#I went on a bit of a tangent hope you don’t mind

[hayatoseyepatch]

Sam!!! Please feel better soon I’m sending you all the love and health i can 💜💖😤 one of my self-friendships has gotta be me and Sako. He goes shopping and to cafes with me and we literally just sit there steeping in each other’s company doing our own thing. Every so often ill flip my phone over to him to read a post or watch a tiktok that’s got him almost choking on his macchiato tho

MARI HI 😫💖💖 I’m dying I fear (no I’m just a big baby who can’t handle being sick) thank you for being so sweet 🥹💖 Gotta have Suo make me some tea for this throat lol

But yes yes yes I can see you both being such besties. The best friend coffee dates are a must. He also teases you about Ume I can feel it in my soul.

“So Mari, when are you gonna stop staring at the guy and tell him how you feel? He’s oblivious, you’re gonna have to be the one to say it. Honestly, you could have e picked anyone..”

Deep down he’s a wee bit scared he’ll lose another person to Ume’s charisma. He’s a bit bitter but extremely protective. He just wants the best for you and he hates to admit it but he knows no one will treat you better than Umemiya.

Just so long as he gets to have his best friend time with you. He usually rolls his eyes or pretends to not care but he’s internally cracking up at those TikToks. You’re such an important person to him and he just doesn’t want anything to change.

[wstviewvidal]

boulevardier- w. maximoff

pairing: rich!wanda x r

summary: sparks fly at a chance encounter

a/n: first part of dirty cash!! i finished this early december but i was so nervous to post it but i don’t want to keep yall waiting any longer. i hope yall like it!

dirty cash masterlist

minors do not interact

looking over at your friend, you give her a glare as you watch her mingle with some potential business partners. being dragged to a fundraising banquet as your friend’s plus one was a way you did not want to spend your saturday evening. especially a night that is full of rich privileged people— a place that you surely don’t feel you belong.

“but you owe me from when you needed me to bail you out of that date a few weeks ago, remember?” was what she told you— and it was true.

the said date went downhill in record time, not even lasting a full thirty minutes before you had your friend call with a fake emergency. your date continuously went on and on about the state of the economy and how people should be investing in stocks to grow wealth rather than focusing on a day job.

needless to say, your friend pulled through and gave an overly convincing act to get you out of there quickly.

your friend is now immersed in a discussion with a man in a suit, probably trying to win him over in hopes to find an investor for her small business. you slip away quietly and let her work her charm.

walking around the banquet hall, you admire the decorations and the ambiance, something you’re not used to being around. you watch as women walk around in either suits or beautiful dresses, you can’t help but admire and feel a little out of place. you’re not used to the flashy life that the people here live— you’ve never had the ample opportunities that the people in this room have had. feeling a sense of jealousy and insecurity run through your veins, you try to snap out of it. it’s not healthy and you know it, but you can’t help but wish you’d be in their shoes.

sighing softly to yourself, you you find a vacant seat at the open bar and order a drink while you people watch. you can hear the live music playing, the chatter of everyone’s conversations, clinking of champagne glasses, the expensive laughter.

imagining your life in their shoes while you nurse your cocktail is how you spend the next few minutes occupying your time.

“is it any good?” you hear a smooth, confident voice ask beside you.

glancing over, you’re met with a dark haired woman with captivating green eyes smiling at you— the kind that disarms you before you even realize it. you smile back and shrug a bit, “it’s a drink. i needed one.”

you joke, now looking over at her well tailored suit and dark makeup. she’s beautiful.

chuckling subtly, “i’d ask you how your night is going, but based off of that sentence— i think i know how it’s going so far. i’m wanda, it’s nice to meet you.” she puts her hand out for a handshake, the glint in her eyes showing her amusement in the introduction.

her hand is warm when you shake it and you can smell a hint of expensive perfume as she gets closer to you to sit in the seat next to you. she speaks with confidence and an alluring charm.

you introduce yourself and laugh, “i didn’t mean any bad by it, it’s just not my.. environment,” you gesture to the crowd around you, “the rich pretentious crowd, it all seems fake to me. dressing up in your finest jewels just to fake altruistic behavior.. it’s not real to me.”

perhaps the drink was already getting to you. maybe that’s the reason you’re letting out a word spill to the beautiful woman who just wanted to know if your paloma was good.

or maybe it’s the way she giggled along with a small nod of her head as you spoke your mind. either way, she wasn’t put off by your tangent. in fact, she continued to sit with you and entertained your preferred topic of discussion for the next few minutes.

wanda watches you with an amused smile on her face. her eyes linger a bit longer on your lips longer than they should.

“fake altruism, huh? what would make it real?” she asks, with a small tilt of her head. her eyes squint the tiniest bit, her grin showing genuine interest. her voice is inquisitive, almost like she’s trying to probe you for something.

had you gone too far? you hesitate to respond, realizing you’ve possibly offended her— wondering if you’ve crossed a line. instead, wanda’s smiling and leaning into you as she wants to hear more.

noticing your slight hesitation, “you know, not a lot of people have the guts to say that. i really like it,” she chuckles softly. wanda looks over your features with a small smile as you move on to talk animatedly about your line of work. she’s enamored by how you’re wearing your emotions on your sleeve— something she struggles with.

you catch yourself, “i’m so sorry, wanda. i’ve been talking at you this whole time.” you inwardly cringe at how you’ve been holding her up with your rambling.

she shakes her head and puts her whiskey down on the bar gently, “no, please, i’m enjoying you. this is quite possibly the most entertainment i’ve had all night so far.” she puts a comforting hand on your forearm that’s resting on the bar in a comforting approach, she’s giving you a genuine smile. her gesture lasts a second too long, her gaze feeling a bit more personal than it needs to be.

“what are you here for?” you shake your head and change the subject to her, wanting to know more about her and why she’s still here wanting to be with you.

her eyes flicker towards the crowd and she hesitates for a moment, almost debating whether or not to be honest with you, “i’m just here for work, requirement by the job.” she shrugs and avoids eye contact, switching the subject back to you. she plays with the rim of her cup, not quite giving you her undivided attention like she just was.

weird.

you don’t spend too much time on it, not wanting to push her away. “i’m here for my friend. she recently started a new business and is hoping to find an investor here, make a good connection.”

you tell her as you gesture to your friend who’s now moved onto her next target of the night. she’s speaking with a woman this time, half interested in what she’s talking about.

wanda nods and follows to where your gesturing, “hm, i’ll have to check her out later.”

you two laugh and talk about different topics over the next ten minutes— ambitions you two have, where you two went to school, where you want to travel. the conversation is lighthearted but the both of you are enjoying the other’s presence.

shaking her head with a laugh, “paris is overrated. you’ll spend more time in traffic than seeing the eiffel tower.”

she watches your expression with a teasing smirk as she says this. she can tell paris is the one place you have always wanted to go to, but she wants to rile you up a bit. pure enjoyment is written on her face as she watched your face contort in mock and offense.

scoffing and looking at her with an incredulous glance, “so tell me where you’d recommend since you’re so well travelled.”

you place your chin in your hand as you await her response. your eyes are slightly glazed over and wanda can’t help but melt at the way the lights are reflecting in your eyes.

wanda grins at your tease, “vienna. no contest. it’s beautiful, and the pastries there will ruin everywhere else for you. you need to go if you ever find the opportunity.” she’s gazing at you intently as you take in her words, the way you’re nodding along to what’s she’s saying with genuine intrigue.

you are just about to respond right as a man taps her on the shoulder and says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. he leans in with a hint of impatience and you can see how wanda’s posture goes rigid and her jaw tightens.

wanda grimaces and lets out an exasperated sigh, “i’m sorry. they’re calling me for work. i’ll try to find you after, okay? please don’t leave until i see you again. i’d hate to lose my best conversation of the night.”

she gets up from her chair and gives your shoulder a squeeze, lingering a bit longer than needed, her thumb brushes against your skin. she smiles at you warmly just before she takes off in the direction of the man.

you watch as she leaves, noticing how people look in her direction with a hint of awe as she walks past. it makes sense since she had you wrapped around her finger in such a short amount of time.

you leave the bar to find your friend, glancing in the direction wanda left with a love struck smile on your face.

you find her and ask how the networking went. she lets out a sigh of content, “i can’t believe i got to talk to so many people! i gave them all my buriness card and i hope they’ll get in contact with me sometime this week.”

you nod along as she speaks, but subtly looking around the room for any glimpse of the well dressed brunette who had you captivated as soon as she spoke to you.

“did you meet anyone? you’ve been cooped up at the bar all night,” your friend asks as she nudges your shoulder playful with a grin.

rolling your eyes, “actually, yeah. i was talking to a woman, she seems sweet.”

your friends eyes lighten up and she grabs your arm with a small squeal. you laugh at her excitement about your (potentially) blossoming love life. she has continuously tried to set you up on dates in the past, but it never works out.

you groan and cringe, “i know, i know, but remember that i just met her and we don’t even know if-“

your friend shushes you with a stern look, “stop, look! that’s the ceo, the one i told you about earlier i hope i can get in with. she sponsors and invests in a lot of companies and schools. if i can get in with her, it’s like winning the lottery.”

you furrow your eyebrows and turn around to face the stage she’s pointing you to. it takes you a second to find a gap to look in between the bodies in front of you.

and there she is— wanda. your wanda. only now, there she is smiling in all her glory, waving at the crowd that is now forming in front of the stage. the faintest smile on her lips as she gently waves to the crowd.

“oh my god,” your blood runs cold and you freeze in place. you look over at your friend with a terrified look, eyebrows pulling together and eyes wide.

heat rushes to your face and you begin to replay every word you’d said to her at the bar. did she think you were mocking her? your hands begins to clench in nervousness and you want the ground to swallow you whole.

you messed up.

your friend looks at you with a confused look, then pieces it together slowly as she gauges your facial expressions. “oh my god,” she grabs your arm, “oh my god!”

people around look at you two, some shushing you with judgemental looks on their faces. she giggles and mouths, ‘no way.’

she’s filled with excitement at the potential in, you’re filled with dread and embarrassment as you mule over the fact that you complained about this event to wanda. wanda maximoff, the ceo of maximoff industries— founder and organizer of the charity event you’re attending.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you try to hide behind your friend as wanda speaks.

“good evening, everyone,” she stands tall and poised, her voice steady and confident, “thank you all for being here tonight. together, we all share a common goal: to invest in the future by supporting the education of our children.”

you muffle out wanda’s words as you try your best to stand still and not make any sudden movement. maybe if you’ll suddenly become invisible if you stand still enough.

unbeknownst to you, wanda was trying her hardest to spot you in the crowd. unfortunately, the stage lights kept her from being able to clearly see beyond the podium.

you feel queasy and lightheaded as you quickly walk to the restroom. you lean against the sink and try to steady your breathing as much as you can. of course you would somehow offend a ceo at their own event.

you groan as you force yourself to suck up your ego and walk back out into the now booming crowd.

you try to keep a low profile as you walk parallel to the wall— the last thing you want is to offend someone else here.

“there you are,” wanda walks up to you with a two glasses of champagne in her hand. she hands one to you with a smile, “i thought you left me.”

you take the glass with a polite smile, then cringing inwardly as you remember your word vomit at the bar. “listen, wanda, i’m so sorry about what i said. the event is beautiful and i love what you’re doing for the community. it’s amazing, really.”

the words come out rushed and wanda can see a flush on your cheeks. she chuckles softly and shakes her head, “hey, you’re okay. it’s okay. i didn’t take any offense, in fact, i really admire your honesty. it’s rare that i get that nowadays. you really.. stood out tonight.”

you groan and avert your eyes from her. she looks you over and admires you silently. she wants to laugh at your now embarrassed demeanor, a stark contrast to your extroverted energy at the bar.

she realizes she’s been looking at you for too long , clearing her throat and bringing the champagne up to her lips. she looks over the rim at you, trying to be as subtle as possible. your side profile is illuminated by the string lights on the ceiling, your eyes twinkling a bit more than before. perhaps the alcohol now settling in your blood stream? or maybe the fact that wanda actively sought you out after her speech.

you turn to wanda with a small sigh, “are you sure you’re not offended?” you play with the bracelet on your left wrist to try and ground yourself. you feel horrible and uncomfortable in her presence now.

wanda placed a warm hand on your forearm with a gentle look, “i promise. i mean, maybe don’t write off an event before you know what it’s about. people can surprise you, you know?”

wanda’s voice is teasing but soft and comforting. her eyes show no sign of telling a lie and you let out a small laugh at the situation. wanda nudges you with her shoulder softly as she goes to stand next to you.

for a split second, you want to throw caution to the wind and get to know her. you want to ask personal questions— hope there’s something more there.

but you don’t get the chance to. the same man who pulled her away earlier is now speaking into her ear and you can see how irritated she quickly gets with what he’s saying. nodding at what he says, she turns to you with an apologetic look on her face.

“it was refreshing talking to you,” she wants to say more, wants to offer to get you another drink— but she can’t, “take care of yourself, okay?”

and just like that, she’s gone into the crowd. maybe this wasn’t meant to continue on past tonight. maybe meeting wanda was just meant to be a chance encounter.

your friend walks up to you with a furrowed brow, “you’re seriously going to just let her leave?”

you can see the subtle hint of frustration on her face, the wild gesturing in wanda’s direction making it evident she wasn’t happy that you let her leave.

shrugging softly, “i’m sure she’s got better things to do.”

your voice is soft as you stare at wanda speaking with a group of people. she’s got an effortless grace and charm to her, something you don’t have.

following your friend to the exit, you try to push back the thought of wanda and the ‘what if.’

but the memories of her lingering touches, the laughs at your jokes, her soft smiles are now engraved into your mind. you don’t expect to see her again, but a part of you so desperately wishes you could.

[moonstruckme]

hiii!! i love your writing so much i think i’ve read every single thing you’ve ever posted. i’m genuinely obsessed 🫶🫶 i was wondering if you could write something where the reader and remus have been dating/talking for a little while and she hasn’t had her first kiss yet and she starts to get nervous everytime she thinks he’s abt to kiss her and she runs away?? i’m ngl this is based off of very real events in my life 😭😭

i love you so much!! hope your doing amazing

Hi gorgeous, thanks so much! This is soooo relatable of you haha, I have a library of hilarious stories about my very hyper friend who kept literally springing away from guys she liked who were trying to kiss her, but it does make for some very interesting (and often very sweet) conversations!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

On your first official date with Remus, the two of you went to a drive-in movie. You kept your seatbelt on the entire time. 

You only realized halfway through, mentally kicking yourself for being so jittery you’d lost all sense of normalcy, but by then it felt too late. It’d be awkward to take it off halfway through the movie, try to play that off as casual. You’d made your bed. You didn’t unbuckle until Remus dropped you off at your house at the end of the night. 

On your second date, you’re determined to be less uptight. You want him to know that you really do like him, even if your nerves make you jump and flinch whenever he gets close. At the Italian restaurant, it’s difficult to find a pasta dish without garlic, but you manage it. You’re a girl with an agenda. The two of you split a chocolate cake for dessert. It’s delicious, probably, though you can’t focus on much besides Remus’ story and the way his mouth moves as he tells it. How he tucks one corner of his bottom lip between his teeth when he’s trying to hide a smile. 

You have to hope belatedly that you haven’t somehow smeared chocolate all over your face while eating. You’re not at all confident you would’ve noticed. 

It’s a short walk back to your place, and you manage to jabber the whole way, a masterclass in self-sabotage. Remus doesn’t seem to mind, his hand light and cordial on your back as he guides you up the steps to your door. You savor the touch. It takes every ounce of willpower you have not to spring away. 

“It sounds really interesting,” he says graciously as you finish your tangent about the book you’ve just read. “I’ll have to pick up a copy.” 

“I can lend you mine,” you offer. “Maybe I can bring it the next time we hang out?” Your voice tips up hopefully at the end of the question, and warmth touches your cheeks. 

A similar pinkening spreads across Remus’ freckles. He smiles at you, the scar across his lip stretching. You’re spellbound. 

“Yeah, that sounds great.” You might be imagining it, but you could swear his eyes flit to your lips. “I had a great time tonight,” he says. “I really like talking to you.” 

Your voice is soft. “I like talking to you, too.” 

He takes a step towards you, and it’s like your muscles stage a coup. You take an involuntary step backward, a smile plastering itself uncomfortably on your face. 

“Thanks for everything,” you say brightly. “Goodnight!”

You spin and go for the door handle, and you’re nearly inside before you hear Remus’ quiet “Wait.” 

You turn. Lead in your bones. 

Remus is holding his palms up as if to show you he’s got no weapon. 

“Sorry,” he says, “I just wanted to…you know I’d never do anything you didn’t want me to, right?” 

You’re frozen stiff. 

“Like, even if I thought there was a chance you didn’t want to, I would never…” He shakes his head, looking lost. Guilt settles like a stone in your gut. “I guess I’m a bit confused. If you don’t want to do anything, that’s completely fine, but sometimes it seems like you want me to kiss you, and then you don’t…” 

“Rem,” you say. You feel like you’re breathing through a straw. “Remus, I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart, it’s not your fault—” 

“No, it is. It’s not—I don’t want you to think I’m scared of you or anything. I’m not, it’s just, I get skittish.” You can’t make yourself look at his eyes, your gaze stuck just shy of his chin. Your face feels aflame. “It’s not you. I’m just nervous.” 

“Oh.” It’s a soft thing, more exhale than anything. Then his fingers curl under your chin, tipping your face up. “Well, you can relax, love. I was never going to make a move unless I got a clear signal from you first. But we can just take that off the table completely, if you’d like.” He gives you a small, gentle smile. “I only want you to feel comfortable.” 

Your heart zings right up into your throat. “I do feel comfortable,” you blurt. “I don’t want it off the table.” 

Remus’ eyebrows flick upwards. “You don’t?” 

“No,” you murmur, bashful. 

His eyebrows come slowly back down, puckering slightly as he tries to figure you out. His eyes narrow until his lashes kiss. His tongue pokes into his cheek, just a little. You miss nothing. You find yourself taking in a quiet breath, steeling yourself. 

You move across that tiny bit of air between you and find him there waiting.

It’s everything you could’ve hoped for and yet startlingly simple. Remus’ lips are warm and soft, pressing into yours with an intensity that you suspect is nonetheless restrained for your benefit. He tastes like chocolate cake. 

His mouth meanders over to the corner of your lips, granting one quick peck to your cheek before making its way back to the center of your mouth, reverent. He backs away slowly, easing you out of it. 

“Wasn’t really expecting that,” he admits.

“Me neither. Was it alright?” Your voice is a bit breathy. “I’ve never done that before.” 

For a moment, he’s quiet. 

“That was your first kiss?” 

You swallow, rubbing your lips together as you nod. 

“Sweetheart,” he grins, “you’re a natural.” 

A giggle spurts out of you, dizzy with the taste of him and the novelty of it all. “You mean it?” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He mimes drawing a cross over his heart. It occurs to you that you both seem infinitely more at ease than you have since dinner. The corner of Remus’ bottom lip goes between his teeth, his cheek dimpling. “I mean, there is something to be said for practice, though.” 

You don’t fight your own grin; it comes out in full force. “Mm, I think I’ve heard something about that. Practice makes…defective, right? Something like that.” 

“C’mere.” Remus rolls his eyes at you, but as his arms wrap around you his smile mirrors yours. 

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Hiii

Would you be able to (when you have the time) write a little! reader and Mama Agatha fic where the little is trying to use magic and be big but accidentally breaks something and doesn't want to tell Agatha so they run and hide in their room, then Agatha finds them crying and comforts them. Sorry I know it is very specific I went on a bit of a tangent. Anyways all good if this idea doesn't interest you just thought I'd put it out there.

Cg!Agatha x Little!Reader - Powers

Word count: 602

——————————

Mama had been helping you get better at using your powers for a few months now and you were really, really good. At least she always told you that. Still, you were not under any circumstances allowed to use them without Mama. Especially if you were feeling small. This was super annoying because your powers were so cool and right now you thought they would be very helpful to get the remote off the coffee table. The cartoons you’d been watching had switched to a strange show you’d never seen before and so you wanted to change it back. But you were very comfortable with your stuffies and blankies on the couch and if you could just be a big girl for a few seconds you could definitely move the remote with your powers. Carefully you used your powers to lift the remote up, you were a bit shaky as you guided it towards you but you had it under control, until you didn’t. The remote dropped right above Agatha’s favourite vase, sending it crashing off the coffee table with a loud bang. You jump at the sound, eyes widening as you see the mess you’ve made. Your mama will be so upset.

“Baby? Are you ok?” Agatha called from the kitchen. You panicked and scrambled off the couch and to your bedroom. Tears were burning in your eyes as you quickly hid under your bed covers. At least here Mama could never ever find you. You’d have to hide for a hundred years until she forgot or decided to blame the cat. You felt a bit bad though, you didn’t want to get the cat in trouble. There was a knock on the door and you pulled your covers tighter over your head. “Bunny, are you in here?” Agatha called out.

“No,” you replied, hoping to drive Mama away.

“Oh? My baby isn't here?” You shook your head firmly. Despite telling her you weren’t in your room, your Mama opened the door. “My love, where are you?” Agatha called and you burrowed under the covers further. “Well, you clearly aren’t on the bed,” Agatha sighed dramatically before reaching her hand under the covers and tickling your leg. You squealed and squirmed away from Mama’s grasp but she ripped the sheets away and pulled you into her arms. “Oh there you are!” She gasped dramatically, “I could’ve sworn someone said you weren’t in here.” You sniffled, rubbing at the tears on your cheeks. “Why were you hiding baby?” Agatha asked, her voice gentler now. She carefully pulled you into her lap, pressing gentle kisses to the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Didn’t wanna get in trouble,” you admitted quietly, your voice wobbling.

“Oh? For using your powers?” You nod,

“And for breaking the vase.” Agatha sighed softly, carding her hand through your hair.

“Well, as far as the vase is concerned, Mama can fix that up for you in just a flick of her wrist?”

“With your purple?” You questioned eagerly.

“Yes, that’s right baby. And as for using your powers, you’re not in trouble.” You sighed a breath of relief at this. “But I need you to understand why mama says no powers without me watching. I don’t mind if something breaks, but I do mind if my baby gets hurt, ok?” You nod in understanding. Agatha gently guided your head down to rest on her chest. “You could’ve gotten hurt today and it’s mama's job to keep her baby safe which is why we have rules right?”

“Yes mama,” you hum in understanding. “Sorry mama.”

“It’s ok bunny, mama understands.”

[amazingmsme]

No Harm, No Foul

AN: this got longer that I was expecting tbh, but I just couldn’t help myself! This one was so fun & playful to write, all the voices & the narrator are so silly, I love them so much! This game has such a grip on me, & there’s literally no fluffy fics for all that angst!

This is set during the prisoner arc, but that’s not really relevant, just provides a setting & some context. This is formatted a lil different from my other fics, as it’s written in second person to match the game’s style but to be clear, I still don’t write reader inserts & because of all the voices, I’m adding a color chart to help you know which voice is speaking, even if it’s not specified

Hero- red

Skeptic- blue

Smitten- pink

Contrarian- green

Broken- purple

& the Narrator’s lines are just naturally written in the descriptions. The princess responds normally

Hope this helps! Without further ado, here’s day 20!

You're on a path in the woods, and at the end of that path, is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess. You're here to slay her.

Except you didn't slay her. You both tried to escape, you had been so close, but this world refused to let you be together for too long.

You've lost count of how many times you've done this song and dance. Endless, it would seem. And now, thanks to your own poor decisions, you yourself are left in the basement, side by side with the embodiment of evil.

"Embodiment of evil? She hasn't so much as said a word in days," the voice of the Hero interrupted, before the voice of the Skeptic interrupted him.

"I'm pretty sure it's been longer."

They were your only company, seeing as the princess was so intent on ignoring you. You're not quite sure how much more time has passed, but you stroke a patch of moss on a nearby stone that wasn't there before.

"Watch it." It was the first words she'd spoken in what felt like forever. Her voice was deep and raspy from lack of use. She cleared her throat, sitting up as straight and dignified as ever.

"Sorry, I just hadn't noticed that before," you explained, pulling your hand back. She hummed as she noticed the small patch of color in the dull room.

"How nice," she said, scooting closer to pet the soft plant. You adverted your gaze as she got closer, unsure of where her boundaries still stood. You fiddled with the heavy lock around your neck, the thick metal digging into the tender skin.

She noticed your discomfort, staring with a blank expression as you tried to pull it away from your throat. Her eyes trailed from your chains to her own.

"It's not the most comfortable, is it?" she asked, startling you a bit.

"Um, no, it's not. But then again, I don't think they make chains with comfort in mind," you spoke in a deadpan tone. She barked out a sarcastic laugh, but there was enough sincerity there to make your... heart flutter? Are you really making me say this?

"She thinks we're funny! We made our darling precious angel laugh! And what a beautiful sound it was!" the voice of the Smitten rambled on in a lovesick tangent. But he made sure to shut up as soon as the princess opened her mouth.

"I didn't know you were funny," she sounded genuinely surprised, and honestly, so am I. That wasn't even a proper joke.

"Hey, are you saying we're not funny?" the Hero immediately went on the defensive.

That's exactly what I'm saying.

"The princess thinks we're funny," the Skeptic chimed in.

You just happen to share the same morbid sense of humor. She's laughing more at the situation than anything else.

You huff and the voices in your head grow quiet once more. Time drags on; the moss spreads, and cracks slowly crumble away the stone and brick. The princess occasionally breaks the silence with a rare comment or question. Sometimes, if you're lucky, she might even carry on a conversation.

It seemed now was one of those times.

"Y'know, you're molting again, and all these loose feathers really got me thinking. You wouldn't happen to be ticklish would you?"

"What? You don't just ask someone that right out of the blue! No build up, no hints, no nothing!" the Hero began to panic as she continued speaking. Oh, so she wasn't even done yet.

"It would be kinda ironic, wouldn't it?" she continued with a smirk. She cocked her head to look at you expectantly. She cocked a brow when she didn't receive an answer. "Well?"

"Yeah, it would," you agreed, hoping it would be enough to suffice. But you are dealing with a cruel, calculating, and manipulative person, so of course that answer doesn't sate her appetite.

"Aw, a little shy, are we? After all this time?" she asked, her voice just a touch softer.

"Pretty sure anyone gets shy at that question," the Skeptic snapped defensively.

"Okay, you got me. Maybe a little. There, happy now?"

No, no! What are you doing? You just told her your greatest weakness!

"Hey, that is not our greatest weakness!" the Hero argued, sounding genuinely flustered.

Well it is now. Enjoy.

"Relax, he can't just do that," the Skeptic was quick to reassure him.

It took all but a second for this conversation to happen in your head. The princess is now smiling at you, scanning you up and down with a hungry gaze.

"Only a little? You wouldn't mind if  I tested that, would you?" she asked, her tone even, almost uninterested. But you could see the mischief dancing in her eyes. Finally, you're seeing her true, sadistic side shine through.

"Sadistic? Our darling simply wants to play! Haven't you ever heard of flirting before?" the Smitten chimed in. And okay, rude.

But I assure you, she's not flirting, it has to be some kind of power play. As soon as you let your guard down, she will kill you.

"Is... is boredom just a foreign concept to you?" the Hero asked. "If she wanted to kill us, I'm sure she'd have done it by now."

That's just what she wants you to think.

Her chains clanked together softly as she inched closer. You tensed, but hesitated to move away. That would make it too obvious, and her predatory instincts would surely kick in.

"I didn't hear a no," she hummed, shifting so she sat facing you.

"Shit, did we forget to answer her?" the Hero questioned, panic lacing his voice.

"So, where do you think we should start?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. She cocked her brow, a smirk tugging at her lips. It was the first time you'd seen her look even vaguely happy since you were locked down here.

"U-um..." you stuttered, struggling to think of a suitable answer.

"She can't expect us to choose! That's not fair!" the Hero complained.

"She's just trying to be considerate of our preferences," the Smitten justified.

"What? We don't have preferences! Not... not about this at least..."

"Dealers choice?" you answered lamely, the voices in your head offering no help in your decision. You froze when you heard her chuckle beside you, your feathers ruffled.

"Why do you look so tense? Relax, will you?" she prodded your side, hoping to get a reaction. You flinched away at the touch, the corners of your beaked mouth twitching upward in a short lived grin. "Aw, is that a smile?" she teased, poking the same spot, wiggling her finger a little and earning a stifled snicker.

Are you really just gonna let this happen? You're not gonna put up any kind of fight, whatsoever?

"I'm pretty sure she'll make us regret it if we even try to fight back. At least right now, she seems... playful."

"Maybe we should fight back and see what happens. Let her really go to town on lover boy, see how much he likes her then," the Contrarian spoke up for the first time in quite a while.

"I'd still love every second of it! Whatever makes our princess happy," the Smitten was unwavering in his adoration as always.

"No! Have you forgotten we all have to endure what she dishes out? I'd rather not piss her off," the Hero reasonably pointed out.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt long nails scratch under your chin, burying beneath the downy feathers. You let out a squawk of surprise, immediately scrunching your shoulders. Giggles bubble up your throat and you clamp a hand over your mouth, desperate to contain the embarrassing sounds.

"Excuse you, our laugh is rugged and handsome!" the Smitten proudly proclaimed.

"I can't reach your feet, mind helping me out?" she asked so nonchalantly it gave you whiplash. You instinctively curled your talons, tucking your legs closer to your chest.

"W-what did she just say?"

"Pft, yeah, like we're just gonna put our feet in her lap," the Skeptic scoffed.

"That's a great idea! She can barely reach us in those chains," the Smitten noticed, deciding to rectify this mistake by turning to face her, stretching your legs out.

"No, I just said we weren't gonna do that!"

"I don't know, maybe we should. She's gonna tickle us anyways," the Broken noted.

"Thanks," the princess smirked as she grabbed your ankle, scooting even closer. She picked up one of your feathers off the stone floor, twirling it for you to see. Your leg jerked back reflexively at the sight. She chuckled as she traced up and down your foot, paying close attention to your reactions. She grabbed your talons and pulled them back, stretching out your feet as she sawed the feather between your toes.

You leaned against the wall, burying your face in your hands with a loud squawk of laughter. You tried to kick and squirm away, but she held onto your ankle, keeping you sufficiently trapped as soft giggles poured out of you. Your talons curled and twitched with each fluttery stroke, much to her amusement. She grabbed your other foot, wasting no time before giving it the same treatment.

"Wow, you're more ticklish than I thought. Now tell me, is it worse knowing that I'm using your own feathers?" she asked curiously, deciding to attack both feet simultaneously. You shrieked and arched your back, nodding instead of giving a verbal answer. You already had too much going on inside your head to reply.

"What? She can't be serious! Of course it makes it worse! She knows that!" the Hero protested, sounding flustered beyond belief and on the verge of giggles himself.

"She can't possibly know that, she's just trying to get a rise out of us," the Skeptic argued.

"Well it's working," the Hero whined.

"Hm, I wonder where else you're ticklish," she mused aloud, scanning your body up and down. She reached out, giving both knees an experimental squeeze.

Chains rattle as you jerk away with a loud laugh, surprising even you. Her shock quickly morphed to sadistic glee.

"Uh oh, looks like I found a bad spot," she taunted, dragging you back by the ankles. You sat there, completely frozen as she crawled towards you until it was too late and she latched onto your knees.

If you ask me, I'd say everywhere's a bad spot.

"That was uncalled for!"

"No one asked you!"

"Is it a crime to be sensitive?”

You wished they would all just shut up.

Between the chain on the wall and the princess in front of you, there was nowhere for you to go, and nothing for you to do except cackle and writhe on the ground.

But if you were being honest, it- wasn't the worst way to spend your time? You can't be serious! Please tell me you're joking.

"Well... at least now something's actually happening," the Hero sheepishly admitted.

"True. An eternity of silence is more torturous than whatever she can dish out," the Skeptic agreed.

"I can't even remember the last time we laughed. It's... kinda nice, if I'm being honest."

Okay, you know what? Fine. You win. You let her tickle you for however long she wants, which just so happens to feel like an eternity. She manages to find your most ticklish spots with ease, and even a few you weren't aware of. All the while, you continue to flail around uselessly and make the most humiliating noises you've ever heard. She loves to mock those sounds, pointing out the way you ruffle your feathers when flustered, or how you try to hide your face instead of fend her off.

Maybe she knows you like this? Probably, I mean, you're making it pretty obvious, aren't you?

"Okay, we get it!"

So I hope you enjoy this demise of your own making, because it won't be stopping anytime soon it would seem.

But like I said. You probably like that.

And she knows it.

[ladyeyrewrites]

Feelings Hurled Like Hand Grenades

Read from Chapter One

Chapter Four: I Have a Life

Rated M

4,435 words

Gina fidgeted with her phone, which was not like her at all. She was not a fidgeter. She either took action or she waited patiently for things to happen in their own time. None of this flitting from one unfinished task to the next checking for a notification that had yet to come every five minutes.

Except, today, apparently, she was a fidgeter.

Today: the day Michael and Anthony were meeting Thomas in Los Angeles.

Gina had stopped believing in God a long time ago, but this itching under her skin made her want to pray for a positive outcome. That hope for her nephews to have what she’d never had with her siblings clutched at her heart with such a desperate grip that Gina wasn’t sure if she could stand it if they failed. If they came away from this meeting with more baggage between them than when they’d started.

But she couldn’t sit on her lovely green velvet sofa fiddling her rings and checking her phone on a loop all day, so Gina put an audio book on and set about deep cleaning her kitchen while she waited for news of the outcome of the three brothers’ meeting.

Michael was the first to call. It was Sunday morning before their flight back from Los Angeles.

“Michael?” she answered the phone. “Are you at the airport?”

“Yeah, Auntie. Sorry if it’s a bit noisy,” said Michael and there certainly was a lot of background noise filtering through over the line. “I just, wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

“Did it not go well?” Gina asked, heart sinking.

“I don’t know,” said Michael. “I mean. It wasn’t terrible, but it was awkward, like we really don’t know each other anymore.”

“Well, you don’t,” Gina pointed out as she filled her tea kettle and set it on the stove. “You’re virtually strangers at this point.”

Read the rest on Ao3 or after the cut.

Michael laughed ruefully. “I guess you’re right,” he said.

“So, did it go well or not?” Gina asked. Michael generally needed a certain amount of guidance to stay on topic and Gina wasn’t feeling patient enough to let him go rambling off onto one tangent or another before he finally found his way back to the reason he’d called.

“I guess,” said Michael. “We’re going to meet up again sometime, and Tommy wants to introduce us to Evan.”

“Who is delightful, by the way,” said Gina. “But why am I sensing that you wished things had gone better?”

Michael sighs. “I don’t know, Auntie. I guess I don’t know if I really got across how sorry I was for everything I said to Tommy back then.”

“But Thomas wants to see you again and he wants to introduce you to his fiancé,” said Gina. “That seems like it went well.”

“Maybe, Auntie,” said Michael. “But he didn’t say he forgives me.”

It was Gina’s turn to sigh. “Your brother is under no obligation to forgive you, Michael,” she said. “You caused him real pain and that isn’t something that will go away just because you’re remorseful.” Before Michael could jump in, Gina added. “Thomas doesn’t have to forgive you for the two of you to move on. He knows you’re sorry and he still wants to have a relationship with you. Take the victory, Michael. Even if it’s a small one.”

“I don’t know, Auntie,” said Michael. “I’m not feeling awful victorious right now.”

There were times when Gina wished she had less patience. That she was the kind of person who could give into her impulses and smack a loved one upside the head until they saw sense. But she’d never had that sort of temperament. Still, Michael was fraying her patience. “Did you honestly think this would be a one and done, say you’re sorry and let bygones be bygones situation, Michael?” she asked. She didn’t mean to raise her voice, but she had a rare moment where her control slipped, and her tone turned shrill.

“No,” said Michael, “but—”

“No buts.” Gina also didn’t like to interrupt but Michael needed his head pulled out of his own behind and she didn’t mind doing the dirty work. “What the three of you are doing, it’s hard. It’s brave. It’s not the sort of thing that most people have the courage to do, me included. But you have to keep doing the work. It’s the same as trying to stay on the wagon. You have to keep showing up, keep going even when it’s hard and it hurts, and you just want to scream at the world. There are no short cuts and maybe some days it will be agony, but other days will bring you more joy than you ever could have hoped, but only if you keep trying.”

There was a moment of silence in which Gina wondered if she’d gone too far, but then Michael laughed, nothing riotous, just a little mirthless thing probably accompanied by a head shake if she knew her nephew. “You’re right, Auntie,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Any time, Michael,” she said. And then they said goodbye and Gina stared at her kettle willing it to boil faster.

What was she doing?

Gina shook her head and turned off the stove. She called Tabitha.

“I sincerely hope you’re calling as my friend and not as my boss, Gina Kinard,” said Tabitha. “It is Sunday.”

“I need to get out of the house,” said Gina, already grabbing her purse and keys.

“That doesn’t really answer the question,” said Tabitha.

“Friend,” said Gina. “My nephews are driving me crazy.”

“I’ll get the coffee going,” said Tabitha.

#

True to her word, Tabitha has an espresso ready and waiting for Gina by the time she arrived at her friend’s single story craftsman nestled in a quiet neighbourhood not far from the newspaper office.

“So, do you want to talk about why your nephews are driving you crazy?” Tabitha asked.

Gina sighed – she seemed to be doing a lot of sighing since her mother’s death – and launched into the briefest version she could. “I’m worried about them,” she admitted. “I just want them to be able to live happy, healthy lives and what if this isn’t the way? What if I’m pushing them in a direction that will make things worse? I mean, we’ve seen all these stories in the advice column about people going no contact with their families and it really does seem to be the best option for some people and clearly Thomas is doing well enough on his own. He doesn’t need us. Doesn’t need me pushing him.” God, she’d been talking to Michael too much too often these days, hadn’t she? She was starting to parrot his speech patterns.

Gina took a sip of espresso – it was perfect, strong and bitter just the way she liked it, like her mother had liked it. How did Thomas take his coffee?

“Gina,” said Tabitha in the tone she used when she was about to say something Gina probably wasn’t going to like. “I say this as your friend, as someone who loves you dearly and wants what’s best for you: you need to get a life.”

Gina was so shocked that a laugh forced its way out of her throat before she’d even fully processed what her friend had said. “I have a life,” she protested.

“No,” said Tabitha. “You have a job.”

“A job I love and that I’ve worked hard for,” said Gina.

Tabitha took Gina’s hands in hers, cupping them gently to avoid giving Gina any pain. She fixed Gina with her unblinking gaze. “When is the last time you did something for your own sake, Gina?” she asked. “Not for your mother or your nephews or your employees. When’s the last time you dared to be selfish?”

Gina tried to think of a response but couldn’t. Not one that would satisfy Tabitha anyway. All her selfishness was reserved for little luxuries: wine, coffee, chocolate, buying herself flowers. But while those were all lovely little pleasures, one could not base a life on them. They did not sustain. Grief seized Gina. “If this is about me putting myself back out there, don’t bother, Tabitha,” she said. She snatched her hands away. “I lost the love of my life a long time ago.”

“Almost twenty years,” said Tabitha. “It breaks my heart to see you so lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” said Gina. But that was a lie. People who weren’t lonely didn’t try to fill every waking moment with work and noise and other people’s problems. People who weren’t lonely didn’t deep clean their kitchen cabinets while waiting for a phone call that might not ever come.

Tabitha raised her eyebrow.

“Fine, I’m lonely,” Gina admitted. “But I’m too old to be getting back into dating.” And her walls had grown too thick for anyone sane to climb over them and into her heart.

Tabitha chuckled. “You’re fifty-two, Gina. That’s hardly old. You could have another forty years left on this earth if your mother is anything to go by. Do you really want to spend another forty years alone? Is that what Siobhan would have wanted for you?”

Gina flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” said Tabitha. “And I’m sorry if it hurts, Gina, I really am but I am so tired of seeing you wallow.”

“I do not wallow,” said Gina. “Warthogs wallow, pigs wallow, elephants and rhinoceroses wallow.” Was that the plural of rhinoceros? Or did they get the octopi treatment? “I resent the implication that I bare any resemblance to such creatures.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” said Tabitha, and Gina doubted it was intentional, but Tabitha used the identical tone and wrist flick Siobhan had used every time she’d told Gina the same, which had been often enough.

And for a moment, Gina was catapulted back in time.

1995

For twenty-two years, Gina had avoided the inevitable: admitting to herself that men held zero appeal to her, that she wasn’t going to get married just to satisfy her parents, and that she wasn’t going to live the sexless life of a nun.

When she heard about Club Q – a once-a-month dance party for women – Gina was initially hesitant to go. She wasn’t exactly a clubbing kind of girl. She wasn’t really a dancer. She hadn’t even gone to her high school prom, though she had been asked.

But curiosity was a stubborn thing, a growing thing – consumptive. Every month on the first Friday, her thoughts wandered to the Tenderloin where a sea of women danced, free to look and lust and love and every month her curiosity reached a higher peak until the first Friday in December, Gina put on a shimmery halter top and a short leather skirt and chunky heels. She did her make-up in a way she never would have done at home with a liner several shades darker than her lipstick – a way that would have raised her mother’s eyebrows and her father’s fist, but her mother was miles away, an hour outside of the city and her father was dead. They’d never know.

Curiosity roared louder than nerves, louder than doubt as the woman at the door stamped her wrist.

Wide-eyed, Gina took in the scene, let the music flow over her – not her taste, but there was something in the electronic rhythm that made her want to lose herself or perhaps to loose herself, to unchain her inhibitions and live freely. At least for one night before she folded herself back into the shape of the good, studious daughter she was supposed to be.

Gina waded into the thick of it, into the swirl of women – so many women of every size and shape and colour. Butch women, femme women. Women in tube tops with belly button rings. Women in flannel shirts and combat boots. Shaved heads and butterfly clips. Naked faces and caked on makeup. Cargo pants and short shorts. Every kind of woman in between.

For the first time in twenty-two years, Gina felt like she could breathe and then the breath was knocked from her lungs when she saw her.

Red hair shining under the disco ball. White tank top. Baggy jeans. A lip ring. Tattoos wrapping over her shoulders like a shawl.

And Gina only meant to look. To admire. To yearn and then to find someone safer, someone who wouldn’t consume her more thoroughly than her own curiosity.

But the red head had other plans.

And a wicked grin.

And a kiss that scorched away every fear Gina had ever known until she was reborn.

And that was it for Gina.

No more pretending to be the nice Catholic girl. No more denying herself pleasure.

They danced.

They kissed.

Gina let herself be led away. Let herself be devoured and ate hungrily in return.

“Slow down,” said the red head, putting a steadying hand on Gina’s head, making Gina pause her ministrations. “Take your time.”

“Sorry.” Gina blushed, breathless. “I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s okay,” said the red head – Siobhan. “The key is to get over yourself. To give yourself over. To stop thinking.”

“I’m not very good at that,” said Gina.

“I’d say you’re doing just fine,” said Siobhan and she smiled, and Gina may have fallen in love with her right then as she lay between Siobhan’s thighs staring up into that open, smiling face.

2025

Gina gasped, dragging herself out of the memory before it could twist from their first days together to Siobhan’s final days when Gina wasn’t even allowed to see her. Wasn’t even allowed to know she’d died.

Things were different now that people like her had better protections. That Gina might never again have to go through what she went through when Siobhan was dying. But there was always an off-chance. “I can’t go through that kind of pain again,” she said. “I think it would kill me.”

“You’re letting your fear control you, Gina,” said Tabitha. “You’re letting it diminish you.”

Tears slipped down Gina’s cheeks. “I know,” she gripped Tabitha’s hands as hard as she could arthritis pain be damned. “I don’t know how to stop being afraid.”

Tabitha pulled her into a hug – one of her signature Tabitha hugs, all softness and warmth and reassurance. “It’s okay to be afraid,” she said. “But you need hope too. And who knows maybe you’ll find a hot young thing to take care of you in your old age.”

Gina laughed even though all she wanted to do was cry.

#

Anthony waited for her when she got home. He lounged against the left column of her front porch as though it was his sworn duty to keep it from falling.

“Have you gone home yet?” she asked.

Anthony shook his head, adjusted the backpack slung across one shoulder. “I got an Uber here from the airport.”

Gina strode past him and unlocked her door, beckoning him inside with a tilt of her head.

“Have you been crying, Auntie?” Tony asked, always too observant for her liking. He took off his boots at the door, placing them neatly side-by-side next to the umbrella stand. His socks were purple and blue stripes. There was a hole in the big toe of the left one which she very magnanimously did not point out.

Gina shook her head. “You’re not here to talk about me,” she said. “Do you want something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?”

He shook his head. “I don’t do alcohol or caffeine. They mess with my meds.”

If Gina had been in a prying mood, she might have followed that up with a question, but it was a rare thing for Anthony to come to her and he was easily spooked. She didn’t want to scare him off before he’d gotten what he needed.

“I have chamomile,” she said, making her way to the kitchen. “No caffeine in that.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll give it a try.”

Gina shook her head. “Your best friend since high school is a lesbian and you’ve never had chamomile tea?”

Anthony laughed just like she’d wanted him to. “Pretty sure that’s a stereotype, Auntie,” he said.

Gina shrugged as she returned this morning’s still-full kettle to the stove. “I’ve known a lot of lesbians,” she said. “I’ve yet to see it proven false.” Why she didn’t come out and tell her nephew that she was one of those lesbians, she didn’t know. He’d be accepting. He wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. But would he be able to understand her in the same way Thomas had?

Probably not.

They stood in awkward silence as they waited for the tea to boil, but the silence was likely less awkward than the conversation Anthony had come here to have and awkward conversations were best had while drinking tea rather than waiting for water to boil, interrupted by the shrill whistle of the kettle letting off steam.

“I haven’t seen you since the funeral,” Gina said once they were settled on her sofa. Siobhan had always wanted one just like it, but they’d never been able to afford it. It was the first thing Gina had bought once she’d been promoted to editor: a monument to the love of her life planted firmly in the heart of her living room. But that was a morbid thought for another day. Gina pushed down all thoughts of loves lost and loves yet to be found and brought her full attention to bear upon her nephew.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Anthony swiped a hand across the back of his neck. “I don’t really have an excuse. It just didn’t cross my mind.”

Gina favoured him with a smile. “That’s as it should be,” she said. “You’re young. You should be out living your life not worrying about old maid aunts. I don’t mind. But something’s troubling you. What is it?”

Anthony took a tip of tea, swirled it cheek to cheek before swallowing and took a second sip. Then he spoke. “After Tommy left, everyone stopped talking about him,” he said. “It was like he stopped existing. Like he was some imaginary friend I made up as a kid. Or an imaginary punching bag.”

Gina nodded. “Our family’s good at secrets,” she said. “Good at ignoring all the bad things, pretending we have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Tommy wasn’t something to be ashamed of,” said Anthony, gripping his mug like he wanted to make a fist.

“It wasn’t Thomas we were ashamed of,” said Gina quickly. “We were ashamed of ourselves, for not doing right by him. I was ashamed that I didn’t do more to help him. To help all of you. To help your mother.”

Anthony let out a shuddering breath. “There’s so much I don’t know,” he said. “So much I was too little to understand or blocked out or chose to ignore.” He shook his head.

“You were a child.” Gina put her hand on his knee. “It wasn’t your responsibility.”

“No,” said Anthony. “It was yours and Nonna’s and Aunt Bella’s. It was your responsibility to talk about things and you didn’t and because you didn’t, I didn’t know what was going on and I spent the last twenty years hating my brother because I didn’t know what he was running away from, not really.” Anthony shook his head. “I mean, I knew Dad was hard on him.”

“Hard is an understatement,” said Gina. “You want to know why your father treated Thomas the way he did?”

Anthony nodded.

Gina put her mug down and rubbed her hands over her face, gathering her thoughts. “I was a child when your brother was born. Eleven or twelve years old. I can’t really say I understood what was going on, not really. But when my father found out Jonathan had gotten Angela pregnant, he beat Jonathan to within an inch of his life.” She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory. “My father threatened to kill my brother if he didn’t marry Angela and get a job to support her and the baby.”

“I never knew,” said Anthony.

“You weren’t supposed to,” said Gina. “Your father was never nice, but he got worse after that.” Gina shuddered. She’d tried to spend as much time out of the house as she could back then, haunting the library and the rec centre and the neighbourhood pool whenever they were open, but inevitably they would close, and she’d have to go home to the stew of resentment that had become her family home. “He started to scare me. He didn’t hit your mother while she was pregnant, but he did once Thomas was born. If they hadn’t been living with us the first year or so, I think Jonathan might have killed Thomas. Maybe not on purpose, but he I can imagine him losing his temper, hitting the baby or shaking it and that would have been that. But my mother never let Jonathan be alone with Thomas while they lived under our roof.” Gina took another sip of tea as though to rinse away that time. “Your father got better once he became a police officer. He had years where he was better.”

“He got to be a bully at work so why would he need to be a bully at home,” said Anthony who had a dislike for police that Gina only vaguely understood. Not that she was overly fond of them herself.

“Perhaps,” she said. “He was still hard on Thomas though. Still resented him. And then your mother died, and I can’t even begin to put myself in your father’s shoes, but Angela’s death seemed to bring up a whole new slew of resentments. Thomas took the brunt of your father’s temper.”

“And then Tommy left, and it was Mikey’s turn,” said Anthony.

Gina nodded. Fear gripped her as she prepared to ask a question, she knew the answer to already. “What about you? Did he target you after Michael went to college?”

Anthony shrugged. “I never had it as bad as they did.” Which wasn’t really an answer, but told her enough. “But I worry about Noah. About how Dad’s treating him.”

“Not Simone?” Gina asked.

“Her too,” said Anthony. “But she’s Dad’s little princess. I think Dad would go to Tommy’s wedding before he’d lay a hand on her.”

“I worry about them,” said Gina. “But the best I can do is make sure they know my door is always open to them.”

“They know,” said Anthony. His gaze drifted over to a photo she kept hanging on the wall. One of Angela and her three boys taken one Christmas when Jonathan had been working and everyone had been able to relax and truly enjoy the holiday. “Do you think Tommy would have stayed if Dad had died instead of Mom?” His voice cracked as though he hated himself for saying it out loud.

“I don’t know,” said Gina. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I think he’s where he needs to be now, even though his road getting there was painful.”

“You like his boyfriend,” said Tony.

“Fiancé,” said Gina. “My idea by the way. And yes, I do. He reminds me of what your mother was like when she was younger.”

Anthony nodded, frowning in thought.

“Do you have anyone?” Gina asked, even though she knew Tabitha would scold her for trying to live vicariously through her nephews.

“Not sure that’s in the cards for me, Auntie.” Anthony shook his head. There seemed to be more he wasn’t saying.

The reporter in Gina stirred – not that it was ever far below the surface. “That’s a bit too much of a definitive statement for someone who’s not even thirty,” she said.

Anthony holds himself incredibly still, like a deer scenting the wind just before deciding to bolt. “So, you know how Tommy’s gay?”

“I’m aware,” said Gina. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

He takes a shaky breath. He won’t look at her, eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet. “I’m not exactly straight,” he said.

Gina couldn’t say she was surprised. Not really. But she’d never pegged Anthony as gay either. Maybe he was bisexual or pansexual or one of the many other identities on the spectrum of sexuality. “Oh?” she asked not wanting to push too hard.

“It’s hard to explain,” said Anthony in the tone of a young person who’d forgotten that his elders were likely to have done and experienced things he’d never even fathomed.

“Try me,” said Gina, crossing her arms.

“I don’t really experience attraction,” Anthony said like he was confessing a mortal sin. “I mean, I’ve had people I’ve liked on an emotional level. People I’ve wanted to be in a relationship with. But it’s not sexual.”

Gina smiled wryly. “You’re on the Asexual spectrum then?” She savoured the shock on her nephew’s face at the fact that she knew what that was. And since he’d shown courage in coming to her, perhaps it was time to show him courage in kind. “I suppose, if you’re coming out to me, I may as well come out to you.”

Anthony frowned. “Are you Ace too? Is that why you never married?”

Gina shook her head, sorry to disappoint him. “I never married because it was never legal for me to get married when there was someone I wanted to marry. And by the time it was legal, the person I wanted to marry was long gone. I’m a lesbian, Anthony.”

His eyes widened. “That lady who used to live with you. The one with the tattoos.” He blinked as though reevaluating his memories.

“Siobhan was my partner, yes,” said Gina. The past tense still stung all this time later.

“She died though.” Anthony fixed her with a look of unbearable sympathy, one that made her feel her grief as though it was brand new.

“She did,” said Gina.

“And there’s never been anyone else?” Anthony asked.

Gina shook her head. She ran her hands over the velvet coach cushion, the one Siobhan would have loved.

Anthony had never been one for showing physical affection, but he switched his seat from the armchair to the sofa and pulled her into his arms. He wasn’t as big as Thomas nor as soft as Michael, but he hugged her fierce enough that Gina felt a bit of comfort force its way into the wound she’d been nursing for nearly two decades.

Maybe it was time to let it heal.

[dreamlandreader]

Foolish Fire Chapter Four - Whispers in the Dark

Hello @popjunkie42-blog part four of your @acotargiftexchange has arrived! I was slightly concerned this chapter may seem like a tangent from the lost in the woods mythology folklore vibe, but I really wanted to include a chapter that focused a bit on feysand fluff and ... other feysand related *activities* 👀 I've never written smut before (certainly have read plenty though), so I was really intimidated going into this chapter, but I hope it reads okay.

The story Feyre shares with Rhys in this chapter is Hans Christian Anderson's The Red Shoes. You can find out more about this and other mythology referenced in this series in the fact file here.

To find the series masterlist click here.

I hope you enjoy 💖

Content warning: Detailed smut and references to injury

“My mother never told me stories,” Feyre said from Rhysand’s chest, where she had remained for the last half an hour. The glowing waters magic seemed to recognise the couple’s need for warmth, and so despite the autumn winds, neither of the pair were cold. 

“Not even as a babe? Rhys asked, his hand trailing up and down Feyre’s arm. 

“I don’t think so. She never had much interest in being a mother to me. I doubt it would have even crossed her mind to start sharing stories with any of us,” 

“What about your father? He was a merchant. Did he never share exciting tales of his expeditions?” 

“No. He was always far too busy when we were younger. Then, after he lost his fortune, he couldn’t bear to talk about it,” Feyre sighed. Rhys wondered if he would always get an ache in his chest when his mate spoke of her childhood. He recognised the loneliness of her early years. He saw how gratefully she received love from her sisters, their friends, and even him. It was like she didn’t see that they were the ones cauldron blessed to have her. The brightest of all the stars in Velaris, who showered them with such unwavering love.

Suddenly, Feyre lifted her head, excitement shining in her eyes as she reflected on the memory. “Nesta told us one once, though,” “Oh?” Rhys said, lifting a brow, wondering what sort of story a fiery young Nesta would share with her sisters. “It was pretty gruesome, actually. It was a cautionary tale she’d heard from one of her friends in the village who swore faithfully that her grandfather witnessed it play out years before,” “Tell me,” he said, amused by his wife’s sudden energetic passion. Feyre smiled and began her story. “There was once a young girl whose mother, a wealthy widow, spoiled her rotten. One day as a gift the girl received a pair of stunning red shoes, made with the finest crimson satin,” “I thought this was a cautionary tale. I’m failing to see a problem here,” Rhys interrupted. “Shh,” Feyre replied, a lopsided smirk on her face. “Elated with her new gift and wanting to show off to her friends, the girl decided to wear the red shoes when she went to pray to the gods. She was told time and time again by her mother that the gods would not take kindly to her bragging, and she warned the girl to go in her old black shoes instead. But cocky and full of youthful arrogance, she ignored her mother and continued to wear the shoes and brag of their fine beauty to anyone she met,”

“Okay, I’m beginning to see where this could backfire,” Rhys interjected once more.

“Do you want me to tell this story or not,” Feyre laughed, covering her mate’s mouth with her hand.

“As she was walking to visit the gods one day, she passed an elderly man hobbling along the path.

“What a beautiful pair of shoes! You should not waste them on walking. Shoes as fine as those should be reserved for dancing”. He said.

Scoffing at the old man, who wore nothing but rags, the girl continued walking and didn’t even notice when he whispered, “Once those shoes dance, may they never come off.”

“Oh no,” Rhys murmured from behind his wife’s hand.

“Oh, Yes,” Feyre simply replied.

“Later that same day, curiosity peaked by the old man’s suggestion that the shoes would be perfect for dancing, the girl began to dance with grace and fluidity. Soon, however, the shoes gained their own life, controlling the girl’s feet and causing her dancing to become erratic.

The girl flung herself to the floor, feet still flailing, and tried to rip off the cursed shoes. No matter how she twisted or pulled, the shoes remained, and despite her tears and fatigue, they kept dancing.

Weeks passed, and the girl continued to leap and pirouette her way through the village until she decided to visit the local blacksmith. The girl begged the man to cut off her feet with one of the masterful swords he had crafted, and taking pity on her tear-streaked face, the man agreed and removed the shoes with her feet still dancing inside them.

The girl was relieved to finally be still, and grateful to the kind blacksmith who gave her a pair of handcrafted wooden feet. Though she was free of the endless twirling and prancing, the shoes never stopped dancing, and they followed the girl wherever she went.”

“Gods, that’s dark. I see now why it was Nesta telling that story,”

Feyre gave Rhys a gentle smack on the shoulder, rolling her eyes with a slight giggle.

“It scared the life out of Elain. She refused to wear shoes for weeks. But I liked it. It’s not so much the actual tale, but there is something so intimate about sharing stories. I don’t think I ever felt as close to my sisters as a child as I did that night when we were huddled under the covers listening to Nesta’s tale,”

“Hmm. My sister loved stories. When she was a toddler, whenever I was home, she insisted on a story every night. I must have bought her a dozen libraries full of children’s books, but she wasn’t interested. She wanted to hear tales of my adventures with Cass and Az. So, I gladly shared them all. Well, all the child-friendly ones anyway,” he laughed, tears lining his eyes at the memory of his beloved baby sister.

Blinking back his tears, Rhys decided to change the subject quickly, before the grief became unbearable.

“You know, when I was a few hundred years younger, I was invited by a female for a hike in these woods once. We got … distracted, never ended up getting much further than the first row of trees, but it seems that was a good thing given how many evil beings seem to be lurking here,”

“You know, you’ve never really spoken about your past romances with me before,” Feyre pondered.

“That would be because you’re my mate, and I don’t want you to be jealous, Darling,” he smirked, playful arrogance radiating down the bond.

“There’s no need for me to be jealous,” Feyre laughed, “They may have met you first, Rhys, but I get to keep you. To see the real you. I don’t care if you had sex in the woods with someone 300 years ago, old man. You are mine,”

A shiver went down Rhys’s spine at those words. You. Are. Mine. He knew that he always would be and always had been. He was unequivocally hers even before either of them were a spec of dust on the horizon. 

“I guess I just never had anything serious before you, so there has never felt like anything significant to report. I dated, sure, but it was so casual that I never really had a genuine connection with anyone. To be honest, I didn’t want it for a long time. I didn’t want to fall in love if it meant having a relationship like my parents had. Or if it meant putting a target on someone’s back,” 

“What changed your mind?” Feyre asked, looping her arms around Rhysand’s neck, only a sliver of water separating their naked bodies. 

“It was Miryam and Drakon who changed things. I was so unbelievably happy for them when they found one another, but also so unbearably envious of what they had. Casual flings didn’t have the same thrill after that. Then I met you, and it was like my entire life I was trying to breathe underwater, and then all of a sudden, I reached the surface and found my first taste of fresh air. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have stopped you from filling my lungs. You consumed me from the very start, my love,” 

Feyre’s heart swelled as she launched herself at Rhys and set her lips against his in a passionate kiss. Passion simmered down the bond as their hands began to roam, and Rhys lifted Feyre with ease as she instinctually wrapped her legs around his middle. The action made his cock harden as he felt Feyre’s wet heat against his stomach, and he let out a groan when she started to rock against him in an effort to create some friction.

Placing Feyre gently on the edge of the pool, Rhys’s hands wandered down her sides, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch, before he climbed out and knelt between her legs.

“Gods, Rhys, it’s cold out of the water,” Feyre laughed breathily.

“I can see that,” Rhys purred, leaning over her and gently pinching one of her pebbled nipples between his forefinger and his thumb whilst he greedily took the other into his mouth. Feyre rolled her head back in pleasure as he massaged her breasts with both his tongue and his hands.

“More,” she breathed.

Rhys lifted his head, lips shining as he smirked and replied, “Your wish is my command,”

Feyre raked her fingers through Rhysand’s hair, tugging lightly as he trailed his way down her body with his tongue. Feyre let out a gasp as he reached her core. She swore she would never get used to this. To Rhys’s hands caressing her with his touch, to his mouth and the filthy things it could say and do, to this male who drove her wild and had filled the emptiness in her heart with a life full of pure joy.

He pressed kisses against her inner thighs, teasing, before licking and sucking her to the brink. Feyre came for the first of many times that night, crying Rhysand’s name, her pleasure reverberating around the starlit sky.

[zukkaart]

Okay LISTEN

I don’t jump on the divorced Zukka bandwagon- not because it’s stupid or invalid but because it makes sense and I hate it because I want them to be domestic and happy until they’re grey and old okay???????

That being said

“Bleach” from 5sos5 gave me a thought-

So we know that cutting your hair is generally seen as a formal act of losing a part of yourself or your nation. Seen very clearly here- Iroh and Zuko cut their hair off when they realize they no longer have a home to return to.

A little more indirectly when zuko shaves everything except his top knot after being banished as a sign of his exile and dishonor but still tied to the fire nation.

And even a little MORE indirectly when we see Azula cut her own hair- not out of solemn realization or dishonor but because she is LITERALLY losing pieces of herself to her madness

All this to say

(Sorry I went on a bit of a tangent there)

And IF Sokka and Zuko DID break up or get a divorce it would be seen as improper for the fire lord to cut his hair over something so “trivial”

After all Ozai didn’t alter his when Ursa left

SO I think Zuko would probably try everything possible to alter his hair without actually cutting it. I.e. braiding, hiding under hoods, etc.

I think he would even go as far as to bleach his hair- especially if they really did get divorced because even though there was no love lost- their lifestyles of being leaders of separate nations just couldn’t cope. He’d start a little at first- just a few strands on the underneath where no one could see done by himself late at night.

Little by little he realizes “cleansing” little pieces of him makes him feel the slightest bit better because the man in the mirror is starting to look less and less like the man who Sokka loved, who loved Sokka…

Obviously he couldn’t bleach all of his hair but imagine Sokka comes to the Fire Nation as his Ambassador and Chief status requires to find Zuko with one stark strip of white cutting through the right side of his hair, he looks closer and finds the smaller- subtler ones in the under layers, some obviously more well done than the others, some faded with time.

Imagine Zuko finally turning to lock eyes with him- but before he can get a word out to explain Sokka reaches up and brushes the light strip that leads into his topknot.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangerously closer than most Ambassadors should be to their hosts.

“An experiment” Zuko says quickly, unsure why he chose those words in particular, but Sokka is a scientist right? He’ll understand.

“Oh,” The playful smile drops from the darker boys features, although Zuko is unsure why.

“Does it bother you?” The words came out more defensively than Zuko meant. Why should he care now anyway?

“Not at all it’s just…” nothing. Everything.

All the words Sokka left unsaid somehow came down to this one white strip of hair, as white as Yues. The truth was that he had hoped Zuko would tell him that he had no idea where it came from, letting Sokka come to the logical conclusion that it was in fact Yue who had blessed him, and he could take it as a sign that he and Zuko were meant to be together. That they could make it work this time if they really tried. Spirits knew that stuff right?

It doesn’t matter now. The hair was fake. For whatever reason Zuko had done it on purpose. It unsettled Sokka in a way he didn’t expect.

“Sorry” He snapped out of his own thoughts. “It just looks so different from the pictures I have, it looks good though.” Sokka offered a timid smile.

Zuko stiffened imperceptibly at that but still responded in kind. “Thank you, I should go. I have others to greet before dinner.” His voice did not waiver but his mind raced. He still has pictures of me? Of us? And he looks at them? Zuko hadn’t been able to do that for months.

“Of course” And when Sokka turned to leave Zuko noticed something. A thin strip of leather braided in to the underside of Sokkas wolf tail, dyed such a deep shade of red that it almost blended in to his hair, but Zuko noticed, because Zuko always noticed.

It was the same strip of leather that Zuko had used to tie his topknot with on his first visit to the South Pole. Deeper in color than his usual choice because he didn’t want to stick out too much, but Sokka had protested anyway, gently pulling it out of his hair and replacing it with one of brilliant blue, a color as deep as the ocean but somehow still as alluring as a familiar set of eyes. At the time, he would have gladly drowned in both.

That was 15 years ago now, when Zuko hadn’t even been brave enough to hold his hand.

Sokka had kept it. All this time. And now he was even wearing it - subtle as it may be. And Sokka was just the same, just the same, same blue eyes, same genuine smile, same gentle brush of fingers against his hair, the exact same Sokka. His Sokka.

Zukos hair was back to its natural color by morning.

[constellieos]

⋆ ╱ lucky girl syndrome .

location: the herald, recruitment office. 12:15. tw: mention of death ( in a joking manner )

14. blue and black. one red. one pencil. two rainbow gel pens.

14 writing utensils was the amount mimi had been able to count in the recruitment employee’s office as she waited for what seemed like an eternity. the time on the clock which had been a minute fast was 12:15. realistically, it was 12:16. they were a minute late. mimi had arrived at the office at 08:18 — just to be sure she wouldn’t be late. and then, she waited in the lobby, gulping down ounces of coffee to try to appease her nerves.

she had completely forgotten that coffee seems to have the opposite effect on her.

‘when is this guy coming? i’m going to start cloning if he doesn’t—’

“hello! my bad, you won’t believe how many times i had to fight our fax machine!” mimi turned her head towards the sudden sound, forcing a small, amused smile as she quickly got up to bow and shake his hand. “oh, i have ink all over my hands.” he mentioned as he rejected her hand, waving his own in a bit of an erratic fashion. “but, anyway! sit, sit, sit! let’s get down to business. i don’t want to waste any of your time, miss … go minji?”

mimi winced at the usage of her full name, but tried to play it off with a reassuring chuckle.

“mimi is fine. minji sounds so formal .. haha.”

she stared at the recruiter as he nodded, somewhat scattered in his approach. he quickly sorted through his assortment of different papers — most likely mimi’s extensive ( and rather impressive ) record of achievements and experience.

“wow… harvard graduate? the international school? very impressive.” he said with a smile, allowing mimi to not only feel a little proud of herself, but also relax.

‘it seems to be going well.’

“so! tell me, why do you want to work here? tell me about yourself.”

mimi hated these types of questions. nothing was more intimidating than talking about herself. she didn’t even know a lot about herself! and her reason for wanting to work there?

… everyone else had denied her for ‘too little experience’.

“ha … why i want to work here … such a great question!” mimi started, offering a smile to the recruiter who mimicked her smile, nodding at her with encouragement. “such … haha, that’s a really good question. you know, uhm- mr. kim, right? the herald just upholds my values as a reporter.”

mimi had forgotten every fact she had learned about the herald the night before. however, a smile never failed to convey a message, right?

the recruiter looked at her, a cautious smile still on his face as he urged her for more.

“and … what are your values? the ones that the herald upholds?”

‘another damn good question! this guy is on fire!’

she hoped he hadn’t heard that sarcastic thought.

“right! yes, well .. they value the truth! all the reporters do. and they report on a lot of good things, a lot of things that are happening outside of the aetern—”

“the aeternals!” he interrupted her, a happy and somewhat annoyingly fanboy-ish smile on his face. “yes, i see here you’ve written a lot about them! this is exactly what we’re looking for!”

‘oh, god. please, i know i’ve lived a mediocre life, but please don’t torture me like this. it isn’t funny.’

“huh- what isn’t funny?” he asked, horror becoming mimi as she realised he had heard her thought — or at least a part of it.

“nothing! ha— anyway … the aeternals aren’t really my main focus as a reporter. honestly, heh— i’m not really the biggest fan of them, you know? we could be reporting on things that actually matter! not that aeternal x and aeternal y went on a date. god, i mean, they’re obsessed with themselves!” she laughed, though her laugh quickly dying down into an awkward chuckle as she began to realise she had went on a tangent and that mr. kim was now looking at her rather unimpressed. "but, um— as a reporter, i don’t mind any assignment i get. i’m … good at … adapting.” she mumbled, attempting to remedy the situation as he continued to look at her with his stare that was boring a hole into her skin.

“yes … well, this has been a great time to meet you, miss minji. we have a few more things to look at before we can offer you a position. we’ll contact you.” he said, standing up with an obvious forced smile that made mimi realise she would probably be evicted from her apartment soon.

“oh … is that it? you don’t need anything else?” she asked, eyes quickly scanning over his papers which held numerous interview questions.

‘it can’t be over! fuck— shit, i really need this job!’

“we’ll contact you. have a great day!” he repeated, nudging his head towards the door for her to exit at. this couldn’t be the end. panic slowly began to rise up mimi’s throat, and the anxiety began to eat at her.

and although she racked her brain for something to say — literally anything, nothing came to mind. she could’ve said she was just kidding about the aeternals. or she could’ve begged and kissed his shoes, telling him that she needed this job. but nothing — absolutely nothing.

‘great. well, might as well start selling my things now!’

“thank you, mr. kim. nice meeting you, ha..” mimi trailed off, hoping for a little more, but immediately feeling rejected as soon as he sat back down in his chair. it was then that she noticed all of his aeternal figurines. “i look forward to hearing from you!” she added lastly before leaving the room, feeling completely dejected. what had she done wrong?

was there truly no one else that found the aeternals the most boring people on the planet?

on her way home, mimi had decided to treat herself to a ‘you’re jobless and probably being evicted soon’ special: a large order of chinese food, a mango smoothie, and 6-packs of sour skittles. this was deserved.

and when she had gotten home, she was not surprised to see 3 of her clones waiting for her — her main 3. mi, the one she actually liked and usually helped her out. ni, the one who she got the mango smoothie for, and jiji, the one she absolutely could not stand.

“mimi.. welcome home! oh— no.. you look so sad..” mi spoke, hurrying over to give her a hug. it felt weird — her hug was somewhat static, but it comforted mimi nonetheless. “don’t beat yourself up about it, there’s plenty of jobs where that came from!”

mimi briefly wondered how weird it must look to see a girl talking to 3 of herself. but disregarding that fact, she sat on her couch rather quietly, rolling her eyes at mi’s encouragement.

“yeah, thanks — except, i’ve applied to every single reporter job in this place, and i’ve been rejected by all of them!” she quickly sat up, feeling a rant coming on as she began to assemble her chinese food. “i mean, honestly! i’m more qualified than 90% of their reporters! i graduated from harvard, i interned at BBC, i have a master’s degree and i’m only 23 — what is it?! am i ugly?!” she yelled, narrowing her eyes at jiji who just began to giggle at how silly she obviously sounded.

“come on.. calling yourself ugly is technically calling us ugly.” ni mumbled, sipping her smoothie.

“god … guys, i really need this job. i used up all of my savings moving, and i can’t go back! my parents can’t know i’m fucking up either— god, i’d rather die—”

and as mimi began to contemplate how easy it would all be to just ask her parents for some help, her phone pinged! with a notification: an email from mr. kim. almost in the speed of light, her phone was in her hand and her eyes were quickly reading over what she knew would be a rejection email.

Re: Job Application Kim XXXX, 19:26 Good Evening, Miss. Go,

After reviewing your application, experience, and interview notes, we are pleased to offer you a reporter position at the herald. The position will start effective Monday, April 22nd, 2024. We are excited to have you on our team. If you have any questions, please contact me via this email.

Have a great night, and see you in the office! Kim XXXX, recruitment officer

“holy shit!” she screamed, suddenly jumping up onto the couch, disregarding her chinese food. “holy shit— holy shit, holy shit! i got the job!”

[luvrodite]

Hey Ro my beloved!! Here to indulge on the self-shipping. I was curious, do you have an actor or model that you see in your head as faceclaim for Jason? Or does your mind come up with a very specific iteration of him when you think about him? I ask because, when I like a written/drawn character, my mind is always on the lookout for an actor or a model that fits the description, just to have more of a solid idea of what they may look like in the flesh.

(Granted I used to be such a huge fan of all things Batman related but have fallen super behind and I don’t know if he has been adapted into a live action series or anything yet, so!)

Love you!! X

hi babydoll!!!! hehehehe thank u i love love love selfshipping and i love jason and i love YOU !!! i’m sorry in advance for rambling, i went on a small tangent because despite literally running a blog about him i don’t talk about him nearly enough as i’d like to hahaha

jason has technically been adapted in the live action series but curran walters (the actor) is definitely not the jason i envision in my mind in my selfship au. i’m super super picky about face claims when it comes to him so i don’t actually have one that i go to every single time BUT in my mind he looks exactly like this one random guy i saw in 2017 whose face i cant even properly remember anymore 😭

usually in my mind apart from that i kind of imagine him as tanned and a bit beefy - but just a liiittle bit less than some of the official art. like a minuscule amount less just because i’m not a fan of the way they draw him a lot of the time. i think one of my favourite versions of him is in this panel because he looks so beautiful. tw for the joker tho i hate that clown.

a lot of the time they draw him so stocky and very…idk how to describe it but he looks much older than his age and it’s not very flattering. my mind’s jason is a mix of pretty/handsome and strong features i think. like he has pretty eyes and high cheekbones and a nice jaw but he’s also like. soft and strong. i like the idea of his muscles being covered in a layer of softness so it’s not like movie star six pack and gun show, he’s got big arms but they’re also soft. does this make sense? also he 100000% has the white streak and i imagine him with scars bc he earned them!! he looks a little scary but he’s a softie!!!!

i think he gets a little softer as our relationship progresses. this is a more personal thing but the idea of gaining weight in a relationship because you’re being well fed and loved is so important to me, for the both of us, because it’s like. you’re safe enough to relax, you’re happy enough to live and be healthy. it makes me emotional thinking about it. also with this - i think he looks more his age in my selfship au and it’s in that same vein of finally getting to rest. drawing from my own personal experiences, i looked a lot older than i was for most of my teenage years because of stress etc and it’s only in recent years that that’s stopped, so i imagine it’s the same with him. we get to be young together and we get to rest. this is so grossly sappy but there’s such a big healing element to that relationship and it’s so important to me.

anyway thank you a billion times for sending this ask in 🥺 i hope your weekend was so lovely and im sending you soooo much love

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi hi! If it’s not too late, could I get

♡ ■ ✿ ♥

For Oromë?

Thanky if you do, no pressure if you don’t~

Here you go! I hope you don't mind, but I went off on a bit of a tangent where the bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon was concerned.

From this headcanon game.

Minors DNI / 18+

■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon:

Overall layout- Oromë's halls is essentially a massive longhouse, with a giant tree growing in the center. Its lower hanging branches spread out against the roof. The entire structure is made of dark wood, and the floors are polished stone. One corner is walled off and partitioned into smaller apartments for Oromë, his attendants, and guests. The other corner is walled off and functions as the kitchen. The space in the center is used for meetings, feasts, and dances. There are no stained glass windows here; only shutters that are opened to let in light and fresh air.

The skulls and bones of fell beasts loyal to Morgoth decorate the walls and most furniture. Weapons of various kinds are displayed on the walls.

A raised dais can be seen at one end and is used by Oromë and whomever he invites to eat with him.

Oromë's bedroom

He has a raised bed that is made of several thick furs and cushions. He has no fireplace and prefers a brazier for warmth and beeswax candles for light. The pelt of a fell beast he slew is spread over the floor. Cushions and chests of drawers are scattered all over. His weapons are always hung on special racks and hooks and kept within easy reach.

♥ - family headcanon:

As a sibling- Loyal to a fault. He may squabble with other siblings behind closed doors, but anywhere else he will guard their backs.

As a parent- Loving, but in a firm way. Will encourage his children to take risks and get involved in the outdoors. He does have a hidden soft side, and will have no problem playing tea party and princes/princesses if that is what his child likes.

♡ - romantic headcanon:

His idea of romancing a partner is taking them hiking and riding and camping, swimming in lakes, and hunting (if they are into it). Any meals or snacks made for such outings, he will make with his own hands. If his partner is not outdoorsy then he will plan something less strenuous, like stargazing and walks around the lands surrounding his halls.

✿ - Sex headcanon:

Oromë is very much into the chase. He doesn't just do sex in bed, oh no. He wants to hunt his partner through the woods, pretending to let them think they have gotten away before cornering them against a tree or caging them to the earth before having his way with them.

Tags: @cilil @edensrose @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese

[tastelessblogginz]

FUCK YEAH DANGAN OC TIME!!!!!

I think she’s definitely one of my oldest danganronpa ocs who I still remember, and one of the main reasons she’s stuck w me so much is because her old design looked way too much like mahirus, so today I went ahead and attempted redesigning her, and I’m really proud of the result!!

Quick warning: by pressing READ MORE you are therefore going to be exposed to the ramblings of someone who has nothing better to do with their free time rather than explain every tiny detail & reason for their design change, you have been warned.

First off, I’d like to start this off with a really shitty drawing of her old design

After quite a bit of digging, I found a few signatures from some of my friends at the time and they’re all around October of 2019, so this was drawn approximately 3-4 years ago.

Design Choices

When comparing the old vs the new design, one of the main features I wanted to change was her role in the story, as you can spot in her old design, she originally had an ahoge, meaning that I most likely wanted her to be the protagonist of the story I was planning. However, due to an idea I’ve had for her character which otherwise she wouldn’t really be able to accomplish with that role, I’ve transferred the ahoge to one of my other ocs, who may or may not make an appearance in the near future!!

Another thing which really bugged me about her old design was the hairstyle, don’t get me wrong, ponytails are cute!! But to me it just felt a bit too plain when combined with her personality, and so I wanted to change it to the bubble braids she currently has, mainly because she’s characterised to be really social & bubbly, and so I wanted to try and incorporate that into her new design.

Finally, the biggest noticeable change about her, her clothing. The main reason I so desperately wanted to change it was simply because it felt way too mahiru & even when I first designed her, the outfits felt way too similar in my mind but I tried to brush it off, well not this time!! For her new outfit, I still wanted to keep the whole school uniform vibe, but this time I wanted to take some inspiration from kogal fashion, but if anything this is just more of my love for gyaru fashion than anything 😭😭

Backstory

I’m gonna be completely honest here, her backstory actually kinda came to me whilst I was writing the design choices bit, so bare with me if it’s a bit lacklustre. Originally, Kei had applied for hopes peaks entrance exams as one of the reserve course students, however, during the entrance exams, something about Kei stood out to the staff of hopes peak academy. In all of her test scores, she had managed to score way below average in everything apart from mathematics, in which she managed to get full marks for. And to only further this achievement, Kei had actually fallen asleep part way through the maths exam, with half an hour to spare. Therefore, the talent scouts of hope’s peak academy took a keen interest in her and brought her in for further examinations, mainly to check that she hadn’t cheated on anything. This time, they gave her a university level maths paper, in which many people within the maths field struggle to get a decent pass on, and yet once again, she had managed to score full marks & with some time to spare. Once hope’s peak realised they had an ultimate in their hands, they immediately contacted Kei’s parents to tell them the good news, and with that, she had been transferred into hope’s peak’s main course.

Personality

Like I mentioned in the design bit, Kei is a very sociable teenage girl who is willing to strike up a conversation with anyone, however, a lot of the people around her may find her to be obnoxious, as she often accidentally boasts about her ultimate, finding it idiotic how some people find math’s difficult, and can go on many random tangents about her own life, often trying to relate other people’s experiences to her own, yet this is more of her way of trying to show support for someone.

Despite her overconfidence when it comes to maths problems, she struggles intensely when it comes to other subjects, often times resulting on cheating as her only option, and even then scoring terribly low. Despite her low grades in Japanese, she does actually have a keen interest in books; romance novels especially, as she loves listening to them as she works, one of her all-time favourites being ‘So lingers the ocean’

After reading that book, she has become increasingly “boy-crazy” and often times develop crushes incredibly quickly & even tends to fawn over some of her male classmates, however, she doesn’t actually get crushes on people, and she doesn’t actually understand that you can’t choose who you like, and so she will become incredibly confused when one of her friends complain about developing a crush on someone, as she doesn’t really get why they don’t just “pick someone else”

I might add some more to this later on but I’m Gonna be honest I’m really tired rn, so I’m gonna go to sleep 😭😭

[baura-bear]

Ahhhh you deserve all the praise!!! Gives cake

Okay so I'm very bad at endings and am perpetually always starting new projects do you have suggestions for how to end fics send help :p

Thank you!!

Advice down here:

Honestly, I struggle with endings too and I go back/edit/change my work a lot. One thing I’ve found useful is just having a friend read it and having them give feedback (if you’re comfortable with that of course). I took a creative writing class and feedback is absolutely terrifying but it’s SUUUPPER helpful. Then you can literally ask “hey do you have any good suggestions of how to end this?” As well as other questions about grammar, general flow of the story, and other small editing fixes. The best thing I learned from my creative writing teacher is that after you finish a story, reread it and change at least one thing. You might think it’s the best thing ever but even just adding an adjective or an extra sentence to describe the setting can make it better, sometimes even taking something out can improve it. (Ok I went off an a tangent sorry, back to the question)

I struggle with the ending when I feel like a part of the story is missing (see above advice). What I do is I sit down with what my initial plan for the story was, do I have all the plot points and will it make sense if I wrap it up where it is? If the answer to those are “no” then either go back and add more somewhere else, or keep writing! If you have everything you want, then it’s time to end. Sometimes an easy way to end (which honestly I’m trying to branch out from) can be a quote from one of the characters something as simple as:

“They settled into a comfortable silence which was only broken by two words before they drifted off to sleep 'good night.'"

This next ending is from a story I wrote ages ago:

"'Oh, Don’t cry.' He gently wiped the tears from Darcy’s cheeks. 'Look, I’m right here. You’re not losing me anytime soon, I promise.'"

I think using a quote is the easiest because it doesn't have to be anything crazy, it just needs to feel final and wrap it up for the reader.

If ending with a quote doesn't float your boat (that rhymed!) ending with a characters thought or small action is something you could do. here's some examples of how I did that:

"The shame tingling in the back of David’s mind started to melt away, and he found the confidence to lean forward and press a tender kiss to Jack’s lips."

Again, it's really simple, stuff could have happened after that kiss but I had decided that going farther wouldn't do anything for the plot and that the story was nicely wrapping itself up right there!

"The only thing on his mind was his friends. How far Jack would go to help him, even if I just meant spending a night on the fire escape, or drawing him a portrait perhaps."

That one is a bit cheesy but I wanted an example of how you could end it with a thought.

I hope this helped and I hope the examples helped. Endings are hard for me as well, and sometimes it takes a long time just to formulate one sentence or one paragraph that feels worthy enough to close off a story. I usually try a few endings, read them each with what I have and see what feels natural. Good luck with your writing!!!

[crispy-jpeg]

Something You Know About Me

TW: none, really

Notes: a silly little short story for a project i'm working on.

Sypnosis: You hop into a call, just for a few seconds, so you can get to know each other.

——————

“What’s your favourite color?” “Oh, we’re doing 21 questions now?”

Ezra laughed a bit, amused by the idea. “If I say yes, will you answer?” “I mean, ask away, I have no problem with it. As long as you let me ask questions about you too.

“An answer for an answer?”

“Mhmm. You know, its hard to not be curious about you.”

“Really?” You gave a stupid smile. It hit him in a way that he didn’t expect.

“Yeah, isn’t it natural to be curious about a hot guy?”

Ezra felt his face heat up. This isn’t good. If he didn’t catch himself, he might start getting attached to you. Well, that didn’t sound quite as bad as he made it seem, but he still knew that he couldn’t afford to trust it. Still, coming from you, it almost felt like you were serious…

“Oh- Ah. Uh…” His hand reached up to cover his face. He tried to avert his eyes, hoping you wouldn’t notice. His brow creased subconsciously.

You laughed, then. It had hit him like a punch to the gut.

“W-Well… Well, all I know is that I want to get to know you. I’m just as curious about you as you are of me, I assume.”

“Alright then.” He watched as you stretched, presumably preparing yourself for whatever he wanted to ask you.

“Let’s start with something simple. I did ask you for your favourite color earlier, didn’t I?”

You nodded. “Right. Well… Hmm… I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it before. I’d say blue, but that’s kind of boring, don’t you think?��� “I don’t think so. Blue’s a good color.” “And an easy color. Anyone could pick blue. How about… red? Like your hair?”

He stopped and stared, fidgeting with his hair.

“My… hair?” “Yeah! Red’s a pretty color on you. Or… yellow? Like your eyes?”

“Are you just… picking colors that you see in front of you?”

A wider smile grew on your face, and you averted your eyes with a mischievous grin. You leaned your head on your hand as he furrowed his brow. “...Oops. You noticed? Haha… I wasn’t lying when I said I never thought about it before. Can’t you ask me a different question?”

Ezra sighed with a slight hint of drama to his tone, giving in and moving on.

“Alright, alright. How about… hm… What to ask…”

“How about I ask you a question?” 

Ezra blinked in surprise before straightening up.

“...Alright. Go ahead.”

“Awesome.”

Ezra watched in confusion as you reached into your drawer, pulling out a familiar looking poster. It was from a rather short-lived tv show, one that Ezra knew well.

“...Oh my god.”

“Tadaa!! I used to watch this show… like, religiously. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“That poster- I- How- It only had two seasons!”

Ezra laughed in disbelief at the poster as you presented it proudly to the camera.

“I found this online! Probably a fanmade one too, cause I don’t think you appeared until halfway through the second season. But look! There you are. See?”

You pointed at a figure at the bottom, his red hair distinct amongst the darker colors he was backed up against. “Yeah. That’s- I mean- Wow.” You laughed, and Ezra could feel himself flush a little.

“Anyways. I guess my question is… What was it like filming the show? Is that a weird question to ask?”

“No, no, you’re good. I don’t really mind questions like that. I’m sort of used to those types of questions from interviews and stuff.”

“Oh really~? Guess that’s to be expected from Mister Big-Shot over here.”

You flashed a toothy grin, causing him to snicker a bit.

“Pfft. Now… hmm…”

He started with the positives, like how his fellow actors were pretty nice and forgiving to a rookie like him. He also listed a bit of the negatives, like how hot it would get sometimes on set or when the director was having a particularly rough day. Along the way, you chimed in with your own opinions on certain topics. Ezra found it charming when you went off on tangents during your conversation, and although you weren’t really paying attention when you spoke, he gave you a look of affection that really could only mean one thing. The truth was, he enjoyed hearing you talk. It showed a side to you that Ezra wouldn’t have known about otherwise, and that small fact pleased him. 

“And personally, I think it’s kind of stupid. I mean, I’m sure they’ve got talented writers, but…” “...But you think they could’ve written Cynthia better?” “No, it’s not that, it’s just… they could have made her death make more sense!”

You gestured violently with your hands, causing Ezra to laugh at your passionate reaction. He shrugged, leaning his head on his hand.

“Actually, I don’t think it was up to the writers in the first place. The actress who played Cynthia didn’t want to be a part of the show anymore, and she was leaving rather abruptly, so the writers had to figure out how to…”

He trailed off, vying for the right words to explain it. “Explain the sudden exit?” “...Well, as best as they could, anyways. That’s also why my audition was so last minute.” “Wow…” You nodded along, fascinated by the extra information you received. “Guess you really lucked out there, huh? I think you were a really good actor, for the short amount of time you were on the show.”

“I like to think its one of the better experiences from when I was first starting out.”

“I think so, too.”

Ezra glanced at the corner of his screen, blinking in surprise at what he saw. “Oh. It’s already getting pretty late.” “Huh? Really?” You glanced at the corner of your screen. “Oh, wow, you’re right. I didn’t even notice. Oh my god, I can’t believe you were supposed to ask me questions and I spent the whole conversation talking about Lottery… I am so sorry.” Ezra smiled, chuckling to himself.

“Don’t worry about it. In a weird way, I actually got to know more about you just by listening to you talk. For example, I now know you get very intense when you talk about the things you like.”

You snorted, clearly finding his idea of ‘knowing more about you’ to be amusing. You rolled your eyes, yawning a bit.

“I still feel bad,” You mutter, drowsily. “We can still get back to that first question you asked, at least before I go to bed.” Ezra perked up. “Really? Well then, I’m curious. What’s your favourite color?” You pretended to think about it for a bit, then smiled. “Red. Definitely. And it’s not because I’m naming things I see. Red’s the kind of color I find myself drawn towards the most.” Ezra tilted his head. He knew you said red as a joke before, but saying it now as your serious answer did cause some questions to be raised. “You find yourself… drawn to the color red?” “Yeah! That show has an overall red-ish color scheme, not to mention red flowers are always my first pick… And…” You glanced at him, your smile reaching your eyes. “Your bright red hair definitely drew me towards you.” “Ah-!”

You laughed, your grin never fading. He furrowed his brows and averted his eyes in embarrassment, pressing his lips into a firm line. 

“God, it’s way too late for this… Look, I’ll, um, talk to you tomorrow?” He glanced at his screen anticipating your answer. You saluted in some sort of strange goodbye greeting. “Of course. Good night!”

When the call ended, he felt his face heat up even more. At the end of the day, he was grateful to get to know you better, even if it meant enduring the random out of place compliments and occasional bold comments.

You were a strange one, weren’t you? 

[the-secret-hogwarts-fanfic]

A Rail on The Hogwarts Express (I’m Choo-ing! I’m Choo-ing!)

Content warning 18+ and open mind required for the following:

BDSM (Bondage, Discipline, SadoMasochism), Sarcasm, Mommydomme Power dynamic, Love-bombing, Dirty talk, Rough, Praise Kink, Soppy romantic stuff, more squirting than intended, Cringe, Seriously at some points you will cringe, Kill the part of you that cringes but not the cringe itself, May not be able to see your friend the same way again.

This ends well, I promise. But to start the new academic year off I smacked my head in the doors of the train cabin as I embarked the Hogwarts Express. Over the years Hogwarts have invited a select few people born between 1995-1999, or older, to enrol in “catch up program” because of the letters that got destroyed in that drama I’m sure you’ve heard about. We’re completely separate from the other years, despite the change to a university status which now only takes in people above 17. Major safety concerns yada yada yada. So as a lass in her late 20s whose letter got obliterated, of course I wanted to go, a chance to bugger off to the Scottish highlands and start a new life? Hell yeah! And as an apology they’d pay for my transportation, accommodation, and a starter kit? Bro there’s a cost of living crisis, I don’t care if socks are from Primark, it’s free.

Apologies for the slight tangent. Back to almost breaking my nose. I panicked and rushed on, fearing I wouldn’t get a seat. If you’ve ever tried to get a seat on a British train you’ll know this feeling well. My seat was near the front of the train, in an almost sardine tin of a cabin, in which blue seats faced each other on either side, and no table. Which was a bit of a let down because getting a seat with a table on a train is elite, though, I’ve been told this train is centuries old, and they’ve certainly kept up with its antique charm. It was giving orient express. It also absolutely reeked of pumpkin spice. Not complaining, I bloody love pumpkin spice, find me a white girl who doesn’t. But as my beak not-so-gracefully ‘booped’ the cabin window, a delightful chuckle instinctively mocked me from inside. If it wasn’t such a cute laugh I would have been offended. Upon taking a moment to check for any serious damage, I took another line in the air of pumpkin spice, and peered inside. If she wasn’t so cute I would have been more offended. Standing up to open the door was quite honestly, the hottest girl I’ve seen since I put my phone down. Cliché writers would pen her as statuesque, with eyes like an ocean, and cherry lips, framed by long cascading flocks of gold. Which to non cliché people like us translates as… Despite having low heeled black Mary-Janes, and me being a decent height as it is, her head loomed half a foot over me in a mildly intimidating but nurturing way. Her eyes looked, concerned, into mine, babying me with her baby blues. With one hand she tucked her buttery blonde hair behind her ear, nudging part of her fringe back, and struck me with the smiling crimson Cupid's bow to ask “Hey, you alright there buddy?” I must have looked like a beetroot, my face went as hot as my eyebrows raised in surprise to learn they’ve got Americans as students. She noticed I forgot I had a tongue and gently placed her hand against my cheek to hold me up so she could investigate my nose. Which at this point I had completely and utterly actually forgotten about. “No blood, that was quite the bang there. I’m sorry for laughing, couldn’t help it but I had to make sure you’re okay. At least you won’t be having to put up with all the smells here for a while” she laughed. Glad I’m not the only one to notice it smells like a Starbucks in autumn. “Shall I take your bag?” She asked. But I still couldn’t speak so I shook my head politely and stumbled out a tiny no thank you.

“I feel quite bad for laughing, I hope you’re not offended” she said, plonking her backside onto the middle of her seat, facing the forwards direction. She had a cosy, expensive looking cashmere v-neck black jumper that lightly hugged her figure, opaque tights in the same shade, and a tartan skater shirt that was mostly emerald and Forest green. Kinda like her Slytherin sticker. Very on brand. But then again, Americans like representing the colours of the team they’re loyal to.

“Nah I’m good” I finally found breath to reply with. The carry-on bag plonked on the floor beside the door as she shut it behind us. We all got a vintage suitcase each, it’s very pretty but if you lose it and you share the same initials as someone else you’re a bit fucked for finding it again.

“I may have something in my case for your nose if you’d like it?" She asked again, reaching over towards her long camel tan coat that's blanketing her case decorated with a green snake sticker. Apparently that’s Slytherin? Maybe? I told her I had paracetamol in mine, to which she stopped to smirk at me and cheekily sneered “No, silly, something a bit stronger…”

“Wait, are we allowed to drink on this train?”

She positioned herself back upright, this time with a look of slight confusion, “Haven’t checked the rules in that one honey, but I meant something magical. How new are you exactly?”

“Very. Fresh outta the womb of what you guys would call muggle life.”

She burst out in laughter again, sickly sweetness from her lungs like treacle, “I like that. I’m glad to be taking this journey with someone who has a quirky sense of humour.”

“The last time I was called quirky I got diagnosed autistic” I quipped, sending her giggle into a sugar rush. “I am actually autistic by the way, don’t worry.”

“You’re pretty funny for a Ravenclaw” she sighed, straightening her back and crossing one leg over the other, glancing across to me with warmth.

“How did you know I was a Ravenclaw?”

“Witty, and your hair reminds me of a raven, and maybe because of the little Ravenclaw pin on your coat” she pointed semi-discreetly at the little pin, no bigger than a 50p on the front of my long charcoal black coat.

“You’re pretty observant for a Slytherin”

“How did you know I was a Slytherin?”

“The sticker on your suitcase. Otherwise I would have thought you were a Hufflepuff.”

“A Hufflepuff!? Why a Hufflepuff!?”

“I’m absolutely terrible at guessing people’s houses, but you were super caring about my nose and made me feel very safe in this cabin. I was actually quite anxious about riding all this way with a stranger.”

“Aww sweetie, thank you, I’m glad I’ve eased your anxiety - strange though how you think Slytherins can’t be caring though.” She mockingly raised an eyebrow, which I liked.

I blushed with warm cheeks the colour of wild strawberries, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m always putting my foot in my mouth.”

She winked, “Hey, it’s okay, I get we have a certain reputation. I won’t be biting you”

“That’s a shame,” I blurted.

“What?”

“Sorry, just messing” the sudden nerves shaking me up, once again thy foot is in thys mouth.

“That was a little spicy, it’s not even mid day”

Fucks sake. I’ve made her uncomfortable. God I’m so stupid, can’t even manage a normal conversation without accidentally making it weird with my edgy sense of humour. She’s smirking but, fuck, social cues are not my forte.

The tension was broken by the sound of the engine whistle, startling me. The train slowly pulls its way out of Kings Cross Station. As it gets going I slip out of my coat and drape it over my case like the travel companion in front of me. “I’m terribly sorry” I say, “what’s your name?”

She perked up more and replied “Willow”

“That’s a gorgeous name. I’m Poppy.”

“Oh my god - Poppy - that’s so British and totally adorable!”

Couldn't help but wonder now what else about me radiates stereotypically British now. Couldn't think at all with those eyes like bluebells softly squinting their outer corners to smile. She’s so cute and it sends my stomach plummeting to the carpet of this antique cabin fit for two. She could assume anything she likes, call it pretty privilege, but as long as she kept smiling at me, she could call me whatever her heart desires. But I had to break this tension, there’s a craving in my soul to be wrapped up in the sound of her velvet voice. So I ask, with a twitch in my tongue and sweat growing on my palms, “Did you have a nice summer?”

Slumping her shoulders she replied “it was… meh… I spent the time alone whilst everyone - literally everyone - around me went on dates and had a hand to hold strolling the beach”

“I’m so sorry your summer wasn’t ideal, but forgive me for saying that you’re ridiculously gorgeous and I cannot understand why someone wouldn’t want to have a beach day with you”

“Aw” she blushed, “that’s really kind of you to say, thanks, but there was no other sapphics in sight”

“The only gay in the village, yeah, I know how that feels. My summer was the same. So much yearning, so little… well, anything.” I replied, waving a hand in the air to gesture being without, similar to how you gesture when you say you’ve got no change left in your pocket. The big part of the start of the conversation went straight over my head, very on brand for a useless lesbian. She said she liked girls! I am a girl! I like girls! We are both girls who like girls and she’s so pretty I am going to implode! My chest fluttered as if wings were energised to break free.

“You do?” She continued with a raised brow and a mild condescending tone, “you like girls too? And you also spent the summer alone? You’re telling me the cutest little Raven headed Ravenclaw didn’t have all the ladies at her feet? Could you not see them from having your nose in a book?” It’s like she thought I’m pulling her leg.

My voice softly shakes “What ladies? I’m the only gay in the village, remember? What kind of girls do you like?”

“Are you asking because you’re interested in Slytherins or Blondes?” she smirks,

“Both” I reply with my tongue as a whip

“Both are good, as they say. How would you describe yourself?”

“I’m like a professor trapped in the body of a young woman who is dependent on caffeine to survive” I chuckle, masking my nervous demeanour with humour as per usual.

“I’m in luck, I’ve been manifesting a nerdy girl for a while. I want someone who can hold an intellectual conversation for long amounts of time. Smart girls are never boring and it would be a dream to have one to care for. You?” she asked, leaning in closer. Her neck is the home to a scent sweet summer bouquet, gifting me flowers I hope would last forever.

“Well I’ve been manifesting a confident woman who knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to go for it, a woman who loves to smile and finds humour in things, even if it’s dark humour. But still cares.” The flushing of my face feels like I’ve stepped out into the Mediterranean sunshine, I must look like a juicy beetroot.

“It appears our stars have aligned” she twinkled, glistening and practically sparkling

“Indeed they have” I stutter,

She shuffled closer, basking in the heat radiating from my cheeks, “And I am not afraid to go for what I want, and more than anything, I want you and I refuse to wait.” Her voice dipping deeper, sinking her words into me like a brick tied to my lower stomach, and dropping me into the ocean depths of those darkening eyes. Those eyes glance down at my shaking hands, and the gentle touch of her fingers slides gracefully to sit her palm upon my knuckles. Without letting go, she places herself to my right side, giving me a face full of those flowers. I feel sick. But in a good way. With red lips so close to my ear I can feel her breath running wild down my neck, she whispered “I really do like you, and I really do want to take care of you. If you say yes then you’ll know magic, but if you say no then I won’t ever know what makes you feel enchanted, and that will be okay.” All the tiny hairs on my neck perk up to shoot trickles of electricity down my body. Just when I need to speak the most, I am speechless. Just when I need to make a move, the wheels in my bones stop turning. And just when I need to breathe, I choke inside. The best I can do is nod. “Yeah?” she smiles, a smile filled with joy spilling out, a smile that suggests she has an idea and wants to spruce you up with it. I nod again. She nods back at me, smiling “Yeah” once more but a bit louder, and a lot giddier.

Finally, the chains of anticipation break free from my throat, to murmur a timid “Yes please”

From the moment the sound left my lips they found hers, with her body swooped over swiftly to straddle my thighs, and her hands gripping at my jawline. She is gnawing at the enclosure to my soul. Willows kisses stride their way faintly painting a masterpiece of crimson lipstick onto the pale canvas of my cheekbones. Marking me like a drunken stamp. Between short intervals of colouring me in hues of maroon, she prizes to part my lips with her eager tongue, and tangles it around mine like ribbons, decorating me in passion. She pulls away for a moment, an achingly long time, to be cheeky and quip “Am I making your cauldron leak?” then digs her mouth so strongly into mine it knocks my head back into the seat with an abrupt thud. Her ravishing hunger howls out that she has been starving for a very long time, her quivering moans rumble as she tucks in with a gluttonous appetite to a buffet wanting to be spread beneath her. A meal not for spooning, but with both hands, licking up all the flavours. I like that she’s greedy, she likes that I’m here to serve. Willow can’t seem to get full so she slips off her jumper to initiate dessert. Panting, she begins her commands, “I like being called Mommy. If that’s weird to you then you can just call me what you want as long as it’s nice okay?” Hearing her say that melts me further under her spell. Hearing her refer to herself as ‘Mommy’ luls me into a vulnerable but protected state of mind. That title, that ever so calming title, declares this cabin a safe space in which I know I am truly in caring hands, no matter what those hands do to me. I am at my most vulnerable and at my most comfortable. It throws me back into feeling like anything is possible and the world is an overflowing galaxy of wonder. She looks delicately down on me, as I look up in innocent admiration, lightly replying “Yes, mommy.”

Willows face softens, she looks proud of the mess she’s making of me, and she continues, “Mommy has a few rules, if you can’t play nicely you have to be punished okay?” I’m back to nodding, breaking rule number one. “No, no, sweetheart. You have to be a good girl and use your words. Do I need to repeat myself?” and ‘boops’ me on the nose.

My tiny grin grows slowly with “I understand”

“I understand… what?”

“I understand, mommy”

“Good girl, you’re so obedient already” she chirps, with a blossoming glow, and soft fingers brushing through my hair to cradle and soothe the back of my head. I begin to whimper in joy. Willow, with wild wandering claws, grips hard at all the parts of my body that are soft. Squeezing and kneading, grabbing and groping, fingers like vines growing and digging into my roots to entwine themselves around the house to my heart. Her touch, like a home invasion, discarding the keys to break in and steal what she can get. Determined to leave me ransacked, she broke down the walls to my inhibitions, and unlocked her bra. As she left reminders on my skin to draw a map of how she explored me, I did the same to her, searching for which X marked the spot to where she hides her treasure. Fuck it, I wanted to steal all she has too.

She looked down on me, still straddled on my thighs like my lap is a saddle, and joked about where her eyes were. I glanced up and just as I was about to deliver a bratty comeback, she rubbed the back of my head and snuck one of her nipples in my mouth. “Suck nicely, sweetie” she muttered, “No teeth”. It was rock solid and swirled around my tongue, pink like bubblegum, and pressed against my head further to squash me fully into my seat. Willow wiggled and whimpered in pleasure for a minute before swapping my mouth over to the other one. My lap was now a landing pad for her wetness with my jeans soaking in the positive feedback her body gave me. She praised me through moans for the good job I was doing, but I already knew. She started to buck her hips deeper into me and hold me even closer. But the tighter her arms held me, the tighter I sucked her hard nipple in until I got too eager, too greedy, and bit her. She yelped and swooped her right hand down across my cheek with a dominant slap. “Hey!” she cried, “I said no biting, and that if you can’t be trusted to play nice, you’d be punished.”

I let go of my grasp and drooled a little down the side of my cheek to reply between pants, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay mommy” I said, shaking, and getting the other side of my jeans equally as damp.

She unbuckled my belt, leaving me with a sense of confusion, and then slid it from my waist as she slid off my lap. I was too bashful to look her in the face, but she demanded it with “Look at me princess, there you go. Because you got a little too excited with mommy, I’m gonna have to keep you in line so you know what happens when you bite the titty that feeds you.” She folded the belt and quickly pulled it apart to make a snapping sound and slowly asserted, all the while playing with the belt in her hands, “I’m not gonna punish you with a belt today, that would be too harsh a punishment. What I am going to do is flip you over, tie your hands behind your back with this belt then pull your little jeans down and spank you with my bare hands. Understood.”

“Yes, mommy” I sputtered, then followed my orders, kneeling on the seat with my chest against the wall and my hands waiting patiently behind my back. I couldn't see exactly how Willow tied the belt into a pair of makeshift handcuffs, but not being able to see was part of the fun in the debased anticipation. Once I was restricted, the waistband of my jeans reached my knees. I knew she could see the dampness dripping through my underwear and forming tears gliding down my thighs. Such a humiliating thing to be seen unfathomably aroused but not quite yet exposed. Delicately, she traces her middle left finger between my thighs where I’m most warm, lightly brushing her fingertip against my slit from over the top of my underwear, to tease me. I hear her smacking her lips together and take a deep breath in delight. I was too shy to turn around, even though underneath I really wanted to see the blossoming grin on her face. Tugging at the elastic of my underwear, she chuckled slightly under her breath, and pulled it back to let it snap against my back.

“I bet you bit me on purpose so you could get punished” she growled, “Tell me babygirl, how long have you been sitting in these wet panties for? I bet you’ve been soaking them from the moment I checked your face for being a clumsy little baby.” A swift slap smacked into my left asscheek. A wave of tingling electricity surged through my nerves, giving me goosebumps with little whimpers leaping from my voice. “Do I have a little brat on my hands, or did my good girl forget the rules?” Another slap. “How many spanks is it gonna take for you to remember the rules, pumpkin?” and another, harder just a dash than the first two. She leans in closer to whisper, “How about we do a spank for each hour on this magic train? She continues with a seductively patronising “Yeah, baby?” as I nod my head in agreement. My other asscheek got delivered three more hard spanks, and I began to stutter in my breathing, and as more tears dripped down my legs just many started to drip down the corner of my eye. Trying my best, but failing to keep still, she grabs my hips with both hands like a steering wheel that subtly drives me insane. “Hold still pumpkin, I’m almost done and you are taking these so well. Because you’ve taken your discipline well, I’m only going to do two more, but for the last two I want to pull your panties down and slap your ass bare, okay?” she whispers sweetly, and the best I could do was nod. My heart rattled inside my chest louder than the train rattling down the tracks. Willow slowly hooked a finger down each side of my underwear and gracefully peeled them down to my knees. I can feel myself almost leaking a couple droplets down, she knows I’m needy and already close. Slap at full force on my right asscheek, I grip whatever of the belt I could and groan out in blissful pain. Slap at full force on my left asscheek and I pathetically whimper and cry, letting the tears run down to my chin. Again, please. Pressing herself into the back of my body and locking her hips into mine, she snuggles her arms over my shoulders and leans in down the side of my neck to whisper once more, “Good girl.” The ruins being made of my body yearn to be degraded further. This was only the beginning of what Willow had in mind, and it felt like I had been spoiled enough already. She kindly took off my boots, and jeans, and tossed them to the side towards our luggage. However, she pulled my underwear back up, saying “You have to earn your reward first babygirl.”

Willow carefully helped me off the seat, with my hands still tied, and turned me to face her. “Oh look at you…” she whines in pity, and wipes the tears still on my face, “I wasn't too hard on you, was I, little one?” she continues, now cupping my cheeks. A gentle peck on the lips sends another brick down to the pits of my stomach, a drop down ride of aching desperation. To the best bit. Willow lifts her head back to look down on me condescendingly, and in a strict stern tone, demands “Now get on your knees and do as you're told…”

I melt beneath her, succumbing to becoming a puddle on the floor. My face was now at the height of where I grew impatient to taste. Towering over me, she artfully spread her legs and took her time squatting back into her seat, and when she was only a few inches away from the seat cushion, she plopped herself down, causing all of my favourite parts on her to jiggle. In no hurry, she parted her legs further apart and shuffled her pelvis closer to the edge and flipped her skirt up to display the fine art of her black lacey knickers, elegantly covering her hairless vulva but barely concealing the stickiness seeping through. She was as ravenously ready as I was. Attached to her knickers were matching black stockings, signalling that she dressed with intentions this morning. “Now you can use your teeth, and only your teeth, to pull these stockings down and off. Can you do that for me baby?” Willow purred. Don’t need to ask me twice, my mouth dived right into them stockings, giving her a hint of what my mouth can do by undoing the clasps and smoothly sliding them clean off. She smelt just as good down there as she did when I was beside her other set of lips, but carnal and lascivious. “So quick to please mommy, such a good girl for me.” she moaned, then moaned some more, “Here baby, let me help by pulling my panties down so they’re not trapped between mommy and the seat.” She lifted her pelvis to be a hairs distance away from my face, almost letting me lick her, and pulled her knickers down to the top of her thighs. Starstruck and dazzled at the sight of her glistening pussy, I grabbed one side of the waistband and hastingly dragged it down as far as it would go, then I tended to the other side and savagely yanked it down. The panties then dropped to the floor and she took her feet out of her mary jane shoes and encouraged me to finish taking everything off. Tenderly, I kissed down her thighs and hunched down to the floor and kissed her inner ankles, and chomped into the waistband of the knickers and band of the stocking to uncover her feet and freeing her of items she won’t be needing for a while.

Willow gasped out in desire as I nuzzled my mouth into her delicious folds. With my tongue flat against her vulva, I warmed her up at a steady pace several times back and forth, triggering her hips to softly jerk in motion and twitch everytime I traced over her throbbing erect clit, right on her tip. She tasted like salted caramel and felt like warm silk. I savoured each and every lick. Next, I went over her vulva again, but this time to suck as I wiggled my tongue through her folds, and with my tongue pointed for precision, circled her clit then suckled it for a moment just as I did with her nipples. “Oh fuck, you dirty fucking girl” she whined. Now she was trickling lightly onto the floor and down my neck in ecstasy, groaning, growling, curling her clit passed my teeth so my mouth fully envelopes her where she wants it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” Willow whined some more. Both hands traced my scalp again and gripped tightly onto bundles of my hair to imprison me thoroughly between her legs. In the midst of her passion she plunged her clit down, so far inside I gagged in pleasure, and kept a reckless momentum of grinding. Willow begged “Oh, oh, yes fuck mommy, fuck mommy just like that, you dirty girl.” Pulling my hair tighter as she writhed, I spelt out our names with the tip of my tongue and fought my way down to run rings around her dripping hole. She yelled out in luscious bliss, and was getting close to glory. “You make mommy feel so good, you treat me so well.” I tensed up my tongue and rammed it inside, and this is when she started to face fuck me forcefully in delectable depravity. Using my mouth as her toy she thrusted hard on my tongue, squeezing her thighs against my head, and muffling the sounds of perverse joy she got from plundering my mouth. “Disgusting little bitch, ah, you’re mine” she roared, menacingly. Between the aggressive mashing, the cries, and the flowing wetness she snarled, “You’re not going anywhere, bitch, you’re all mine to play with and use. Fuck-” Her thighs snapped shut around my head and she tugged at my hair in a sobbing wail, squirting buckets right down my throat. My mouth was still pressed against her pussy as she twitched and tweaked in a tremendous explosion, and gushed her amusement more. She panted “Drink up, baby, that’s it, that’s my good girl, swallow it all down your throat. There you go. Such a good girl for mommy.” Released from her grasp, I pulled back and let her witness the lake she had flooded across my face and down passed the spillways of my collarbones, leaving my top utterly drenched in the evidence.

“I’m not done with you yet” she groans, nudging me with a kick onto my back. She gets down to perch on my lower stomach to reach down behind my back to undo the handcuffs she made with my belt. Willow adds “There you go sweetie, you’ve than earned a treat” as she then proceeded to climb up and back down to crouch between the space between my legs, and pulled my underwear clean off. “I want to make sure you’re definitely ready for what I’ve got planned” she says, sliding her middle finger inside me. I started the wiggle slightly, the sensation of her being inside me finally had my hands clasping with one on the edge of the seat above my head, and the other reaching out to her free hand on my hip.

Her finger slowly drove in and out of me, “More...” I whimper pathetically.

“Use the magic words, princess.”

“More, please” I beg.

“Good girl” she quipped, then added her ring finger and beckoned me to come, curling them both from deep inside me, causing waves upon waves of wicked harmony. Her voice whispers with a slight rasp, “Mommy wants a taste”, and her lips are suddenly sucking my clit. Her tongue is like a windmill around where I’m throbbing hard, sending me spinning. I felt myself swelling up, squeezing, and pulsating as I was tickled internally. Before I knew it, I was trickling down her hands. Like lightning, a pump of squirt shot out and splashed her insatiable face. Contractions rippled an overwhelming bout of lust. Then the dam burst into her hand as she released her fingers to take several shots of me in her mouth. The floor of this carriage was absolutely saturated in our shared passion, but it was the puddle that would be rained into a storm. My reward was not yet to be over though, Willow was feeling particularly indulgent. Wanting to orgasm on me again, she climbed up to put my left leg over her right, and her left leg over my right. Letting gravity take the lead, she pushed her pussy into mine, and fondled my lower lips so that my clit was pressed against hers, throbbing together. With her hips she tenderly swerved herself back and forth over me, bringing us both close to coming undone once more. A figure eight motion sparked an increasing level of arousal that was dancing me close to the cliffs edge. Her clit rubbing against mine felt so natural and wonderful, it was like my body had found its forever home. So cosy and comforting in surrendering to her wishes. Whatever she wants, she gets. One hand wrapped around one of my thighs, the other holding onto that knee, her hair bouncing in rhythm with her breasts, made a luxurious sight. More contractions ripple from my pussy down to the tips of my toes. Whirlpool splashed out from me again. Willow knelt upright and tilted her genitals towards me, and toyed with her clit to unleash a waterfall across my body, marking me as her property with her squirt, expelling another orgasm over the sound of her sinful moans. Droplets drizzled down my torso, splashing against my skin like warm summer rain. To be marked as hers felt like winning. Willow may be on top but I’m the one receiving the champagne shower. I may be her toy but I love being played with. Being claimed by her is to be adopted by what dreams are made of. She is stardust giving life into carbon, the thief of sanity, and the giver of reasons to be grateful for losing my mind. When she touches me, both ends of our red thread join, tying a bow to the gift of life, and immersing me in the present. I am so fucking in love it makes my blood burn. I fucking love her and my love doesnt know its own strength. I want to know what makes her sun shine, and cast all her clouds away. I want to know what scares her so I keep her fears at bay. I want to be acquainted with all the parts of herself she hates so I can kiss them into parts that are safe. I want her to show me the darkest side to her soul, so I can bury myself in her shadows and seize the night together. May she never remember how it feels to be alone, and may she never feel less than a guest of honour again. It also turns out we’re both big time squirters, and neither one of us thought to pack a towel. Despite all of this, my reward was still not over. Willow had one more magic trick up her sleeve, emphasis on magic. I must have been especially good to have been spoiled like this. It was destiny for me to be overstimulated to tears.

She got up and reached inside her candy apple red leather crossbody handbag that was dumped beside her coat. Flicking open the golden clasp, her hand rummaged around various items and pulled out her wand. It was a grounding shade of walnut from its tip to where it was encased by an antique brass handle decorated in victorian fleur engravings. On the wood itself was a tiny carving of her name in cursive. “Don’t sit up yet” she chirped, crawling back over on top of me with the wand held between her teeth. It was confusing, and yes, kind of arousing. The need for context was there but the element of the next surprise held my curious mind from asking for an explanation. Strangely enough, there was quite a lot that was amusing and sexy in not knowing what's coming next with her antics. Willow sat up between her legs and raised herself up on her knees to show me the last treat from the cookie jar of her delightfully deviant mind. Taking the wand out of her mouth carefully with both hands she raised a brow to sarcastically ask “Have you ever seen magic like this before?” She stared down on me like a sadistic executioner, and smirked at the thought of how I would react to her axe. “Dual-a-insertus” she seductively whispered into the wand. A flash of smoke, followed by a flurry of sparkle forming a personal tornado around the wand added to the mystery as it began to stretch, bend, and change shape. The wooden end of the wand grew and thickened, the tip widened and curled inward, creating a slightly curved 7” baton that was 5” in diameter all around. The end with the handle made itself completely smooth, bloated into the same diameter and angled itself to be almost 90 degrees to the wooden end of the wand. Her wand had been transformed into a strap free strap-on. “Oh, baby,” she laughed, “if only I could photograph your face right now.” My brows were so high they could have touched the roof. Willow stretched out her pussy and slowly fitted the metal end into her and adjusted herself so it was a snug but secure fit. “Are you ready for it?” she husked.

“Yes” I mumbled.

“Yes, what, my love?”

I blushed with yearning, “Yes, mommy.”

She tucked herself in so that my thighs were raised an inch and over the tops of her thighs, and tucked one of the loose seat cushions underneath me. Hands wrapped around my thighs for grip, she pumped it right in and began pounding, thumping me into a rocking motion against the floor. Her gaze stayed transfixed onto my watering eyes the entire time. The most eye contact I’ve done my whole life. “Take it” she spat, “Take my strap, that's it, good girl.” My lower abdomen started to shudder, my toes began to coil, my sobs of overwhelming gratification breaking free, all too much and all I’ve ever wanted. “Does Mommys strap feel good princess?” she growled. Slamming into me, her breasts jumped up and down, shedding light to the growing sweat seeping from her skin. Both of our hearts are racing, both of our heads of hair are tangled and equally as sweaty, both of our faces of make up disgustingly smeared and melted half off. “You’re doing so well for me” she growled again, “You fucking like that don’t you, you fucking like that it hurts you, huh?” I did. Pump after pump, pound after pound, I was being stuffed to the brim. Her giving it to me fast and hard, rugged and rough was all the comfort I needed. She moaned a symphony to the orchestra of pleasure. Her wand scratched all of my itches. I had never felt so full. It soothed me sore. “Ugh. I love you” she grunted with an ipaling thrust. My vagina gripped tightly around the wand, squeezing, holding it in as the railing kept going. “Mommys little pervert” she grunted again. Suddenly I clamped down on it, goosebumps lighting up my body and giving me chills, and I uncontrollably flooded the carpet. “Good girl, good girl baby…” Willow whimpered, “Can you give Mommy a couple more?” as another hard pump drilled into me. Several rushes of several supernovas ruptured several orgasms one after the other. Once the first one escaped, all the rest my body had bottled up chased after. My pussy tingled at every one, shooting an overflow of tingles up my spine and shimmered at the base of my head that felt like it was one with air. She kept calling “Good girl” over and over, those were the real magic words. I gasped for breath and the last pump had me wailing, convulsing, and uncontrollably trembling. She stopped after three slow thrusts, then held me still in position with the strap inside me. Also absolutely knackered, she took a moment to get her breath back, and panted “You did such a good job Princess, I’m so proud of you. You are Mommy's favourite. I’m going to carefully slide out of you now, okay?” After a moment I nodded in response. I go quiet when being fucked. It’s the only time you’ll get me to shut up.

The strap glided out of both of us, sticky, wet, and with a hint of creaminess hanging from it. Willow looked proudly down on me and took a long lick of the end that went in me, lapping everything up, and swallowing it down. She groaned in perverted joy, “You taste so yummy, I could get drunk on this. Thank you babygirl.” That sweet, butter wouldn't melt, smile on her face came back, lighting up the afterglow.

Her hand rummaged back in her bag and took out a packet of tissues she used to wipe the strap on. It then turned itself back into its original form. A flick of her strong wrist and an order of “Emundare corpora liquorum” evaporated the mess we had made on the floor and carriage furnishings. We found each others clothes and lovingly dressed each other between soft kisses and drank whatever drink we had in our bag. We really needed it. Using the loose seat cushions we built a stack of pillows and used our coats for blankets, and laid down to rest.

Willow held me tenderly with love in her arms, pressing me gently into her chest, and softly stroking her hands through my hair. Occasionally giving me little scratches too. The sound of the train lulled me close to slumber, a calming companion to more of Willows praise.

She softly spoke, “You are the best babygirl. I’m so lucky the stars aligned and brought you to me. What did I do to deserve you? Tell me baby, what did I do to be worthy of a little girl like you.” I snuggled at her chest and wrapped my arm around her, delicately clutching the back of her jumper. “You’re so sweet, you’re like a teddy bear” she continued. She gave me a peck on the top of my forehead and said “I want to hold you like this forever. I know this sounds possessive but now that I’ve held you I never want to let you go. I really do feel like I’m falling in love.”

For the remainder of the journey we cuddled, napped, and spent a good few hours finding out each other's favourite things. A sagittarius drawn to hues of red, pink, and blue, she likes pop and indie music, and her favourite drink is also an Old Fashioned. Orchids are the flowers in her garden, chai cookies are what she bakes to cheer herself up, and all the feelings she can't put into words are expressed through sleepless nights on a piano. Caramel lattes with skimmed milk is her go-to Starbucks order, and classic literature is what is stacked up on her bookshelf. She prefers drinking red and MAC Viva Glam is the colour that kissed me. When she was younger she ran around woodlands and each day at the beach, even as an adult, consisted of drawing pictures in the sand and pretending to be a pirate. One day she wants to earn a doctorate, and will spend her career manifesting through music. She’s been used and she has heart-strings I promise to re-tune. She’s too scared some days to be herself but I see her for the nurturing, goofy, wonder-stricken bundle of treasure she is. Willow grew up feeling left out of everything, and I did too, but somehow we found each other on a silly little carriage on a trip to a silly little University of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the world is okay.

She enchanted me. I ‘rizzed ‘em with the ‘tism. What more can I say?

[besarelcielo]

Just wanted to say I completely agree with you on what you said on your voice recording. Tbh I don’t think it’s weird to be off put by the disingenuous way people seem to interact these days. It’s especially frustrating if you’re a person who values others for more than just what they can give you in a business sense. Being that person is sorta rare now so it’s valuable. Community and genuine connection are still valuable and definitely not naive but I get why it can be scary being the genuine one in a world where a lot of people take advantage of that. As far as unfollowing goes, even people with lots of followers get unfollowed and it can sometimes be for no other reason than the unfollower wanting less stuff on their feed. The attention economy is weird af. You’re right for not valuing followers as heavily. I know it’s hard cus it’s like a form of currency these days. But honestly there are some mega talented artists that don’t have many followers cus the algorithm is cruel lol. Needing to bring more to the table than followers is def important too. I know someone who has quite a few followers cus they have famous friends but tbh their work is not super impactful (doesn’t mean they can’t improve just saying). Sorry this is long, what you said just resonated. Don’t beat yourself up, stay consistent. The right people will value your work AND you.

hi :)) i am so sorry for leaving this in my inbox for so long! when i get a nice message i like to keep it for a bit and really absorb it before i respond. anyway, i do hope you see this even though some time has passed. i appreciate u reaching out to tell me that my words resonated with u. and i am very grateful for your words of encouragement too! this message validated my thoughts, and that is always a warm feeling. i also know/have seen a lot of people who are very popular online but don’t exactly…well im trying not to talk shit about other artists especially because im trying to divorce myself from competition mentality. but what i will say is some people with huge followings don’t necessarily have super interesting or impactful bodies of work (like u said)..and sometimes it’s a matter of knowing the right people, or playing the algorithm exactly right, or maybe mediocrity being rewarded a little bit too lol. but it is grounding and reassuring a bit to remember and be reminded that follower count is not always a measurement of talent. And that many talented artists often slip under the radar due to no fault of their own. i think honestly, i have a fear of slipping under the radar. I think a lot of us do. i think that specific fear is especially prominent now, in that none of us want to be forgotten or deemed irrelevant. but i have to remind myself that even that is based in ego! and that as long as i keep being myself in my most true form eventually that has to be rewarded in some way…even if the reward is just me feeling pride for remaining true to my heart haha. it might take more time to do things organically it may be more difficult to continue to remember who i am but since i feel so much discomfort doing it any other way, i know that im meant for this version of my life’s journey. i kind of went on a tangent at the end .__. but i really appreciate your message, and i don’t mind the length of it at all! i love a long message with substance. thanks for sending and thanks for reading this.