you're doin' great, love!"

His servos glide over your sides and down your thighs and back to soothe your trembling body. Each wave that shoots through you, that has you trembling against his frame, becomes that much more blissful with his servos all over you. He keeps you close to him as he rolls his hips softly up into you. Over and over until he gently overloads into your core with a groan of your name.

"I bet that feels better now, doesn’t it?"

You dumbly nod your head where it rests against his chassis.

"I’m glad I could help, love."

[fuck1ng-queen]

Just Pretend

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: fake dating, best friends to lovers

Author comments: hi, besties! happy valentine’s day! this is the last one shot of this special week, closing with our bestfriend!noah. i hope you all like it! 💕

The sweet scent of melted chocolate and fresh flowers were almost literally everywhere. The city seemed to be bewitched by Valentine's Day, with decorated windows in pink and red tones and paper hearts in every corner. You always thought all of that a little exaggerated, but deep down it was difficult not to feel a little jealous when you saw the happy couples holding hands, laughing and sharing moments.

That morning, you woke up with your mind divided between two emotions: relief for not having to be worried about gifts or commitments and a bit of loneliness that insisted to appear that time of the year. While you were finishing your breakfast while scrolling your social media filled with romantic posts, your facetime called.

“What are you doing today?” You picked up and a face appeared on the screen. “If your answer is nothing, get ready, I’ll be right there.”

And then, in less than an hour, Noah, your best friend since forever, was at your door, with that carefree smile you knew so well.

“Are you really going to spend Valentine’s Day home alone watching movies?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe, holding two cups of coffee which he had obviously stopped to buy on the way.

“I don’t see a problem in it.” You answered, arching an eyebrow while you got your coffee from his hand. “Some of us don't have a romantic date to celebrate.”

He laugh, nodding.

“Me neither for your information. But that’s why I had a great idea.”

“Hm, this is always dangerous…” You joked, crossing your arms.

“Let’s pretend we’re a couple!” he announced, as if he had just found the cure of a rare disease.

You blinked in confusion.

“What?”

“Think with me: several stores and restaurants are giving discounts and good conditions for couples today. We could turn this into a funny adventure. Who needs a real date when you can break the system with your best friend?”

You straightened your eyes to him, trying to figure out if he was joking or not.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in my life.”

“Ridiculously brilliant!” he corrected, with that mischievous smile that always succeeded to disarm you. “I mean, come on, this is going to be fun! Besides, you were really thinking about spending Valentine's alone, weren't you?”

Sighing, you realised he had a point. Spending Valentine’s Day with Noah seemed to be such a better option than spending the day home alone, mourning your luck in love, or more precisely, the lack of it. And, truth be told, the idea of pretending to be a couple with him had something intriguing you didn’t want to admit to yourself.

“Okay, I’m in” you said, trying to look indifferent. “But just because I want to see where this is going.”

“That’s my girl!” he exclaimed, taking you by the hand and pulling you out the couch. “First of all, you have to at least pretend you’re going on a date. Can you change your clothes and brush your hair? Second, we’re getting that 50% off brunch for couples.”

You laughed, disbelieved in what you just had heard. Noah was your best friend for so long that it hasn’t any filter between you anymore. He could say with any problem how messy your hair was. And honestly, you used to love that.

You ran up the stairs while he waited in the living room thinking about what to wear to match what he was wearing, and to be honest, that wasn’t that difficult, once both of you basically wore black almost every day. Without overthinking you got undressed, throwing off your clothes on the bedroom floor. While you were looking through the mess of your wardrobe you lightly wiped out some gunk from your eyes and applied deodorant. A dress wasn’t your first choice everyday, but it seemed to be a comfortable and good looking option. You dressed it up quickly, not caring too much about how the bra strap was showing behind the straps of your dress, they were the same color, anyway.

The black fabric went all the way down to your feet, but the slit in both legs made everything less formal. You rushed to put your hair up in a ponytail, put on some lipstick and mascara, sprayed your everyday perfume and took a pair of socks inside the drawer, heading down the stairs as quickly as you could.

“Wow, now you look like a girlfriend!” Noah commented as he saw you coming down the stairs, even barefoot, trying to look as indifferent as possible, when deep down something told him he had never repaired how beautiful you were with such attention. You couldn’t help but giggle at his comment. That was Noah. “Shall we?” He suggested as he saw you had finished putting your army boots on.

The sensation of going on a date with Noah was funny, strange even, but you were willing to enjoy the day. Something told you the day was going to be way more interesting than if you had stayed home alone taking roots on the couch.

The coffee you stopped first was small and cozy, with a well done decoration for Valentine’s Day. Felt hearts hung from the ceiling, and the tables were decorated with candles and small bouquets of flowers. You were quickly settled in by an employee who, when she heard you were a couple, gave you a warm smile and wished you a “happy Valentine’s Day”.

You felt your cheeks warming up by noticing the way Noah bent himself in your direction, putting his arm on the chair back as if it was the most normal thing ever.

“Just to keep up appearances” he whispered with a smile, blinking at you.

Besides your initial embarrassment, you soon got in the mood. During brunch, Noah made a point to exaggerate on his part, holding your hand on the table and even offering food in your mouth. You laughed so much you began to forget that all of that was just pretend. However, there were moments - little things - that his gaze seemed to linger a few more than usual, or the touch of his long fingers seemed to be warmer than it should.

You have always had a complicity between you, coming from years of friendship. You remembered the day he appeared in your house with soup and blankets last winter, for you to get extra cozy while facing a terrible flu, even after a whole day of work. Or when he spent hours helping you to paint your living room and he ended up with more paint on his face than on the wall. There was also the night he caught you in the middle of the night during a party because you weren't feeling well, without asking anything, just carrying you home and staying by your side until you’re finally asleep. Little memories like these were the foundation of what you used to share, and made it all incredibly natural.

After the brunch at the cafe, you went to a chocolate store, who was offering a special price for couples. The employee has insisted for you to take a picture together so you could enter a prize draw, and, before you could say anything, Noah pulled you closer, involving his fully tattooed arms around you from behind and leaning his cheek on your head. The proximity between the two of you made your heart race, but you forced a smile to the camera, trying to ignore the weird, but familiar, sensation growing from the bottom of your chest.

Between activities, Noah made a point to make the mood light, always making you a joke or having a fun story to tell. However, you couldn’t help but let the little moments steal your attention: the way he threw his head back when he laughed about something you told, or how he ran his hand through his hair in a distracted way. Those details, such ordinary ones, now it seemed to catch your attention in a new way.

You ended up going to a fun fair that offered double tickets for couples. You pretended to complain when he insisted on getting a teddy bear for you at the shooting game, but the silly smile on his face when he noticed he had won took you by surprise. He gave it to you making the most exaggerated movements he could, bending as if he was a medieval knight.

When the day turned into night, you decided to watch a movie in a local cinema that used to exhibit the classic ones. Only romances today. Sitting side by side in the dark room, you could feel his presence like it was something tangible - his body heat, the light sound of his breath, the occasional touch between your hands when the both of you accidentally grab popcorn at the same time. There was something incredible intimate about sharing that space with him, even though none of you were saying a single word.

It was just when the day was coming to the end you figured out how much he meant to you. You were sitting on a bench at the park, observing the couples passing through you, when Noah broke the silence.

“Hey, thank you for doing this today. I really appreciate it.” He smiled, but it was something else, something in his eyes you couldn’t make out.

“No, I should thank you. It was way better than spending the day alone.” You smiled back, trying to hide how anxious you were.

There was a silence moment before Noah got to start talking again, his voice a little low and deep this time.

“You know… It doesn’t need to be just pretend, right?”

You felt your chest trembling, your heart just raced, and you turned to face him, looking for anything that could show he was joking with you. But he wasn’t. His eyes were fixed on yours, sincere and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before.

“What?” You asked, your voice sounding more like a whisper.

“What I’m saying is… maybe I wasn’t pretending the way I said I was.” He gave a nervous little laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Look, I know it may seem like something out of nothing, but I think it’s already time to tell you. I like you. More than just a friend.”

The world seemed to stop for a second while you were absorbing his words. Your heart was beating so fast you almost could hear it in your ears. Vou tried to say something, anything, but the words seemed stuck in your throat. Noah took your silence like hesitation and started to move away slightly, looking away.

“It’s okay, I understand if you won’t feel the same,” he said, his voice a little trembling. “I just thought I had to be honest…”

“Noah.” You finally found your voice, interrupting him. He stared at you, surprised. “You’re such an idiot.”

His almond eyes widened, but before you could say anything, you continued, a shy smile appearing on your face.

“How do you think I wasn’t going to notice? I was just trying to convince myself it wasn’t true.” You gave a little anxious laugh, just like he did moments before, looking away before finding his eyes again. “I like you too. For a while, actually.”

He stayed in silence for a moment, like he was trying to understand what was happening. And then, the large smile that appeared on his face was so genuine and full of relief that it made your heart melt.

“Really?” he asked, as if he needed the confirmation of all of that.

You nodded, and before you could say anything, he bent himself forwards and pulled you for a tight hug. His body heat was cozy, and you felt exactly where you needed to be.

When he moved away just enough to look into your eyes, Noah whispered:

“I think this makes the day even more perfect.”

You laugh, feeling the happiness overflowing in a way you couldn’t help.

“Maybe the best Valentine’s ever.” You agreed, and he smiled before laying his forehead on yours.

“What about we become this official?” he suggested, his voice low and fulfilled with expectation.

“Now we know we have both been pretending, I think it’s about time” you just answered.

And then he leaned in, pausing for a moment as if he was asking permission before touching you, before brushing his lips against yours. The kiss was soft, but full of feelings that seemed to have been hidden for so long. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to dive into that moment, while everything around seemed to stop.

When you parted, just enough for him to look into your eyes again, Noah smiled in that carefree way, Noah’s way. But now something was different, it has a special sparkle.

“Definitely the best Valentine’s ever” he murmured, and you couldn’t help but give a little giggle, feeling your heart light and full of joy.

The night seemed a little brighter now, and, while you walked back home, holding hands for real, and not pretending, you knew that was the start of something even more beautiful.

.

Masterlist | Valentine's One Shots

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[writingsbychlo]

LONG-DISTANCE LOVER | REGULUS BLACK

SUMMARY: regulus thinks his long-distance girlfriend might've forgotten him on valentine's day, but he couldn't have been more wrong. WORD COUNT: 2510 NOTES: valentine's day post number three! I hope you guys are enjoying these, I promise the other's aren't as angsty as these first three have been!

Drunk and miserable, Regulus kicked shut the door of his small London flat. He smelled like his childhood home, he felt like the darkness of it was still crawling over his skin from dropping off his brother to bed. He shucked off his coat as fast as he could, as though shedding the layers would scrape away the sickly feeling. 

It wasn’t often that he let himself get this drunk, or intoxicated at all, actually, but it had felt necessary. As the day had chugged on, his mood had grown more sour, until it was so bitter his face was scrunching up at the darkness brewing in his soul. 

Luckily, he’d found a kindred spirit in his brother. Not much did they have in common, anymore. Not since they were kids, in their matching shorts and suspenders, hiding behind the greenhouse to play with the frogs and escape their tutor had they had so much in common. But today, they did. 

Regulus had waited all day for word, for a card or an owl or anything from you, something to prove it wasn’t as dire as he thought, something to prove you hadn't forgotten the first Valentine’s Day spent apart. But nothing had come. Almost a year ago, your parents had decided to send you to a prestigious Wizarding university in the South of France, dropping the news on you just before graduation and shattering your shared ideas of a future. Your summer of plans had become a frantic, condensed two weeks of pretending like your separation wasn’t looming before you’d slipped through his fingers.  

Then you’d been gone, and he’d hardly seen you since, a few stolen days and a couple of secret visits over Christmas, but that had been it. You’d tried to give him an out, but he didn’t want it, he’d refused it point-blank and told you your relationship was strong enough to survive this distance. Now, alone on Valentine’s Day in the cold and dark of his flat, he couldn't help but wonder if you’d wanted the out for yourself. 

He hated to think that about you, but if you weren’t thinking of him, who were you thinking of?

At least Sirius had understood. Sirius, too, had been alone on this day. Unable to spend it with his boyfriend Remus, due to a number of reasons, he’d been just as miserable and moody as Regulus was. They’d gone bar to bar in London, and when they’d become too drunk to be conceivably inconspicuous in Wizarding London, they’d made their way to Muggle bars too.

Sirius had tapped out first, much to drunk Regulus’ thrill, throwing up in an alley somewhere in Soho, and he’d taken Sirius home and put him into the trustworthy hands of Kreacher. Sure, it was Sirius’ home now, and he’d stripped it away of everything that their family home as children had once been, but Regulus felt like the darkness was in its very foundations, he didn’t know how his brother could stand to live there. 

He’d been too drunk to apparate, and far too drunk to find a Floo safely, and so he’d taken the laborious Muggle way. Stumbling his way to the nearest Underground station, and patting down his pockets for the little plastic card with his Muggle funds on, until he could clear the security gates. 

With his head rested on the dirty windows and eyes closed, he’d let the rhythmic chugging of the Tube soothe the spinning of his mind, focusing on his breathing until he felt less like throwing up. The cold and rain of a British mid-February night had sobered him up considerably, until only a dull buzz was left in his veins, and a headache was threatening to start any moment behind his eyes. 

He stared at the coat on the floor, entirely having missed the coat rack he’d tried to hang it on, but he couldn't even be bothered to pick it up. He kicked off his shoes too, stumbling to the couch in the cold living room, but detouring the trolley holding enough bottles to put down a Hippogriff, to grab one. What better way to save himself a miserable hangover tomorrow morning, than to just get drunk all over again?

Sinking into the couch, he stared at the empty fireplace in front of himself, trying to will it into lighting, but he was too far gone to muster even a flicker of wandless magic, never mind a whole fireplace. 

Where was his wand, anyway?

A question for another time. Now, more whiskey. 

Popping the cork of the bottle, he let it roll to the carpet, staring into the dark fireplace again as he brought the rim to his lips and took a heavy swig. He was just going in for his second gulp when the fireplace roared to life. 

Hot, green flames licked through the room, sparking brought light that burned his eyes for a moment, before retreating just as fast into ash and smoke and leaving behind the blurry figure of someone standing in the dark. He rubbed at his eyes with a fist, a little too hard, leaving his eyes throbbing as he tried to clear them. 

“Reggie?”

Oh. He knew that voice. Snapping his head up, he listened to the soft click of heels across the floor, until a warm hand was brushing wet strands of hair out of his face. The room illuminated a second later, with real fire this time, warm and comforting, and the hazy glow of it lit the room enough for him to pull your features from the dark. 

“Mon amour,” He slurred, words blurring at the edges no matter how hard he tried to speak them clearly, “And here I thought you forgot about little old me.”

���Regulus.” You sounded disappointed, he hated that tone of your voice. So, he lifted the bottle to take another drink. The bottle never made it to his lips, he felt you slip it from his hand and heard it clink back into place on the trolley before your hands were back on his face. 

He liked that. 

“You’re freezing to the touch, Reg. And wet. Why are you sitting here like this in the dark, you’re going to get sick?”

“I was feeling—” He cut himself off with an ungentlemanly burp, chuckling to himself about how appalled his mother would have been to hear it, “Poetic.”

“Poetic, or stupid?”

He frowned at that, his mouth tightening it to a scowl, “Hey. You can’t call me stupid right now, this is your fault!”

“My fault?” Your lips twitched in amusement as you offered him your hands, and though Regulus was sure that somewhere inside he should’ve been embarrassed by this state, he couldn't find it within himself to care. This all felt a little too surreal as it was, perhaps it was just an alcohol-induced vision, and he’d come around from it soon. Might as well make the most of it. “How, pray tell, does that work out?”

You tugged him to his feet, and Regulus felt his stomach turn uncomfortably as he found his footing. You led him through his flat like you knew the way by heart, a painfully endearing action that he would tuck away to rehash in the morning when he was sober enough to hurt again. 

You placed him down on his bed, and he sat on the edge of it, watching you open and close the drawers to his dressers, searching for something. Fresh clothes, he reckoned. So long passed by in silence as you found him a change of clothes that it seemed you’d forgotten the question you’d asked, but it was still bouncing around in his whiskey-addled brain, echoing in his ears. It was only as you were pressing a kiss to the damn waves atop his head that he managed to find his voice enough to answer;

“You forgot about me.”

You reared back, re-entering his line of vision, and he choked down the swelling ball of emotions that followed the words escaping. It was little use, not as hot tears stung at his eyes, and he sniffled with his next inhale. “Reggie, what?”

His lip wobbled, and you crouched before him, cupping his cheeks so tenderly that it shattered his heart all over again. Your thumbs wiped across his cheeks, clearing away tears that were falling heavily, and he took a ragged deep breath. “You forgot about me. It’s Valentine’s Day, and you didn’t even send me a note. You have owls, patronus, and even the Floo! And nothing. We promised each other it wouldn't change things, but you forgot about me! You forgot about the person you’re supposed to love, on the day of love!”

Sobs were breaking free, and then your arms snaked around him, holding him close. Even though you were the cause of his pain, he was a weak enough man to concede that you were also the cure. He pressed his face into your neck as you played with his hair, and he cried. 

He cried for the raging, turbulent emotions of the day. 

He cried for every night he went to sleep alone, in a half-furnished home, because you were supposed to be here with him. 

He cried for the relationship staggered to a halt that seemed like it would never get back on track. 

He cried for his long-distance lover, who was supposed to be by his side, whom he missed every second of every day like a missing limb. 

He cried for every part of his pain that he normally suppressed, every emotional thought he’d never given voice to. 

“I’m so mad at you for leaving, do you know that?” He croaked, when the tears finally stopped and all that was left was his raw voice and the painful truth, “I know it’s just for a few years, but it’s killing me, mon amour. I wasn’t made to be apart from you, I was made to be by your side.”

You sniffled too, and it was then that he realised your pretty makeup was smeared, your cheeks were splotchy with colour like he imagined his own would be, and your eyes were rimmed with red. Raising a trembling hand, he brushed a lingering tear track from its shiny river along your cheek. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it when I blamed you.”

“I hate it too, Reggie.” You finally said, settling onto the floor in front of him, kneeling on the carpet and taking his hands in your own. You kissed his knuckles, each one slowly, and he felt a weight slip free from his chest. “I miss you every day. I think of you every moment. It doesn’t matter how long passes, I still look for you by my side every time I hear a funny joke or have a thought, and I still catch myself saying goodnight to you when I’m alone in bed each evening. I reach for you every morning before my mind catches up with my body. I miss you too, please know that.”

Your words simultaneously healed something within him while shattering something else, they settled a weight in his stomach but freed one from his shoulders. You were both struggling, but it helped to know his misery had company. 

“I didn’t forget about you today, Reg. I planned to come to you earlier this morning but couldn't. I’ve been working on this surprise since Christmas, since the last time we had to say goodbye and I almost couldn't leave again.” His gaze snapped up to find yours, lips parting to release a breath, and his heart skipped a beat at the smile that crawled over your face. “The Floo I had booked travel collapsed during the night, the whole chimney fell in on itself and it took hours to clear. And by the time it was done, you clearly weren’t home. You know the Floo doesn’t open if you’re not home, Reg. I’ve been sitting in the pub waiting hours, trying every thirty minutes!”

His jaw dropped, the cogs turning in his mind, even if they were operating at a lower functioning pace than usual, and his cheeks bloomed with heat. “You didn’t forget about me.” He whispered, more in confirmation to himself than anything, as he lifted a hand to tuck hair out of your face, and you smiled sadly at him with a sigh. 

“Forget about you, Regulus Black? How could I ever do that? Your soul calls out to mine, you are tattooed onto my very heart. I don’t know who I’d be without you.”

“Now who’s being poetic?” He whispered, sliding a cold hand onto your neck, and pulling you in. Finally, your lips met his, and everything in his world felt like it shifted back into place. When you kissed him back, a resounding click seemed to echo through his body, as it all locked back into place. 

You stood, he no longer had to look down at you, but up at you instead, as he kept up with your kisses, even as you moved. Your hands went to the hem of his damp sweater, tugging it up in a bundle with his shirt and dropping the pile unceremoniously to the ground. Your hands were hot against his skin, and he groaned at the loss of your mouth on his once again, as you directed him into a new, dry hoodie. 

Between kisses and reassuring touches, you had somehow managed to coerce him into dry clothes, tipping a hangover potion to his lips, before he even knew it. Because the next time Regulus found himself possessing clear thought and legible inner dialogue, was hours later. 

His lips were kiss-bitten and swollen, and his heart was steadily pumping in a way that reminded him of how happy he was to be alive. He was warm, uncomfortably so, wrapped up in layers of clothing and bedding, with your body smothered atop him, but he wouldn't move. No, he would stay where he was, he’d die of heatstroke if he had to, just for the chance to hold you a little longer. 

It would hurt him, cut him deep when he had to say goodbye to you once again after the weekend was over, but it didn’t seem so bad now. His heart wouldn't be the only one bleeding, he wouldn’t be the only one struggling. Soon, you’d be gone again, but it wouldn't be forever, and you wouldn't forget him.

It just meant delaying those plans for the future a little longer, but he could cope, he thought. 

Maybe not all of the plans had to wait, after all. He could have a home and a life waiting and ready for you when you graduate. He could get the ball rolling, and when you were ready, he’d be right here waiting for you. 

How happy he could make you, he thought, if you both just waited a little longer. You were worth the wait, that much he knew. 

[yeoldenews]

I used to follow along with your posts about Rachel and her letters but I fell behind on reading them and eventually forgot which blog it was and what her name was. I'm so happy to have found you/her again! And to see that you found pictures of her and got in contact with her surviving family!

Her and her friends/family write such interesting and endearing letters (at least from the parts you've posted!) and I remember I used to eagerly anticipate a new snippet to find out what she and the gang had been up to.

I don't think I ever said anything at the time, but thank you so much for doing all that work and for sharing it with us. Even when I lost your blog (or more accurately the Rachel letters, I was still following you!) I would remember her and the letters fondly. And you, as well, for your excellent curation!

I'm looking forward to catching up on them! I hope you have a good year ahead of you, and thank you again for existing!

Thank you so much!

Rachel & Co. have unfortunately been put on the back burner for me the last few years due to other projects and some personal/family health issues - so there may not be much new content since you last caught up.

The project is not forgotten though! All thousand+ letters are still stored on a bookshelf in my room.

I'm working on another big project at the moment (hopefully a book), but after I've gotten that up and going I hope very much that I can get back to Rachel more regularly.

[shinwonderful]

Freedom of Choice

prologue to Heavy is the Heart (That Wears the Crown) [masterlist coming soon]

part of you hoped you'd be able to avoid this aspect of royalty, but it was inevitable. they would never allow the sole heir to the kingdom of evermoor to remain unmarried. all you can hope for is that one of the suitors you meet will be the true love you've always dreamt of.

⁺✦ seventeen x reader (cyoa style!) ⁺✦ word count: 3.3k ⁺✦ genre: historical, kind of a mix of everything lol ⁺✦ warnings: shitty parents, forced marriage, mention of being pressured into intimacy, i promise i'm not a royalist i just think historical stories of nobility are v romantic

જ⁀➴┊ [🐈] happy valentine's day!! this series has been in the works since november, and i'm so excited to finally post the prologue! this series has come to be very close to my heart, and i'm really excited to share it with you guys!

special thanks to @lovewithoutresin my beautiful bestie for editing and writing the dialogue for the reader's Handmaiden! I love that this series has a piece of you in it too MWAH!!

the prologue and a certain upcoming chapter are dedicated to the lovely @ylangelegy for inspiring me to pick up writing (on tumblr) again after nearly a decade (christ alive i'm old. 💀). if they hadn't been so supportive and expressed interest in this story, i'd likely not have written it. happy valentine's day ilysbbbb

dividers by saradika!

each chapter of this series will have a (relatively lol) period-accurate theme and costume.

this chapter's theme is Fauré: Après un Rêve (ca. 1870).

"A song about devotion and passion. The dreamer yearns for the return of her dreams, in which she met her love: ‘In sleep made sweet by a vision of you’."

the costume for this chapter is this gorgeous afternoon dress (ca. 1835) from the met museum archives.

“All we ask is that you keep an open mind.”

The rattle of the carriage wheels against the meticulously hand-paved road beneath your fancifully cushioned seat was, perhaps, the only thing keeping you grounded at the moment. You could do little but curse them internally, knowing putting up a fight was… tragically futile.

“How do you mean, Mother?”

You already knew the answer to this question, but it bought you a bit of time to school your reaction, to use your decades of lessons in decorum to keep your actual thoughts and feelings from clawing themselves out of your mouth.

After all, for God’s sake, how could they expect you to choose a husband on this supposed ‘diplomatic tour’?

You’d, of course, rolled your eyes when your Handmaiden had told you of their plans (though a much more tumultuous emotion stirred behind your sardonic response). Your parents hadn’t even afforded you the courtesy of a conversation before making arrangements for the tour. Instead, the news was broken only after your Handmaiden heard the rumors in whispers that echoed through the long, hollow halls of your castle. (Pro Tip: Having a best friend on your staff never stops being helpful.) You knew what this was, and it wasn’t simply diplomatic. At least, not in the usual sense.

You knew what this was– everyone did. You were of the age where courtiers began to whisper about your lack of husband, gossiping about why the Crown Heir of Evermoor had yet to even begin the courting process. Why so many requests for meetings had gone politely rejected.

The truth was much less salacious than popular theory– as is usually the case. Quite simply, you’ve just yet to meet an eligible bachelor that doesn’t make you physically recoil at the prospect of being wed to them. Between the Dukes whose eyes on your female staff were… less than respectful and Counts who couldn’t make it longer than thirty seconds without saying something to stroke their own egos, you’d rather shovel the stables by hand than meet with any prospects for the time being.

There had been a close call once, just a few months back, where you’d met with a neighboring King who was charming enough at first. That is, of course, until the bastard had tried to pressure you into necking with him after dinner one night. You sent him packing on the spot. And your parents, the Queen and King, were irate. Apparently, not offending the royal family was more important than your honor.

Which, tragically, prompted them to force your hand into embarking on what would be your ‘grand tour’ throughout the nearby kingdoms. Officially, it was a tour to introduce you as the Crown Royal to your (pre-established and potential alike) ally’s own Royal Families. To establish a line of communication and get to know each other sooner rather than later. But none were gullible enough to miss the writing on the wall. You were unmarried, and most of the kingdoms you’d be visiting had unmarried royal sons of their own to offer. After all, for a royal as high-ranking as yourself, it’s most appropriate for you to marry other ‘high-value’ royalty. Those who would be Counts in their own right someday, some even Kings. Any children born would rule over both domains, doubling your families’ power and influence in the realm. (And that was all anything was ever about. Cue eye roll.)

Perhaps you’d have fought harder if you thought there was the slimmest chance of getting your way, but… why kid yourself? This was an inevitable. Since you were young, you’d known your fate would be that of most born of noble blood. To be used as a bargaining chip, a pawn in someone else’s game– one neither of you had elected to play.

Sure, there had been a time many years ago where you’d find yourself in despair over this. Growing up, your favorite stories were the ones told of love triumphing over all. You’d go to your balcony in the dead of night, wishing to any power that could hear you to be one of the lucky ones. For you to have the chance at a marriage of love. A husband you chose not because of the family crest he bore, but for the tender affection he showed you. The way he lit up your world, coloring your bluest nights into the tender pinks of the sunrise. Someone who was well and truly yours, divorced from the way nobility are traded like commodities, but how love brings two souls into one, merging until you can’t remember where you end and he begins. A love like poetry. A love worth writing about.

But those days were long behind you. Even the most hopeless of all romantics can’t resist the effects of erosion, the cynical waves of the ocean clawing at the coast until even something so eternal as the Earth itself gives way, becoming part of the ocean it once fought to resist so vehemently. Holding onto that optimism… at some point begins to hurt you more than it helps you. And so you, once as steady as the Earth in your quest for love, you surrendered to cynicism just as steadily, until you, too, found it hard to believe that love in the pure sense even existed at all. 

Of course, those were the times when your Equerry would ask you to accompany him on a trip to the local market. After all, none could read you quite like him. It came with the territory– his job, of course, to be your shadow. To care for you, and to watch over you. And he took his role very seriously. To him, this meant to help you through not just your meetings with the steward, but also to watch for signs that your spirits need lifting (despite this not technically being in his duties). And seeing how your mouth twitched into a frown any time someone mentioned the concept of love the past few months? He didn’t have to be a scholar to read you.

So he pulled you into the castle’s preferred bakery, calling for Mister and Missus Kim and producing a beaming smile when the pair came out from the back to say hello. The couple’s eyes shined every time they looked at one another, and the three of them talked about the castle’s weekly order as you watched from near the door, mindlessly eyeing the pastries on display in the cabinet, trying to ignore the way your chest fluttered just being around something so beautiful. She held a toddler on her hip, and the moment it crossed your mind that she was looking tired from holding the boy, her husband instinctively grabbed him, placing him to lay upon his own chest instead. It was as if they had their own language, something silent but incredibly tangible that tied them together. And it was a sight to behold.

Your heart felt much less heavy on the ride home, your eyebrows quirked in thoughtful wishing instead of the bitter resignation they tended towards. Your Equerry said nothing, his hands smoothing against the hat he’d placed on his lap as he smiled softly. He didn’t need your words to know he’d done well, even if he would love to hear them. But alas, the you of the present day was much too timid to speak what was on your mind. The thoughts were much too soft for someone who was to someday rule over this nation. But maybe, you thought, maybe you were what was too soft. Maybe fate had played a cruel joke in making you the only one who could govern your beloved country once your parents no longer could. Maybe it was all a fool’s errand.

Because you couldn’t help but feel that… perhaps you’ll never be lucky enough to possess a love of your own, but you’re more sure than you’ve ever been that love is one of the finest things humanity has to offer– so real, so tangible that it shone through the dark clouds hanging over your head. And you’d do anything it took to feel its embrace, even for the smallest moment in time.

It was hard to contend with the idea people had in their head about you at times. To them, you were the Crown Heir of Evermoor. Sole Heir at that. Flowers bloomed bright the day you were born, and (according to folklore) it’s impossible for a flower to wilt if it’s been blessed by your presence.

You care deeply for your nation, making certain your Equerry schedules an allotment every few weeks for you to visit the capital’s town square, relishing in the bustle of the city and the chatter of those hard at work, or those working to forget their hard day at work. But when they notice you, they’re quick to forget what they were doing. Instead, they either gawk openly, or rush to have their moment with you. Something they’ll remember for a lifetime; ‘the time the Crown Royal complimented my pelerine’ or ‘the time I made the Crown Royal smile by presenting them with a rose’. 

But at home? You’re just… you.

You’re sprawled out over your plush bed, dressed down to your chemise and pantaloons as your Handmaiden helped you sneak a second dessert to share, shutting the door to your quarters quietly as she, too, leapt to join you in your bed with a mischievous smile (though there was an unspoken tension in the air that neither of you cared to address just yet). Your hair hit your shoulders in what were once carefully-manicured curls that had loosened throughout the day. If it were anyone else, you’d be shamed for the lewdness of this moment, but this was another perk to having your best friend as your Handmaiden. With her, this was perfectly appropriate. Even if it wasn’t technically in the spirit of the rules.

The upcoming months hung over you like a death sentence. Tonight would be one of your last as a single person, one of the last you’d not be betrothed– or worse, married. At the end of the week, you’d be leaving on your tour. Leaving the only home you’d ever known to stay at palace after palace belonging to strangers who intended to sell you on their sons. And if there’s one thing you knew; the only thing more formidable than your citizens competing for your attention is dozens of nobles doing the same. At least your people had some sense of dignity.

Today was one of the last nights you’d be free to kid yourself into believing that, by some miracle, you’d get the fairytale ending you’ve always dreamed of. Because once you left the borders of Evermoor, there would be no returning without the burden of a ring on your finger, its center stone heavy with insurmountable expectations and a destiny you’d never get to seek.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud clink of a fork on your Handmaid's plate– a clearly theatrical gesture. 

“So?” She sat her plate aside without looking away from you. When you gave her no indication that you knew what she was about to broach, she continued, her voice casual and innocent. “How long were you planning on moping about for? I just mean to ensure we stay on schedule.” 

Eyes still trained on the plate of Ratafia Cake in front of you, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at one corner of your mouth. You gave her a thoughtful hum. “I was thinking… maybe a couple more decades? Don’t want to overdo it, of course.” You looked to her with a facetious grin.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t buying it. “That sounds about right. I wouldn’t want to waste any more precious time I can’t get back either.” She kept the dry tone, but there was evident concern on her features. Perhaps a bit of frustration as well. 

Your smile faltered, the truth in her words hitting a little too close to the truth for comfort. You resorted to pushing your cake around on the small saucer, the prospect of eating suddenly much less alluring as the truth settled in your stomach like a stone. Your voice came out barely over a whisper; “What else can I do? It's not as if I have any say in the matter. I've pushed this off as long as I can. My parents…” You take an exasperated breath, “They aren’t going to budge this time.”

The pretense was dropped then, and she shifted to get comfortable, tone more serious. “I know. It's not fair the way this is happening. I hope you know I am really sorry about that.” 

“I just… don't think that the way you're thinking about this is really helpful to you.” She looked off, thought for a moment, then turned back to pick the situation apart. “We can't change the situation. So the way I see it, you have a few options here.”

You placed the cake to the side then, shifting to lean against the bedpost. Part of you felt the urge to dig in your heels, to protest, but unfortunately one of your best friend’s qualities happens to be that she’s almost always right about these things. So instead, you bite your tongue, nodding for her to continue.

“Option One; you go on the tour. You grin and bear it with the suitors. And really, you’ll only be with each of them for a short time. So if they’re that terrible, you’ll be out soon enough. Don’t worry about months or years from now– just focus on getting through this part. One step at a time.” She picked up her cake again, taking a shamelessly large bite and swallowing it quickly.

“I hate that you’re being made to choose this. But think of it this way: you do get a choice if you go. You can at least focus on trying to influence things to make your life easiest. And maybe you will end up liking someone, at least enough to try. I mean, the odds are one of them won’t be completely insufferable. And if they all are, I promise to let you mope until the end of time, okay?”

That has you laughing again, turning to look at her fully. “Careful; I may actually take you up on that. I really think I’ve yet to fully realize my true potential in the field of being annoying. And as my Handmaiden, you have special privileges as my guinea pig for just that.” You give her an easy smile, leaning on one side while you pick up your cake once more.

But as you take another bite, you ponder her words carefully. As suspected, she was right once again. Most noblewomen are not as lucky as you’ve been. You made it this far without being betrothed, and even then your parents are still allowing you the choice of who to marry instead of forcing someone upon you. So while the situation is certainly unideal… she’s right to say that you still have some freedom of choice. And while small, it’s best to count your blessings whenever they come, lest it drive you mad.

“You’re right.” You pause, trying to find a way to say what you mean without sounding naive. Or worse, corny. “What I want may be out of question, but I suppose any choice is better than none.” You furrow your brow for a moment, lost in thought. “Perhaps… some of these suitors also mourn this choice. Love may be off the table, but… perhaps we can be friends–” You pause once more, laughing softly. “–who just so happen to be married.”

You’re not sure why it took you so long to reach this conclusion. After all, noble as they may be, these suitors are human just as you are. Each of them have their own thoughts, goals, desires, dreams. And perhaps, like yours, theirs is also stifled by this imposed choice. Perhaps.

“Exactly,” she replied, face brightening a bit at your change in tone. “And… well, who knows?” She shrugged, not going any further into the thought. “At any rate, it won’t necessarily hurt to have a partner in crime.” 

“My, my– are you suggesting that I replace you now?” You tease her.

“Right. So what's Option Two, then?”

“Option Two; we let the kingdom burn, run away in the night and live on the lam. That one has a few kinks to work out.” She played it as straight as she could, but it was obvious from her face that she was trying to be funny. 

Your laughter comes out in a snort, her words catching you by surprise. “You know what? I'm half tempted to take you up on that. But I don't think Mr. Stick-in-the-mud Equerry would go for it. Tragic.”

“Oh, forget him,” she said lightly. “We can do it on our own.” She finished the last bite of her dessert.

You try to ignore the way you immediately feel guilty imagining the expression on your Equerry's face if he knew the details of this conversation. Even tonight, you had to practically beg him to take the night off so you could have this time with your Handmaiden. He's been practically glued to your side since the news of your fate reached him, ever protective of you. He means well, but… a girl needs to breathe sometimes. You can only imagine what he'd do, how he'd feel if you fled. You scrunch up your face apologetically at your Handmaiden, still smiling. “Sorry. Maybe next time.”

She laughs, shaking her head at you softly. “Seriously, though. Just try, okay? There must be some part of this that could work out for good.”

As you, too, finish the last bit of your cake, you nod solemnly in return. “Alright. I'll… try. But only because you asked me to.” You answer with an air of drama. “We should both hope this goes well. After all, he’ll soon be your problem just as much as he’ll be mine. It's your neck on the block too,” You joke.

“Don't I know it,” she replied, and collected the dish back from you. “And God help us both.”

“We just don’t want you to be so… dismissive. Alright, dear? Give them a chance. They just might surprise you. You’ve been so picky, and we won’t tolerate a repeat of last time.”

The words of your Father hit your ears like an arrow, and you’re rearing back to spit a harsh retort when you feel your Equerry place a steadying hand on your shoulder, just out of view of your parents across from you both. Looking at him, he gives you a sympathetic smile that does little to alleviate your anger, but it succeeds in holding you back if only because you hate fighting with your parents in front of him. (It stresses him out having to play the middle-man when he wants to have your back with no question.)

So you take a deep breath, letting your Father’s words linger in the air of the carriage, which suddenly felt hopelessly stuffy.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes later that the carriage slowed to a stop, signaling the end of your journey to meet the first of your suitors. Your heartbeat quickened, and as your attendant opened the door to the carriage, the sun pricked at your eyes.

While you waited as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you noticed an unfamiliar hand reaching into your carriage, offering for you to grab to assist you out. “May I help you, Your Highness?”

And though it felt like diving into frigid waters in the black of night, you took the stranger’s hand.

[colorfulwastelandvoid]

As we grow together…

In honor of Valentine’s Day (I thought it was yesterday lol) I want to quickly talk about MelJay that isn’t a rant.

MelJay oh MelJay, I believe that it is the classic Jaded x Idealist trope (my personal fav).

Jayce is the bright eyed idealist who sees the world in such bright and vivid colors that he is blinded to the more dark parts of it. He believes in magic and in the common man’s ability and desire to do good that he didn’t reckon with the more selfish part of humanity ( or whatever they call themselves in Runeterra) and what they would do with such power. The recklessness of blind ambition or the damage endless progress does to people or a society exemplified through him.

Mel on the other hand is a child of war and pilgrimage. She tells Jayce she knows war. While I dont think Ambessa made Mel pick up swords of fallen soldiers like Mel’s grandad did Ambessa, it is clear from the Mel’s motion that she knows death. She is banished from her family for her “soft spined idealism”. She is made unworthy for her compassion, her heart. She does try to prove that the fox can win out, that diplomacy can whether through violence but it is clear that this rejection weighs on her and she hasn’t really moved past it. She shuts herself off from most except Elora. Scared and angry, she constantly feels less than.

Then Mel and Jayce meet. Two people defined by their ambition. In the time skip it’s implied they shared little moments of yearning; stolen glances, little touches.

It’s quickly established that Mel is at the very least intrigued by Jayce and his ideals. It’s not until the night of the Opera show that we see how much Mel is inspired by Jayce.

“ The Medarda’s usually only take from the world. It’s not often we are in a position to give something back”

Jayce quickly retorts that he couldn’t have done any of it without her. They kiss and the relationship soon blossoms. Like in one of my other posts I believe that it’s in MelJays quieter moments that their relationship is the strongest. Jayce seeks Mel out whenever he is in moments of uncertainty. He truly believes in her and respects her. It’s where we get one of his famous lines in the series.

“ Nothing feels impossible when I’m with you��

We see this look of shock in her face that she quickly recovers from. We then get her saying one her famous lines of not facing things alone. It is clearly geared toward Jayce making sure Viktor isn’t alone in what they think are his final moments, but I also took it as her longing to belong in relation to her family.

Mel is constantly trying to protect Jayce and his Hextech dream not only because she loves him but because it’s a dream that she once had. It is through her relationship with Jayce that she starts to see the beauty and strength in the idealism she was once shunned for. Hextech is Jayce’s dream but he makes time for her. He is constantly reaffirming her and the best parts of her. Jayce grows as a more level headed man and as a leader who understands humility. The jaded becomes hopeful and the idealist becomes more realistic.

This is a personal theory of mine but I like to believe that the only person Jayce actually helped by using Hextech and being himself is Mel. I also do believe that Jayce falling in love with Mel is the only thing he may of had full autonomy over. That is so cute to me.

Ps “quick” my ass. Happy Valentine Day for real this time. This feels like a more in depth post of what I already said in previous, but I’m too lazy to scroll and check. Sorry if it is.

[not-your-average-fangirl02]

Nicola liked post featuring hard launch of our angels Luke and Antonia, even she is supportive..... So why can't you be? Luke and Antonia are together and really in love just look at the clips from Boss event, she even lovingly touched his butt, they are Hot together. Nicola also wished happy birthday to her boyfriend Jake which she didn't to her friend Luke because as she said he is just a friend. Your ship is dead and done. Delulu

Hi Anon, I don’t know if you know this, but there is this button called “block” that you can press if you come across a page you don’t agree with. It’s a lot easier to press this button then taking time to write an anonymous ask. But since you chose to send in an ask I feel it is only fair I share my opinions.

First off, Nic could have liked that post for a million different reasons that have nothing to do with the adjacent. Also, if I’m not mistaken Nic does not follow the adjacent, if she was so okay with Luke and the adjacent “being together” you would think she would at least be following her, but alas she’s not, weird huh? The so called “hard launch” wasn’t really a hard launch. Luke took the girl to an event, then proceeded to post no pictures with her on the grid, then his story post, instead of saving the video and uploading it to his story (yes he knows how to save a video and post it he’s done it before, so don’t try to give me that excuse) he chose to share a link. It’s like he doesn’t want to be tied to that girl.

Secondly, the clips from the boss event don’t scream in love to me. I look more in love with a margarita then he looked with A. Heck, he looked more in love with the idea of Nic’s peanut butter Apple crumble than with A. The only time Luke looked remotely happy during that event was when he was fangirling over David Beckham. Also the video of them inside the event felt very staged, especially with Luke looking at the camera. 

Thirdly, I wish all my friends and family a happy birthday online, so anon by your logic does that mean I’m dating them? What if Jake is just a friend anon, did you ever think about that? Nic always wishes all her friends a happy birthday online and she’s not dating all of them. Isn’t it quite the coincidence that Nic wishes all her friends a happy birthday except for Luke this year.

Anon, I hope I answered all your questions and you have learned to just scroll or block instead of wasting your energy trying to come on other people’s pages you don’t agree with. Maybe just stick to your ship and your people. You say I’m delulu I call it using my critical thinking skills, which you obviously lack. Anyways, I hope you have a great day and learn a thing or two :)

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[6-epigraphs]

Have we ever seen this old man being affectionate with drivers or other juniors? Or just Yuki? I don't even think I've seen him this close to Max and Seb (off the podium at least)

Brother.

[protagonist-art]

"Uh- I'm Arnold. Bennett. It's profoundly difficult to get your lifes works and studies accepted if your name isn't... yes, oh! Are you a fan of moths, sir?"

NEW RDR2 OC!! a reclusive, clumsy entomologist and bug collector; cooped up in his study of uniformed clutter

[knifeturtlelives]

I'll also add: I don't think this is the case, but even if these WERE more or less the exact beats he planned to follow in season 3, posting them on bluesky almost certainly has no material effect on his ability to pitch and sell the show to another network or platform in the future.

I don't work in film, but I do have a fair amount of experience with other industries dealing in selling and assigning rights to creative properties, and I don't think film/TV operates all that differently. David knows that he could literally post the full script of the show on bluesky, and those of us following along would STILL watch it on TV if s3 ever got greenlit. And a streamer or network will not care that he already shared details of the season with a few hundred people on bluesky, as long as they feel that there's still a clear audience for the show (which, obviously there is.)

Now, even with that in mind, I don't think David WOULD post the exact s3 plot beats online, because he obviously does still have hope for the show, and he likes keeping surprises for us in the future. But I think it's pretty obvious he's writing this thing completely on his own, off the top of his head, with one hand on his phone while he holds a newborn baby, whereas an actual season 3 would go through a writers room etc. So even if the bluesky fic is kinda sorta in keeping with what he had in mind for the season, those beats would go through a whole development and evolution once he worked it through with the writing team, and the end result would likely look pretty different from what we're getting here.

And, as fox said, the narrative framing with the book is a perfect way to handle that. When we DO get season 3, I wouldn't be surprised if we see certain similarities to what he's posting now, at least in the broad strokes. Maybe even a few key images, like the wedding ambush, make it into the show. But then other things will be totally different. And it's like, well yeah--that's how written history works, how legends work. There are bits they get right, and bits that get exaggerated or misremembered or just straight up invented. A General History of Pyrates has SOME true stuff in it, even if most of it is fiction. And then this whole thing becomes a cool supplemental bit of lore for the diehard fans: we get to see what "actually happened" in the show, and also have this little glimpse into how it got recorded for posterity later. Or maybe the show goes in an entirely different direction altogether, and this is just fanfic. idk, could go either way.

Anyway, in case it helps anyone to hear it: my quasi-professional opinion is that there is almost nothing that David could post in his bluesky thread that would negatively impact the show's ability to find a new home in the future. Until he says out loud, in plain language "I have given up, this is the end of the road forever" there is no reason to read anything into this, so just enjoy it as bonus content

spoilers for djenks bsky holiday special; this is meant to calm you if you are freaking out about worrying that djenks might give up on s3

david jenkins did not canonically kill off the main antagonist of s3 on bsky. that is one of the few possibilities we can absolutely definitively rule out! if the bsky thread were meant to be the canonical season 3, and ricky were meant to be its main antagonist, then obviously he wouldn't have killed ricky this early at all, he'd have kept ricky alive to do villain shit until near the end of this thing.

killing ricky at this point means either:

A) ricky is not, and probably was never, intended to be s3's main villain; when & if we get a real s3 it can plausibly start with a "poochie died on the way back to his home planet" kind of handwavey reference to these events

or

B) the bsky special is simply entirely noncanon, not s3 or even season 2.5, and the thread is probably going to end on some kind of reminder that a general history of pyrates is a notoriously unreliable source so we shouldn't take anything in it very seriously

(personally i have always had a bit of an impression that djenks liked working with errol shand & was interested in reincorporating cut ricky material into s3 - there was that "ricky, we hardly knew ye" comment he posted on shand's insta after cancellation, which sounded to me like he was sad about losing the chance to give us more ricky - so this tilts me in the direction of B, which means all kinds of shit is on the table as far as where this thread can go from here)

[sol-arium126]

hyperfixation so bad it’s got me writing fanfic for a writing club i’m in

[aquanutart]

After saving the land before them Zelda and link were tied and they need to sleep. So they went on there Horse to the Village to Link’s house. As Zelda was so happy she was also glad to know that all that had happened was all in the past.

Zelda was so happy to not be in the Castle trying to stay awake. Everything was fine now she was with Link. When they got about 4 hours away Zelda saw that there were some people out in the distance. She had not seen people in forever she said to link to set up camp for the night and she would go talk to the people and she would come back with some food so they could cook.

Link looked at the people in concern I will be fine just go set up camp he nodded his head. Zelda loved to see the blue sky and the birds and the sway of the grass she never wanted to it to end. When she started talking to the people they were a little of but she just thought that they were excited to see her they just offered bananas to her. All at once she remembered that Link told her about a Yiga clans they would look like a normal person but they were not.

she screamed “Link” he came running at full speed and right on time the Yiga clan members were not the week kind but the much harder to kill ones. One did have a bow though Link killed the one with a sword first but the one with a bow was so fast Link told Zelda to run back to camp she didn’t want to leave him alone but she went behind a big rocks and hid.

Zelda Hurd nothing but a sweet sound of a little bird chirping in the distance. Then she heard a scream it sounded like a link she ran all the way to him the Yiga was not dead but it retreated because it has fulfill its duties. It had shot Link right in the chest with his bow 4 times he was wheezing and gasping for air. Link grabbed two of the arrows and pulled them out. Zelda squinted with fear she knew that it needed to be tended to right away. But all she had was bananas and a small cloth she was watching him grab the other two arrows and he was pulling them out. He Was in a great amount of pain. She tried to talk to him for the very first time she said “ we need to get you to a stable first but we then will rush to Hatnao village”. Link tried to speak but the pain took over.

“shh you need to save your strength right now” Zelda said. She could tell that he Was in A lot of pain. Blood started to turn his clothes red and Zelda new that she will need to hurry or he wouldn’t make it! she said to him can you get on the horse he said. I-can try-to get on…. She was getting so worried that he wouldn’t be able to make it. She helped him get on the horse and they started to ride.

after about an hour or so it started to get worse they were about 20 minutes away from the staple. And he fell off his horse Zelda jumped off and rushed to the side. He was Groaning with pain as much more blood came out. At this time he was as white as the cloud He was barely breathing and struggling when he was. They finally got to a stable she found some cloth and wiped off the wound with some water. He was wincing with pain she didn’t want it to be painful but she wanted to be clean.

she turned one of the horses in so they could ride together in and he can rest. Zelda did not notice how much blood he had Lost buddy was struggling because of the blood loss they were almost to the village about only 30 minutes away when it started to get worse blood was rushing out now and Zelda was worried. The time before his eyes were open but his eyes started the clothes slowly.

Zelda knew it had to be because of blood loss or was that the reason she turned around and stop the horse she put her hand to Link’s for head he had a very high fever. She knew that the fever was going to cause some pain and some discomfort but she knew she had to get to the village that was all of her concern. when she made it to the village people came running out of their houses link was not awake anymore so They took him to his house and laid him down on the bed. Zelda fell asleep on the bedside Well they tend to his wounds.

She was still very worried for him but than her friend pura came in she said check it her normal thing she looked at link and said what happened Zelda explain to the story as pura made some food on the stove for when he woke up and fore them of course. They talked for hours then Link woke up wai-r am I… don’t worry you’re in your house he fell back asleep after about 20 minutes he was obviously exhausted from blood loss and a fever. After he was all better and able to walk again I Zelda and him continue their adventures as one! The end. Thank you so much for your kindness and your help for your love and kindness always gives me energy.❤️❤️❤️ I just want to ask if you can draw like a little seen out of this you are such an inspiration to me 😊

Hello! Thank you for all your kind words!! I'm really happy if I can give you energy; thank you for all your kindness and positivity as well! I always see you tagging people just to say nice things to them; it's really sweet and always makes me smile! 😊😊💖

Thank you so much for sharing your story! I really enjoyed reading it!! I don't take requests, but I did imagine this based on your story! (I'm sorry if it's not exactly what you had in mind!)

[nastytransmasc]

Bro I finally picked her up. I have my practice injection on Tuesday morning and I should have my needles and syringes coming in by the end of the week

I thought this was going to be so much more difficult. If anyone wants to start hrt or transitioning or gender-affirming care and you live in a safe state and have decent insurance it’s really not that hard. It’s not that expensive either (at least with insurance) please don’t wait and put off your happiness like me, do a little research and get started.

I haven’t even started hormones yet, but my depression and anxiety have already lowered considerably and my self-confidence has shot up.

Please please please do this for yourself if you are able to 💚💚💚

[pizzaqueen]

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