#Still not writing because of hiatus so I don’t want to promise what I cannot deliver

[stormblessed95]

Hi Storm,

You were the first account I followed here and I’ve been through almost every post relating to member dynamics on your masterlist.

I’m finding this very hard to articulate but you’ve always said if you receive asks that are respectful you will indulge. I am making a lot of effort in trying to phrase my sentences in such a way that they do not offend and would like to apologise in advance if they do. It is not my intention.

Some time ago, there was discourse on your page where you said jikookers have bullied you and did not support you when you were being bullied. I am not sure when that was. I’m sorry you went through that. You put in a lot of effort to write the member dynamics posts and it’s quite shocking that people don’t respect it, value your effort and then bully you.

During that discussion you said something along the lines of jikookers becoming like taekookers as they allow the abuse of Taehyung. You said the fandom back in the day allowed Taekookers to fester because they didn’t take a harsher stand against what they were doing. I am paraphrasing or maybe I didn’t get the gist of it.

I don’t think jikookers or any other sub set of this fandom is anywhere near Taekookers. The reason is that most ot7 are Taekookers. When the fandom allowed hate against jimin, it gave rise to the most vile fandom and it is the largest part of army’s even today Jimin and his family get bullied and called all names and it’s is allowed because no one can shoot 90% of the fandom down and all those who allowed it are responsible for that shit show.

So then why are people and yes, most are Jikook stans, why are they called out if they so much as criticise Taehyung for some of the things he does? Did he have to join a Jikook show? No, did he have to post those pictures during muse? No. Did he have to name call Jungkook every single live? No. Does he visit fandom spaces? Yes. He sees the shit that goes on in there. Yes. He has sued people because he supposedly wants to stand for those who cannot stand for themselves but is ok when his fans call his fellow member a slut? Can you all not be objective enough to criticise him for this behaviour? Not everyone will like everyone you like, but you are an ot7 army so you should be objective enough to accept criticism too. But instead you shut everyone down? That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?

I say all of the following with respect, I promise. My intention is not for this to read as harsh or rude in any capacity. I'm making this disclaimer now because I know sometimes, it's hard to get tone in text. I'm being straightforward and serious with you. And my tone is meant to be one of kindness, softness and respect while being serious and rather blunt about it.

Anyone who tells me that they didn't see the hate campaign that reigned against me last year is either lying, or brand new to Jikook Tumblr. Or you took a 2 month long break and only came back after I was on hiatus, which then, if you checked my account at all, you still would've seen it. I guess the last option was that you just never checked my page until I came back. I'd much rather if anyone would bring it up, just be honest. Yeah, I saw that, I was silent, my bad, it was a mistake. Or it wasn't a mistake, I agreed with your haters and I'm still just here because I want your content. Whatever it is, I would much rather the honesty. Idk which of these categories you fall into, if any, but why bring it up just to try and discredit my feelings about jikookers and toxic behaviors being allowed to fester? I stand by what I said. You don't have to agree with me. That's your prerogative. I have never tried to tell people how to feel, I've only ever said that I will curate my space and use my block button freely to stop from seeing opinions I have no desire to see.

True OT7s are not taekookers, follow better people. Idk what else to tell y'all about that. When I say toxic behaviors being allowed to fester, I mean that taekookers way back when weren't nearly so bad as they are now. It used to be the same petty bullshit that so many shippers are now pulling. Except it never got checked, so it grew and festered and boiled until it's now as bad as it is with taekookers. If you don't stop the same petty revenge toxicity in Jikookers now, the same thing will end up occuring. And I don't want to see anyone complain to me in a few years about it, because all I'll be able to say is I told you so.

The last part of your message dear, just reads as essentially asking permission to be hateful towards Tae. Idk if that was your intention, but it's how it comes across to me at least. It's not criticism. There is stuff we can be critical about towards our idols, BTS included. Nothing you listed is worth criticism and is just things his antis use to bring hate against him. It's the same thing that tkkrs do. Nitpick stupid stuff to give themselves a reason to hate on Jimin. It's not worth it. And you will be a happier person in long run if you stop trying to hate Tae and just hate the antis that are the ones responsible for their own behaviors.

I'm not shutting anyone down (this is also the phrase that makes me question if you truly "don't know anything about me being bullied") I am saying I won't tolerate any kind of hate speech on MY blog about any of the 7 members. (even if you don't think it's hateful, on my blog, I have the right to decide what is and isn't discussed. Other blogs will draw different lines in the sand, and you can find GCs, or Start your own blog where you can say whatever you want. That's the beauty of the Internet.) You can do whatever you want in your own spaces. I personally, want nothing to do with it. I have bigger fish to worry about it. I'm here for BTS, all 7 of them. And I'm more concerned about k-media and the harassment our boys suffer from them and antis of all kind. Way more than I could ever pretend to be concerned about Tae talking about one of his best friends.

And again, I sign off with this whole thing respectfully, and with the hope that you also, take no offense to the way I phrased anything. Even if you disagree.

~ Storm 💜

[the-travelling-witch]

omg i managed to catch the exact moment!! just in time for my upcoming birthday, you guys are giving me the sweetest gift ever >///<

thank you so so much, you have no idea how much this means to me!! i know i say it every time we hit a certain number but i mean it every time too. i mean it for every number in between too <3

i know i’ve not been the most active lately (which i cannot promise will change in the next months) and that there are a lot of drafts and wips people are waiting for which i cannot work on atm; i want to, i really really want to, trust me on that ㅠㅠ

it’s especially because of my somewhat hiatus that i’m absolutely floored new people have been finding the blog, how did you guys get here? /lh

well, what matters most is that you enjoy your stay now that you’re here. i don’t think i’m all that deserving of the attention you’re bestowing me with but i’m still very grateful you’re giving me your precious time :]

i’ve recently talked about how everyone has always been incredibly nice to me and that i’ve been fortunate enough to never have received hate before, and just know i’m not taking that for granted >.<

i hope that in the future, this blog can continue to be a safe haven not only for me, but also for you. my writing is always highly self-indulgent, so it makes me super happy if it can provide a break from stress and/or some comfort to other people too!!

before i keep blabbing on, let me just say again, thank you so much, you lovely lovely people!! <3

[rainbow-arrow]

Hii I hope youre doing well and I’m so sorry for asking and being annoying but are you gonna continue your lukadrien fics on ao3? I just found you last week and I’ve been so obsessed with untitled trash and what are the odds and I haven’t finished yet but I don’t want to I’m so close to the last update that’s been a year ago. I absolutely adore your writing and how natural their interactions feel you really got me giggling and kicking my legs up in the air from all the lukadrien fluff and I truly hope I can see more of your writing ❤️🙏🏻🥹

Ahhh!!! Thank you!!!! I'm glad you enjoy my writing! I do love writing those boys more than anything jfdksjflsa

Short answer: yes, I am still writing all my unfinished fics on ao3.

Long answer: I am always writing and do not plan on stopping. Unfortunately I write based entirely on what I want to write, so I rarely write in chronological order lol. These past weeks I've been writing up a storm but it's chapters 24-27 of wato, helpful only to future me.

I, as a person in the real world, have a lot going on. I have been told by people that maybe my fics should go on hiatus until I defend my thesis (November), but uhhhhhh they bring me so much joy I cannot do that. I am viewing this ask as an excuse to just ramble about my writing (which is the only thing I love more than writing itself):

WATO: will likely be the next to update again, simply because it's all I think about these days, and now I'm into the sappy (and smutty) stuff it's just fun. but as told above, it's a process.

Reprise: we don't talk about reprise here

Untitled: is not abandoned. It seems like it's abandoned, I get that, I was literally a different person in April 2023. I am in the process of restructuring the next chapters (and maybe finishing it???? news on that later). I just need to re-read to remember what's happening get back into the groove of that fic in order to update.

If you're New to my tumblr/don't really read my authors notes (both so valid), you may not have heard I have another story I am working on in the shadows called 'To String You Along' (tagged/referred to as 'tsya) and heyo if you like Bridgerton you're gonna like this. It's also structured and has a set (I think 19 chapters? counting the epilogue). I am posting that only when it's finished, and more so, when season three of bridgerton comes out (May/June 2024).

double bonus: wato valentine's special is officially in the works here's to hoping i get it done in time but I'm making no promises.

tldr answer; I've been writing Lukadrien for nearly five years, I'm not going away any time soon, it's a part of me now lol.

[buthowboutno]

buthowboutno's Unsolicited Writing Advice

Howdy fam!!

This is a post that i’ve been wanting to make for a while so!!! Finally fucking sat down and did it lmao

Considering we’re past the halfway point of ATWLP and over 125k words written for the universe, I thought I would share some writing advice and tidbits I’ve picked up along the way!! (especially for you baby writers out there) (we’re ignoring the fact that I only broke my five year writing hiatus like seven months ago)

ANYWAYS, ramble under the cut <3

--

Don’t force yourself to write linearly

If you’re dragging your feet along writing sections just to get to a certain scene in your head and losing motivation, just… write the scene you wanna write. This might be specific adhd oriented advice, but you gotta use your juices when you have them. 

I’ve recently posted a chapter that I wrote all the way back in November. Did I have to edit some parts in light of changes I made to the outline and the way my blorbos have developed? Yes, but that’s way easier than starting it from scratch and losing all of my ideas when the scene was first bouncing around my head.

Outline outline outline… but don’t be a slave to it

Sometimes all I can manage the energy for is a long series of bullet points outlining a chapter, but it makes it SO much easier to sit down and type everything out properly later.

I also find that having a main outline for my entire story helps me from falling into plotlines that I don't know how to get out of or losing motivation for a fic because I haven't figured out the end goal for my characters. It's easy to sit down and work on a chapter because, for the most part, I already know how it's going to end up.

Having said that, sometimes your characters are stinkasses and decide to completely break away from what you had planned, and that’s okay! Understanding how you can and cannot shove your blorbos around for the sake of plot is a part of learning how to be a better writer.

Don’t delete your writing!

Chances are if you hate a section, it’ll read a million times better after you set it down for a few hours. Us writers can be so incredibly critical of ourselves, but resist the urge to select all and backspace!!! If anything, leaving a section you hate allows you to come back and edit it into something way better instead of starting from scratch again.

If you have to delete a section that just doesn’t fit in the story anymore, still save it!! I have a bits and pieces doc that houses all my deleted scenes that have been revived in later chapters. You never know how deleted scenes might help you pad out future parts of your story.

If you’re a literature snob (like me) and want to just flat out improve your craft… you gotta do your homework

You will always become a better writer the more you write and for those just looking to get out some emotions or have fun, that is perfectly fine! Ignore me! You’re already doing fantastic, look at you go!

But if you’re the type of person to read a fic and be like… “wow, that was better quality than most published books. how do i get to that level??” this is for you

When you’re reading, regardless of what it is, make a mental (or physical!) note of the things you like and dislike.

 Ex: How does the author portray a certain emotion? How do they lay out the scene? What different aspects of characterization stick out to you? What’s the word choice like?

Never gonna bash on anyone who just wants to read for enjoyment, but when you start to exercise that muscle I /promise/ you that your writing will improve that much faster. (It really is annoying how the fucking rhetorical analysis skills they teach you in highschool help, but they do.)

Ages ago I went to this conference for young writers and in one of the seminars I went to, this pair of authors talked about this spreadsheet they set up to better lay out the aspects of writing they really loved or wanted to avoid in their genre. I think this is vv important when you’re planning out longer pieces of writing; you don’t want to get stuck in a trope you hate!

Watch critiques of books!

Booktube is super fucking great for this. I’m personally a video essay bitch, so I’ll sit and watch a three hour long video of someone dissecting a novel and giving a review. That shit will help you with everything from learning how to construct longer and cohesive plots to avoiding certain pitfalls that may turn an audience away from your work. 

Rachel Oates is one of my forever faves and Alizee is a youtuber that I’ve just recently stumbled upon but love all the same.

 I WILL SING THE PRAISES OF OVERLYSARCASTICPRODUCTIONS ALL DAY EVERY DAY.

They have really excellent videos that go into the different tropes and all the ways they can present in stories, whether it be good or bad. This helps you get familiar with the building blocks of a narrative and decide things like wanting to subvert a trope, build upon the popular ones, or even reject them all together. Fic is basically built on fandom-wide tropes, so I think it’s good to be familiar with them.

Just like artists, we gotta do our studies, too

Back when I was a infant writer (i.e. in eighth grade) me and my friends would find different writing prompts on pinterest and spend a few hours working on them before sharing what we wrote. Even if it's not for a larger work, it is /really/ good practice to describe scenery in a picture or come up with a character on the fly and explore how they interact in a situation.

It’s is the literary equivalent of drawing a hand instead of putting it in a pocket so you didn’t have to deal with it

Write messy! Write fast! Write garbage that you’re going to delete in five minutes! You’ll be surprised about the gems that come out of doing this. Literally some of my favourite lines have come out of a frenzied 10 minute keyboard mashing session.

Don’t be afraid of critique but know the difference between that and simply being hard on yourself.

 I think this is probably the biggest thing I’ve struggled with as I’ve gotten back into writing. Before I started posting, I had about five chapters saved up ‘cause I was agonising over making everything perfect. Do I see, six months later, things I know I could have done better? Yes, but! I wouldn’t have been able to grow or develop as an author if I didn’t take that first step of posting and moving on to other parts of the story.

There is a time and place for critiquing and editing your own work and seeing where you can improve, but you also gotta meet yourself where you’re at. We’re not going to be Shakespeare overnight. Getting better is a process, baby! Embrace the fact that if you’re embarrassed about your work years or even months down the line, that means you’re growing as a writer.

And remember stinkies, any creation is good creation. Don’t go comparing hits or kudos or likes and being down on yourself, the act of creation is an important part of the human experience!!! Even if the only thing you ever put out is a 100 word drabble about lightning mcqueen making love to bowser, i’ll be proud of you. 

Happy writing and get yourself some water <3<3

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Drowning (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Hvitserk/f!Reader

Prompt: From the Fluff Prompts category: “You make me happy.”  

Word Count: 3374

Warnings: Topics of drowning and death by drowning. Mentions/allusions to violence and death. A whole lot of angst and some morsels of fluff hidden there. Angst with a happy ending tho. This is, now more than ever after I was gone for so long, probably very OOC. There’s also a lot of introspection going on here, most of this is introspection in fact, since I tried challenging myself a bit. I’m sorry!

A/N: So, I'm still alive and writing for these characters, apparently 🤷‍♀️. It’s been almost a year since I announced my hiatus and well over six months since I posted anything, so: 1) hi again, 2) I’m sorry, and 3) holy fuck, a lot happened since I’ve been away, huh? Anyways, I’ll try to return for good this time! I hope this is alright!

Hvitserk has often, ever since he was a child, caught himself mesmerized -haunted, maybe- by water. By drowning, if he’s a tad more honest.

Ubbe and him never talk about it, not even when in their younger years, quietly, they gave away truths like I hope he never comes back, or when with something darker, something angrier, they reminded each other over the years, I still remember mother’s bruises, or even when they let mead loosen their tongues and admit today to things like I never quite forgave him.

They never talk about it, about her, about what they saw by the edge of that river.

Yet, Hvitserk has seen his elder brother often rush to bring his nieces and nephews back to safety whenever they stray too far into the shallow waters, as if he too sees the hands of a ghost waiting to drag what he loves into the deep; and he noticed the way Ubbe always was paralyzed in fear when he caught himself raising his voice against their mother, as if the knowledge of how much he looks like his father has made him fear the day he becomes like him.

So they never talk about it, but they haven’t forgotten. They never could.

He never could never really understand what drowning feels like, what makes people flail and claw and fight to try and escape, but it never stopped his mind from trying to, and in his nightmares when he was young, it was him his father drowned, it was his own face forced under the still waters as he stood there and watched.

What he has realized, in the aimless musings he allows himself, with his back to a tree in some forest of England waiting for his time on watch to pass, on the nights where sleep eludes him because you aren’t there beside him; is that for as much as the thought of drowning terrifies him, what truly haunts him is the mere idea that he might lose the people he loves to such a horrible fate.

He first realized he feared it so when Ivar almost drowned. It was only the second winter since Ragnar failed to return, and he had argued with Ubbe that he too could be a man, that he too could look after his younger brothers, and while Bjorn took the eldest hunting, Hvitserk took Ivar and Sigurd to the cabin by the river’s edge.

He cannot even remember what Sigurd and Ivar started fighting about, he can only remember he was reaching up to grasp at a pear dangling from a tree, Sigurd and Ivar off his sight for a few moments while he remained close enough to hear his brothers fighting by the pier where they sat. He remembers he was close enough to hear Sigurd’s scream as Ivar fell into the water, yet far enough that he believed the worst had come to pass by the time he dove into the cold water to save his brother.

And he and Ivar do talk about it, when they admit to shameful things like fear of death with small smiles that promise no one but us will know, when they speak of what life before and after their father has been by accompanying each wound with a scoff as if to say but don’t worry about me, when they exchange in truths about what they want most but only in the quiet between battles because accompanying those hopes is the silent admission of if only I were someone else’s son.

So they talk about it, but his brother could never tell him what drowning feels like. He did ask, once, a few days after that incident, and Ivar looked at him blankly and replied with the same thing Hvitserk did when he asked what running felt like, and said, not everything is like something else.

He doesn’t know what drowning is like, he just knows he fears it, he just knows that in some part of his mind he is still haunted by a death that never found him but passed by him, by a ghost that never struck against him but still struck.

But he has learned to overcome it, he has learned to think of drowning and think of Ubbe’s hand on his shoulder shaking him awake from a nightmare where his father’s hands pressed him further and further under the dark water, think of the sound of Ivar crawling towards him on the boat and his grumbling about how much he hates the open water whenever the memory his father’s manic voice telling him to disguise the boats creeps into his thoughts, think of your soft hands cupping his face and your eyes warm with adoration looking into his whenever he feels like being forced under the water by the weight of legacy.

He has learned, and so he isn’t so afraid of drowning anymore, at least not drowning as he used to fear it when he was younger, the drowning of flailing limbs and frantic gasps; and the only drowning he fears now is the one he can’t quite define or understand, the one where someone he loves is holding him underwater, the one where he is watching someone die and does nothing.

But it has been years since he has been afraid of drowning, since he has hesitated before agreeing to join his brothers in a short trip uphill of Kattegat to the river’s edge, since he has flinched when you set your hands on his shoulders as you both enjoy a swim in the warm lake near Thetford.

The last time he remembers feeling that fear was a long time ago. Those first couple of months after first meeting you he’d spend most of his time following you around as you worked, asking questions just to hear you talk, chest growing warm each time he made you smile. So, when one morning he found you waiting for him far from the market where you offered your crafts, and you extended a hand with a smile and asked him if he’d like to go somewhere with you, of course he said yes. He would have done anything to make it so that you kept looking at him like that, so that you kept smiling like that.

You spent the day together, venturing far from Kattegat and into the familiar forests, your hand comfortably in his as you gave away truths about each other, as you traded secrets. When the sun started to fall, he promised to share another secret with you only if you swore never share it with anyone else, and when you agreed, he leaned down and kissed you.

He still remembers what it felt like to feel your lips pull into a smile against his, still remembers the glint in your eye even as you playfully smacked his arm and told him he was a fool.

He might have been, but since that day he has been the only one to kiss you, so he still counts it as one of the best deals he made, however foolish.

Unwilling to let the night end, you had taken him to the edge of the river, watched the moon paint over the calm waters for a few breaths before turning to him, already toeing off your shoes, and daring him to jump in with you.

You hadn’t waited for an answer that time, shrugging off your dress in the blink of an eye and diving into the dark waters without him.

He dove right after you, but try as he might he couldn’t hide from you that it was something more than the desire to join you that drove him in that moment. It had been merely a moment, but his stomach dropped, and his heart felt as if it had stalled its beat, because for a moment, just a moment, you hadn’t surfaced.

Later, while he had convinced himself he had successfully distracted you from remembering anything from that swim aside from his hands and mouth on you, bodies intertwined in a pile of your clothes pretending neither of you were shivering; you asked if you had scared him when you jumped into the river, an adorable tilt to your head and an adoration shining in your eyes that against what his worst thoughts once promised has never faded. Hvitserk chose to tell you about the time Ivar almost drowned when they were children.

Not really a lie, and while he knows that it isn’t enough, he doesn’t know where to start with telling you the truth.

But he tells you, or tries to anyhow, in other ways. He tells you, cannot help but do so, when each morning that finds him with you still in his arms finds him bringing you closer before he has even woken up, a mindless search for the reassurance that you are still there, that you are still real, when the first word that leaves his lips each morning is a call of your name. He tells you when he kisses you goodbye before a battle and grasps your hand to wrap your fingers around a knife, brow pressed against yours and eyes searching your own in the silent request that you promise you’ll do what it takes to keep yourself safe. He tells you after each return from a spring of battle and conquest, when he finds himself absently reaching for you more often than before, chasing after the warmth of your touch and the reassurance of your presence even if through nothing more than a graze of his fingers against yours as you both dine quietly.

He tells you in many ways, and he hopes you understand, he hopes you know that with each whisper of your name in the quiet mornings he is promising I’ll always keep you safe, that with each goodbye he prays is not the last he keeps himself from admitting I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, that with each caress of his hand over your soft skin after too long apart he is reminding the both of you, you brought me home.

It all seems so…insufficient now, and he cannot help the part of him that wonders whether he could have kept you safe if he had told you the truth, about everything, about his fears of losing the people he loves, about how he still feels his Fate has been marked, from beginning to end, by drowning. It is all he has thought about, for as long as he has been in this boat, filled with restlessness and something more bitter, something like fear, as they travel back to what is left of the city where you were waiting for him.

There are few times the Gods have heard him plead, pray.

He did, between hiccupping sobs and hearing Sigurd’s frantic whispers about how he didn’t mean for this to happen, as he tried helping Ivar cough out the water he had almost drowned in, he prayed and pleaded until Ubbe and Bjorn found the three of them and took them home.

He did, hands gripping the railings of the boat that took them home so tightly it hurt for days afterwards, when they got word of Lagertha’s usurping of his mother’s throne, and he was so sure Ubbe had died defending their mother or attempting to avenge her, and prayed to be wrong.

And he does now, because from here he can see the smoke rising over the city where you promised to be waiting for him, and the reality of what has happened is dawning on him, and he prays, he pleads, that the worst hasn’t come to pass, that…that there is something he can do, something he can exchange -his own life, if that is what the Gods demand- to keep you safe, alive.

His breaths stutter past his lips and he grits his teeth to force himself to keep looking at the destroyed city ahead, and he finds himself begging that the Gods allow him just one thing, just this one happiness. He will weather any storm, he will give up anything, he just pleads to whatever might listen that he doesn’t have to give up a life with you beside him, that he doesn’t have to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.

When he jumps from the boat onto the shallow waters of the shore, he could swear for a moment the electric blue of his father’s eyes is looking back from under the water, but he has no time to dwell on it, for he is running to try to find you before he can think twice about it.

He finally understands now, trying to breathe past the smoke and the fear, searching amongst the bodies littered by the shore for a familiar face and yet refusing to even fathom the possibility that you may be amongst the dead, what drowning is.

Drowning is this. This helplessness, this horror.

He remembers Bjorn’s frown and how alike it was to their father’s, and his brother’s gruff whisper of unhappiness is more common than happiness as they sailed back from Paris with a husk of a father that had been gone long before he slipped away in the first port they docked in.

He remembers all the times he saw the hollowness in Ubbe’s eyes as he let himself linger on the sight of a father with his children, and it is still lodged in Hvitserk’s heart the answer his brother gave when he asked if a simple life would make him happy, we are the sons of Ragnar, is that not enough for any man?

He has seen too many times Ivar’s eyes tinged with blue and his smile tinged with something fragile, and heard too many times the sentence, the promise from a ghost that by his little brother is always voiced as a question, as a plea to have it denied, happiness is nothing.

He remembers all that. And yet, he was foolish enough to tell you, more than once, drunk on love and having lost half his mind to the curve of your smile, you make me happy.

Thinking back on it now, as he searches the town desperately for a glimpse of you; with intrusive thoughts chasing themselves in circles, trying to find something bigger in the sight before him than soot and blood, trying to give to the grief pressing onto his chest a deeper cause than just misfortune, that he walked willingly into those dark waters of his nightmares that first night he spent with you, that every night since, every moment since, have been but him taking another step forwards.

It would have been worth it, to drown, if what robbed him of breath had been the taste of your kiss, but in Hvitserk’s mind the image of himself walking into the deep with your hand in his, dragging you with him, damning you with him.

Someone at his back tells him there is no sign of the group that attacked, that they have left by now. He knows what they mean to tell him by that, he knows it should bring him to his knees to have it confirmed, but he can only manage an absent nod, numbly stumbling over the corpse of a man he once knew, to keep searching.

For all his nightmares where cold hands drag him to the deep, for all his musings where the weight of his father’s rage and his father’s failings push him down onto dark waters, he never quite thought drowning for him would be this, would be just this hollow sinking, this creeping despair making it harder and harder to breathe.

There are no hands dragging him down, there are no cruel faces looming above him, all there is is this horrifying absence, is the painful acceptance that he has lost the ground under his feet. All there is is sinking.

Further into the city he finds the damage isn’t as extensive as in the port and it still looks like the city that saw him kiss you goodbye; that beyond the wall of black smoke still clouding the bloodied streets, there are signs of a fight, of a resistance; that past the smoke there are people moving about, helping the injured and putting out the faint fires.

And hope holds him by the throat, and promises a way out of the water if he just clings to the grip on his throat despite the pain it causes and promises, and Hvitserk’s breath catches, stride suddenly more frantic, more desperate, as he continues searching.

It feels like a last breath, one last gasp before falling into the deep, when he calls out your name.

He is frozen in place as he hears your voice call back, and for a moment he thinks it nothing but a last mercy from Rán as she drags him down in her net, but a familiar figure emerges from behind one of the makeshift barricades, stumbling over a shield as she makes her way to him.

You haven’t made it two steps towards him when Hvitserk is already before you, stumbling, falling, running to hold you again, to wrap his arms around you and remind himself you are safe, to bury his face in your neck and take the gasping breaths of a man that was just pulled from the depths of the sea.

There’s a part of him worrying that he is holding you too tightly, that you might be injured or hurting and he should relax his hold on you, but he can’t make his body obey him right now, he can’t control how tightly he holds your body against his, he can’t control the tremble of his arms, the buckling of his knees as he almost brings you both to the ground.

Your voice, quiet and warm, washes over him as you murmur words he cannot understand right now, what he is sure are promises that you are alright, that it is all alright; and your arms are around him, holding him just as tightly, hands trembling as they cling to the edges of his armor.

Underneath the smoke there I still the faint scent of you, of the lavender oil he has spent many nights tasting on your skin and something softer that is just you, and it helps him slow his breathing, it helps him follow the motions of your hand on his back and find a rhythm.

When his breaths are no longer the desperate gasps for air of a man that understood finally what drowning is from entirely too close, Hvitserk makes himself pull away, just enough that he can rake his eyes over you and see for himself that you are safe, that you are unharmed.

Still, because losing the warmth of your body against his dropped a weight on his chest he wasn’t expecting, he reaches to grasp at your hand tightly, perhaps a tad franticly.

Your smile is trembling but still you reach with your hand to cup the side of his face, a ghost of a caress over his skin that more than ever feels like could break him; and the sight of you now, the feel of you now, is enough to undo him.

Hvitserk leans forward, letting his eyes fall closed as he presses his brow against yours, and though his heart still feels if it had been torn from his chest, and his hand cannot let go of yours no matter how much he tries, with you so close, your lips brushing his, he feels he can finally breathe.

There is much he should tell you, he should give name to the relief making each beat of his heart hurt and say I am so happy you are alright, he should voice his fear if only to be reminded it isn’t real and admit I thought I had lost you, he should give away one more truth and tell you drowning feels like a world without you.

Instead, voice a whisper and breaths one, he says,

“I love you.”

Thank you for reading, hope you liked this! Would you believe me if I told you this started out as a happy/fluffy piece? 🥴

I tried challenging myself and writing something with no dialogue but with a moving plot anyways, and idk if I did well, and I’m sorry if this sucks, but it was fun to write at least!

Anyhow, I’m sorry for the long absence! Tbh I debated a lot on coming back here and posting my stuff again, but for now I’m motivated, and I’m back. Sorta. Kinda. Fingers crossed.

But yeah, I am motivated, and I have a lot of things that I wanna share too, so hopefully I’ll see you again soon!

Taglist (so I don’t know what to do with taglists, I kept them as they were but idk. If you wanna be removed or smth please lemme know)

500 All: @youbloodymadgenius​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​ @1950schick​​ @ietss​​ @peachyboneless​​ @encounterthepast​​ @maggiescarborough​ @fae-sedai​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @crazybunnyladysworld​​ @stupiddarkkside​​ @northumbria​​ @sagyunaro @aprilivar​​

500 Hvitserk: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​​

[kithtaehyung]

How did you get started with writing? I've always wanted to try but it's a bit intimidating. Do you have any advice for beginners?

Hi, love! Oh my gosh, I have been there. Frankly, it’s still intimidating😅 But! I’ll try my best to offer some advice that has worked for me💛

Note: if these don’t work for you, pls don’t stress🤍 As with any artistic medium, there’s no one-way ticket to success. Find your own style/what works for you, but use anything here as a guide/starting point.

1) The hardest part is starting. This is just a pretty general statement, but it’s true. You can think about writing all day, but in order to actually get into it, you gotta transfer those words and ideas from your brain onto paper—journals, Notes app on your phone, Google docs, anything. Once you start putting those ideas down, it gets easier and easier to keep going! My first story started as bullet points on my Notes app that I then transformed in Google Docs.

2) For now, don’t worry about making things perfect. Drafts are exactly that: drafts of works. Unedited, pure, raw forms of what you have in your head. So just write at your leisure and don’t stress about editing them until you’re close to posting. And even then: it’s okay if there are some errors! Fanfiction (if that’s what you’re wanting to write) is free so if you don’t care about your work being perfect, it doesn’t have to be!

3) Write because it’s fun / Write what makes you happy. The thing that kept me from writing the longest (after a years long hiatus) was the pressure of wondering if people would like what I wrote. Don’t be like me. Learn from me. If you just write what you want/what makes you happy first, I promise it releases so much pressure from your mental and allows you more creative space and freedom. And if you wanna write for fandoms, being yourself is even better. You will find similar creatives and foster your corner of the internet once you start getting your stuff out there in the world.

4) Read, read, read. I learned so much about writing from reading. Whether it’s poetry, fanfiction, fiction, or non-fiction, you’ll start to find styles that resonate with you and observe how people tinker with the language you want to write in!

5) Practice, practice, practice! One, this gets your juices flowing, and two, a whole story can sprout from a single sentence out of a writing exercise. Some things to look for here would be writing prompt lists (there’s a bunch if you search on tumblr/online!), random idea generators, or even writing challenges.

6) Not everything you write has to be posted / It’s okay to accept the fact that some ideas will just stay ideas. Once you start writing, I assure you that you will come up with ideas more than once per day (especially in the shower???) Write them down and follow the inspiration, of course, but don’t feel down if you lose spark for them down the road. I can tell you right now (because I recently checked) that I’ve posted 158,225 words, but have 261,880 words written in total with works still in progress/ideas that may never even make it out of draft format (and I’m a slow writer!!) It’s totally okay. You can always come back to them. And that brings me to my last piece of advice…

7) Write things down. Oh my gosh, I cannot stress this enough: if you have an idea, write it down!! A line of dialogue you wanna work around? Notate it. A whole scene or even a title? Please, put it down somewhere. Even if you have to write it on a napkin, do it and take the dang thing with you! Trust me, I tried the whole “I’ll remember it later” lie, and what happened? I regretted it because, of course, I did not remember it later lol. Better safe than sorry.

That’s what I have for you for now, but if any other writers out there wanna chime in, please do! Have fun starting your adventure and I’m always here to help if you need any other tidbits of advice💛 -Ryen

[spacehologramcollection]

The Dad Batch Headcanons.

Two posts in one night. My god I am on a roll, this is where I disappear for the next few months and resurface again. I’m pretty sure this has been done before, pretty sure I’ve done a Clone Wars version. But because I’m on a Bad Batch Hype, may as well re-do the post! I cannot escape The Clone Wars, I will forever keep watching the first four seasons, and then pretend the last 3 didn’t happen. What’s order 66? Who’s this? Like all the Clones lived happily ever after, and they all found happiness.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing. I guess this is kind of an AU too? I probably re-read this quickly, but I’ve had a bottle of wine so like yeah. Headcanons below the cut. Unsure if this is OOC. Back from a huge hiatus and trying to get back into the swing of writing. I’m not that into Tech, so his is a lot shorter. Sorry guys!

·         Wrecker: I agree with the general consensus this man would be a great dad. Super supportive and a fun dad. If his kids want to play sports, he’ll be at every match/event, he’ll be the loudest one there, and super supportive of them! If his kids want to do something like dance, chess or playing an instrument, he’ll still be supportive and the loudest one there! If is kids playing a violin, he’ll be shouting ‘ENCORE’ or something. Who the hell going to tell him to shut up? Nobody that’s who, the man is a behemoth! But saying that, even though he’s really huge, he’s super gentle. He’s always carrying his kids around on his shoulders. Not only because it’s fun and so they can see, but it’s also the safest place for them. He’s such a good dad and extremely fun. He’s definitely the softer parent, like you’ll have to be a bit stricter than him. But he cares deeply for his kids and he’ll always be proud of them. He loves taking them to the beach, if they want to be Yeeted into the sea, then he will yeet them. Will also build sandcastles. He’s also the best storyteller, why? Because he does the voices, and always has the best stories. If his kids want a tea party, then he’ll be there, on time and ready to drink the best imaginary tea. Also, he’d totally hand down Lula to his kids. Lula looked after him, now they can look after his children. Wrecker would want a huge family. He grew up with lots of brothers and has always felt happy with them. So, he would want his kids to grow up with the same kind of thing. His kids would have cousins as well. Lots and lots of cousins. Wrecker would create a warm, supportive, and fun environment for his kids to grow up in.

·         Echo: Echo is a fairly chilled-out dad. He’s strict-ish but pretty fair. He’s super protective and proud as well. He’s really supportive and will help his kids with their homework. Always reads to them and makes sure they know their loved. He would also make sure that one of his kids was named, in some way, after Fives. He’ll always tell his kids about Uncle Fives and how he would have loved to have met them. Bit bittersweet for him. He’d be nervous when they were very young, because he only has one arm, and how can he hold them? His confidence comes with time. He teaches his kids not to judge and just wants them to feel loved and appreciated. He sets rules, but he’s not going to be super angry if they get broken, for a good reason. His kids are only a few minutes late home? It’s fine. He’d be the type of dad that would also just want to be kept in the loop. If they are going to be late, just let him know, or he will panic. This stems from what happened to him. He can’t BBQ for shit, but he does make the best cupcakes. If his kids are really into sport, he’ll go along to all the games, and make an effort to find out more about the sport. He wants to support them and if he has to read/watch more to understand it, then so be it! Type of dad to go to every recital, concert or play and be super proud. Takes loads of photos too. Why? So, when you’re old, and sat on your porch, you can look back and smile. Type of dad to be like ‘I can’t believe we made them!’ Echo is so soft and gentle and caring. He’d want maybe two kids. He feels having one, would mean they would be lonely. He, like all the other clones, grew up with brothers and loved them… most of the time! So, having two or three kids isn’t something he’d be opposed to.

·         Hunter: Is shaped like a dad, is a dad. Has the WORST dad jokes, but always makes his kids smile and laugh. He’s fun but strict, he wants to keep his kids safe, and has rules to help with his. Nothing major, but curfew is important. Makes a point of having a family board game night. Which once a month, includes all of the uncles. It normally ends in chaos but it’s always fun. Hunter is also the king of BBQ and DIY. Everything in his kids’ bedrooms and outside, was DIYed and built by him. Every BBQ he dons the apron, and proudly takes up his spatula. Makes the best burgers. He’s really supportive of his kids as well no matter what they do. He likes sports and will help his kids train. But if his kids don’t want to play sports, that’s not a problem, he’ll still be supportive. He’ll listen to his kids practise their instrument, help them revise, get Tech or Echo in to help them with chess. Will let his kids win at any videogames. Because the smile they have on their face when they best their dad, melts his heart. Hunter would want a few kids, maybe two or three. Omega needs some brothers and sisters after all. Hunter would also take his kids camping and be really outdoorsy with them. He’d like to leave early in the morning, and then come back trailing fireflies in with them. Anything from fishing to archery. Ultimate dad.

·         Crosshair: Crosshair never really thought about a family of his own. He has his brothers but never thought he’d have additions to that family. He’s a really unsure parent and doesn’t see himself as been emotionally available. He’s got issues that he would need to work through before settling down. He would mellow out and be a pretty good father. But he would panic in the run up to becoming a father. Would chew a thousand toothpicks in the run up to becoming a father, he’s nervous. He’d be a fairly reserved father. He’s not going to be emotionally distant, but it takes patience for him to open up to anyone. He’s really caring in his own way. But very unsure of himself. In a morning, will pretend to still be asleep, so his kids have to come wake him up, because he promised he’d teach them how to fire a rifle today. He’ll be there for his kids and be very protective of them. He’ll teach them to have good aim and that’s there way of bonding. Whether that be archery or something like clay pigeon shooting. If his kids win awards or trophies from competitions, he’ll be super proud. As his kids get older, he gets better with parenting. Parents evening with him will be intense. I honestly think his sense of humour and dryness may be inherited by his kids. Doesn’t do art. If his kids are into art, he’ll listen, but he has no idea what’s going on. That been said, will cherish anything they make for him. I feel Crosshair would probably have one child and would prefer to have a smaller family. He finds it hard to open up to a lot of people, and this would just suit him more… but wouldn’t be opposed to having a few more kids. Especially after seeing how amazing, they are. Would be a very smug father.

·         Tech: Helicopter parent. He wants his kids to do well in life and to have a good life. He just wants the best for them. He’ll support them in all of their extracurricular activities. ‘Oh, that will look good on your Uni application!’ Takes parents evening so seriously. What do you mean they’ve been doodling in the back of their books? Will look into what art extracurriculars are offered. He wants them to do well and will support them. He’ll help them with their homework and finds it fun. If his kids are struggling with something, they know they can come to him without judgement. He’ll judge other people, but his kids are still learning, and he wants to impart his knowledge. He’s a wise old owl. His kids will inherit the smugness that he has. Tech is smart and smug, and so are his kids. He’ll make sure to read to them. Not fantasy books but educational books. If his kids want to do sports, then he’ll get Uncle Hunter and Wrecker in to help. He’d very accepting of his kids and what they want to do and will support them. Takes lots of photos of them to show to his brothers. ‘This is them graduating from Year One to Year two.’ He’s very proud, but he will receive a ‘Oh goody, more photos, that we’ve seen a thousand times before’ Will shed a single tear when they graduate. If they go to University, will ask them to send them slides from their lecture. Because he wants to learn too. Do not let this man teach his kids to drive. Do not do it. He cannot drive for shit. I can see Tech maybe having one or two children. He wants to devote as much time as possible to them, to help them succeed and help them achieve their dreams.

[amortentiaparker]

navigation. everything is here.

➺ requests are open (i do not write explicit smut/nsfw works)

➺ i write mostly for peter parker but you may still send ideas about other characters.

➺ works are fem!reader unless stated otherwise.

➺ you may send a message if you want to be part of my taglist.

➺ this is a sideblog so unfortunately i cannot follow back as amortentiaparker but if u see @unbreakablehaven then that’s me <3

➺ if you can, i'd really appreciate if you check out my ko-fi!

please do not put my work on any other platform or repost without permission. reblogs and likes are appreciated.

the masterlist,

SERIES

⇒ beginning, middle, end | a peter parker social media au. (on hiatus)

summary: y/n stark. all of the citizens in new york city know who you are– scratch that; maybe even internationally given that you are the daughter of the iron man. hailed as the princess of the upper east side, nobody knows why you had suddenly transferred to a school in midtown manhattan, leaving your prestigious high school filled with snobby rich kids and clandestine affairs behind. dethroned, your new nickname might as well be the enigma because nobody can’t seem to figure you out. nobody except your father’s intern.

⇒ RED (and blue) | ongoing series

summary: Y/N, a swiftie, jokingly reposts the “Red (Taylor’s Version) boyfriend application form” on her instagram story.

The details are as follows: Looking for a boyfriend for the last week of August to the month of November- right before RED (Taylor’s version) drops to be exact. Applicant needs to make me fall in love with you immensely and you are required to break me like a promise before the deadline.

And somehow Peter Parker finds himself as the top candidate.

ONESHOTS

⇒ be enough | inspired by peace - taylor swift

summary: peter tries to break it off when spiderman gets in between your relationship.

⇒ when nothing feels right

summary: nothing just seems to go your way and peter’s there to make you feel better.

⇒ HBD, P

summary: event planning has never been one of your strong suits, not until peter and some of his friends came along

⇒ holding onto you

summary: like a bunch of immature school children, you and peter had despised each other since freshman year. what happens if you end up in front of his place during a low point? *requested

⇒ jump, then fall into me

summary: you have been having secret rendezvous with your long time best friend’s superhero alter ego. a little miscommunication is actually the biggest problem in these circumstances. *requested

BLURBS AND HEADCANONS

⇒ fake dating | peter x stark!reader

summary: “it��s a shakespearean love story but romeo and juliet only date to annoy their parents.” in which there’s an overprotective tony, a curious morgan, and potential babysitters bucky and sam?

⇒ slow dancing with peter

summary: peter listents to lover for the first time and he immediately wants to dance to it with you.

⇒ first dinner with the parents | peter x stark!reader

summary: peter already knows the entire stark family, but what happens when it’s the first dinner with him as your boyfriend?

⇒ my tears ricochet

summary: you and peter break up after returning from the snap. *requested

⇒ peach lip balm

summary: peter has always hated anything and everything about peaches, what happened?

⇒ studying in the library

summary: it's college!peter parker, what else could you ask for?

REQUEST GUIDELINES

⇒ i don’t write explicit nsfw works. a lil steamy makeout sesh here and there would be fine

⇒ no weird ships (teenager x adult character, incest) please.

⇒ you can send in your requests through ask/message.

⇒ i have the right to refuse to write out a request if i feel uncomfortable with it.

[ca11istee]

hiatus update

so april 18th, huh? it’d be a shame if i didn’t capitalize on this opportunity and start posting and saints again… okay, but in all seriousness that’s exactly what i’m planning on doing. i’m doing a lot better mentally, but these last few months have been an emotional rollercoaster. seriously, i can’t thank all of you enough who reached out.

updates from my last hiatus message: my personal laptop is still whacked but i’ve been getting a ton of mileage out of my work laptop and google docs. that modern au johnny/v fic i mentioned? yeah, it’s a full-blown smutty romance novel sitting at 142k right now and i’d hesitantly say it’s about 85% complete. apparently i’m also planning on posting it because of some lovely people i med on discord. i’ve also already started working on a cyberpunk space heist-type fic thing? I don’t wanna say too much because i think i’m gonna use that idea as my 2022 cyberpunk big bang fic, whenever that happens (because i’m insane and i’m not writing enough already. it’s like thanksgiving; i just keep piling things onto my paper plate hoping it won’t buckle).

i still haven’t touched my vaas fic (i know, i’m horrible), even after the dlc content came out. i loved it, btw. it was everything i could have hoped for and more. that hotel– just– ugh. it was just bad timing on my part, but also november was nanowrimo. i still can’t get over the fact that i sustained writing at least 1k a day from october 30th to december 18th (spiderman came out and i only ended up writing 500ish words that day).

as for the update i know a good portion of you all are reading this for: and saints. okay, here’s the thing, i didn’t start february thinking that bcs season 6 would be out in two months. and, hey, if i was smart and responsible, i would have pulled up and saints sooner and started tinkering with it last month when we got an official release date. yeah, no, i’m not smart. it took the swift kick in the head that was the season 6 trailer dropping and all of you coming out of the woodwork asking how things were and if i had seen the trailer or if i planned on updating and saints for season six– like, yes. yes to all of that. here’s my game plan, okay? i’m splitting chapter 39 into two chapters with three scenes each. so those two plus the next three are all around the same length outline-wise and should end up being around 5-7k words each. for those five chapters, i have collectively already written 23k words. at most, that’s only another 12k i have to write (that’s not even two weeks of writing, compared to what i had been doing. i can do this). i want all five chapters done before i start posting, because i want to do it weekly again (maybe sundays because bcs is supposed to air mondays?). i just can’t give exact dates right now because i cannot post a specific chapter on or around a specific day in april because– i can’t even say without spoiling anything. i’ll start posting again some time in april, okay? after the 5 chapters are written out i’ll see how i feel about the remaining nine (is my math right? 52 total chapters). I mean how awesome would it be if i finished and saints when the show ends, right? lol, no promises though.

below the cut, i have a hard to be a god chapter (we’re skipping a few but it’s a good stand-alone) because i literally have nothing else completed that wouldn’t be spoilery af. enjoy some jealous nacho, and take care of yourselves❤. the world is crazy right now.

TL;DR:  i’m still a sad bitch, my laptop is still dead, i wrote 142k words for a modern au cyberpunk fic (like, why, though? who needs that?!), i will start posting and saints again sometime in april, check out a nacho pov scene below the cut.

“Shit, man. Tito wasn’t kidding when he said you did clean work,” Travis looked up at Nacho from where he was leaning over, his head stuck through the front window of the Javelin.

“You like it?” Nacho asked, standing near the wheel well with his arms crossed over his work shirt.

“She looks great, better than new. Thank you,” Travis stood back up and went to shake Nacho’s hand. He couldn’t help but think of the compliment Jade had given him the night previous instead.**

“So, uh,” Nacho cleared his throat as he withdrew his hand from Travis’. “Are you still planning on selling her?”

“Now that I’m seeing her done, I’ll have to think it over— Why?” Travis tore his eyes off the muscle car to give Nacho a sly look. “You thinkin’ about buying?”

“You know,” Nacho scratched at the back of his neck, “my girlfriend really loves your car.”

Travis laughed before he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’d say.”

“Her birthday’s coming up in February, and honestly, this is the only thing I think she’s truly wanted since I’ve met her.”

“You’re gonna buy her a seventies muscle car for her birthday? Man, that’s gotta be some kind of love,” Travis chuckled before looking across the lot towards the front office. Nacho could practically feel Jade’s eyes on his back and was surprised she hadn’t run outside yet to say goodbye to the vehicle.

“It’s some kind of love,” Nacho repeated with a sigh, his eyes scanning the bright red body of the Javelin.

“Tell you what,” Travis tapped Nacho’s bicep with the back of his knuckles. “I’ll wait a week or two before I put her up for sale. Give you some time to think it over?”

Nacho contemplated the offer for a few seconds. He knew how outrageous it was to even think about buying a nineteen seventy-three AMC Javelin for his soon-to-be twenty-year-old girlfriend. Not even that, but he could only imagine how badly her parents would flip out. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call you when I decide?”

“Sounds good. Say, where is your lady anyway? I thought she’d be all over the car when I picked it up?” Travis asked and looked back towards the office.

“Uh, I think she’s upset,” Nacho shrugged and looked over for himself. The reflection of the cloudy sky on the windows didn’t allow them to see inside the shop.

“Huh, guess so,” Travis sighed, and Nacho looked back at him. If he wasn't mistaken, Travis looked a little disappointed.

“She’d probably come out if you offered her a ride,” Nacho added, despite the twinge of jealousy he felt starting to evolve into something messier, and Travis smiled at him. “Not saying you have to, but she’s been bugging me nonstop for one for almost a week.”

“And you were able to tell her no?”

“Had to, didn’t have a say. You do, though,” Nacho suggested again, trying to get Travis to agree, if only to make Jade happy.

“I’d love to, but, no offense, you don’t seem like the kinda guy to let his girl drive off with another man,” Travis argued. He was correct, and Nacho realized he must have accidentally intimidated the man and dropped his arms to his sides.

“It’s a special circumstance. Maybe if she gets a ride, she’ll get her fill, and I won’t have to dig myself such a financially steep hole,” Nacho tried smiling at the man. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from having a fit of sickly nervous jealousy.

“Maybe,” Travis nodded. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Besides, if she doesn’t come back, I’m not doing something right,” Nacho added in jest, but it only added to the tangle of anxiety and jealousy growing in his gut.

“Cool, man. I’ll go find her. I’ll bring her back in one piece, I swear,” Travis smiled widely at him before turning and heading for the office. Nacho only managed to nod again before he crossed his arms once more over his chest. After a few moments of waiting outside, Nacho wondered if Jade wasn’t in the front at all. Maybe she’d hidden away in the workshop or the storeroom.

Just as the thought crossed his mind that he should go find her for Travis, she burst through the front door.

“Are you serious?” Jade asked him as she did her best to run over in her heels. To Nacho, she looked like a wobbling newborn deer, and he tried to smile at the thought.

“Am I serious—?” Nacho barely got out before Jade’s arms were flung around his neck and her lips crashed into his. Nacho held onto her waist and did his best not to stumble backward from the force of Jade’s enthusiasm. He could taste the strawberry lip gloss Jade had been wearing and felt his heart stutter (a reaction no makeup product had ever given him before).

“You asked Travis to give me a ride? I can go?”

“Yeah,” he answered both of her questions with a single word, and Jade let go of him, stepping out of his reach. Suddenly, with a quiet squeal and her bottom lip between her teeth, her full attention was on the vehicle and Travis.

“Travis, let’s go! Where are we going?” She was already in the passenger seat as Travis reached the driver’s side door.

“I’ll bring her back, I promise,” Travis winked at him before he got into the driver’s seat and immediately started up the loud engine. The gesture made Nacho’s hands tighten into fists. He watched them drive off the lot before he forced himself to turn back for the upholstery shop. He knew he was overreacting, especially when he licked the remnants of Jade’s lip gloss off his lips, which only added to the black knot in his stomach. Even so, Nacho couldn’t help but replay that night over the summer when he’d dropped Corey and Joel off at their apartments. Nacho witnessed how quickly Jade had kissed her ex before jumping into his van, hoping for a quick escape. He couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t far off from boring Jade to that same point where she couldn’t stand to be around him any longer. Their two months of nearly steady dating felt like a miracle in itself.

“Ay, Nacho,” he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by Sal’s voice. “You okay, ese?”

Nacho only then realized that he’d stopped walking and had been staring at the half-open garage door, lost in his thoughts for an unknown amount of time. Sal was sitting outside on a crate, halfway through a cigarette break. He didn’t remember seeing Sal outside when he had turned around to walk into the shop.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“She’s coming back,” Sal added between puffs of his cigarette. “At the end of the day, it’s only a car, y’know?”

“Right.”

[pastelwitchling]

It’s that time of year again, folks. Goodness, that feels odd to say after so long. Watching this episode, I realized that I truly do not care about anyone except Alex, and occasionally the pod squad 😂 I’ve watched each of Alex’s scenes at least three times at this point, and watched Isobel mention Alex to Michael twice, but I did also watch the rest of the episode, so without further ado, grab a nice cup of tea, maybe a snack, because here are my (mostly Alex) thoughts on last night’s season 3 premiere.

I was bored watching everyone else 😅 I think a lot of it stemmed from frustration. I still cannot get over the fact that this whole narrative is treating Max like the one in the wrong when it’s undoubtedly Liz. I’m also not a fan of the storyline where the female character is just constantly fawned over by every handsome guy she meets. It seems like wherever Liz is, whoever she’s working with, they’re always so in love with her, singing her praises and doing everything for her. I just dislike it because it feels very much like pandering, like the woman would never survive if there was someone who acted like, you know, a human around her as oppose to a worshipper. It wasn’t a big thing, I just had to roll my eyes quite a bit.

Kyle. That man needs a break. Thank God, they were going with what I hoped, and ended his relationship with Steph in a throwaway line. That moment he shared with Isobel was so touching, I couldn’t stand it. Huh. Scratch that, I only care about Alex, malex, forlex, the pod squad, and Kyle. That kylex moment - I can’t. Please, God, let this season have so many more kylex moments. I also love kybel, I love their relationship. More Kyle, Alex, and Isobel please.

I don’t like Maria with Gregory. I want redemption for her, but I don’t think she can get that if they have her with another Manes. Just... keep her away from the Manes men. I do not want her near the Manes men. I’m not mortified by it, per say, but I do strongly dislike it right now. It might grow on me later, depending on how she acts.

I will say though I did appreciate the, “You know, Alex is back. Are you here to invite me to the wedding?” This was what I’d hoped from her from the beginning, supporting malex getting together! So long as they don’t mention an “ex” again throughout the show, I’ll be happy. The best thing they can do at this point is pretend the tragedy of season 2 never happened.

(Side note: I’d really love it if Maria stopped taking every chance she got to insult Michael. That’d be nice. Or if they’re going to do it, let someone call her out on it. Like, it’s okay if you scold a woman or give her a genuine flaw that people acknowledge. She’s not made of glass.)

Max looked so cute, I could die. Isn’t he just gorgeous when he’s all tortured? 😂😍❤ I love him. That moment when he listened to Liz’s recording had me near tears. He’s just so tired and so frightened and I think Nathan Dean really nailed the emotion. Have I said I love him yet? I love him. 

I enjoyed the pod squad moments, I love Michael and Max’s relationship, I love seeing Isobel and Michael work together to save Max, I love the family of it, it’s so heartwarming.

Now. Malex. Y’all. Words cannot express how I felt when Michael stopped in front of that shop window to fix his hair. That is some fanfic stuff I would write, my heart jumped, I had to hide my smile I felt so bashful, like I was suddenly intruding on a private moment. And then the way Michael reacted to Maria? I love how they showed he didn’t want nor could take any comfort in her. Not in animosity towards Maria (well, maybe a little), but in the fact that you just know she could never do that for him like Alex could and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise anymore. I thought it was a bit of a missed opportunity with malex, as they could’ve had Michael show that he wanted and needed that comfort from Alex, but hopefully they’re just waiting to have a big scene with them in 3x03, since Alex isn’t in 3x02.

Forlex. The kisses, the moment in bed, Alex’s smirk when Forrest asked him if he got in okay (😱), my heart was thrashing. And, well, I won’t pretend my heart isn’t broken that it’s already over. I freaking love forlex, I love Forrest so much, hats off to Christian Antidormi who came in and really just knocked it out of the park. I think the show was made all the better, and Alex all the happier, for having had him. I’m not angry or too upset about it though, because I’ll still be writing the forlex merman  au bonus story, I’ll still love them together, and I’ll keep Forrest in my heart forever. Also, the missed opportunities with Wyatt Long they could’ve had, really emphasizing how both Alex and Forrest are the black sheep of their families -- it would’ve been brilliant.

Not to mention, as a storyteller myself, I do think it was a little rushed the way Deep Sky was explained and then Forrest leaving, but in truth, I guess I’ve just lived with forlex over the whole hiatus, I’ve written about them so often, that I feel like I spent the past year with them so the scene is very emotionally heavy to me, and I could feel and understand Alex’s tears at seeing this one man who had allowed him so much freedom to just be leaving like that for good.

I am, however, very hopeful for malex’s friendship this season. I do think, realistically, it would be much easier for them to get closer without Forrest there, but at the same time -- again, missed opportunity. The way Alex was already being given E Clearance, like the badass he is, I got goosebumps 🤩😍

I am feeling emotional, hopeful, inspired. I want to write like crazy, which -- as anyone who’s been following me lately and read about my mental breakdown may know -- is the greatest gift anyone could give me. And it all came from Alex, Forrest, and Malex. Who’s shocked? Not me.

I genuinely can’t wait to see what happens the rest of the episodes. I am ready for the (hopefully) wonderful and heartwarming surprises. Already, this season looks promising.

[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Four

ao3 - masterpost

hello all. not entirely back from my hiatus, but i decided i did want to share this on tumblr just in case someone isn't on ao3. i've been having a rough month and as it turns out, writing this really helped boost my mood, so maybe reading it can help boost someone else's. so enjoy!

---

Elain is hysterical, but Nesta expected that. Feyre takes her by surprise, though.

"How did they get in?" she keeps saying. "How did they get in?" Almost as though she can't say anything else at all.

"Azriel's taken them in for questioning," Rhysand tells her, rubbing her shoulders. "We'll know everything soon enough."

Nesta's mildly irritated that she's the one who was attacked and yet it's her who has to comfort her sisters, but no matter. They're upset and she...isn't.

"It's really all right. The House kept me safe." The House keeps her safe, actually. Safe and comfortable and healthy and warm and clean....

"You'll come to stay at home tonight," Feyre says, squeezing a shaking Elain's hand tightly.

Home being Feyre and Rhysand's mansion by the Sidra. "I...don't think I will, actually. Thank you."

Her sisters blink at her.

"You don't want to stay here," Elain says, the first thing she's managed since crying.

Nesta bristles slightly at the implied insult to the House. "I do."

"It kept her safe," Cassian says, speaking for the first time since he brought in Elain.

"But they got in!"

"Maybe it let them in so you could catch them," Nesta suggests. "But it's safe for me here. And...I don't want to go." How could she possibly give up her standing bath, her magically-warmed room? There's not a price one can put on a proper night's sleep and then starting the day clean.

Feyre and Elain glance at each other for a moment, then nod at her.

"All right," Elain says, brave face on. "We'll stay with you."

Unnecessary. But if it'll make them feel better. "All right, then."

Rhysand gives Feyre a kiss on her cheek and puts a hand on Elain's shoulder. "We'll leave you ladies to get settled, then." He gives Nesta a charming, reassuring smile--ugh. "Everything's going to be fine."

"You're going to those Illyrians?" she asks.

"Yes," Rhysand says. "You get some sleep. You don't need to worry about any of this."

She's not worried about any of this. Why is no one listening to her?

No matter, she decides again. She was never in any danger anyway. She can just...calm her sisters, and go to bed, and put this from her mind.

Except she can't. The House's damaged wall stays etched in her mind, and the sound of those Hyben soldiers chasing after her in the library in her ears. What if they get in? Illyrians, or Briallyn, into the library? During a session with Thalia or one of Calliope's lectures or jewelry making or weekly check-in?

As she gets more agitated, tossing and turning, the room warms slightly. The House lulling her to sleep.

Fine. Fine, she can sleep tonight. Thalia says that she shouldn't agitate in bed, anyway. It's counterproductive and illogical--she'll sleep now, then be well-rested in the morning, and then she can come up with...something. To ensure the library remains safe while she is here.

Because if she doesn't...she might have to leave.

And she realizes she's not prepared to do that.

Something a soldier learns quickly is that torture during interrogation needs to be handled with precision and care, because people will generally say absolutely anything to get the pain to stop, and then none of the information can really be trusted. On top of that is the act itself, which damages the perpetrator as much as the victim. Cassian knows all this, and yet, as he thinks of Nesta, he can't bring himself to care.

"Calm down." Azriel's icy voice cuts through the images of her in duress hitting him like a series of punches.

He only snarls in return, but Az isn't shaken.

"She's all right," he says. "Calm down."

"She could have died." There it is, the simple truth. She could have died . They could have killed her . Briallyn wants her revenge; she'll probably do it slowly and painfully.

"She was safe the whole time, Cass."

"She didn't even know anything was going on," Rhys says, agreeing. "She's not even scared."

So what? So she wasn't scared this time, so what? The other times she was scared. Next time she might be.

"I should have been there." He should have never let Feyre and Elain go through with this. Fought to keep her in Rhys' home in the city; surely even these Illyrians would not dare attack the High Lord's residence.

"That's enough," Rhys says sharply. "It's not your fault. She's safe. And you were there. Right as the alarms went off."

"You were there faster."

"What does that matter?"

"It's a good thing she was at the House, Cass," Az says.

Yes, good thing. Good thing the House can keep her safe, even if he can't. From his own people.

"What did they say?" he asks, voice a growl. Rhys had not let him in the rooms if he could not promise to control himself. He could not.

"Not much," Rhys admits. "Just confirmed what we knew."

"It'll take time," Az says, spinning Truth-Teller in his fingers. "But I would like to state for the record there is a way to speed up the process."

"We can't make them martyrs," Rhys says. "We can't just senselessly slaughter them."

"It's not senseless. They're collaborating with an enemy to overthrow the crown. They attacked a Lady of the Court. There should be punishment for that." Az's eyes are cold in a way Cassian's never could be when talking about his own. Yes, he wants them to die for what they'd do to Nesta. But the way his brother feels about their people as a whole will always hurt in its own way.

"So they're scattered throughout the camps?" Cassian says, steering them back towards the matter at hand.

"With their strongest presence in Windhaven, yes."

Cassian frowns. Even though intelligence had led them to suspect it, having it confirmed...Windhaven is a more moderate camp, with Devlon, it's leader, being mild enough that he had let him and Az participate in the Rite centuries ago. But perhaps Windhaven's structure had led to its rebels being organized enough to form a strong base.

"We should start by cutting them off at Windhaven," he starts slowly, "and then we might not even have to bother with the dissenters in the other camps. Should we start interrogating the males there?"

Az raises an eyebrow. "You want to interrogate every male in Windhaven?"

"I think it'd be easier to just kill anyone who won't swear fealty to Rhys and Feyre, but since you two want to go about this diplomatically--"

"That's not the diplomatic approach," Rhys cuts in. "And that's not what we're doing. That's a colossal waste of time."

"Keeping Nesta safe is not a wa-- "

"I didn't mean that," Rhys interrupts again. "But there are far more productive methods of ensuring her safety and also furthering our cause of diminishing theirs."

"And I'm not going to like it," Cassian says, scowling.

"No," Rhys admits. "I don't think you will."

Nesta had been looking forward to going back to the library, because Elain had looked at her all weekend as though she was already mourning her and Feyre had driven her spare with her constant reassurances that all would be well and safe. But being here now, with the girls who were so close to having their sanctuary breached--yet again, because of her--brings forth a new layer of guilt.

"You're quiet," Gwyn whispers to her in weekly check-in.

"I'm always quiet."

"Bad quiet. What's wrong?"

"Just tired," she says, softly.

It's something of a lie, actually. Despite her concern over the safety of the library and the House--and herself, she supposes--Nesta actually awoke today feeling refreshed. She sleeps well and can stomach a few small meals a day. She's even begun inserting small jogging segments during her walks outside, just to get her blood pumping. Sometimes she catches herself aching for a drink, but her head no longer throbs in pain and Thalia's exercises help her to rid her mind of the thought.

It's working with her hands Nesta likes best. The lectures are fascinating, but she still ends up drifting down some spiral, but the jewellery-making and book-sorting keep her focused enough that she can't think about how miserable she is.

And the thing is, here, now, she's not miserable. She's not happy, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she's not miserable. And that's...worth something.

She wonders if any research she might get assigned to will also help in distracting her...or if that might make her happy.

No, she thinks, looking around at the dozens of girls, plenty of whom don't even speak after decades or centuries of being here. Research does not make people happy. Perhaps there are some people who just aren't meant to be. After all, she does not think she has ever been so. Not in her wealthy childhood, not in her poverty-stricken adolescence, and certainly not here.

Not miserable is good enough. She can be not miserable for her sisters, be presentable and not so embarrassing for their sakes.

Elain and Feyre are still there when she leaves the library for the day, joined by Rhysand and a particularly stoic Cassian. In fact, she thinks as she studies him in the reflection of the mirror in the living room out of the corner of her eye, she cannot recall ever seeing him this...upset. He's glaring at the floor, bright hazel eyes dark and yielding nothing of his typical irritating, incessant character. He spins a dagger between his fingers, siphons glowing bright each time he nearly slices his fingers clean off.

"Did it...go well with the Illyrians?" she asks, trying to keep her focus on something else.

"If you're an optimist," Rhys answers, grinning.

Ugh.

Feyre catches her annoyance at his answer and throws him a sharp look. "We've confirmed that Briallyn is taking advantage of the rebel situation in Illyria to get to you."

"Is that different from what you already thought?"

"It's good to have it confirmed," Feyre says. "We know more about the rebels in our context--" she gestures to herself and to Rhys, "--than in hers. So we know the best way to combat it."

Nesta waits a few moments, but no one says anything. "Which is?" she prompts.

Elain's throat bobs. Nesta watches Cassian's jaw clench even tighter in the mirror.

"The Illyrians need to be reminded of their place," Rhys says. "They forget, because of the distance between us, that they answer to us."

Nesta doesn't particularly care about the inter-politics of the Night Court, but she suspects that if an organized Illyrian rebellion is now working with Briallyn to kill her in order to unseat Rhysand or separate themselves from him, there's probably more than just distance involved.

"So you're going to remind them?" Nesta asks.

"That's where we thought you might have something to do with it."

Cassian starts tossing the knife between his hands faster, almost stabbing at the air. Nesta ignores how her heart speeds up when he nearly drops it through his foot.

"If the Illyrians end up going to civil war, we'll win. But we prefer to tamper down the rebels. We think the best way to do that is show them, first and foremost, this isn't worth dying over. And they will die." Rhys' words are a cold promise.

It's--frightening. What does he want her to do?

"Come with us to Windhaven," he says, as though in answer.

Nesta blinks. "I...thought I was here to stay safe."

"You'll be safe the whole time," Rhys says firmly.

"We would never entertain this otherwise," Feyre adds, eyes wide.

"What would going to Windhaven do? A display of strength?" Seems like it'd be right up the Inner Circle's alley, but overall, in her opinion, useless.

"Precisely," Rhys says, satisfied she's understood. She stifles an eyeroll. "You don't have to do much. Just walk around. We'll give you a tour of the camp. You remember how terrified they were of you, don't you?"

She does. Witch, they had called her. "But they won't be," she says. "They must know I don't have any magic." There's simply nothing to be scared of. She is, perhaps, not quite as sickly and pathetic today as she was a month ago, but certainly nothing to look twice at. Nothing to fear. Nothing to note.

Feyre opens her mouth to object, but Cassian beats her to it.

"You're a female twice as powerful as any of them. They'll fear you." She has no choice but to look at him when he speaks, and he catches her gaze tightly, fiercely, and she can't look away, can't turn her head or even blink--

"We'll be with you the whole time," Feyre says, breaking the spell. She forces herself to look at the floor instead.

"I'll come too," Elain says, determined.

"You don't need to," Nesta says, voice softened. "It's fine. I can do it. I'm not scared."

Elain deflates a bit, in relief or in disappointment, she isn't sure.

"I'm sure you're tired. We'll go tomorrow, if that's all right with you," Feyre says.

Nesta of a month ago had no plans for the day or her life, but now... "Actually, could we go to Tuesday?"

The four of them look at her in surprise.

"There's a new lecture circuit starting." History of limb and organ transplants, led by Daphne, their healer. "I wanted to go."

"Oh," Feyre says, blinking. "Oh! Well! That's--yes, of course, we'll go Tuesday instead. Yes, that's...that's fine."

Her sister's attempt at being casual. Nesta stifles another eyeroll.

"Well, I think I'd like to wash the dust off before bed..." Lie. She wants to go for a walk and eat a small dinner and read. But she wants them gone. She's had quiet enough company for the day.

"Of course! We'll leave you to it, then." Feyre leaves with a smile, and Elain gives her a soft kiss on her cheek before leaving with the pair of them. Cassian follows, but he lingers in the doorway.

"You don't have to go, you know," he says, turning and taking a few steps towards her. Too many.

"I know," she says. "I meant what I said. I'm not scared." The House won't be there to protect her, but... "Aren't you coming?"

"I am," he says, voice low--lower than normal, that is.

She nods once, eyes trained on the floor. She can't look at him again. Not when there's no alcohol to muddy the intensity of his gaze, no promise of some other male to drive him from her thoughts tonight.

I have no regrets in my life, but this.

I have never in my life thought you were pathetic.

"Good night," she says abruptly, turning around and rushing down the stairs.

No, no other male. A book or a game with the House will have to do.

They travel to Illyria the same way they came up to the House, but in reverse. Cassian flies her up until they are out of the House's protective sphere, then Rhys and Feyre grab on to each of them and winnow them to solid ground, miles and miles away.

She had been here once, during the war. It was miserable. It hasn't changed much. The lack of the stench of death is a significant step up, though.

"We'll be meeting Devlon. Camp lord."

Feyre links their arms together and Nesta bites her tongue to keep from saying anything. She doesn't think she and Feyre have ever walked arm-in-arm like this before. She and Elain had plenty, once. She and her other human friends, back when she had them. Way, way back.

They reach a sort of training center soon enough, and the Illyrians do double-takes when they see them-- her . She sees familiar religious gestures and even recognizes some of the males.

"Morning, Devlon," Rhysand drawls to the one approaching them.

"What is this?" he growls.

"Lady Nesta heard some soldiers were interested in her wellbeing. She was curious too."

Devlon narrows his eyes and scowls, but some of the younger males behind him grow faint.

And she supposes...considering how all this might look to them...she understands.

For Rhysand is their all-powerful High Lord, magic rippling from his being. Cassian is their most feared warrior, and he flanks them from behind, seven siphons radiating enough heat that she can feel it through her cloak. And she stands with Feyre, their High Lady, their cursebreaker, in a fine gown indeed that the House had picked out for her (one the nicest she's worn in quite some time)...yes, perhaps this does look a sight to behold. Perhaps they do seem powerful, not worth the effort.

Still, she knows that she herself is nothing to fear. Any one of these soldiers are as strong as the ones from Hybern who pulled her out of bed, and she has not exactly improved in physical prowess since then.

"My sister would like a tour, please," Feyre says sweetly.

Nesta almost blanches at her tone. She doesn't think she's ever heard it before.

Devlon probably isn't allowed to glare at Rhysand or Feyre or maybe her either, so he settles on Cassian. She can hear him chuckle slightly, but she doesn't turn to see.

"This way, Lady," Devlon says finally.

Devlon's tour-guide skills leave a bit to be desired, but in his defense, there isn't much here.

"Don't you have a school?" she asks, interrupting his riveting description of the shops and the living quarters .

Devlon freezes in his tracks. "You will not touch our children, witch," he snarls.

Nesta rolls her eyes and makes to answer, but Cassian moves before she can.

"Don't threaten her again," he hisses, knives at the ready in his hands.

Feyre and Rhys don't act as though this disturbs them in the least. On the contrary.

"Answer Lady Nesta, Devlon," Rhys says, almost lazily.

After another glaring-match with Cassian, he does, pointing to a dilapidated building. "There," he grunts.

"Not in session, I see," she says.

He grunts again, and walks them a little more along the main road, not bothering to point out any more attractions.

"Well," Nesta says, when they reach the training center again. "Thank you for that...riveting experience." In truth, while she doesn't like Devlon much, all this day has done has shed some light on why the Illyrians hate living under Rhysand so much. Velaris' luxury seems ostentatious in comparison, even vulgar. She doesn't think she ought to bear the brunt of it, obviously. But there seems to be an easy path to calming the rebels.

"I didn't see any girls this morning, Devlon," Cassian says, stepping in front of her and Feyre to talk.

Feyre pulls her closer. "All right," she whispers. "Now, we're going to go back to the training center, and you can walk around the shops. Don't be scared," she hurries to say. "You'll be perfectly safe. I promise."

"I'm not scared," Nesta replies.

"Good."

After a few more minutes of discussion--with Cassian angry at Devlon for a lack of female soldiers, Nesta gathers--the four of them trail off, Feyre squeezing her hand in goodbye.

A few Illyrians loiter around her, pretending not to stare at her as she turns around and heads back towards the shops.

There aren't many here--a butcher's, a liquor store (Nesta had clenched her jaw the whole way past the first time, and she does again now), some clothier's. One of them, Nesta notes, is stocked with winter goods, while the others seem to be selling out quite nicely.

She makes her way inside. If only to escape the gaping from the Illyrians who can't seem to decide if they want to follow her or run away.

The shop is warm, quiet, and empty but for a female at the front, with her back to the door.

"Good--morning," she says, the pause in her words when she turns to see her customer and sees that it is Nesta. "Lady," she adds.

"Good morning," Nesta says.

"Can I help you with anything?" the female says bravely.

"Just browsing."

They both know it's a lie. The shop is far too small to pretend to browse. But she lets her.

The female looks younger than Nesta, but she might be older. The fae take longer to age, with Cassian's five hundred-odd years giving him a face that Nesta would guess is thirty-two, and Nesta's own body, frozen at twenty-three, probably looks to fae to be two hundred or so. She wears a simple dress--everything in the shop is simple, and makes Nesta feel uncomfortable in her finery. Like Velaris' vulgar beauty that she had thought of earlier. Nesta's clearly not here to browse.

"I had heard you were interested in a tour," the female says politely. "Was it to your liking?"

"Yes," Nesta says. "News...travels fast around here, does it?"

"Not much to talk about." The female turns to put away a folded sweater, and Nesta sees a horrible set of scars down her wings. She can't stop her mouth from falling open, and manages to say something with slightly more decorum than her original intended gasp.

"I'm Nesta."

The females turns. "I know. I'm Emerie. I own this shop."

Nesta cocks her head. "You do?"

"I do."

"That's very impressive," she said. "I used to own a business." Her own trading on the continent. She hadn't trusted her father with all of their finances again, and had insisted on running some of her own.

"Really?" Emerie says, clearly mirroring Nesta's sentiments. Which is--nice. That camaraderie. And outside of the library, too. "Well, it's nice to know there are other females interested in making a name for themselves."

Nesta huffs a noise of amusement. "It is." She's silent for a beat, then asks, "Is it...difficult? Here? For you, as..."

"As a female who's not cowed by this?" she says, gesturing outside. "It's...not as lonely as you might think. And that makes it less difficult."

Nesta nods. She understands what Emerie means, even if she doesn't quite feel it herself. Friendship, she means. Sisterhood.

All the same, it's nice to know. That it's out there, outside of the library, and in it. Even if she doesn't have it. Even if she...

"Did it work, then?" she asks Feyre, hours later.

"It did," she says, a smug smile on her lips. "You did great. Good job, Nesta."

Nesta nods, even though it doesn't feel as though she's done much.

"I'll see you, then," Feyre says, reaching Nesta's hand to squeeze it in goodbye. "Elain will be so pleased to hear," she says, partly to herself, Nesta thinks. She practically skips towards Rhysand, who sweeps her in his arms as they descend into the city.

"Wait," Nesta calls to Cassian, before she realizes what she's doing.

He freezes in his tracks, wings still poised to follow after her sister and Rhysand. He turns.

"I wanted to ask you," she said, suddenly very aware of her heartbeat. "If you'd--once you asked--I--"

Her face flushes crimson, but he doesn't mock or even grin. Only nods once, patient, and that spurs her.

"If you could perhaps teach me some self defense? Not--not training, not like those soldiers...but maybe, if they attack again, and they get to me, just so that I know--just so I'm not entirely--"

"Yes," he cuts in. "I will."

"All right," she says, nodding slightly. "Thank you," she adds, realizing she probably should.

He swallows. Starts to say something. Then, nearly flinging himself off the veranda, he flies away.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 42)*

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+, this is smut folks. Plus, the usual warnings, and a focus on Ivar’s past experiences/trauma regarding sex, and related issues. Also, idk if I still need to let you know, but I write Ivar as a sub/bottom, always will.

A/N: Hi, thank you so much for being patient with me for taking an extra week to post this update after my return from the hiatus, I think I can get back to a more regular writing/uploading schedule from now on. Hope you like this chapter!

Alongside this chapter I posted an Ivar’s PoV. I very much encourage you to read it. You can find it here :)

Your fingers are quick making the knot, and you find yourself chuckling.

“What is it?” Ivar prompts, but the trail of kisses he leaves down your neck distracts you for a few breaths.

“I married you in red. It means nothing to your people, but does to mine,” You explain, before lifting the wrist that now bears your pendant like a bracelet between you, and tracing the inside of his wrist right under the leather knot. “And now our fates are tied as one, just as they would have in my homeland.”

“What do you mean?”

“When two people get married, amongst the things we do is tie their hands together. Like this,” You demonstrate, putting your palm against Ivar’s, fingers still greedily tracing the inside of his wrist that now bears the mark of your promise. “And a Hiereia would tie a knot to symbolize the union,” Your smile is a little dazed, more than a little lovesick, but you can’t find it in you to care. “Similar to how I did just now.”

“So we are married now?” He teases, and you chuckle, rolling your eyes. Ivar persists, though, a tad more serious, “Before your Gods, are we…are we husband and wife?”

“Of course we are,” You reply, almost affronted. Your brow presses against his, and you turn your hand to intertwine your fingers. “I swore before your Gods and mine to become your wife, did I not?”

He searches your gaze, or is lost in it, for a few breaths before he gives any answer.

The answer, it seems, is a soft smile and a slow blink of his eyes.

“I love you.” He tells you, an answer as well.

He lays his body over yours, and your senses are overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. His hands settle comfortably on your waist as he explores your mouth, tongue seeking entrance you willingly give, but he doesn’t waste a moment to grip surely on the curve of your ass when you bend one leg to bring him closer.

“I want you, I want…” He doesn’t finish his train of thought, choosing instead to trail open mouthed kisses down your throat, nuzzling at the dip between your collarbones, before his kisses grow more heated, gentle sucks and scattered bites over the tops of your breasts.

He is stopped by the nightdress you still wear, and resting his chin in the valley between you breasts, Ivar looks up at you, big eyes dark and plump lips bearing the reddish mark of your kiss. The sight shouldn’t be as distracting as it is, but you still lose yourself in it, and you think he speaks but you cannot hear it, too focused on reaching with one hand and trailing your fingers in through his loose hair.

Ivar says your name, a question, and all you can reply with is an inquisitive, hm?

“Can I…?” His hands bunch up the sides of your nightdress, the intent obvious.

It makes warmth and something else, something darker and made of iron more than silk, blossom in your chest, to hear him ask, to have him await your permission, to have him…surrender.

You nod your head, barely having to put any strength in lifting your body off the mattress to get the dress of since Ivar lifts most of your weight. That will never cease to surprise you, and you don’t think it will ever cease to make you want him even more either.

Laid bare before him, as you have been many a time before, you look up into his eyes. He doesn’t bother hiding anything right now, maybe if he tried he couldn’t, and you are witness to everything that swims in those pale blue eyes. The desire, the awe, the lingering frenzy from when you first told him of your choice, that frenzy of not wanting to waste a moment, a breath.

You had never felt want like this, not until him. You hadn’t felt wanted like this, not until him.

Not until the wide blue eyes that gaze at you like something out of a dream, not until the voice roughened by desire breathing out your name, not until the reverent and frenzied hands exploring whatever part of you that they can reach.

Ivar continues his previous trail, sealing lightning against your skin with every press of his lips over your body, with every caress of rough hands on delicate skin.

Nestled between your legs, he looks up at you with a smile that speaks of arrogance but something sweeter too, something softer.

Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder with practiced ease, Ivar licks a stripe up your center, making you shiver.

One of your hands tangles in his hair as it always does, and as Ivar starts working his tongue against you, your fingers tighten and pull at his hair, only succeeding in making him redouble his efforts, drawing the occasional moan from him that reverberates through you.

He takes his time slowly making pleasure build inside you, tightening like knot in your lower stomach, to the point where your body is begging for release.

In between tight circles of his tongue against the bundle of nerves in your core, Ivar puts his fingers inside you, skillful curling of them making your legs tremble and your breaths stutter.

Praise is falling from your lips, you aren’t sure if in any language he knows but certain he understands regardless, judging by the bite followed by a reverent kiss that he presses to the inside of your thigh.

And you climb higher and higher, lost in him, lost in the pleasure he so willingly seeks to draw out of you as if it your moans were the most exquisite form of praise.

With one last cry of his name that sounds high and breathless, you reach your peak, feeling as if the waves of pleasure rolling over you are never to end.

As you come down, you blink past the daze of pleasure and draw him back up to you, bringing his lips to yours.

You never hesitate in kissing him, even when the evidence of what he has done to you is still on his tongue. If you are honest, tasting yourself on his mouth sends a pang of heat through you each and every time.

And you are hungry and desperate, hungry for pleasure that isn’t yours, desperate for giving him the pleasure you know you can.

Your hand trails down his chest as your mouth demands entrance into his, tongue exploring his mouth leisurely. Your free hand tightens on his hair, and you pull him closer, while you reach exactly where you wanted.

You barely are able to cup your hand around him when Ivar pulls back, breaths ragged.

His hand grips at your wrist, stopping you. You expected that, though.

Ivar takes a deep breath, and states, “It won’t work, you know that.”

Your free hand reaches for the side of his face, trailing down the side of his neck, and you search his eyes as you promise fervently,

“Even if it doesn’t work normally, you can feel pleasure, Ivar. I know you can, I h-…”

“I can’t,” He interrupts you, eyes wide. You remain silent after his words, and a shaking breath leaves his parted lips. Voice low and rough, he explains, “It feels…painful, and…do you think I didn’t try, after that first night with Margrethe? I-I couldn’t go to her again, o-or anyone else, but…I believed she had done something to me, I believed-…she had to be the reason why, it had to be her fault.

You think of how long it has taken him to feel comfortable around you, how much he still struggles with the soft intimacy of just the two of you, how aware he is of his own body and where and when you touch him; and you cannot help but think he most likely wasn’t ready at all to be with that girl. You know him well enough to assume it was probably something having to do with his pride, with that public image that seems to seep into how he sees himself all too often.

Ivar continues, “I tried using my hand to-…I tried, and it…and it was useless. It is of no use,” His expression tightens, a furrow in his nose of old anger, of resentment at the world and Fate itself. “Being touched…it-…I can’t bear it.”

“Have you felt that way with me?” You ask quietly, suddenly sickened by all those times you felt him lean into your touch or almost surrender to the press of your body or your hand against him and believed you were offering pleasure. “Is it painful when I touch you?”

More than anything you wish you could be in his head right now, you wish you could know which are those thoughts that make for a few moments his breaths slightly more panicked, that make something like anguish cross his features before he can offer any words.

“No,” He tells you, letting you breathe easier, “I-It always felt…good with you. But I can’t, you know I can’t.”

Something in you steels at the way his eyes fall from yours. There is no reason he should ever feel he cannot hold your gaze, least of all for something like this.

Your hand on the side of his face is gentle, and he obeys the silent command and returns his eyes to yours. The sight of tears -this time not overwhelmed, happy, disbelieving tears at hearing you are to stay, but defeated, humiliated, helpless- makes you strengthen, offer certainty when he has none.

“It will feel good with me, Ivar,” You say, unwavering. You know it is true. Still, even if you ache to show him, you offer your words and your sincerity and nothing more. “It will feel good, because you are mine and I am yours. There’s no room for pain, for anything else, not when it’s us.

He starts shaking his head, words stuck in his throat but trembling lips trying to form them anyways. You lean closer, the hand on his cheek moving to grasp at the back of his neck.

“You can feel pleasure, my love,” You promise. His eyes -wide, uncertain eyes- jump in between yours, frantically searching your gaze as if truths can be found in you, as if he’s desperately hoping he can believe what you tell him. “Let me show you.”

“I…I’m-…”

You press your lips gently to the corner of his mouth, and even that simple and intimate touch makes him jump, makes the faint tremble of his body slightly worse.

“Shh,” You soothe, daring to put a hand on the center of his chest, the caress firm but soft as you try luring him to a normal breathing. “It is alright. I will stop if you want me to. Is that what you want?”

You lean back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart suddenly picking up speed at the sight of him. Ivar’s eyes are wide and his breathing hasn’t slowed down, and it is after a few shaky breaths that he manages to give you an answer.

The barest movement as he shakes his head, and promises, “I want you.”

Simple words, but they make pure and raw hunger run through your veins like wildfire. A wilder part of you, a part of you that lingers in all the ways he has proved he is yours, wants nothing more than to satiate this hunger with starved touches, demanding kisses and hurried and desperate proof that you want him, however you can have him.

But more than anything you want to erase any memory of any hands on his body that aren’t yours, even if they are his own, when those memories bring forth pain. You want to show him there’s no pain to be felt when it comes pleasure, you want to show him there’s no humiliation to be dreaded when it comes to intimacy.

Pleased with the answer and unable to help yourself, you capture his lips on yours, a leisurely exploration of his mouth as you press as close as you can. Ivar moans against your lips at the first of presses of your mouth on his, leaning into your touch with barely any hesitation.

When you pull back his brow is furrowed and his breaths are fast, and a pang of heat goes through you at the way he licks his lips, already missing the taste of you.

“Then trust in me,” You ask softly, your mouth moving slowly through the curve of his jaw to reach his ear. Voice low, you demand, “Give in to me, Ivar.”

The effect of your words is immediate, and Ivar doesn’t bother containing the overwhelmed little sound, somewhere in between a whimper and a moan, that leaves his parted lips. Your hand on the back of his neck is the one thing that keeps his head from falling back, and the only thought that runs through your head at the sight of him is that he is yours, yours, yours.

Past the daze of hunger and desire, you remind yourself that there will be time for hurried, there will be time for desperate and hungry. There will be time for you to leave your mark on him, there will be time for his skin to bear the reminder that he is yours and yours alone.

But now, now you want to explore every part of him, with hands, with tongue and lips. You want him to feel safe with you, you want to get him drunk on nothing but you.

And so you do.

With aimless but gentle touches of your hands over his body, with presses of your mouth that linger between hungry and soothing, with whispered praises of how much you want him, of how no one compares to him in your eyes, of how good he is for you; you make the lingering tension in his body give way to something else, you make him give in to the lull of touch and the high of being just the two of you and the intimacy between you.

And this time when you reach down and palm him over the thin barrier of his pants he doesn’t even try to stop you, instead offering a haggard breath of your name and nothing else, surrendering to your touch.

He tenses underneath you when you move your hand to reach for him under his clothes, but you press quick and soothing kisses to the exposed skin of his neck and remind him quietly,

“It is just me, Ivar. All I want is to give you pleasure, nothing will change that.”

“Y-You know I-…”

“I know,” You tell him softly, “Just focus on me, focus on how it feels.

After lifting your hand back up to your face to spit on the palm of it and make things easier, you whisper your instructions as you circle your fingers around his cock.

“It feels good when I touch you, doesn’t it, love?” You ask, not expecting an answer, but you do get one, a choked hum of affirmation. You smile against his neck, “It feels so good to finally be able to touch you, to be able to make you feel good.”

Slowly but surely, you feel him hardening slightly under your touch. You still keep the pace of your hand steady, as well as the flow of praise that falls from your lips, certain that if you draw attention to it he will close up or revert to the defeated certainty of before.

When you get him hard enough that even he cannot ignore it anymore, Ivar gasps your name, a call to stop even if you don’t obey it.

“H-How-…? I don’t-…”

“Focus on how it feels, Ivar,” You reiterate, not wanting him to overthink things, not wanting the past to have any reach in this moment. “Focus on me.”

You make sure to keep talking. He has told you many times, and proven even more, that there’s something soothing to him about you talking, either because of the sound of your voice or what you have to say, you truly don’t know.

So with your fingers toying at the waist of his loose pants, you look up and ask,

“Can I see you, my love? All of you?”

Ivar licks his lips, but they still part helplessly as he looks down at you, barely daring make a sound past the gasping breaths that leave him.

And he nods his head. His eyes remain intently on you as you take off his pants, remain on you searching for something in your gaze as you take in all of him.

Bare before you, his skin baring the faintest shine of sweat and a few marks that may be the result of less-than-gentle exploring on your part, you feel your throat tighten, your mouth dry. You want him, you want to make him moan, you want to make him surrender, you want to make him yours.

But, teasing both him and yourself it seems, you take your time, slowly crawling up his body until you are face to face with him, straddling his hips but not close enough for you to be pressed together.

Ivar looks up at you, wide eyes asking -pleading- for something that he doesn’t yet dare voice, chest rising and falling rapidly with each expectant breath.

Your mouth slowly curves into a smile, and keeping your eyes on him in a silent command that he keep looking at you, you reach for his hardening cock.

At the first of your touches Ivar lets out a haggard moan, head craning back and leaving his throat exposed, tempting you to place a few more marks here and there. But you want to see him, you want to see the effect of your touch on him.

“Look at me,” You order, a pang of heat running through you at how quickly, how pliantly, he obeys the command, forcing heavy eyelids to remain open and dark eyes to remain on you. “I want your eyes on me, love.”

His cheeks are tinted red and his eyes are slightly moist as he looks up at you, his hair roughened my movement and the passing of your fingers, he looks like every desire you’ve ever had made man.

The strong body, open gaze, the moans and whimpers he tries and fails at keeping hidden. Perfect. Yours.

You run your thumb over the tip of his cock to gather the moisture that slowly starts forming there, turning your wrist slightly when you stroke upwards. Ivar gasps, almost sitting up, but you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

And…Gods, how easily he complies, leaning back and letting you continue to touch him, surrendering his pleasure to you. And still, in the daze that makes moans and whimpers fall from his lips so easily, he still remembers to keep his gaze on you, to keep endless blue eyes focused on you. The sight of his surrender is enough to make a woman mad.

His lips form helplessly around the words before he even utters them, but eventually Ivar gasps, “It…ah, it feels…”

“Good?” You ask, and he nods his head frantically.

“Y-Yes,” He promises, eyes wide, “Don’t…don’t stop.”

You don’t stop the movements of your hand, but you move down his body, and settle between his legs. Ivar’s eyes are wide, and he looks tortured when he looks down at you.

Licking a trail from the base of his cock to the tip, you delight yourself in the tremble you make take over his whole body, and after a few tentative licks that are there just to see if you can make him beg without having to tell him to, you take him in your mouth.

He moves as if to sit up again, unconscious movement of his body against the new feeling, but you still put one hand against his stomach, keeping him down even if it is not through brute strength that you do so.

Ivar cries out your name as you start moving your mouth over him, while your hand strokes the base of him. And you try keeping your eyes on him as much as you can, not wishing to lose a moment.

You don’t keep track of time, couldn’t even if you wanted to, but you do notice him climbing closer and closer to that edge. It is written in the tension of his arms and shoulders, in the red that starts spreading over his chest, in the way the sounds he makes are broken by whimpers, in the breaths that stutter over one another.

But he stops you again.

“S-Stop, pl-…ah, please stop,” He pleads, taking a few shallow breaths when you pull back. His hands grip tightly at the sheets underneath him, and breath by breath he starts to let go. Once his hold on them is almost loose, he speaks again. “Stop, or I will…I…don’t want this to end yet.”

Your heart does a strange thing in your chest, and you move back up to be face to face with him. Your eyes linger on the few details that make him look so utterly wretched, from the faint shine of sweat on his forehead to the bite marks on his lip.

You want to kiss him, but hesitate, wondering if he will be disgusted by his own taste. Ivar doesn’t even think about that, it seems, for when you are close enough he lifts a trembling hand and tangles it in your hair, bringing your lips to his, kissing you slowly and deeply.

You pull back, a hand on his chest, and promise, “It isn’t the end, love.”

“I want to be inside you.” He argues.

“And you will be,” Is the answer you give, before kissing a quick path down his chest. Grasping him in your hand once again, you look up at him. Unable to resist the temptation, you grant the faintest of licks to his tip, making a ragged groan leave his lips. “But before that, I want to make you come undone, using just my mouth.”

He doesn’t offer any resistance after that, but judging by the way his breaths get quicker and his eyes flutter shut before you even get to put your mouth around him again, your words had a deeper effect on him than you had anticipated.

Bracing yourself on his thighs, you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, ignoring the discomfort of your jaw as you move your mouth over him.

The litany of sounds that leaves his lips becomes more ragged and broken the longer you pleasure him, even if it isn’t that long until you notice the clear tells of him being close to the edge again.

This time you redouble your efforts, daring to moan slightly around him, making a string of curses leave Ivar’s lips. And when you reach with one of your hands to play with his balls, his hands grip desperately at the sheets underneath him once again.

As Ivar’s voice begins to give out, head turned to the side and nothing but broken moans leaving his lips as you get him closer and closer to the edge, you try your hardest to commit this moment to memory. This moment, of his voice sounding so beautifully wretched by the pleasure you give him, of his body pliant under your every touch and desperate in equal measure.

Ivar reaches his peak with a hoarse shout, his back arching off the bed, wide eyes looking at the nothingness above him. You are lost in the sight of him lost in the throes of pleasure, and you can almost ignore the bitter taste of his seed as you swallow.

He loses all strength and collapses against the bed, gasping breaths as he comes down from his high. You move back up against him, pressing a kiss against his chest and resting there, soaking up his warmth.

His hand settles on your waist, but it does so with such effort that pride surges through you. His chest still heaves under you, and as you lay your cheek against his heart, you hear it beating wildly under your ear.

“That was…” He lets out an incredulous laugh, a breath past parted lips. His eyes meet yours, “Thank you.”

“Hm, so polite,” You tease, pecking his smiling lips. “I’m still going to insist that I told you so.”

And for now you remain in this moment you wouldn’t change for anything, this moment of leisurely traces of hands on each other’s bodies, this moment of kisses exchanged like secrets, this moment of a beginning in more ways than one.

____ ____ ____

So that happened! Hope it was okay! Thank you for reading!

You can find Gǫfga, the Ivar PoV that continues from this chapter, here.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @pieces-by-me​​ @angelofthorr​​ @samsationalwilson​​ @peachyboneless​​ @1950schick​​ @punkrocknpearls​​ @ietss​​   @itsmysticalmystery​​  @revolution-starter​​ @the-a-word-2214​​ @fae-sedai​​   @crazybunnyladysworld​​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​​@aprilivar​​ @msrawog​​    

[everydayescapeartist]

First Lines

Tagged by @forbiddenfantasies1  -- Thank you!  This was fun!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

1) Jaime stood perusing the wide selection of cards in the Harrenhalmark Gift Shop aisle. (Wench You Care Enough to Send the Very Best, Jaime/Brienne, rated G)

2) It had been a relatively slow night so far. (Ladies’ Night at the Lion’s Den, Jaime/Brienne, rated M)

3) The movie theater was quiet. (The Christmas Leap, Katniss/Peeta, rated M)

4) She’d known this would be part of her creative writing class. (Smut Writing for Dummies, Jaime/Brienne, rated E)

5) She only does it because it’s for Sansa’s Psychology Research class and because Sansa promises her anonymity will be kept and because Sansa is her best friend. (It’s Hard To Look Right At Ya, Baby, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

6) Joanna and Aleysia were as close as sisters, though they shared no blood.   (I Don’t Want to Toe the Line, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

7) Jaime couldn’t believe he was here, actually considering doing this. (A Knight Under the Big Top, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

8) There she stood in the dark, feeling all the fool she should for letting Renly talk her into coming to this stupid party. (Seven Minutes with the Seven, Jaime/Brienne, rated G)

9) “I was wondering, my queen, if you’d be so kind as to bend the knee for me.” (Bend the Knee, Jon/Daenerys, rated M)

10) She’d been so excited to get to learn from him, the Golden Lion, knighted (by Ser Arthur Dayne no less) when he was just 15, and invited into the Kingsguard that same year.  (Gonna give you all my love, boy, Jaime/Brienne, rated E)

11) She sat at the small, round wooden table feeling numb, staring at the faces around her, the faces deciding a fate she had no say in. (Build a Bridge, Katniss/Peeta, rated M - Note: I realized I suck pretty badly on this one because I forgot that I posted it for PiP, so while I’ve had eight chapters drafted for several years, I kind of forgot anyone might be awaiting them.  *hangs head in shame* As you can see if you look at my works list, life shit got real around here and I was just rolling into a hiatus at this point, though I didn’t know it at the time. I cannot make any promises, but perhaps I’ll try to finish this one in some way that satisfies me and post it eventually.  Probably no one cares at this point, but I still feel bad.)

12) We take our turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. (In All Moments, Katniss/Peeta, rated M)

13) Dear Dr. Aurelius, You asked me to write a little something about anything "remarkable" about each of the days of this week since it is the anniversary of Prim's death and you want to make sure I don't just get locked up inside myself again. (Prim, Promise, and Progress, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

14) "That'll be $4.50," she informed the middle-aged man still in his business suit from work apparently, his fresh-faced beauty of a girlfriend (wife? mistress? who knew?) hanging on his arm. (Change at the Fair, Katniss/Peeta, rated G)

15) "I'm in the mood to play tonight.  Are you?" (Web Spinner, Katniss/Peeta, rated E)

16) Katniss settled down comfortably onto the thick branch she’d ascended to, resting her back against the dark bark of the tree’s trunk. (Reading Companion, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

17) I walk back over to where Finnick is keeping watch and sit back down just a couple feet from him, keeping my eyes trained in the directions he is not covering. (It Can Never Be Enough, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

18) May (Peeta): He was so happy to have gotten the job. (Hot Buns, Honey Buns, Katniss/Peeta, rated E)

19) “Peeta, come on, man, call it a day!” (Beautiful Shield, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

20) His fair hair and skin stood out here and that, plus how off-key he was as he sat on the sand humming a tune whilst sketching in a notebook, is what caught Katniss Everdeen’s attention as she made her way past him toward her friends. (New Old Friend, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

Patterns: I guess I typically try to set the scene a little, let you know where the characters are & generally what they’re doing & maybe how they’re feeling about it. Most times, I don’t start with dialogue, though sometimes I do.  Lord knows I use enough dialogue after I give you the initial sentences usually, haha!  

Favorites: #5 because it amuses me, like I can feel Brienne’s discomfort in the situation..and because I hope it makes people want to learn more about whatever her predicament is.  #8 also because I apparently like Brienne’s feelings in different predicaments, lol.  #11, which makes me feel even worse, but yeah, I like the somber feeling of it.

Tagging (apologies, I’m sure I’ll repeat tag someone who has already been tagged/done this - feel free to ignore): @writergirl2011 @ilikeblue @angel-deux-writes @theunpaidcritic @twelvemonkeyswere @bussdowntarthiana @sohereforyou @jennagill @hutchhitched @muttpeeta and anyone else who would like to do this :)

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

Staubrey for the angst thingy.

Yessss, I need to write some angsty Staubrey after my hiatus I think 🤔

Who is more likely to get injured doing small tasks

Stacie. Neither of them are particularly clumsy, but if anyone is likely to accidentally catch themselves with a kitchen knife when cooking or get a papercut leafing through books for her PhD it’s Stacie. She’s also known to push herself too hard at Bellas practice on occasion and once sprained her ankle after taking a tumble during a complicated piece of choreography which was annoying up until Aubrey took the whole weekend off to take care of her. After that it’s one of her favourite accidents.

Who worries more about the other

Aubrey. She’s the Bellas resident control freak and worries about all of them, but she worries about Stacie the most. Even before they were dating, Aubrey is constantly worried about Stacie, worried that her life choices are going to put her in danger or in a situation that she can’t get out off. Stacie loves the protective side to Aubrey that comes with her worrying all the time, but she hates the way it sometimes makes her feel like Aubrey sees her as a dumb kid. That’s the way everyone treats her, but Aubrey is the one person that Stacie resents treating her like that. 

Who is more afraid about the other leaving them

Both. Aubrey worries about her lack of experience with dating and especially with dating women, she worries that Stacie will get bored of her because she’s more ‘prude’ (Aubrey’s word) than other people that Stacie has been with, and it’s hard to get out of that headspace. Stacie’s worries are almost exactly the opposite; she worries that her past is going to be divisive for her and Aubrey, that she thinks she’s a ‘slut’ (Stacie’s word), that the fact that she’s been with so many people is going to make Aubrey judge her just like everyone else does and it is ultimately going to be the reason Aubrey leaves her.

Who is more likely to leave (for any reason)

Stacie. Aubrey is the love of her life, there’s no doubt in her mind about that, but Aubrey’s constant worrying and her need to control everything is suffocating. Stacie hates feeling trapped, hates feeling infantalised, and one day it’s just too much for her to deal with anymore and she has to leave. Beca comes home one day to find a broken hearted (and drunk) Stacie sat outside her apartment door because Stacie knows that the one person who’ll understand that Aubrey can be a lot is Beca. What she doesn’t anticipate is Beca yelling at her, telling her that running away and abandoning Aubrey is a dick move, that it’s cowardly: “Sack up dude! So Aubrey’s a little controlling of everything, so what? It’s because she loves you, if it bothers you so much then talk about it with her!” So Stacie goes home and apologises over and over whilst still drunk, and when sober they talk about it, Aubrey promising to address her control issues as long as Stacie talks to her rather than running away again. 

Who is more likely to drunkenly confess

Aubrey. Stacie has never needed alcohol to tell people how she feels, but Aubrey is so deep in the closet and has such a tight control over her life that it takes a ridonkulous amount of alcohol before she finally tells Stacie how she feels. They’re at Bella House during Stacie’s second year for an a cappella party (Aubrey always gets invited even after she graduates because they’re just not the same without her) and after watching Stacie drape herself over the third person that night (and after about five wine coolers) Aubrey grabs Stacie by the wrist, pulling her off the frat guys lap that she’s sat on and kisses her. It’s a little rough and sloppy, but god it’s everything: “There. Now you know how I feel will you please stop draping yourself over every frat guy and a cappella girl at this party?” Aubrey grumbles. “Baby, that what I’ve been waiting for all night.” Stacie grins, “Sometimes you’ve got to make someone jealous before they realise what they want.”

Who is more likely to push the other away (for any reason)

Aubrey. It’s an automatic response to being around someone who cares about her and she can’t help it. She’s so used to them leaving her, so used to them using how she feels about them against her that she pulls away long before they can hurt her. Stacie hates that people have hurt Aubrey like this and she spends the first two years of their relationship trying to bring Aubrey out of her shell. It’s when Stacie leaves her, even only for an afternoon, that Aubrey hits a turning point. Because she came back. Stacie comes back to her and wants to make it work. Maybe this is someone she can trust with her heart after all...

Who picks fights more often

Stacie. In their early days, when Aubrey is paranoid and controlling, and so worried about Stacie leaving her, Stacie thinks it’s because Aubrey’s looking for a reason to break up with her. So she picks fights over stupid things, trying to give Aubrey an out, a reason for her to leave without feeling guilty. Nowadays, the couple rarely fight, and when they do it’s always short lived and minor because they talk to each other and don’t shut themselves off.

Who usually apologizes first

Aubrey. Not because Stacie doesn’t want to, but because Aubrey has this compulsive need to always apologise, even when she hasn’t done something wrong. It’s a habit that Stacie is still trying to get her to break, even after years of being together, but Aubrey still has some small part of her that feels like she’s not good enough and has to constantly apologise for everything. It’s less frequent now, but Aubrey still has a bad day here and there.

Who is more likely to withhold their feelings for the other

Aubrey. Stacie has never been shy about how she feels about anyone, but Aubrey is convinced that someone like Stacie will never feel the same way about her. How could she? Aubrey isn’t good enough or beautiful enough for someone like Stacie Conrad, so it’s easier to quash how she feels than admit that the only person she wants is Stacie.

Who is more likely to lash out at the other

Stacie. She’s used to people treating her like a dumb bimbo, used to people underestimating her, but when Aubrey does it, even before they’re dating, it makes her irrationally angry. Aubrey gives as good as she gets, don’t ever think otherwise, but Stacie hates Aubrey treating her like everyone else does, even if Aubrey doesn’t realise she’s doing it.

Who gets more jealous

Aubrey, and she feels awful about it. Given Stacie’s past, there’s always a small part of Aubrey in the early days of their relationship that is convinced that Stacie is cheating on her. Every time they’re out, on campus or off it, and someone so much as looks at Stacie in a weird way, Aubrey can feel her guts twist. It eventually leads to one of the worst fights in their relationship, Stacie angry that Aubrey doesn’t trust her, Aubrey frustrated that Stacie doesn’t get why it bothers her so much: 

“Why the hell can’t you trust me Aubrey, in the entire time that we’ve dated have I ever actually given you ANY reason to think that I’m actually cheating on you?”

“Can you blame me, you haven’t exactly got a reputation for being a nun!”

“I cannot BELIEVE you would throw that in my face!”

“Look, I’m sorry okay?! I hate that I think like this, I hate it, but the only reason it bothers me so damn much is because I love you and the thought of you leaving me like everyone else is more than I can bear!”

“... you love me?”

Who is more likely to support the other in a relationship with someone else “as long as they’re happy”

Aubrey. She’s long since accepted that the people she loves leave her or don’t feel the same way, so she’s always waiting for Stacie to leave her for someone else, telling herself that as long as Stacie’s happy she’ll be able to live with it. That it’ll be okay.

Thanks RJ, this took ages because I got super invested in a couple of these whoops 😅

Send me a ship and I’ll give you my angsty or domestic headcanons!

[steviesays]

January Fic Recs

ok so a ...... LONG time ago I made a fic rec list after reaching 1500 followers and I had a lot of fun doing it and now that I’ve decided to be multi-fandom I just wanted to share some of my favorite fics I've read in January so uhhh here goes :)

also pls know that most of them are going to be for FMA:B simply because thats my current hyper fixation but I’ll put what fandom each one is for ajadhfsa

Get A Hobby, Asshole by @borkthemork - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Ed tells Roy to take up cooking instead of working himself to death and he ...... takes that idea and decides to use it to work himself to death in true Roy Mustang fashion I love it so far

The Amestrian Candidate by @dyannehs - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Y'all know I LOVE a political drama WHEW omg this one is so good I think about it constantly!!!!! Roy is running for PRESIDENT and his campaign is MESSY! It recently went on hiatus but thats ok I will wait patiently until the next stellar update

Limited Release by rageprufrock - complete

Fandom: X-Men: First Class

This is the first x-men fic that had me hooked in a HOT second and made me remember how much I love cherik so if all my February fics are cherik .... mind your business anyway this one is actually very Alex Summers centered which I didn’t think I would like but the WRITING !!!! bby Scott is missing and the first class squad is part of the FBI so its a modern setting but there's still mutations aka a perfect storm

An Invite For Tea by @borkthemork - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

Yes I did go read all of borkthemork’s works after reading Get A Hobby, Asshole and yes they were all great but this one right here ........ YALL. Roy and Riza TALK ???? and CUDDLE ???? and I fucking CRIED ??????? oh my god

*Also please just read everything they’ve posted so I don't have to list every single one and give bad summaries that no one wants to read

A Spoonful of Sugar by oretsev - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Riza owns a bakery and Roy opens a coffee shop next door. It is just as pure and wholesome as it sounds and I love it ....... so much ????

*I also binge read everything else orestev had posted on their AO3 after reading this one and everything was incredible I highly recommend :)

Deadeye by @existentialspacecowboy - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Roy and Riza are COWBOYS what other information do you need please read it immediately

My Girl Claudine by @leeloforever - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

Team Mustang has a night out and their dynamic .... we absolutely love to see it

and i’m not trying to be with you, now by yourendlessblue - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

The only thing I love just as much as a political drama is, you guessed it, a DOCTOR AU !!!!!! also don't think I didn’t peep the Taylor Swift reference in the series name, my third mortal weakness

delicate by @lantur - in progress but its almost done and I genuinely don’t know what I’m going to do with my life when its finished

Fandom: FMA:B

You’re absolutely CRAZY if you think this one was not going to be on the list and I’m sorry it took this long to get here but here we are. What do I even say about this masterpiece ...... other than Riza Hawkeye is the love of my life. Thats it, thats the fic. And ANOTHER Taylor Swift reference in the title ???? I keep winning

*P L E A S E read everything else lantur has on their AO3 page the TALENT

Pyrolysis by raisingmybanner - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

OOF I love this fic ajasjdfsh and I know I've said that about literally every fic on the list and if I didn’t love them they wouldn't be here but ..... this one ????? YES ok so its Roy focused and goes from pre to post canon following him and Riza, and you may not have noticed but that premise is very much my current obsession and I need 50 more fics that are just like this one

Holding Out by Oort - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

Riza tries on one of Roy’s gloves and thoughts begin to HAPPEN this one is short but I absolutely loved the writing

I can’t say the words out loud (so in a rhyme I wrote you down) by @hawkeyes-riza - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

ok so I was brought in by the Bastille lyrics and after reading this one spent like the next two days reading everything hawkeyes-riza has up on AO3 uhhhhh I LOVED this one its set the night before the promised day and its STEAMY

*after reading this fic I went through all of hawkeyes-riza’s other fics and I can confirm they are all A++++++

From Start to Beginning by SpaceFarm - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

Remember like 5 fic recs ago when I said my current obsession is pre to post canon royai :)))))) this one is so good you guys I literally cannot hype it enough

*ALSO I love love LOVED all the other royal fics SpaceFarm has up like you guys don’t even understand pls read EVERYTHING

ok ladies and gays thats the end of my list!!! I don’t think I’ve ever actually mentioned what my AO3 user is but its stevie1120 for anyone that was wondering!

I’m reading constantly but have never been much of a writer and I’m really bad at commenting but I’m trying so hard to get better at interacting lol but yes I am that weirdo that left kudos on all of your fics and you may have been wondering “hey how did she possibly read like 8 3k fics in one day” and the answer is that I literally have nothing better to do !!!! I love reading and I want to thank the authors that I mentioned here, and tbh all authors, so much for enabling my addiction and working so hard on bringing these characters that we all love to life!

If you know one of the authors who’s blogs I couldn’t find pls tag them in this post and tell them that I love them!!!!

I hope you guys enjoyed this post and I’ll see you in February :)

[inkykeiji]

Hiya Clari 💖

I know it’s been awhile since I’ve checked in and this is another ask that you don’t have to reply to at all I just wanted to let you know that I’m still thinking of you and hoping that you are getting rest and taking care of yourself <3

Take as much time as you need to heal, I’m not going anywhere so bitch (respectfully) you’re stuck with me as an anon for what looks to be quite a while

I’ll give you a lil life update since I have missed talking to you but I 100000% understand why you have done a hiatus because your well being comes before anything else <3 I got my tattoo so very exciting times and uni terms start back in a few weeks so another exciting year for me

Also like I said this is just a lil message for you just so you know I’m still thinking about you and sending my love, you don’t have to reply at all or if you decide you want to take as long as you want/need so as always sending you all the love and hugs in the world <333-🍯

HI MY SWEET HONEYBUN <333

oh you are so lovely, thank you so much for your well wishes and for checking in!!! i appreciate it a lot <33 i am trying my best to rest and take care of myself!!! yesterday was filled with a lot of needless anxiety, so hopefully today is a little better <33

I’M GLAD YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE, BECAUSE I NEVER EVER WANT YOU TO LEAVE!!!!! EVER!!!!!!!! <33333333333

i’ve missed talking to you, too!!! sorry it’s taken me forever and a day to get to your message below waaaaah :(((( i feel really bad about that :/

OOOH U GOT UR TATTOO!? DID IT HURT??? WHAT WAS THE EXPERIENCE LIKE OMG!!!! that is super super exciting honey aaaah!!! yaaay uni!!! be safe and be kind to yourself during the school year, please!! remember that grades never equal your worth as a person!! <33

my gosh you genuinely are so incredibly sweet to me, and so understanding, and i just can’t express my gratitude enough; i literally cannot put into words how happy i am to have you in my life, my precious honey, my sweet virtual penpal <33

i hope u don’t mind me answering this here as well!! <33

BLAH it’s super hot here right now, too!! and extremely humid because it keeps raining, it’s so ._. icky. i went to the zoo with my boyfriend not too long ago and my shoulders + face got totally fried by the sun, it was awful :( fall and winter are my favourite seasons!! tho i do really love denim shorts, so i enjoy summer in that respect hehehe <3

OOOOH YES DID YOU??? I LOVE THEM BOTH SO MUCH!!!! get out totally blew me away, literally everything about that film is immaculate, from its writing to its acting to its cinematography to its sound and music, it’s an absolute masterpiece!! i wrote an essay on get out during uni and it’s still one of my favourite academic papers i’ve ever written hehe <3 BUT YES I TOTALLY AGREE WITH YOU, get out expertly builds this extremely unsettling tension in its viewers ugh it’s so so so goooooooooooood

kiki’s delivery service is my favourite ghibli film!!!!!! oh my gosh!! i just think it’s so so so sweet, i love magic and cats and cute little homey spaces like that, and i love the european inspired seaside town, that whole film is just SUCH a comfort movie and a feel good movie for me <3

HAHAHAHA WELL, IF U DID REREAD THEM i hope you enjoyed <3 i recently reread my 1950s dabi fic, because i love it so much??? and i’ve been listening to a lot of like, lana del rey and elvis lately so it got me in the mood hahahaha <3 hopefully one day i can do more with that universe, i wrote a whole backstory for 1950s dabi but i couldn’t find a good place in the fic to put it so it now sits abandoned in my notebook </3 ANDDDDDD if you haven’t yet, pls go vote on my poll for what you’d like to see posted next!!

i love your rambling, stop this nonsense 🥺 i sincerely love your little letters and i promise you i always look forward to reading them and replying to them, even if it takes me a little time to get there. they always put such a smile on my face and i am so grateful!!!

in terms of plans, tiff (toronto international film festival) is happening super super soon so i’m wickedly excited for that!!! my boyfriend and i always go and make a whole week out of the whole festival and it’s just lovely, we have so much fun!! they just released the schedule for the films yesterday and i am BUZZING eeeee!!! now that i’ve graduated uni i don’t get the film student discounts anymore which kinda sucks LMAO but!!! it’s okay!! i love supporting film and i especially love supporting film in my home city!!! <333

oh honeybee i love you so so so very much, please never forget it <33