#I think my family (myself included) are all coming down with colds at the moment

[satans-knitwear]

Could really do with some proper alone time 👀✨

Treat me ~ Tip me

[just-a-ghost00]

Surprise reading to celebrate my new oracle deck

I was kindly gifted an oracle deck by a French reader that goes by the name of Soul shadow, whom I admire a lot. It’s a 90s anime themed oracle deck. So to celebrate this new baby, I decided to do a reading on the following theme :

a message from someone you love ❤️

No picture to pick from today, just use your intuition and pick a number between 1 and 3.

Group 1

I had to take a break to sort things through. There were so many things I wanted to tell you but it would have been difficult for me to express them in the state I was in. I don’t want you to think that I’m mad at you or that I hate you because that isn’t true. I sincerely think that meeting you was the best thing that could happen to me. I met you at the perfect timing and there is nothing I would change about that. With you I really feel like I can tackle the world and overcome anything. I need time to understand what this means to me, to figure out how I can better fit you into my life, to solve my own issues and find my footing. I know that asking you to be patient is a bit unfair. But I really need the space right now. I can only hope that you understand this decision and that all ends well in the end. I know this is going to be difficult but I have hope that we can overcome this together. Will you wait for me?

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 Group 2

I really thought that I had it all figured out. But that was until you came into my life. At first, I will be honest, I didn’t like your energy. I thought you were too carefree. But the more I got to know you the more I understood the importance of going with the flow with you. Know that I am open to whatever may happen, now that I stopped overthinking, I can really appreciate the journey and I really feel hyped up. Though I don’t need it, I really like to be reassured by you. Every time that you encourage me or celebrate me, it’s just one more sign for me that I’m doing the right thing and I’m grateful for that. There’s a lot that I wish to say and I plan on taking the time to express them when I get the chance. I have now found a new goal, a new purpose in life and I intend on showing everyone, including you, what I am made of. I know that I can be better and do better. And though a part of me is scared, I know deep down it’s worth fighting for. It’s time for me to put some order into my life and work toward my desired reality. Thank you for showing me the way to my destiny. You really are amazing!

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 Group 3

I hate that I love you because I can’t have you. You were the one thing that I could not control and I believe you will be the death of me. I keep telling myself that tomorrow will be better, that I just should keep living and enjoying life. I try to forget you but I can’t. I tell myself that I don’t care. That I don’t like you. That all I need is my family who always supported me but honestly that’s just bullshit. You are family as well. You have always supported me and the least I can do is be there for you too. I’m haunted by my memories of you. I want to talk to you so bad and a part of me is that close to giving in to temptation. But another just isn’t ready to face it. Those memories are too painful. Behind my cold exterior lies a ton of repressed feelings that I can’t seem to control. Whenever I’m with the people I love I can’t help but to think of you and wish you were there. Whenever I’m having fun and celebrating life, I can’t help but to think of you who always stood for me and cheered for me and feel grateful because this victory is also yours. In these moments, when I am the happiest, the first thing I want to do is come rushing to you to share that happiness with you. Ah you make me go crazy. I just want to leave it all behind and come back to you asap. Fuck it.

[mumbleberry]

There's so much I love about Princess's inclusion in the first TPB graphic novel - giving her more agency in the story, setting up better context for future story developments, making Firestar's origins less lonely - but I think one of the most important changes centers around her second appearance during Firepaw's hunting assignment, featured in the previews, because of how it deepens the undertones in Firepaw's conversation with Bluestar after. That scene is already unsettling in the original book, with Tigerclaw and Bluestar both seeming so immediately threatened by Firepaw's outside connections and so willing to threaten him if he doesn't disown the people he grew up with, but I feel like reframing that conversation around Princess, his sister, adds some important weight that makes that unease harder to miss.

Bluestar is Firepaw's main mentor figure, even before he officially becomes her apprentice; she's someone he wants to trust and who he wants to trust him in return, one of the most important cats to impress and inspire. From an audience perspective, we're supposed to like her, as she's a kinder contrast to more openly xenophobic characters like Tigerclaw, Longtail, and Dustpaw, but this scene in both iterations demonstrates that anyone can perpetuate the Clans' cruelty to outsiders, even those who are more receptive to change. Again, this scene is important and insightful whether it's about Smudge or Princess, but I think for a lot of readers, Bluestar not-so-subtly asking Rusty to abandon his sister will hit harder than asking him to abandon a friend, especially considering how much Clan culture emphasizes family ties. It's cold, cruel, and hypocritical, even if on some level Bluestar is speaking from a place of concern about how other Clan cats will see Firepaw if he doesn't demonstrate absolute devotion.

Where the graphic novel especially excels, too, is in the visual delivery of this scene. My hat is off to @nyaatalie and @smgoetter for their excellent work on this entire novel, and I think this exchange especially demonstrates some serious understanding of the power of visual storytelling. Partial screenshots and a little bit of analysis below the cut!

One of the big things that first caught my attention on these pages was just how menacing Bluestar is at first - eyes narrowed and flashing in stark shadows, the darker, colder backgrounds all contrasting against Firepaw's warmth and sincerity. These pages are all very static as well, juxtaposed against the dynamic tapestries of vibrant color and motion we saw when Firepaw was talking with Princess. Bluestar and her words in this moment are so plainly cast as something rigid and harsh, her expressions adding a much more hostile tone to her words than I remember getting from the book - and that's a good thing. I know that plenty in this fandom, myself included, are pretty frustrated with how wishy-washy this series can be when it comes to condemning xenophobia and authoritarianism, and I think making Bluestar's xenophobic demands more transparently cruel is absolutely a strong step away from that indecision. This isn't a proud or graceful moment for Bluestar, and the artwork emphasizes it.

We get a very different perspective, too, on how Firepaw responds. His despondance is palpable here, and in particular this borderless panel is absolutely magnificent in highlighting how lonely he feels. The serpentine chain of speech balloons through negative space gives this feeling of the words being dragged out of him, like he doesn't believe what he's saying, but feels he needs to say it all the same. It's absolutely beautiful, one of my favorite pages in the whole book.

There's so much less pride here than I read in the original book - which admittedly can always be down to a subjective read, too - but I absolutely love how this, again, paints what Bluestar is asking of him in a much colder light. He's small and lonely in ThunderClan already, and Bluestar is demanding that, in a way, he chooses further isolation.

BUT.

Obviously, Firepaw doesn't choose to leave after this conversation, nor does he stay under any burden of destiny or fear. As he keeps talking about his loyalty to his friends and his mentors, about his aspirations to live a less sedentary life, color and motion returns to the panels that follow with swirls of starlight and warming hues - this is where Firepaw is sincere in his conviction to stay, not out of scorn for his Twolegplace family, but out of love for the family he's found in ThunderClan and his passions for hunting and exploring. Again, really beautiful and a great way to emphasize Firepaw's role as an anti-authoritarian protagonist; he's not here to follow the rules or put others down, he's here for the community he's come to love. He's here for his friends and the good he sees in others, not for power or honor, and that's what positions him as Tigerclaw's enemy.

I'm going to be thinking about these pages for a long while. It might not be the aggressive rewrite a lot of fans want, but I think it's an approach that works beautifully for the series, and I have nothing but respect for the care and attention to detail that Sara and Natalie have poured into their work; this is already hands-down my favorite official Warriors sequential work so far. I'm so excited to see what comes next!!

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 29/?

Prev | Next

Jason gets a ghost form!

Please let me know what you think. I hope I gave Jason a good enough ghost form.

Jason woke up with the fires of hell licking his skin. He was sweating and had a high fever. Jason got up and went to the bathroom. He turned on the shower to the cold setting. When he got under it, steam rose from his skin.

What the fuck?!

There was a knock on the door.

“Jason is everything okay,” Jazz asked.

Jason wanted to laugh at the question as he saw his steaming skin. Nothing was ‘okay’. Jason didn’t know what was going on.

He turned off the shower and put on a pair of boxers. He opened the door and saw the worried faces of his family. His skin was still steaming.

“Can one of you guys call Raven?”

Surely, Raven would know what is going on.

“Daddy, your core has fully awakened.”

“What,” he asked.

“You have a fire core! I have an ice core,” Danny called a solid ice ball to his hand.

“It sucked when it first awakened. I was always so cold, and I would accidentally freeze things. Frostbite helped me control it.”

“Okay, time for Jason to go outside, now!”

“What, why,” he asked as Jazz hoarded him out of the house.

“Because I don’t want you to set the house on fire accidentally.”

“So shoving me out where there’s a bunch of flammable trees is your solution,” he asked hysterically.

At that exact moment, a few trees spontaneously combusted. Thankfully, Danny put the fire out with his ice.

“Calm down, daddy, or you’re going to burn down the whole forest.”

Calm down?

Calm down. Calm down! Breath. Calm. Cold thoughts. Ice cream, iceberg, blizzard, Mr. Freeze. Calm. Calm!

It didn’t work. His whole body caught on fire.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Thankfully, Danny stayed calm and encased his dad’s body in ice, leaving his head out so he could breathe. The ice was visibly melting, but Jason sighed at the cool around him.

“Thanks, Danny.”

His little boy’s tongue was out as he concentrated on making more ice around Jason.

Now that the rest of his body was cooled, he felt the source of the heat coming right from the middle of his chest, where his core was.

“Danny, what did you do when you discovered you had an ice core? What happened?”

“I almost froze myself to death. I went to Frostbite, my ghost doctor, to help. He taught me how to control my ice. He said I would've frozen myself if I hadn’t let go of the cold. I imagine it’s the same for you, daddy, but I don’t know where you can go to let fire out without hurting other people.”

Danny bit his lip and scrunched his eyebrows as he tried to find a solution.

“I know where I can take him,” Raven walked out of the house.

“Oh, thank God,” Jason exclaimed.

“Not quite,” Raven said, “Danny, can you unfreeze your daddy? I’ll teleport him somewhere he can’t hurt anyone while he learns to control this.”

“Okay, but only if I can go, too.”

“Danny lad, you have school,” Jason tried to argue. He didn’t want his son anywhere near him if he could hurt him.

Danny crossed his arm and stubbornly lifted his chin.

“No. Whether you like it or not, I’m the closest thing to an expert that we have. I know what he’s going through. We might have different core types, but I can help if things get out of control. Being able to control ice can help in case dad starts burning up.”

“He’s not wrong,” Jazz said. Jason glared at her. Traitor.

Raven teleported them to the middle of a desert—great, more heat.

“You’re gonna have to let some fire out, daddy. That’s what I did for my ice. I don’t know what kind of things you can do with your fire, but I can create snowballs, ice spikes, ice constructs, including swords, ice laser beams, ice cover, ecto-energy, cold energy waves, ice shields, and ice breath.”

That was a lot.

“Maybe start with producing fire,” Raven said in the form of a question.

“How? I’ve never done something like this.”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s a part of you, dad.”

Jason took a deep breath. Unbiddenly, his time with the All-Caste came to Jason’s mind eyes. He thought about the All-Blades—blades that could only be summoned and used against the presence of evil. They were made with the essence of his soul. They were made of copper and fire. 

He put his hands out with his palms out. Jason imagined the weight of the swords; he imagined the heat coming from his chest traveling throughout his body and gathering in his hands. The two swords were sitting on his palms when he opened his eyes. They were the same as always, but a bigger flame engulfed them. Oh, and he had summoned them without the presence of evil.

“Cool,” his little boy breathed out.

“How are you feeling,” Raven asked.

The overwhelming heat licking his body had subsided when he summoned his swords.

“Better,” he swung the two swords. He wondered what Ducra would’ve thought about this predicament. He could imagine her laughing at him before telling him to get more discipline.

He sighed. The swords disappeared once he lost his concentration, but he didn’t feel the overwhelming heat return.

Throughout the day, he let little bursts of fire come out of his hand. He stared at his hands every time he did, still unbelieving what was happening to him.

Jason felt the heat of an explosion dancing over his skin. He felt his lungs being overwhelmed by smoke.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?

Danny’s voice sounded further and further away as Jason fell into the memories of his death.

The laughter, the fire, the explosion. He couldn’t breathe.

Bruce! Where are you? I need you, dad!

Raven and Danny watched as a red ring started from Jason’s waist and split in two over his body. When the ring disappeared, Jason had transformed. In his place stood a red, smoke-like creature. His hair was orange and mimicked the movement of flames. His eyes had the appearance of burning ember, and over his right breast was a purple ‘R’ in a white circle.

When Jason saw his transparent, smokey hand, he started crying. The tears would dissipate as they fell down his cheeks. He was still relieving his death. He wanted his dad; he didn’t want to die.

Please, Bruce, help me!

Jason felt cool arms encircling his waist. He looked down and saw his son’s sweet face. His eyes were glowing an ice-cold blue.

Jason returned to the present and, somehow, transformed into his human self. He fell to his knees and clung to his son. Raven sat by them, uncaring of the sand, and gave her support through her calm demeanor.

Jason held on to both of them.

Eventually, they went back home.

At least Jason wasn’t burning up anymore.

Later, when everyone was asleep, Jason transformed in front of a mirror. He didn’t know what to think about his ghost form.

I know very little about the all-blades. I had to research them, but this is fanfic, so I can do whatever I want.

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

[tadpolesonalgae]

“maybe it’ll turn out to be a wonderful meal they all bond over 🥳”

now tabby, you know damn well…

anyways, thinking about the next chapter, and there’s something i’d like to chime in on. when i was 14, i attempted suicide, and for me, being around family make me super uncomfortable, to the point where when i was around them and they were asking me questions i’d just go non-verbal. like full on armadillo into myself, under a table, refusing to say or do anything. i feel like reader and i are SUPER alike (or at least i used to be super like her) so i think it’d be interesting to see what here reaction will be when she’s surrounded by everyone at a family dinner, essentially forced to socialize. i’d also like to say that in the immediate few weeks after i was let out of the hospital, i was sort of hot and cold with how i was feeling. like one day i’d wake up feeling like death itself was sitting on my chest, but then the next, i’d be awake at 6am, hop out of bed, and immediately start doing things to better myself. and on some of those days, i’d do and say reckless things (i’m like 95% sure i was basically just manic). one time, relatively soon after the incident, i was being lectured by my dad about schoolwork and i snapped and called him an asshole straight to his face; something i NEVER would have done before, and everyone in the family was just in shock because everyone, including myself, had never expected me to act in such a way. immediately after i said it though, i reverted back to my usual self and ran away and hid under a table locked in my room and didn’t speak to anything for a while after that. i guess the point i’m trying to make here is; suicide attempts can do weird things to people’s emotions, everything has essentially come bubbling to the surface, so i’d sort of like to see reader acting in a few unexpected ways. i don’t want a 180 degree spin on her character, i just want some of those unexpected snaps to come out. like i could totally see mor saying something vaguely bitchy-ish and reader saying “oh fuck you” on instinct or something, completely blindsiding everyone at the table, even herself, and essentially breaking down and reverting back to her timid manner immediately after like “oh my gosh i’m so sorry i don’t know where that came from”

anyways, yah, i love the story, you’re doing such a great job expressing everyone’s emotions, like the whole situation is just super nuanced and you’re doing a great job at showing it, i truly just love your writing <3

-🌁

‘now tabby, you know damn well…’

🫣😭😭😭

I have no idea why anyone would be concerned about what could unfold over a family dinner with Mor and reader sat so close to one another

‘to the point where when i was around them and they were asking me questions i’d just go non-verbal.’

Okay, first of all, I am so sorry you ever had to experience a low like that and you have all my respect and any warmth I can offer for managing to make it through to where you are now, I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it was to get past that and live, but I’m happy you’ve made it to now and will continue onwards 🧡💛

Second of all though, I wanted to mention that I haven’t heard anyone else experience the silence like that? I think fourteen is also hands down the worst age to be for a lot of people for some reason, and while mine was from anxiety and not depression, similar moments happened? Just kind of shutting down in social situations specifically around family and being unable to respond? I do wonder if it’s some kind of coping mechanism, or a form a dissociation to distance oneself from the present to feel safer?

‘i’d also like to say that in the immediate few weeks after i was let out of the hospital, i was sort of hot and cold with how i was feeling.’

Even in day-to-day life, I have to admit I find it strange how swiftly emotions can change? Or even just waking up in a bad mood that you can’t shake no matter how many hot meals you have, or how clean your room is, or how many showers you take? And it just kind of clings to you, waiting for something bad to happen? It’s so unhelpful and difficult to cope with so I’m sorry you had to go through those likely turbulent emotions :/

‘(i’m like 95% sure i was basically just manic)’

So was it similar to rapidly swinging between depressive and manic episodes? I mean, to an extent I could see why after having been through such intense emotions that it would take a while to begin feeling semi-like yourself again?

‘i guess the point i’m trying to make here is; suicide attempts can do weird things to people’s emotions, everything has essentially come bubbling to the surface, so i’d sort of like to see reader acting in a few unexpected ways.’

I agree with emotions becoming pretty volatile and unpredictable after a suicide attempt from a logical standpoint, however I would like to say(?) theorise(?) I feel like those ‘snappy’ moments weirdly tend to come out around people you’re close with, so I couldn’t see it happening with Mor? That being said, I do have some ideas in mind for some stuff that relates to these slightly out-of-the-blue behaviours

‘anyways, yah, i love the story, you’re doing such a great job expressing everyone’s emotions, like the whole situation is just super nuanced and you’re doing a great job at showing it, i truly just love your writing <3’

I really appreciate your reassurance, but I do hope it isn’t bringing up any bad memories for you :/

Obviously there are heavy spots in the story, and inevitably I think because emotions can manifest in different ways in different people, there might be some parts that resonate with you, while others that seem strange or out of character, but I hope that for the most part the story is fairly fluid and maybe (I’m hoping) for some people it may turn out to something to find some semblance of comfort in? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself though 🧡💛

[seiwas]

hi sel!! #3, 23, & 24 for the end of year fanfic asks please!!

noos!! aaah thank you for sending 🥺

send me any number from this fanfic writer ask game!

#3 favorite line/scene you wrote this year

omg a favourite line is impossible bc i sadly forget what i write the moment i hit post 🥲 but i will say!! one of my fave scenes to write was the car scene from this megumi fic 🥺 mostly because it's personal to me!!

And you think, with your music playing over the comfortable silence you’ve built, being in his passenger seat one too many times—this feels nice.  Any other day and you’d hate traffic as much as the next person, but not right now.  Megumi’s eyelashes are long, pretty, stretching on for miles—and you wonder if this drive with him can extend to the length of them, if you can stay in this traffic jam a little longer just to be in this moment with him.  “Sorry, are you cold?” Megumi asks, interrupting your stare.

i always try to include 1-2 lines that feel ~satisfying bc i think my sentence constructions are really simple!! so to add some kind of dynamic to it i guess!!

#23 fics you wanted to write but didn’t

omg my wip list grows by the day noos 🥺 i wanted to write my ex!bakugo fic this year but am so intimidated by him that i struggle to start even tho i have everything in place alr 😭

there's also an escort!reader x nanami idea that i have but will probably never write 🥹 it's a skill gap on my end i think sfbsdhfsj idt i'm a good enough writer to give justice to that kind of concept!!

also wanted to write more for my iwa series this yr but figured i'd wait till next year when the hq hype comes back!!! (am gonna re-edit everything!! might reformat it too)

#24 favorite fic some unforgettable fics you read this year

noos... you opened a dam with this question... how can i possibly just choose one... are you kidding me... i can't choose one... so i'm putting everything under the cut... gonna give myself 5 per fandom 😭 (you can tell im very partial to friends to lovers 😭😭😭)

also!! there are a lot of fics in my tbr that i haven't gotten to yet!! and everything i reblog is pretty much a fic i recommend 🥹

hq!!

over the course of 24 hours by prettyiwa (iwaizumi hajime x reader) [10k. friends to lovers.] my favourite iwaizumi fic ever 🥹 i reread it once a year hence why it's here

an observer of longing by shibaraki (iwaizumi hajime x reader) [18k. friends to lovers.] took me like 4 hours to read this bc i wanted to savour it. and was lying down in bed, staring up at the ceiling crying when i was done 🥺

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease by fushisagi (miya atsumu x reader) [12k. friends to lovers.] the thematic consistency in this is so good & i still think abt this to this day!!

long shots by ahtsumu (miya osamu x reader) [5k. TA!atsumu.] solidified me reading for osamu—he's soooo attractive here.

seasons by mintmatcha (hanamaki takahiro x reader) [6k. friends to lovers.] fully roped me in being a makki fucker 😭

jjk

half agony, half hope by seravphs (gojo satoru x reader) [ongoing series. knight!gojo.] superb. that's really all i can say about this. the want and tension is gripping.

wormwood by linkcities (gojo satoru x reader) [25k. friends to lovers.] heartwrenching and achey. so so good. 🥲

oh my destiny, how far you have sprung now by twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat (gojo satoru gen fic) [5k. canon divergence.] such an interesting look into something i don't normally see written on gojo. written beautifully too!

(though we may) fall apart by stellamancer (gojo satoru x reader) [4k. canon compliant ish.] amazing buildup & the tension is insane too. 🤧

keeping up with the fushigojos by augustinewrites (gojo satoru x reader)

[ongoing series. found family.] sooo cute and feel-good. their lil family lives in my mind rent free!! 🥹

bnha

i like to call myself wound but i will answer to knife by kirketeer (bakugo katsuki x reader) [59k. enemies to friends to lovers.] i reread this once a year oh my god it's one of my fave fics ever.

you had only to look at me by willowser (bakugo katsuki x reader) [7k. friends to lovers.] reread this recently and was tearing up by the end omg.

all the times i told you by gardenofnoah (bakugo katsuki x reader) [8k. established relationship.] the most teeeendeeer bakugo i've ever seen and i tear up every time i read this.

love to love you by shibaraki (midoriya izuku x reader) [2k. established relationship.] another one that's super soft. such a raw tenderness to this 🥺

nitroglycerine by alrightberries (bakugo katsuki x reader) [1k. fwb to idiots to lovers.] the dialogue here is amazing and there's so much in the unsaid i am gnawing my fist.

[lostinthewoods1991]

When Will We Stop Glorifying This Slavery?

"Get out of your comfort zone" - I think this is something most of us have heard quite often. It's one of those overused sentences that people throw around when they have nothing better to say but still want to sound motivational. Over time, I've come to question this a lot. I'm not saying one must not get out of one's comfort zone. All of us need to be challenged in good ways, yes. However, I have arrived at the conclusion that while I push myself out of comfort zones, it's equally important that I recognise my threshold at any given point of time when it comes to the stress I can bear. I've seen how people glorify the "pushing oneself out of one's comfort zone" thing to the point of breaking oneself. The only thing I got out of listening to them was that I ended up being broken and in need of recovery.

Last year, I happened to move to another city for a few months. The only experience I had staying in a hostel was at my university. But, that was different. I had people I knew, staying close by. Staying in a single room in Kochi was my choice. I wanted to come back to a room where I could just be myself, after a long day of having to fit into an environment that was new to me. But, as days passed by, I was feeling disoriented. It was my first experience of working in something like a corporate set up. Did I think I was pushing myself out of my comfort zone with all this? Yes, very much. But, I quickly recognised that the place wasn't meant for me. While I liked copywriting because it involved tasks that creatively challenged me, the workspace was nothing like I expected it to be. Things were manageable in the beginning. I was told by the boss that we were a "family". I didn't know this was her way of saying that things weren't strictly professional there and she could bend the rules just as she pleased. Everyone seemed to like her, me included. I could say I was smitten with her smile. However, the better part of me didn't quite agree with my liking for her. Despite all her charm and amiability, I felt uneasy, the moment she walked into the room. I couldn't immediately understand why this feeling persisted. I would feel myself stiffen involuntarily, my breathing becoming irregular, my heart, steadily racing. Something told me not to trust her. That there was something cold and cruel about her, that something unpleasant lurked, even under the most heartwarming of her smiles. I never trust my radar in such situations. Instead, I would brush it off as my unnecessary anxiety.

I don't know how much of this is true but I've read somewhere that children who grew up with one of their parents or both their parents being volatile would grow up to be hypervigilant, always unknowingly looking for discrepancies and subtle shifts in people's behaviour/tone/body language or even their microexpressions. People tell me I'm intuitive but in reality, I think it mostly comes down to my hypervigilance. It's not something I'm doing consciously. Anyhow, coming back to her, I assumed it was just an irrational fear of mine. But, I realised it wasn't a case of my radar going haywire.

To start with, we were constantly monitored. My part of the office was right under a surveillance camera. Every single thing, including the way I sat was being monitored. If I ever turned around even to ask some work-related doubt to somebody, my boss would send a text in the group immediately - "Hima avde entha cheyyunne?". It was tiring, being micromanaged all the time and having to explain myself always. In the beginning, she would say all the right things. Hima, you must take leave if you feel stressed out, your mental health is your most important asset and so on. It quickly changed into my occasional text requests for leave being met with her passive-aggressive "K", even if I was genuinely not well. The fact that I was unwell wasn't relevant. This was a person who couldn't care any less for her employees' physical/mental health until things got that drastic.

I wrote the paragraphs above, a few days ago. I was going to write about how trying to push myself out of my comfort zone broke me, instead of contributing to my growth. I thought I'd return to my experience in the office at Kochi later and left the writing halfway. Yesterday, I read the heart-wrenching letter written by Anna's mother who lost her daughter to the unbearable work pressure in EY. I couldn't help but feel broken myself, imagining how much stress Anna must have been through. The company I worked for in Kochi was nowhere near the scale of EY, one of the firms in the "Big Four", as they call it. Yet, it was one of the worst work-related experiences I ever had. I can only imagine how much more gruelling it would be to work for EY. Having seen the stress my cousin sister who once worked in EY used to go through, Anna's mother's words hit closer home.

I remember how hostile my boss was when I asked her, on behalf of everyone, if we could be granted a few days of work-from-home, given we were all falling sick with some of us experiencing breathing difficulties, following the Brahmapuram fire incident. It wasn't even a demand. I was only politely asking her if it would be possible. Somebody close to my hostel had died. I was terribly anxious for all obvious reasons. Instead of showing atleast a bare minimum empathy, I was cornered and intimidated by the boss, for the simple reason that I happened to be the one who asked her if it was possible for us to work from home. I guess that was when the tyrant in her woke up. How dare you even ask for something like that? She did not say that out loud but I could hear the question reaching me from across her head, through the video call. Mind you, she was at her home in Trichur and safe, while this was happening in Kochi and she refused us work-from-home. I was surprised to see how fragile her sense of control was, crumbling under a simple question I asked. She looked at me as though I was a threat to her. She told me I had to get a medical certificate that proved the cause of my throat infection was the smoke in Kochi. I remember wondering what she was high on. I decided I was going to go home, no matter what she said. It wasn't even an option anymore. I felt the need to crush her ridiculously fragile ego and that's what I did. I went home.

After I returned to the office, I was obviously not in her good books anymore. She would lash out at me for no reason, make me feel cornered, alone and intimidated. Her favourite employees were the ones who would worship her, irrespective of how she treated them, even if she made them work overtime with no compensation. A younger me would've taken more time to see her for what she was. But given I wasn't that naive anymore, I was considered a "problem maker" when I wasn't even rebelling as such and I was only asking things that should otherwise be considered normal.

All the time I worked there, I found myself reflecting on who we were in that company. Were we even human? Who was I serving? What was the meaning of what I was doing? Did it even align with my values? The system is such that it makes you stop asking these questions, shed your human qualities, slowly and steadily reducing you into a cog in a machine. Your worth as an employee rests on how much you can dehumanise yourself. On how much you can do away with your fundamental needs and rights as a human being. On how much you can reduce yourself into a blob of existence that requires no meaning in life. They would talk about "productivity" in a way that makes you believe they have your highest good on their mind. To me, it comes across as another fancy word for slavery. You might almost convince yourself that they want to bring the best out of you, when in reality, their only intention is to exploit your abilities to their advantage, with little to no regard for the person you are. In between, they would provide you with a few, minimal things that vaguely remind you of your humanness, just so they can claim later that they had cared for their employees' well-being. This is what a small company made me feel. I had to get out to preserve my sanity and in the months that followed, I was left feeling disillusioned.

Despite being aware of all this, parents would still brag if their kids get into firms like EY. Youngsters would still believe it's for their best. After all, it would look good on their resumes. What a world! Here, I am at a loss for words.

RIP, Anna.

[shamera]

NaNo day 26

Originally in my head, there's one more scene before part 1 ends, but this might be the best place to end it?

I'll write it anyway and then see, but this might be the place to end today's bit! Gotta go back and change a few things too, especially since I was struggling on translating most things to English but honestly I have finally given up with how fdb addresses his aunt. He calls her 小姨 in the series, and while I normally just translate that as small aunt (at least I did in previous stories), I never had him CALL her that before, because that just sounds weird in translation. So I might have to go back and change all the 'small aunt' into 'xiao-yi' in this story instead just because just sounds better.

(Also, people just don't address family members as like 'big uncle' or something in English, because they include a name there. But in Mandarin that just sounds like you're not actually related to them, because you can call all your parents' friends aunts and uncles, too.)

Also in my head, it was 黑暗 for what I translated to "the Black", which. Uh. Well, the translation worked in my head as I was writing, but I'm a terrible terrible translator.

“No, tell me now.” Fang Duobing said, hand tightening to a bruising grip around Li Lianhua’s wrist. “Tell me what actually happened. Tell me the truth.”

“Tell you what, that you just fell right into some psychedelic core of a dungeon boss?” Li Lianhua bluffed, deceptively nonchalant. “Whatever you saw, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. This dungeon is going to start falling apart in moments, and—”

Fang Duobing refused to let go. “No one’s destroyed an active dungeon in ten years. How would you know that?”

Fang Duobing thought, maybe, maybe it would be easier if Li Lianhua just said it outright. If Li Lianhua would stop trying to yank out of his grip, as if he was really weak Li Lianhua again rather than someone Fang Duobing had just seen take down a dungeon boss. 

He felt strange, like the darkness really was clinging to him, like he was hovering just right above his body, like his actions made sense to him and were guided by his thoughts but there was a barrier between what he was thinking and feeling, and what he was actually doing. 

He felt untethered by the recent realisations. 

“Fang Duobing,” and here Li Lianhua’s tone grew harsher as Fang Duobing continued to cling to him. “Why must you insist on this? Isn’t it enough to survive the dungeon? What if I say I’ll explain it all to you later?”

“You’d just run away,” Fang Duobing already knew this. “You’d run away until you could come up with a suitable lie for yourself, and then you won’t say even if I already know that you’re lying. Li Lianhua. I’ve been your friend for two years now, haven’t I? I have always considered you my friend even though I was never sure what you thought. And I’ve told you—”

Drunken rambling under starry skies about his dreams of being a Hunter, of living up to Li Xiangyi’s legacy, of breaking free from familial expectations to forge his own path. Of his aspirations. 

“—I told you everything about myself.” Fang Duobing finished lamely, the force of his anger deflating into a disappointment that cored him. He was starting to get feeling in his limbs again, and his legs were tingling. His grip felt stiff, like he was using one hand to hold onto Li Lianhua, and his other to hold something else. 

Wait. He was holding onto something else. 

Li Lianhua was quiet in the darkness for a moment, and then a cold hand patted the grip Fang Duobing had on him. 

“Later,” Li Lianhua amended. “I’ll explain later. You always manage to find me. How could I run away?”

What had Fang Duobing expected? Li Lianhua was reluctant to part with the truth at the best of times, never mind when he was forced into a situation where he had to say something real. It was likely the best he was going to get from the man.  With that, his grip started to loosen, only to tense as the smell of acrid smog permeated his senses. Immediately following the smell was the rumbling of the ground underneath them, different from the fight before as this was a more even spread, like the world itself was starting to shake itself apart, evenly and building with each second. 

“Time to go.” Li Lianhua said briskly, and hauled Fang Duobing up to his feet unceremoniously. The younger man stumbled for half a second before resting his weight on protesting legs, unable to see the ground or where they might be going. “Hold on, then. This is going to feel— strange.”

Then Li Lianhua was pulling him along, grabbing onto his wrist in return as the two of them raced along the unstable ground, soon joined by the sounds of thousands of skittering feet, yet their path was unimpeded. Fang Duobing didn’t know where they were going, didn’t know how Li Lianhua knew where to go in the darkness.

“Which way?” Fang Duobing called out in a panic as they ran. 

“Any!” Li Lianhua called back. “The edge of the dungeon is closing in, and we just have to pass it—”

And there it was— the faint purple glow associated with gates, except it was appearing in front of them endlessly, like a light to cross through. Within the glow, he could now see the shapes of endless monsters, none of them paying the two of them any attention as they crashed against the purple gate, climbing atop each other and flooding the ground, but unable to pass through. 

Apprehension slowed him as they approached, even with the shaking underneath growing worse and crashing sounds coming from behind them. Li Lianhua continued to pull at him, displaying uncharacteristic strength as they ran, and then soon they came upon the gate and they were going to be okay and then afterward Fang Duobing was going to tie Li Lianhua to a pole and refuse to let him go until he got answers—

It was like hitting a solid wall. 

Perhaps not a solid wall, as Fang Duobing nearly bounced back from the impact, as the feeling had been evenly spread rather than hitting at a single point of impact. He nearly let go of Li Lianhua, who didn’t have the same problem, but the man didn’t let go of his wrist. 

Li Lianhua stopped at Fang Duobing’s sound of pain and the jerk backward, the purple light now bright enough to see each other clearly. “What—?”

Within a moment, his stunned expression changed toward something strange. 

“Put that down, drop it right now.” Li Lianhua ordered, and reached to yank at Fang Duobing’s other hand. “You can’t— bring things from the Black, how did you even—?”

In his hand, the one curled into a death group, was a ball the size of his palm, like a black pearl shimmering against the purple light. Fang Duobing hadn’t even noticed— or rather, he had, yet the knowledge managed to escape his attention somehow. 

“What?” He asked, mind blank as he stared down at the ball in his hand. His fingers were caught in a death grip, like it wasn’t his own hand at all. For a moment, he shook his wrist, but still couldn’t let go of it. “I… I can’t?”

Li Lianhua was prying at his fingers, backlit by the purple light, the creatures of the dungeon swarming around them in panic, each of them hitting the same wall that Fang Duobing had. 

The gate seemed to be pushing them back, skidding them across the unstable ground, drawing to a smaller and smaller point as they attached to detach the ball from Fang Duobing. In the distance, he could see the extent of the gate, of it encroaching from the opposite side, from all sides. It really was drawing in like it would crush everything within the dungeon. 

“Let go,” Li Lianhua told him, a heavy panic in his tone. His fingers were pale even in the purple light, pulling at Fang Duobing’s. Fang Duobing was trying, he really was, but it was an involuntary reaction, like reacting to getting shocked, like electric currents running along his nerves now that he knew where to look in order to feel it. 

“I’m trying!” Fang Duobing protested, and both wrestled with his hand as they were pushed back by the gate, and the shove of monster bodies began to press in against them. He shook at his own hand in a panic, trying to help Li Lianhua in prying his fingers open. 

They got one finger, and then another, and the carapaces of the creatures around them were pressing in tight, stuck in the nonspace between the dungeon and the magic of the gate until it felt hard to breathe. 

Around them, the dungeon was starting to disappear, the bits of stone illuminated  falling into nothing at all, and even the monsters starting to disappear into nothingness. 

“Got it!” Li Lianhua called, and then he was holding onto the orb with both hands, looking up in victory. “Now we go—”

He dropped the orb just as they were swallowed by the purple light. 

— 

He Xiaofeng was yelling at the representatives from Wansheng Sect when Hunters started pouring out of the gate in a flurry, her arm in a sling as the medic next to her attempted to gently dissuade her from aggravating her injuries to no avail. 

“What do you mean the dungeon is collapsing?” She shouted, her good hand around the collar of the representative’s throat. He was a good head taller than her with a tired slant to his eyes and chin-length hair wearing a button up with Hunter accessories. He must have introduced himself at some point, but she didn’t care for his name unless she needed Tianji Hall to start legal shit against him. “Dungeons don’t collapse!”

Not unless the dungeon boss was defeated, and that wasn’t something anyone attempted in the past decade. Not to mention the difficulty of it, and the fact that she doubted Wansheng Sect could manage it at all.

Wansheng Sect was a shit sect, in her opinion, but they were apparently high ranked and the ones who came first at the call of a newly formed dungeon with people caught up in it, and the members apparently already rescued the rest of her employees. To them, it was He Xiaofeng and her group who had been unlucky as the rescue operations were well underway even when they had been waiting and running, yet when she dragged Bei Yun to them, yelling at the top of her lungs that her nephew was still in there, that she was fit to go back in if she had to in order to rescue him and Physician Li despite her injuries, so long as they provided backup to obtain more crystal shards— 

They refused to let her back in! She was a qualified Hunter, even if she never trained for search and rescue in dungeons before. 

“Do you know who I am?” She asked, voice low and dangerous as she dragged the man down to her level to brush her nose against his, glaring him down. The wailing of sirens around them and the overwhelming scent of ozone from the gate was only infuriating her more, feeling like a sensory overload to go with stupid men who would dismiss her. “Do you know who my nephew is? If you think your Wansheng Sect can withstand the wrath of Tianji Hall—”

Technically, Tianji Hall was a tech company intermediary between Hunter sects and the government, but they had authority the same way Baichuan Court was given authority to police Hunters. 

“Ma’am, please,” the medic next to her said, voice pained. “We’re already short staffed and don’t need more injuries to see to right now.”

She refused to let up on her grip, even as the man started choking in her grasp, hands coming up to claw at her in vain. 

“Send people through,” she demanded. “Send people through or let me through, or so help me—”

The gate was getting smaller and smaller, had been for the past minute or so, and her panic grew inversely. What would she tell her sister, her brother-in-law— 

“Xiao-yi!”

She released the man immediately, paying no mind as he tumbled to the ground and instead turning on her heel toward her nephew’s voice. 

“Xiaobao!” She gasped out, already pushing past both Bei Yun and the medic to jog toward the figures that appeared out of the gate. He was covered, absolutely slathered, in a black substance that looked like it was slowly wisping away in the air, evaporating into nothingness to reveal bruises and dried blood and torn clothes. 

Li Lianhua was similarly drenched, hair out of his usual neat bun to cover his face and drape over Xiaobao’s shoulder, his form limp carried across Fang Duobing’s back. 

“Xiao-yi,” he gasped out again, just as she reached him to grab onto his shoulders, too worried to know what to do or what to say first. “Help.”

And then his legs gave out underneath him, just as the team of medics converged on them.

[ofpd]

anyway top five les mis moments that could put someone in a hospital

ok i am so biased towards certain characters but here are some devastating scenes (devastating lines are a different category to me). under the cut as an excuse to post longass passages. bolded lines are my fave parts of the scenes

this whole scene in 3.7.4 is cray but at a highlight is when eponine says this

I often go off in the evening. Sometimes I don’t come home again. Last winter, before we came here, we lived under the arches of the bridges. We huddled together to keep from freezing. My little sister cried. How melancholy the water is! When I thought of drowning myself, I said to myself: ‘No, it’s too cold.’ I go out alone, whenever I choose, I sometimes sleep in the ditches. Do you know, at night, when I walk along the boulevard, I see the trees like forks, I see houses, all black and as big as Notre Dame, I fancy that the white walls are the river, I say to myself: ‘Why, there’s water there!’ The stars are like the lamps in illuminations, one would say that they smoked and that the wind blew them out, I am bewildered, as though horses were breathing in my ears; although it is night, I hear hand-organs and spinning-machines, and I don’t know what all. I think people are flinging stones at me, I flee without knowing whither, everything whirls and whirls. You feel very queer when you have had no food.

in 4.12.3, after grantaire has gotten drunk instead of lamarque's funeral and the barricades are being built

Enjolras, who was standing on the crest of the barricade, gun in hand, raised his beautiful, austere face. [...]

“Grantaire,” he shouted, “go get rid of the fumes of your wine somewhere else than here. This is the place for enthusiasm, not for drunkenness. Don’t disgrace the barricade!”

This angry speech produced a singular effect on Grantaire. One would have said that he had had a glass of cold water flung in his face. He seemed to be rendered suddenly sober. He sat down, put his elbows on a table near the window, looked at Enjolras with indescribable gentleness, and said to him:— “Let me sleep here.”

“Go and sleep somewhere else,” cried Enjolras.

But Grantaire, still keeping his tender and troubled eyes fixed on him, replied:— “Let me sleep here,—until I die.”

Enjolras regarded him with disdainful eyes:— “Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying.”

Grantaire replied in a grave tone:— “You will see.”

there are a bunch of iconic exr quotes back to back in 4.1.6 and im not even including all of them here

“What about me?” said Grantaire. “Here am I.”

“You?”

“I.”

“You indoctrinate republicans! you warm up hearts that have grown cold in the name of principle!”

“Why not?”

“Are you good for anything?”

“I have a vague ambition in that direction,” said Grantaire.

“You do not believe in everything.”

“I believe in you.”

“Grantaire will you do me a service?”

“Anything. I’ll black your boots.”

“Well, don’t meddle with our affairs. Sleep yourself sober from your absinthe.”

this in 5.1.8... love both the times that enjy kills a guy but the other one is more sexy and this one is more devastating

The captain of the piece was a handsome sergeant of artillery, very young, blond, with a very gentle face, and the intelligent air peculiar to that predestined and redoubtable weapon which, by dint of perfecting itself in horror, must end in killing war.

Combeferre, who was standing beside Enjolras, scrutinized this young man.

“What a pity!” said Combeferre. “What hideous things these butcheries are! Come, when there are no more kings, there will be no more war. Enjolras, you are taking aim at that sergeant, you are not looking at him. Fancy, he is a charming young man; he is intrepid; it is evident that he is thoughtful; those young artillery-men are very well educated; he has a father, a mother, a family; he is probably in love; he is not more than five and twenty at the most; he might be your brother.”

“He is,” said Enjolras.

“Yes,” replied Combeferre, “he is mine too. Well, let us not kill him.”

“Let me alone. It must be done.”

And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras’ marble cheek.

can't make a list of devastating les mis scenes without eponines death :) this isn't the whole thing but i did want to have some limit on how long this post was

“Now, for my trouble, promise me—”

And she stopped.

“What?” asked Marius.

“Promise me!”

“I promise.”

“Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead.—I shall feel it.”

She dropped her head again on Marius’ knees, and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had departed. Éponine remained motionless. All at once, at the very moment when Marius fancied her asleep forever, she slowly opened her eyes in which appeared the sombre profundity of death, and said to him in a tone whose sweetness seemed already to proceed from another world:—

“And by the way, Monsieur Marius, I believe that I was a little bit in love with you.”

She tried to smile once more and expired.

[autumn-foxfire]

THE LAST WIZARD OF THE CENTURY TIME!

Sorry I just had to announce how excited I was for this in caps. I mean it's my boys T-T

Kaito it's not fair that you're so beautiful.

Shinichi, you will capture him, you'll capture his heart. But not before he steals yours.

I love when Kaito uses puzzles as heist notes T-T Though the movies play more into it than the anime does. I love this scene though, Kaito has pissed off so many police officers, he's doing the world a great service :p

The famous quiz time that I will never be able to understand as they play on the Japanese language and I am an uncultured person who only knows one language.

Heiji your gay is showing again. He was so excited to see Shinichi again, it's a shame Shinichi came to see another man XD

"Don't try, they grew up together." Ran, that does not mean Kazuha owns him now. Any girl is allowed to try, it's up to Heiji to turn them down if he truly loves Kazuha.

"They remind me of you and Shinichi." and it's Heiji and Kazuha arguing. So romantic <.< I'm going to give myself a headache from rolling my eyes so much.

So, I need to say this at least once, but this movie would have been the perfect time to make Shinichi and Kaito related. This movie is all about family, yet instead he uses it to further develop the bond between Shinichi and Kaito by making Kaito protect Shinichi, both his life and then his identity. It just tells me that recent developments were never actually planned and I will die on this hill.

I love how allergic Heiji is to calling Shinichi Conan XD

Shinichi knowing Kaito so well that he's weirded out by his message when everyone else is willing to just call it arrogance. Because they have a connection they don't have with others~

Your secret should come out, Shinichi, it's a stupid secret for a stupid plot.

Grown men being ridiculous... That is not a surprise.

Kaito and his love for tall buildings. It must be cold up there though. Next time he should take a small person with him to steal his warmth.

Kaito: just some mild property damage.

Add Shinichi into the mix and that property damage increases.

Shinichi does not give a crap about risks to himself as long as he can catch KID. That boy is ~captivated~

Shinichi showing off his mad skateboard skills by falling off a motorbike and landing perfectly onto his skateboard.

The dove T-T You don't understand how much I love this dove and love when writers include it in their fanfiction. Because Shinichi (and Ran) go above and beyond by caring for it when they didn't have to.

Again, Shinichi knows there is a greater reason for Kaito targeting the egg even though he doesn't know why. And he has such great trust in Kaito's ability to survive T-T

Why did Sonoko just drag Shinichi away? It didn't have to do with leaving Ran alone with a pretty girl was it (sorry I have several agendas and I am pushing all of them during this watch).

Shinichi just sharing his birthday forgetting that Ran would know it and make a connection between him and Conan. I hate that she thinks she's dumb for thinking about him and making the connection though, that's what all the gaslighting by Shinichi and his supporters have done to her and it honestly angers me so much.

And of course Shinichi didn't notice the shift in her mood either <.<

What a disgusting thing to say... I'm not surprised it came from Kogoro. News tip, women don't want to be flirted with like this, especially by men almost twice their age.

Kaito, that was an unnecessary comment, beside you know the true shinigami is someone else.

Don't worry Shinichi, Kaito is just admiring your skills.

Once again, I'm supposed to believe Shinichi loves Ran when he can't even notice she's acting strangely (but he notices Kaito's more observant behaviour of him immediately).

Kaito what was with that look?

Ran is literally only here to be sad. The role she's often reduced to by the series. God the disrespect to her as a character, it makes me so mad <.< Even moments when she's "discovering Shinichi" it's so she can be sad about it for Shinichi's own feelings (instead of mad like she deserves to be for herself). Oh and she's here to hush her father so Shinichi can work.

Kaito probably knew the password the whole time but had to keep quiet so the others would figure it out XD

Okay these kids are covered in cuts and bruises, that wouldn't have been a soft slide for them.

Haibara, the biggest enabler XD

Kaito, the only responsible adult around. And he's a teenager.

Haibara is so smug about this XD

"Borrowed," Kaito we all know you stole it.

It's a very good thing Agasa was smart and didn't jump in after the kids and instead went to find rope.

Kogoro has been so annoying in this film, I'm glad Haibara shouted at him.

Shinichi taunting the murder with the voices of people she's killed though. Incredibly fucked up of him XD

Shinichi to a criminal: bet you won't shoot bro (sike I knew you would and prepared for that)

And Kaito still saves your life though :p

Kaito: SHINICHI GET OUT OF THE BURNING BUILDING. YOU CAN FIGURE MY IDENITY OUT LATER NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

Shinichi is so dramatic, he let them believe he was dead for a moment before calling out to them XD

Time for the gayest moment of this film <3

I will say it though, the characters in this series cry so prettily. It's just that we hate Ran crying over this because it can be avoided so easily.

"This love song is playing for Shinichi and Ran." WRONG, IT'S PLAYING FOR SHINICHI AND KAITO (let me be delusional).

Kaito doesn't need to show off like this with his doves but he needs to put on one for Shinichi, kind of like how a bird dances to show off to a mate. He's also showing Shinichi all their future children (the doves).

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

1st Line Tag Game

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics (I am altering the rules for myself since I’m at 7 fics on ao3 so I included some first lines of unpublished WIPs at the end 🥰).

Thank you for the tag, @lord-jen-grey!! 💕

No-pressure tagging @walkinginland @theawkwardterrier @philtstone @behindthelabels

1. Beside the Seaside

He had the car drop him off at the end of the lane rather than Lallybroch’s doorstep. Stood there for a minute with his bag thrown over one shoulder and his uniform growing damp under the steady rain.

2. Where the Love-light Gleams

“Mam? Mama?”

Claire groaned. “Go back to sleep.”

It was Brianna’s voice from the other side of the bed. It was always Brianna who woke up first, but it was Faith who had tucked herself so close to Claire during the night that she’d had hardly any space.

3. When My Love Reaches to Me

“Ready to dip your toes in the water, little bug?”

To Claire’s question, the baby only formed a spit bubble and glanced up toward the harking of the seagulls circling far above their heads.

4. the best by far is you

Her consciousness surfaced slowly and, like waking from a bad dream, her body reacted before her mind could catch up.

5. The Lost Ones

For every year that Jamie Fraser could remember, the Christmas season was ushered in with a Fraser family trudge out to the woods to chop down their Christmas tree.

6. Up All Night

Claire turned restlessly in bed, stuck between sleep and wakefulness, never quite fully reaching one state or the other.

7. Holly, Ivy, Mistletoe

“I want Christmas,” she told him one day.  

“What?”

“Christmas.” Her eyes were alight with a sudden urgency and hope, and he couldn’t for the life of him conjure up any sort of response.

8. untitled tbbfiy story (unpublished)

Brianna was coming down with the cold. Claire first noticed the glassy-eyed stare and runny nose, along with a lingering fussiness that was uncharacteristic from the nearly four-year-old.

9. Inheritance (unpublished)

She was going to be sick. She couldn’t, however, at that particular moment, actually get sick. Not in front of Jamie, and have the poor lad think it was the prospect of marriage to him that had her feeling nauseated. Christ, what a mess… 

10. Time Would Heal All Hearts (unpublished) 

Jamie felt the assault of cold air the moment he flung his arm out of the blankets to silence the alarm on his phone. The room suddenly quiet again, he curled back under the covers, wrapping an arm around Claire’s warm, slumbering form. And breathed out a contented sigh.

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

DWC August 2023 - Day 3 - Ominous/Possibility

@daily-writing-challenge

Early morning meetings were never his favorite. The biting cold, the way the fog just seemed to cling to everything - it was impossible to see who or what was coming, and even though Delwyn was perceptive enough to keep his head on a swivel in the early hours, it didn’t make it any more comfortable. 

Especially when the Milner estate was so Godsdamned ominous in the first place. 

“Really outta do something ‘bout that…”

“Should do something about what, Delwyn?”

The Highlander all but jumped out of his boots, slamming the door closed behind him as he turned and glared at his employer, who appeared entirely too pleased with himself as he sipped from a mug…a mug which did nothing to hide the smirk he was sporting. 

“How creepy your house is Blythe. You outta do somethin’ about that.”

“Why in the world would I do anything about that when it keeps people away and out of my business. Not that they’ve much been in it since the engagement ended.” He motioned for the the taller man to follow as he moved back through the winding halls towards his office, where the fire was already lit and burning and coffee - including and extra cup - was set out. 

“You said you had news that would interest me, and considering how little has been of interest as of late, it better be damn good,”

“Not my fault mommy Blythe has had you by the short-hairs.”

Ricard’s gaze narrowed for a moment as he set down his mug, reaching into his pocket for a lighter and then towards a box on his desk - containing several cigars - and retrieving one and clipping the end off before closing the box. “My mother has been distracted by other issues - I’ve been keeping myself entertained via other means these last few months. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Other issues?”

An easy shrug, followed by a plume of smoke. “I may have caused a slight headache or two for her and my father to deal with, but if it keeps them out of my personal life, all the better. Now…your news?”

“Fine…fine. Slater girl is out of the game.”

Ricard paused, hand hovering over his mug. “Edalene Slater?”

“Aye. Resigned, from what I’ve been able to find. No real details outside of that.”

“…Edalene Slater resigned…well….I’ll be damned.”

Delwyn finished pouring himself a cup of coffee and had barely sat down as Ricard pushed away from his desk one hand balancing his mug, the other holding his cigar between two fingers. “…I mean, had to know she wasn’t going to stay in the business for forever. Noble family n’ all. Had to get out eventually. Brother’s getting married, seems like as good a time as any.”

He waved the hand with the cigar before bringing it to his lips, another plume of smoke filling the air a few moments later. “Not concerned about her brother, or much about her. If Edalene had an issue to discuss we’d have heard about it, I assure you. No…no there are options, there are possibilities here, Delwyn..”

“What’re you on about now?”

Ricard turned with a grin. “Edalene had contacts - good ones too - that are now up for grabs and looking for steady employment. And it would be a damn shame to see those contacts scooped up by someone who isn’t quite as…adept and making sure that contacts are compensated fully, wouldn’t you say?”

“That your way of saying that you’d like for me to go make sure these people are roped into the network.”

“You’re my favorite for a reason.” 

He moved back over to the desk, reaching into his coat - the garment hanging on his chair - and tossed a rather full coin purse over to Delwyn, who caught it easily. 

“How many?”

“Just the top four or five, I think - no need to expand beyond our means. We’re more interested in Miss Slater’s…unofficial network. They’re far more interesting and more fun. Find them, set up meetings, you know how to handle it, yes? And then we get to work.” He settled down in his chair,, taking a long sip of his coffee as he leaned back, propping his feet up on the corner of the desk.. 

No reason to let a perfectly good opportunity pass him by.

[camdendaylight]

a/n: this is gonna be a one shot inspired by the song willow off of taylor swift's evermore. this does not include taylor as a character in any way. enjoy!

tropes: childhood best friends to lovers; family issues; good girl x bad boy; strict parents; neighbours to lovers; fluff; teenage love

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark. 

My old rusty window creaked, when I shoved it open, the cold autumn breeze setting off a series of shivers that ran down my body. I was wrapped up in my usual checkered coat, determined to step out on the rooftop of our garage in front of me, but the unexpected sound I had caused made me look back at my door in fear. I was supposed to be asleep by now, but instead my mind was wide awake and hesitant, debating on whether this was a good idea. 

It was not like I had never done this before, sneaking out when I though they weren't gonna notice my absence. Actually I had done it ever since I was child, when I first befriended with the kid that had just moved into the house next to ours. I was ten, back then. Now, as a sixteen year old, my parents were still treating me the same. Don't do this, don't do that, that's what I heard most times in the exact same tone out of both of their mouths. It was never: What do you want to do?

What I wanted to do in that moment was to leave, so that's what I did. They couldn't control me in the nighttime, I thought. As soon as the sun set and the moon lit up the lake where our garden met the pure nature of the forest, I was free. Free from them, free from schoolwork and extracurriculars, free from all my worries. The only thing left controlling me was the sound of my phone going off every few seconds as I squeezed myself through the tiny gab between the windowsill and my open window.  

"You coming?", I read on the dimmed screen and rolled my eyes at the text I had received. It wasn't as easy as you might think to escape out of this old house my mother had inheritated from my grandparents. Patience was the key, otherwise I would get caught. Even though it was mostly dark outside, I knew ever single step that I had to take on the wooden panels in order for them to be as quiet as possible. That was one of the positive effects that came with doing this for six years.

I didn't reply to the message, I just shoved my phone in the pocket of my coat and carefully made my way to the edge, where I sat down. The hardest part was yet to come, since I had to climb down gutter that was always shaking more the my adrenaline ridden hands. On top of that, the coldness of the imminent winter withdrew all the feelings out of my fingers, making it even more challenging for me to grip onto the metal pipe. 

Halfway through, I received another notification that frightened me so much, that I lost all of my strength. My feet slipped from the icy surface and butt forward I plopped down on the wet grass to the sound of a thud, as I pressed my lips together to keep myself from crying out in pain. It wasn't that painful though, since the I hadn't been that high up anymore, but still, my hands were now covered in mud and so was my coat, that covered my hurting behind. 

Thankfully, I had not drawn any attention from inside the house to myself with my graceful fall, since it seemed to be exceptionally quiet around me. I stood up, shaking my hands, then patting on the back of the coat, trying to get rid of all the dirt. It was useless, my mother was for sure gonna see the stain it had left. I would just have to hide the coat or tell her that I've had a ball kicked into my butt school. Both options were terrifying, if you knew my mother. Lying to her was a sin. 

I let out a deep breath I was apparently holding, before turning around to finally make my way to my well known destination. My boots were making funny squishing noises as I stomped towards my neighbors garden through ours, passing the fireplace my dad had set up ages ago and the trampoline we used to jump on as kids. There was no fence or any sort of border separating each of our properties, but I knew when the bushes around me weren't as perfectly trimmed anymore I was that I was overstepping the line.

In the back of their garden, close to the lake and far away from their house, the majestic willow tree opened up in front of me, its branches moving to the rhythm of the november wind. Every night I had been sneaking out here, yet the astonishing view of the scenery never failed to fill me with awe. As I reached the massive trunk, my expression turned into a frown. This was our usual meeting spot, our secret place of comfort, but there was no sight of my companion. "Dylan?"

"Sup?", a familar voice called in an obnoxiously relaxed tone and I leaned my head into my neck to look up. I was frightened once again, even though I should have known that he would never bail on me. He never did. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that he was simply hiding not under, but inside of the tree, casually sitting on one of the more stable branches that were not swaying around. As so often, there was smirked plastered on his face, his hazel eyes directed downwards, to me. 

"Jesus, you scared me!", I let out, taking in the sight of my childhood best friend and neighbor hovering above. He was wearing dark jeans, an olive sweater and a grey windbreaker on top, a black beanie covering most of his brown curls. He looked like the complete opposite of me, bold and edgy, wich he was. He was the complete opposite of me, still we got along very well, for the most part. "How on earth do you have the energy to climb all the way up?"

"Well first of all, I just left right through the front door of my house", he said with a chuckle, knowing I had to go completely out of the way to even make it to the tree were our initials were carved into the bark. He never had to worry about his parents finding out about our late night meeting. They probably knew about and didn't care. Or they didn't know, but wouldn't care. "And secondly, I didn't just fall six feet down on my ass. So-"

"You saw that?! Great another thing you're gonna make fun of me for till you die", I huffed, rolling my eyes at him. For the last six years, he had been making fun of me for every single time I had slipped, tripped, stumbled. I was used to it my now, as much as I was used to our daily meetings by the willow tree. We had made it to our own, shortly after we had met for the first time, when the old pair from next doors passed away and left behind their empty house with the overgrown garden and Dylan's parents decided to leave the city to live in a quieter area. 

"I'm gonna make fun of you even after I die. I'm gonna haunt you as a ghost and play tricks on you and then watch you get scared", he said sticking his tongue out to me, before climbing down a few branches, only to jump the remaining six feet. I could have done it the same way with the gutter, I thought to myself, as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching him. He was now leaning against the trunk. "Are you cold?"

"What does look like?", I said sticking my tongue out to him in return. The autumn breeze had struck me once again and I was shivering, which he seemed to have noticed in the same way he always seemed to notice if I wasn't well, which was often, but lately more and more often. Sill, I fired back jokingly, "No, I'm hot actually. Don't you feel the heat of the sun burning on your skin?"

"Give me your hands", he demanded, stretching his out to me. I looked from his face down to his hands and back up to his eyes in mistrust. A dubious frown creased my forehead, my pale fingers clung to the material of my coat. I was convinced that he was messing with me, probably planning something to embarrass me, scare me or make me fall again, but he chuckled at my hesitation. "Come on, I'm trying to help."

"But they are dirty", I said, holding my hands up for him to see the dirt that the wet grass had left on them from my fall a few minutes ago. He rolled his eyes, followed by sigh and slowly realization hit me that he was indeed being serious and that he didn't care about them being dirty. In desperate need of some sort of warmth, no matter what kind, I was willing to give in. "I swear if you lick my hand or some shit like that, I'm gonna cut your head off."

"Aspen, if you're dearest mother could hear the way you're speaking-", Dylan began laughing and I playfully clipped his ear, before ultimately placing my hands in his. The tip of my frozen finger brushed along the palm of his hand sending an electric impulse through my numb limbs, that I tried not to question. The skin on his hands felt rough against mine, yet transported the warmth I needed into not just my hands, but my whole body apparently. The heat was starting to get to my head. 

Staring at my hands in his, seemingly in disbelief that I had agreed to this, he thankfully hadn't noticed yet how much this effected me all of the sudden. But his laughter died down completely, when he looked up. The hazel of his eyes met the blue of mine, setting my cheeks into an undeniable red flush. I was sure he noticed then, but he didn't say anything, at least for awhile, until a devilish smirk formed on his unreadable face. "Aspen, are you- Are you blushing?"

"That's just the heat of the sun", I replied sarcastically, but in a rather startled manner, taking a step back in order to pull my hands away, but he wouldn't let me. Instead he tightened his grip, his mischievous gaze dropping down to what I assumed were my lips. Another shiver ran down my spine in response, this time though, it was not caused by the autumn breeze. I wasn't cold anymore, my heart was rapidly pumping blood into my overworked brain. Why was I feeling this way? I had no idea, but it scared the hell out of me. 

"Hold on, I think you're bleeding", Dylan said in a serious tone, that I wasn't grazed with very often. I breathed a sight of relief, because whatever my first assumption was, turned out to be wrong, but only then I fully registered what he had just said to me. Now that he mentioned it, I could actually taste the iron in my dried out mouth. "Dang, that fall must have been a lot more brutal than it looked from the distance. I'm sorry for making fun of you."

His right hand let go of mine, but only so his index finger could reach for my bruised lip. Before he actually touched the sensible spot though, an invisible force inside of me made me turn my head away as fast as I could. "Wait what?!", I cried out, now using all of my strength to create some distance between us. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I opened the front camera to inspect the results of my little accident. I must have bitten my own lips when I landed on the ground earlier. "Sh*t. What am I gonna tell you parents when they see this?"

"Tell them you were absentmindedly chewing on your own lip, you do that all the time anyway", he said chuckling lightly and my irritated eyes flickered from my screen to him. He was right, I had caught myself chewing on my lip many time. It was foolish habit of mine that my parents, particularly my mother hated as much as she hated my phone going off at the dinner table whenever Dylan texted me. She had always noticed, but I never figured Dylan had noticed too. 

"You know what? I-I gotta go", I stuttered, feeling a tremendous urge to flee from the situation and the intimacy it had oddly created. The fact that he recalled such a minor observation about me shouldn't have confused me, especially since I also noticed how eyebrow twitched every time when he was trying to figure something, to figure me out, like in this moment. With my eyes averted and the tip of my toes pointing back at our house, I set off, mumbling some last words. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Same spot, same time?", he called after me, forming his hands that previously held mine into a megaphone, because I had already made it back to the perfectly trimmed bushes while he was still leaning against the trunk. I nodded hastily, my mouth not allowing another word to slip out, and soon enough his tall figure was blurred out by the fog. When I reached the spot of flattened grass where I had plopped down earlier, I was shaking out of fear, not of my parents, but of him.

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife.

A warmth was surrounding me as I was absentmindedly poking around my plate of peas in front of me. The warmth came from the heater, and unlike the warmth I had received the day before while standing under the willow tree in the garden next to ours, it didn't reach my inside. My expression was a cold as I was feeling, being crumped up in the house that should have been my place of comfort, but rather turned into a place of constant surveillance and judgement.

"Aspen, dear, what happened to your lovely coat?", my Mom asked me, as expected, while we were having dinner in our fairly suburban dining room. I was sitting opposite of my parents on the wooden table that was as old as my rusty window since it had once belonged to my grandparents. The only thing that was new in this house was the glass front to my right. "I found it all dirty stashed under your bed. It was expensive. It has to be cleaned, dried and ironed properly."

"You were in my room?", I replied in a sharp tone, refusing to answer her question before I would accidentally expose myself. My question though was enough for my farther, who had just gotten home from work, to clear his throat as a sign of warning, reminding me of the right way I was supposed to be speaking to them, friendly, innocently, like a child. I curled my lips into a smile. Raising my tongue behind my top teeth, I said, "Of course you were"

"Honey, we're your parents. We are obligated to know what's going on in your life or what you're hiding from us in that case", my Mom said, noticing the sarcasm in my voice. "And don't think we haven't noticed the bruise on your lip. Have you gotten that while rustling through the streets with the Hollis boy or is it just another consequence of your constant daydreaming that's keeping you from actually doing your school work lately?"

"What?!", I said in disbelief, dropping the fork down on my porcelain plate to the sound of a horrendous clink, causing my father to slam his massive hand on the table top. My head started spinning and I was sure that my face must have looked as pale as grandmas finest porcelain. Not only did she just hint at knowing that I had been sneaking out to meet Dylan, she also blamed him for something that wasn't even close to the truth. 

Okay, maybe I had been a little distracted when I was in class that day, thinking about my hands in his and how weirdly my body reacted to a touch I had felt multiple times before, but any other day my parents were the root of my worries. I was often with my head in the clouds, but only because I was imaging how the future, how my future might look like. I wished for freedom more than anything else, a freedom, as it turned out, I was more than far away from.

"We've been watching you", my Mother admitted finally and I felt my heart drop down to the wooden floor that was covered in a crimson red rug. "I had heard weird noises coming from the roof of the garage a few days ago and immediately had a feeling something must be wrong. I went to check up on you, but you were gone. I didn't say anything that night, because I wanted to find out who you were doing all this childish nonsense for."

"Do you have any idea how scared I was?! Underaged drinking, drug abuse, physical violence, who knows what teenager are up to these days", she said, causing me to shift my gaze to the glass front and therefore to the majestic willow tree I could see in the distance. Her voice had started to become more and more angry. A tone I had been used hearing from her, but it had never been that intimidating to me, even though she was talking nonsense. "Although, I wouldn't be surprised if that Dylan guy would expose you to such things. You're not gonna see him anymore!"

"Mom, he's my best friend! He does neither of those things! You can't forbid me to spent time with him!", I snapped, turning my head back to face her. Her face was flushed with anger. I had never raised my voice at her before, but I couldn't believe the imagine she had of him. I was expecting to be in trouble once she found out about my nightly adventure, but I had never thought about the possible consequence of not being allowed to see him. We didn't do anything. Teary eyed, I sought for some empathy from my farther. "Dad, say something!"

"Do not raise your voice at us, young lady!", my Mom chimed back in, before my dad could even get rid of his omnipresent pokerface. My mother always spoke for the two of them. "He can't be your best friend if he's distracting you from school. He probably doesn't care about his grades, but you should care about yours. He's not good for your academic performance and for you in general. We're gonna talk to his parents and tell them about his foolish actions. Hopefully they can talk some sense into him. This has to stop once and for all!"

Dylan may not have been the perfect student or a perfectly well behaved child, and although he sometimes made fun of me, he was still kind and compassionate when it was necessary. In fact, he was one of the few things I had consider to actually be good for me. He got me out of my comfort zone, made me explore new places and kept me from being buried in books for too long whenever I needed a break but wouldn't allow myself to take one. The day they moved in was blessing to me, but rather a curse to my mom. 

My mom had made a cake for them as a welcome gift and forced me to tag along when she brought it over. Always having been a lot bolder than me, Dylan opened the door. A few days later, he had dared me to climb all the way up the willow tree, but I was way too scared and didn't make it past the lowest branches. Still, I had managed to fall down, breaking my arm in the same motion. Ever since then, my mom was convinced that he meant trouble, ever since then the two of us were inseparable. 

I stared at the green pieces of perfection in front of me and suddenly couldn't bear their sight anymore. I had never been allowed to leave the dining table before everyone had finished their dinner, neither I did I feel hungry anymore, nor could I sit still for another second with my parents blaming the one person that brought some light into the darkness that had become my life for all that went wrong in their eyes.

I stood up, wiping away the tear that was rolling down my reddened cheek and stepped closer to the glass front. The weather was similar to the night's before, but the fog had cleared up slightly, at least for my vision. The willow tree was drawing me outside, but as soon as I placed my hand on the door handle, I was stopped. "Where do you think you're going?!", my Mom scowled from behind me. "You're grounded, if you're finished, go in your room, but don't you dare try sneaking out on the roof!"

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in.

Staring at the closed door to my left that was separating my room from the hallway that lead to my parents bedroom, a thunderstorm of thoughts was roaming around in my pounding head, while simultaneously a drought of empty emotions settled in my body. I had watched the light in the hallway go on and off, sometimes it had flicked through the small gap under the door, when footsteps approached and passed. For a while now there had been no light, no sound, no motion. 

I had no idea what time it was, even though there was an alarm clock on the nightstand to my right, but I hadn't bothered to turn around just yet. My gaze had been set on the door, as I laid in my bed with my head on the pillow, it would have been too heavy to be hold up anyway. On top of that, my parents had taken my phone away from me for the night. My reckless behavior had caused me yet another rule I had to follow, meaning I had to hand them my phone after dinner every day from now on. 

The salty liquid that had previously been leaking from eyes had dried out, same as my anger, but I knew that both of those things would come back as soon as I was fully gonna realized that I was not gonna be able to meet up with Dylan at our secret spot anymore from now on, that I was not gonna go over to his house after school to eat his mother's delicious chocolate chip cookies anymore from now on, that he was not gonna make fun of me for slipping, tripping, stumbling anymore from now on. 

As expected, the thunderstorm of thoughts won over the emptiness and caused a river of tears to escape down my face and land on my pillow. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to finally fall asleep. A rustling near my window by the foot of my bed made me shoot them wide open though. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage up until it reached my throat when I lifted my head up in fear. A tall figure was standing outside on the roof, rightfully struggling to get in. 

"Dylan?", I let out quietly as if I hadn't just identified the person trying to break in by their silhouette. I jumped out of my duvets, now being more scared that my parents would hear my rusty old window creaking than by the intruder himself and helped him by carefully shoving it open. In front of me stood indeed my very concerned looking neighbor, disguised by the hood of his windbreaker. I must have looked about the same amount of concerned. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you by the tree and then I couldn't reach you so I figured something must have went wrong", he whispered and I took a step back so he could climb in. I didn't know if it should have been alarming to me that he had managed to climb up the slippery metal pipe or if I should have felt flattered that he came to check up on me, but the unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach decided that for itself. It grew even stronger when Dylan's eyes bore into mine and therefore revealed to him that I had been crying. "Another argument with your parents?"

"Yeah, but it was worse than any other one I had", I admitted, turning away from him only to slip back under my covers, leaning my back against the rose coloured wall. He was still standing next to the window, leaning against the windowsill, watching me attentively. He knew damn well arguments with my parents oftentimes ended up with me crying alone in my bedroom, but not once he had actually took it upon himself to sneak into my house. I took a deep breath, before meeting his gaze. "It was about you."

Being lit up by nothing but the moon, I could still see that his eyebrow formed a frown after my confession. Even in near darkness, every feature of his face was clearly visible, perhaps because I had mesmerized it so well after six years. I knew I had to tell him about my mother's demands at some point, so why not do it as fast as possible. It was gonna destroy me if I needed to keep in for any time longer. I was prepared to somewhat end my long term friendship with him, unwillingly of course.

"They know that I've been sneaking out to meet you. Luckily they think I've been only doing it for a few days. If they only knew it's been years", I mumbled, lowering the tone of my voice at the end of my sentence, not only because I was afraid they might here, but also because I couldn't bear to even think about the consequences of that. "They-They don't want me to spend time with you. They think I'm being brainwashed by you or some shit. They even want to speak to your parents. I'm so sorry."

For me, it was one thing that I had gotten into a fight with my parents and had been punished for sneaking out, but it was even worse that they wanted him to be punished as well. Dylan's parents were nothing like mine, they would have never forbidden him to see me. They were respectful, to say the least, of me and our friendship, but they were also respectful of my parents. If my mom was gonna talk them into taking action, they would do as they were told. That's how manipulative she could be.

"Aspen, you don't have to apologize. I don't care. I don't care if I get in trouble, I don't care if I'll get grounded and I don't care if your parents don't like me", he said with a serious expression, removing the hood from his head by aggressively sliding his hand through his hair, before leaving his spot by the windowsill to place his hands on my bedframe. He bent down, with a sigh, and then looked back up at me with a straight, but self confident, face. "I simply don't care."

"How can you not care?!", I spat out, accidentally increasing the volume of my shaky voice. This was not meant to be an insult. I genuinely could not understand how he managed to care so little, not just today, but everyday, about what other people thought of him. I so desperately wanted to know how it felt like to not be controlled, to not feel judged, to not feel pressured to be perfect, or at least to appear as perfect to the outside. I wished I wouldn't care either, but the guilt was eating me up. 

"Nothing's ever gonna stop me from seeing you", he replied in a soft tone, sitting down on my bed next where my legs were curled up in the blanket. I watched the matress shift under his weight, my mouth was wide open in shock of the weight his words carried. He said it in such a light manner, that it took a few changing digits on my alarm clock to my right until another thunderstorm of thoughts hit me with such an enormous force that I was left speechless and with nothing else but the urge to search for the hazel in his eyes with the blue in mine. 

I was interpreting way too much into that, I was sure, but the look, or more so intense stare, he gave me brought me right back to when I was sat on one of the lowest branches of the willow tree as a ten year old. Around me the leaves had been rustling in the wind, my hands had felt sore from the rough bark and my legs had been as numb as they were now, while Dylan had been standing below, cheering me on. There had been two options for me that day: Conquer my fears and keep climbing all the way up or let the fear win and go back down. 

I had decided to go back down, but while doing so I lost balance which caused me to fall down and land right on my arm, in front of Dylan's feet. If that had happened to me after I had climped all the way up, the consequences of my fall would have been much worse. If I had never agreed to his dare at all, I wouldn't have had to wear a plaster cast for the whole winter. But also, I probably wouldn't have become best friends with the new neighbor. Sometimes things were worth taking the risk, sometimes things were worth not caring. 

Dylan's eyes were sill piercing into mine, when I slowly became aware of my sorroundings again. With that, I also became aware of his hands getting closer to my face. Too mesmerized to flinch, I allowed him place his index finger on the bruise on my lower lip that I had absentmindedly started chewing on, which sent another electric impulse through by body. I must have not been the only one that had gotten somewhat lost in thoughts, because he cleared his throat, before asking, "How's your lip?"

"B-Better", I stuttered, despite barely being able to open my mouth and even though I could taste iron on my tongue thanks to the foolish habit of mine. I didn't feel any pain though, the bare minimum of skin from the tip of his finger sent provided me with enough heat for me to feel any other kind of emotion that the one that was suddenly rising in my stomach. Through my tear stained eyelashes, I noticed that his gaze had dropped down to where he was pointing. For a second I though he was gonna-

He leaned closer, his hand grabbing onto my chin and before I could register what was happening, his lips met mine, lightly, but somehow still forcefully. As I closed my eyes, the tremendous urge to flee from the situation camer over me, the fear of being broken grew stronger, but I decided to not let it win. Dylan was the only one that knew my life wasn't as picture perfect as it seemed. He was the last person I should have been scared of. 

I was taken aback, not entirely sure what I was supposed to do. This was my best friend sitting in front of me. I had known him for six years and here he was kissing me. Someone was kissing me, and it was him, out of all people. I still needed to process that. Luckily, I was gonna get at least a chance to do so, because he pulled away shortly after, leaving my numb, pounding lips. His face remained in close distance to mine though and I took it upon myself to say something. "I-That was my first kiss."

"I know, mine too", he said, the corner's of his mouth turning up to form a smile that was unfortunately only halfway lit up by the moonlit shining through my window. Once again I was left speechless, in a positive way of course. I was surprised, I thought he had kissed someone before, which was dumb considering we told each other everything, but I figured he may have just kept this one thing from me. "Uhm, do you want a second one?"

"My parents wouldn't like this", I said with an expression as cold as my dad's pokerface. He nodded in understanding, scooting away from me a little. The twitching in his eyebrows didn't stay unnoticed to me though. He wanted to be respectful of my parents rules, as if he hadn't just broken into their house, but there was an ounce of annoyance seen on his face, even in the darkness of the night. I could see it, because I knew him well. 

He knew me well, he could have seen that I was messing with him, but the more he was surprised when I closed the gap between us and clashed my lips onto his. I chuckled into the kiss and naturally, as if I had any clue on what I was doing, I lifted my hands up from the covers and placed them on each side of his face. They were anything but cold, but he still shivered under my touch. "Dylan, are you-Are you blushing?"

[stillalive19567]

Beneath The Surface | JenLisa | GxG | Chapter 14

After dinner, I drive us three back to the dorm. The silence in the car is comfortable, punctuated only by the soft sounds of the road beneath us. Lisa turns to me, breaking the quiet. “How old are you?” she asks, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“I’m 21,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral.

“You’re three years older than us?” she exclaims, her eyes wide with surprise. I nod, noting the way she processes the information. It’s strange to think of myself as older, especially when I still feel so lost.

After a while, it’s about time to head back to the dorm. “I’m coming with you,” Lisa declares, and I can’t help but feel a mix of surprise and annoyance at the idea. I’m not sure I’m ready for the warmth of her presence, especially after the heaviness of dinner.

I drive us back to the dorm, the atmosphere still a blend of easy conversation and lingering tension. Rosé heads to our room as soon as we arrive, but I follow Lisa into her room. The air is thick with an unspoken understanding, and I can feel my coldness wrapping around me like a cloak. It’s not that I want to push her away; it’s just that I feel so much, and I’m not sure how to process it all.

Lisa glances at me, her brow slightly furrowed. “You okay?” she asks, her tone softening. I can tell she senses my distance, but I can’t bring myself to open up. Not now. Not when I’m still unraveling everything inside me.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, though the words feel hollow even to my own ears. I sit on the edge of her bed, the comfort of the room clashing with the turmoil in my mind. I can’t help but think about Ryujin and the weight of the investigation that hangs over me. I’m cold, and I want to hide away from everything, including the warmth of Lisa’s concern.

We finally reach the dorm, and I park the car, feeling the weight of the night still pressing down on me. Rosé hops out first, and I follow her into our room. I take a moment to shed the remnants of the evening and slip into bed, letting exhaustion wash over me. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I drift into a dreamless sleep, the darkness enveloping me like a comforting shroud.

The next morning, I wake up feeling like a robot, my movements mechanical and detached. I shuffle to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. My eyes look hollow, and the familiar weight of emptiness settles in my chest.

Am I really that unbearable? The question echoes in my mind, relentless and consuming. It’s hard not to feel like a ghost in my own home, always lurking in the shadows, invisible to the world around me. I can’t remember the last time I felt safe, and I wonder if I ever will again. Despite my efforts to keep the peace, every time I think I’ve succeeded, it all comes crashing down, leaving me to sift through the wreckage.

I think about the person I used to be before everything fell apart. I was once full of dreams and laughter, with a heart that felt light. But those days feel like a distant memory now, a faded photograph in an album of happier times. I miss the warmth of our family before Mom died—before the laughter turned into screams, and love morphed into fear. Now, I’m left picking up the pieces of a shattered home, a puzzle with missing parts that can never be replaced.

Rosé deserves so much more than this bleak existence. At eighteen, she should be carefree, dreaming about her future, not burdened by the weight of our past. Instead, she’s stuck with a sister who can barely hold herself together. I wonder what she thinks of me. Does she see me as strong, or does she see my brokenness? I wish I could shield her from all of this, but every day, I feel like I’m failing her, failing us both.

The guilt wraps around my chest like a vice, squeezing tighter each day. I feel like I should be able to fix everything, to heal the wounds that have scarred our lives, but I’m just one person—one person drowning in a sea of despair. It’s overwhelming, suffocating.

I wish I could scream, but the sound gets caught in my throat, silenced by the weight of my reality. I’m so tired of feeling like I’m trapped in a never-ending nightmare, cycling through pain and sorrow without an end in sight.

There are days I can barely look in the mirror without feeling a wave of disgust wash over me. I see someone who should be strong, yet instead reflects nothing but weakness and sorrow. I fear that I’ll always be defined by this pain, that I’m destined to remain in this darkness forever. The thought is suffocating, a reminder of my own failures.

What’s the point of trying to survive when every attempt at happiness seems to be met with more suffering? Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier for everyone if I simply disappeared. Maybe then Rosé could live a life free of this torment, a life without the shadow of my despair hanging over her. It feels like a selfish thought, yet the temptation lingers.

As I get ready for another day, I find myself staring at the reflection in the mirror again. The emptiness in my eyes seems to mock me, whispering that I’ll never escape this cycle of pain. I push back the tears that threaten to spill over. Crying feels like admitting defeat—something I can't allow myself to do, not when I still have Rosé to protect.

I walk to class with Rosé, her light chatter barely breaking through the fog of my thoughts. I sit at the back, trying to make myself as small as possible, blending into the fabric of the classroom. The noise of students mingling and laughing feels distant, almost foreign.

I catch a glimpse of So Hee across the room as she calls over Rosé, whispering something in her ear. My heart sinks as I watch Rosé look back at me, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. But before I can react, I instinctively look away, not wanting to face the disappointment I feel rising within me.

When I glance back, it hits me like a punch to the gut—Rosé is sitting with So Hee. The very girl who bullies her, who makes her life miserable, has managed to pull her in with some sort of charm or manipulation. I can hardly believe it.

Why is she choosing to be with someone who treats her poorly? Is this what my sister wants for herself? The pang of frustration twists in my stomach, and I wish I could shake her out of this delusion. Doesn’t she see how toxic So Hee is? It’s infuriating to watch as Rosé seems to willingly place herself in the path of someone who’s only ever brought her pain.

I can't stand the sight of it, and the ache of helplessness weighs heavily on my chest. I want to reach out, to pull Rosé back to me, to remind her of her worth. But how can I do that when I’m struggling to hold myself together? I feel like I’m constantly battling my own demons, and now it seems I have to fight for Rosé as well.

I think of Ryujin.

Last night, as we enter the dorm, the atmosphere is heavy, filled with the uncertainty that gnaws at me. My eyes catch sight of a student standing by the mailboxes, receiving an unmarked package. The way they look around, glancing over their shoulder as if expecting someone to jump out at them, sends a shiver down my spine.

When another classmate approaches, casually asking about the package, the student’s demeanor changes instantly. They become defensive, shifting their weight, and their eyes dart nervously. It’s an odd interaction—something feels off, like a spark igniting the dry tinder of my instincts. I want to approach, to pry, to ask what’s going on, but a part of me hesitates, fearing I might draw attention to myself.

The memory of that encounter churns in my mind. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more to it, something connected to Ryujin’s disappearance. My thoughts race as I wonder if this student knows anything about her. Do they have information that could lead me to her? Or is this just another piece of the puzzle, a distraction in the maze I’m trying to navigate?

[x-ceirios-x]

if i could find a way to see this straight, I'd run away

part one of a series about the ashfair family and their history. prev | next

rowan finally puts together the pieces of magnus's relationship with their family, thanks to a key detail from aric he'd been keeping from them.

cw: mild cursing

Despite their worst concerns, things had worked out. And despite their protests, Rowan ended up at a party. A celebration party due to the end of the fight against Valentine—Alicante was full of Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike, all in their best outfits, drinking and eating and dancing. Everyone insisted they go, even Maryse, who gave them that mom-like, don’t-argue-with-me, I-know-better look that they hated but they loved her for it either way. Isabelle helped them go shopping and pick out a nicer outfit than their usual gear (including pants without holes in the knees). They refused to compromise on all-black, though. 

They’d originally come with their friends, though all of them had gone off and started chatting with people or dancing. Clary was off with Jace somewhere, Simon was talking to MaiaIsabelle was on the dance floor with Tony who they’d met a week or so ago, and Alec was chatting with his parents, who also had Jensen clinging next to them. He hadn’t spoken since everything happened, not that they heard. They worried for him but he didn't want their company. 

A tall figure blocked their view of the rest of the room. They sat down their drink—it was something pink and shimmery, not that they knew what it really was. As long as it didn’t turn them into a rat—and looked up at the person in front of them: Magnus Bane.

“Now, what is someone as lovely as you sitting by yourself?” he asked, sitting down in the chair next to them. “I can’t believe you brought a book to a party.”

They grabbed the book next to them and put it on their lap, under the table. “I think your boyfriend would much prefer your attention. More than I do.”

“Ah, but I’m here now.” He leaned back in the chair and smiled. “I can’t quite figure out what makes you tick, peanut—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Absolutely, I will.” He dropped a glittering wink—an extremely glittery one, his eyes were covered in blue and purple shimmering dust and he had a few nicely placed rhinestones around his eyes. “But really. One moment I seem to get somewhere with you, and the next you’re all cold and moody.”

Rowan spluttered. “I am not moody, and—“ they huffed— “you’re frustrating.”

Magnus grinned. “I’ve noticed.”

They pinched the bridge of their nose and sighed. “What do you want, Magnus?” they asked, sounding defeated. “I’m tired of the games. You seem to care about me more than you do others I know, I know this isn’t about getting closer to Alec anymore. You have what you want.”

“I do and I don’t,” he said with a shrug. “Alexander is very dear to me, that is true. I wanted to be in your good graces to see him more often. But I know you, peanut, and I want to know how well you know me.”

They glared at him over their hand. “I met you a few weeks ago. I know nothing about you other than your name and the fact that I’m mentally preparing myself to have to teach Alec some terminology for things while he knows you.”

Magnus snickered—in any other situation, they would have, too. They would admit, they did have the sense of humor of a fourteen-year-old mundane boy, but they were too irritated to laugh. 

It was just their luck that one of two people in the world that managed to piss them off no matter what they said appeared at the table a moment later. “Alice,” their father said, looking past Magnus and to them. “I was hoping to talk to you tonight, about your return to New York.”

They turned their glare on him. “I’m a little busy,” they said, leaning their chin on their hand, their arm propped on the table. “Have you met my lovely friend Magnus?”

When they looked back, Magnus had lost his shine. Physically he was the same, but they could see in his eyes something much darker, much angrier when they’d father appeared. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a thin-lipped frown. He stood—they hadn’t really thought of how tall Magnus was before, but he was several inches taller than their father. They suspected his boots helped with that, too—and turned to face him. “Aric,” he said coldly, his voice like sharpened icicles in the air. They’d never seen him angry like that, and it was then Rowan remembered he really was a powerful warlock. He usually didn’t use that to his advantage in social situations, but it was all over his aura—the sheer power he held because he was upset. 

To their surprise, their father didn’t react. They knew he had a stubborn side and didn’t like to be challenged, not when something like his reputation was on the line. He almost looked hurt when he faced him. “Magnus,” he said, his voice much softer and almost apologetic. “I suppose you’re not interested in small talk.”

Magnus all but sneered. “I’m not interested in anything from you, actually. Not after I had to hear about Mollie from my friend Ragnor instead of yourself.”

Aric’s face hardened. “This is not the time for that.”

“That wasn’t the time either, was it?” he asked. He turned back to Rowan and forced a tense smile on his face. “I apologize, dear, but I suspect my company is no longer welcome.” He glanced at Aric, and with a final flourishing bow, he stalked off, joining Maia, Simon, and a blond girl at another table that they kind-of recognized. 

Rowan’s gaze turned back to their father, who looked utterly defeated. He never liked to talk about their mother, which usually upset them because they wanted to know stories about her. Magnus’s disappearance and mention of their mom had too many thoughts going through their mind, coupled with putting what information they already had. “What the hell was that?” they demanded, their voice low. 

Aric shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. They noticed, from the last time they’d seen him, that he’d developed more gray in a few places. He would have been more worried for him if he showed any care for their life. He wasn’t even forty, yet. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, you don’t get to run away from this.” They stood and grabbed his arm before he got the chance to walk away. “You don’t get to run away every time things get hard. I’m tired of it. How does Magnus know Jensen, and how does he know mom?”

He frowned. “This is not the time or the place.”

“It never is with you!” they snapped. They realized they drew a few stares and took a deep breath. “I want answers. Now. This has been bothering me since I met him back in August.”

“You met him in August?”

“Yeah, and you’d know that if you bothered to check in with me. Now answer my question.” They stood there, rage burning behind their eyes, though they let go of his arm. 

Their father sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “It is a very, very long story. And one that we should talk about before you leave again,” he said. “I want you to enjoy your evening.”

“And I want to know what’s been going on.”

“Fine,” he said, his tone short suddenly. “Your mother and Magnus Bane were good friends. And you knew him a long time ago, before you ever went to New York with the Lightwoods.”

Rowan’s eyes widened at his words and their mouth fell open slightly. “You—y—” they stuttered, unable to find words for the things going through their mind at the moment. “Why would you keep that from me?” they asked in a half-whisper. 

Their father sighed. “I assumed you forgot. You were young. I didn’t think you’d see him again after everything, so I figured it wasn’t worth it.”

“Worth what?”

“The heartbreak of giving you a piece of your mother you’d never see again,” he said, voice tight. “I try not to give you false hope, Alice—”

He tried to put his hand on their shoulder, but they ducked away immediately and brushed him off. They stared at him, unable to process all of this at once. Everything felt fuzzy. The people and music sounded underwater. They could feel the blood pounding in their ears. Half of them wanted to run, get away from him, and the other half wanted to scream at him in front of everyone and tell him they couldn’t stand him for not being around, for keeping secrets from them apparently, and for leaving when they needed him the most. But their feet wouldn’t move—they could only stare at him, unmoving. 

Finally, they found their voice—shaky and broken, but there nonetheless. “I hate you,” they said, looking up at him with more spite and rage and hurt and heartbreak than they ever had in their life. There was a part of them that had believed, once, that he was still their dad, and if they really needed something, he would be there. But hiding someone’s entire existence from them, just because he didn’t want to talk about their mom when it was a way to feel more connected with her—it was unforgivable. He knew full well how lonely they felt when he shipped them off to New York, and how badly they wanted to learn more about their mom due to their limited memories of her. Even less of them, the older they got. 

His eyes fell to the floor. He looked ashamed, but they knew he should be. He was a coward and a bastard and they no longer wanted anything to do with him—not now. Their life would be much better without him involved and they should have realized it sooner. 

Finally, their feet moved. They turned and walked from the hall at a surprisingly calm pace. They refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing them cry and didn’t particularly want to embarrass themselves in front of everyone at the party. They brushed past people as they left, weaving through the crowd, though didn't pay much attention to anyone if they bumped into them. The second they got into the hall, they took off into a run, turning a corner and running down the road until it turned into a dirt path leading out of the city. They slowed, climbing the hill at a moderate pace until they reached the top. Slowly, they turned, watching the lights and fog rise above the town square, showing the party continuing from even that far away. They wondered if anyone noticed their absence, though entirely doubted it. It would be better to just stay there, they decided, and watch from afar while everyone had their fun. They leaned against a tree, looking over the tall buildings and the color-drained sky. 

It was several minutes of silence before they saw a figure on the dirt path, down the hill from them. They didn’t have their glasses or stele to fix their vision with a rune, so didn’t recognize him until he was only a few feet away. Simon strode toward them, something in his hand—when he got closer, he realized it was their book. 

“You left this,” he said, holding it out for them. He offered an encouraging smile, though they could see the worry in his eyes. They didn’t want his pity, they wanted everyone to leave them alone and enjoy the party without them. 

They took it silently and tucked it under their jacket, biting their cheek to keep from saying anything. The second they opened their mouth, they knew they wouldn’t be able to pretend things were okay anymore and the mildly irritated, normal mask would be no more. 

“You looked upset when you left,” Simon continued. “Wanna talk about it.”

They let out a quick, frustrated breath and shook their head. “Not really.” Rather than a calm, steady voice like they tried to force out, it quivered and cracked as they spoke. 

Simon looked at them with narrowed eyes, though they could tell from his expression he was trying to get them to laugh at the same time. The weird frowning movement he did at the same time was just strange and he looked stupid. If it was any other situation, they probably would have. 

“Don’t start,” they said, sounding utterly defeated. 

Instead of arguing, he leaned against the tree next to them. They could feel his eyes on them as they stared out at the city. Despite the slight blurriness, it was still beautiful. The back of his hand brushed theirs—they didn’t look down or acknowledge it, other than silently finding his pinky and wrapping theirs around it. Out of the corner of their eye, they noticed he smiled. 

“I know you’re, like, super stubborn,” he said. It probably wasn’t the best way to start that, but they weren’t offended. “And we haven’t known each other super long. But I’m around if you need something, alright? Especially if you gotta vent about your dad. I love my mom so much, but she’s such a pain in my ass sometimes.”

“Who said it was my dad that was the problem?”

He shrugged. “You’ve just got a look. Plus Magnus told me.”

They pinched the bridge of their nose, pulling away from him, and sighed. “I don’t even want to think about Magnus right now. It’s just…a headache.”

“Something happen?”

They nodded. “Yeah. Part of the argument with my dad. I just…” they took a breath and looked over at him. “I can’t deal with everything right now. But I can tell you later, once I have a second to stomach all this.”

Simon nodded in agreement and smiled slightly. “I’ll take you up on that once we get back to New York. We can start a podcast that’s just you and me—” he waved his hand through the air, like he was showing them the name of this idea— “Ashfair family drama. Which, of course, I can be your only listener if you don’t feel like sharing with anyone else.”

They scoffed, stifling a small laugh. “You’re ridiculous, I hope you know.” 

“Eh. I’ve been hearing that from Clary for years. I know. Now—” he turned to face them and offered his hand— “don’t let your dad run your night. Let’s go party.”

They raised an eyebrow at him. “I do hate parties, actually. And I don’t dance.”

“Well, I don’t really have a choice. So you don’t either.” He grabbed their hand and started off, not exactly pulling them, but not giving them much choice of whether or not they wanted to go, either. “Off to party and make fools of ourselves because neither of us can dance!”

They rolled their eyes but walked next to him nevertheless, allowing him to keep ahold of their hand the entire way there. Simon was right—he hadn’t known them for very long. They hadn’t known Clary long, either, but they’d managed to make a good friendship with them both. They knew from the beginning that meeting Clary was going to mean things in their life changing, maybe in ways they didn’t want to deal with. But it wasn’t entirely for the bad like they assumed it would be in the beginning. They walked away with better relationships with people they’d known for years and a handful of new friends they didn’t know exactly how to feel about. Things with Clary were complicated, but they could keep their feelings to themself for a while. Maybe wait for them to fizzle out. And the other day, Simon promised to show them some mundane movies he swore were as good as the classic novels they read in their free time. And Magnus—well, he’d be getting a visit from them in New York one of these days, once they had time to put all the pieces together. 

It frustrated them some, not knowing what the future held for them. In the last few weeks, there had been so many unexpected moments thrown at them that they didn’t know which way was up. They knew shadowhunters were supposed to die young, usually, but having two near-death experiences within a few weeks of each other wasn’t exactly fun. Their relationship with Alec had gotten better, things with Jace were unspoken but over, and they felt a strange sense of freedom they didn’t usually get, despite all the things they had to deal with when they got back home. 

But for one dancing and firework-filled night, they could forget the world and just remember that Simon was there, as were the rest of their friends—their family. And they could be happy that the worst of Valentine’s reign on the shadow world was over. 

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 555, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby

WORDS: 1205

I answered all of Elizabeth’s questions, validating her mortified questions with hugs and sweets words.

“Does sex always smell so nasty?” she asked me a little while later. “Your’s and daddy’s room smelled like you both had a night of neverending fartage!”

“I’ve honestly never noticed the smell being so bad,” I confessed, looking up as a man came into the pool house, dressed in swim trunks and a bathrobe. He nodded a friendly hello at us as he occupied himself with his cell phone, clearly occupying his time while we both finished up our talk. “Come now, Elizabeth- your father and your siblings are probably at breakfast already.”

My daughter was quiet as the both of us took our feet out of the pool water, me accepting a towel from the man, who waited until we had put our shoes back on the left before removing his bathrobe and then diving into the water.

“Mommy?” I hummed softly as I led her over to the mess hall. “What do you do after sex?”

“Well, I personally conk out in a deep sleep and your father either gives me a bird bath with a wash cloth and warm water or he draws me a hot bubble bath and lets me take a nice, long soak,” I explained, opening my arm to welcome her for some snuggle time with mommy. “I think it’s important to bath after engaging in sexual coitus- the act is oftentimes dirty, with sweat, bodily fluids and sometimes even blood.”

“Does daddy make you bleed often?” Elizabeth was looking at the floor as she shuffled alongside of me.

“Sometimes he does, but we have an agreed safe word that we use if one or the other needs to take a moment and breathe,” I answered her before tactfully changing the subject. “A safe word is a word that wouldn’t be said during sex, and it is an automatic signal for a needed time out. Does that make any sense at all?”

“So a safe words is just another way of saying stop?” Elizabeth asked me. “That’s very smart.”

“Yes it is,” I agreed, giggling as my stomach let out a cry for food. “Now, are you hungry?”

~xoXox~

“Hey hey hey there now, fine people of this world! This is Chrissy Loveknot with Pink Notes Magazine! I am here today with Peter Steele, legendary bassiest and lead vocals for heavy metal band Type O Negative! Blessed with ten inches of solid steel and a voice so low my panties get soaked whenever I hear his voice. And we are also joined today by the always incredible Broadway supermom Mary Claire Ratajczyk! What up you two?”“Dia dhuit!” I chirped. “Conas atá tú anocht?”

“What did you just say?”

“I just said hello and how are you doing tonight, both in Irish Gaelic!” I said, giggling at my place tucked under my husband’s arm while I perched myself on his lap.

“Ah, well, I’m doing quite well tonight! I must say though, I really do love your dress! Where did you buy it from?”

“Oh, this old thing?” I scoffed, glancing down at the black minidress that I decided to wear tonight. Cold shoulders and with a cutout over the clavicle, the dress was sexy, confident, and made my husband’s jeans too tight on him. Underneath the dress, I wore breast pasties and black and green silk crotchless panties.

I lived to tease my handsome silver daddy.

“I think Peter likes your dress!”

“Oh, but he’ll like it even more once it’s been ripped from my womanly body!” I teased, slapping his pectoral when he get out a dangerous growl and dug his thumb into the side of my knee.

Behave.

I settled down with an apologetic squeak, resting my heart over his heart.

THUD THUMP

THUD THUMP

THUD THUMP

“So tell me more about this new album you’re writing- is there a release date?”

I flitted back to the presence, where Peter had tactfully diverted Chrissy Loveknot’s attention from oversexualizing my body and his gossiping about dick to a more PG rated topic- the album that he was writing for me.

“No, there’s no release date as of the moment,” he hummed, his hand rubbing gentle circles into my spine. “But yet again- writing a full album, capturing the awe and wonder and love and admiration and protection and affection that I hold for the blueberry of my heart isn’t a case of me going off my medication for a single night and then BOOM- an album is born. I take inspiration from virtually every aspect of our life together- Dolls is a song about the kids’ dollies and the important roles that they play in our family. Little Girl is a sweet little song about my goddaughter, little girl, and how I am is her Papa Pete. In Each Other’s Arms is about the both of us living out the rest of our days side by side and dying in each other’s arms. Letters of Love compiles many of the letters that I’ve written for my family to read after I die.”

I hid my teary eyes into his burly chest- Peter was sixty four years old at this point of his life and I knew that he was already making plans for when he died. He had told me that he wanted to be cremated and have some of his ashes turned into jewelry for the kids to wear, and should I die before him and opt for cremation, for both of our ashes to be mixed together and placed into an urn- together in life and in death.

I had agreed almost at once, smiling sadly at the realization that he would probably die long before I did.

And that thought made me terribly depressed and sad.

Dia dhuit, hello, Irish Gaelic

Conas atá tú anocht, how are you doing tonight, Irish Gaelic 

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

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PETER STEELE TAGLIST

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