#am I doing some kind of october challenge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amirasainz · 1 month ago

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Girl, your account is fucking amazing. Hear me out, Max x Reader, but make it 'Pride and Prejudice' style. Max as Mr Darcy is 🥵🥵🥵

Btw, will you do like a October/December challenge? Like Kinktober, smth like that? Would be amazing if you could girl💅

Here is the story. I hope you like it. For your question, I can definitely write some supernatural stories as well, but I will not be participating in the October challenge.

Kika is Readers' older sister in this story!!!

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl💋

Pride and Prejudice

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

YN Bennet had learned to appreciate this truth during her last visit to Pemberley, the seat of Mr. Max Verstappen. Since that visit, she had experienced a transformation in her opinions regarding him, which she had once deemed irreparable. His manners, though initially haughty, revealed depths of kindness and integrity that had slowly unfolded before her.

This particular day, she found herself in a carriage with her older sister, Kika, as they approached Pemberley once again. The sun shone brightly, and the countryside displayed its autumnal colours, creating a picturesque setting for their visit.

“YN, do you suppose we will see Mr. Verstappen again?” Kika inquired, her tone imbued with the sweetness of hope.

“I am not certain,” replied YN, glancing out of the carriage window. “It is likely he is engaged in his affairs. He is not one to be easily roused from his duties, I fear.”

“Yet, his behaviour at the last ball was so amiable. It is only just that he should wish to know how you fare,” Kika insisted, her eyes sparkling with optimism.

“Ah, Kika, you cannot expect me to indulge in such fancies,” YN replied with a light laugh. “Besides, it is hardly probable that he would feel any obligation to engage in further conversation with one such as myself.”

Kika was about to reply when the carriage halted at the grand entrance of Pemberley. They were greeted by the butler, who escorted them into the drawing room. The house was magnificent, with its vast windows allowing the sunlight to pour into the elegantly decorated room.

“Miss Gomes, Miss Gomes!” exclaimed Viktoria Verstappen, Mr. Verstappen's younger sister, rushing forward with a delighted expression. “How wonderful it is to see you again! I was afraid you would not come.”

“We are so pleased to be here, Miss Verstappen” said Kika, stepping forward to embrace her. “Your home is as splendid as ever!”

“I am glad you think so,” Viktoria replied, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I often feel that Pemberley is a place more suited for others’ enjoyment than my own. I wish to see it through the eyes of my guests.”

YN smiled. “You are too modest, Miss Verstappen. It is your hospitality that brings this place to life.”

“Indeed, if only Mr. Verstappen were as amiable,” YN said teasingly, her eyes sparkling.

“Mr. Verstappen has improved remarkably,” Viktoria replied, a note of defensiveness in her tone. “He is just as kind as he is proud. He has taken much to heart since your last visit.”

At that moment, the door opened, and Mr. Verstappen entered the room. His presence was commanding, yet YN felt an unexpected rush of warmth towards him.

“Miss Gomes,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “I am pleased to see you again.”

“Mr. Verstappen,” she replied, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “Thank you for your kind welcome.”

Max glanced at Kika and Viktoria, who exchanged glances that spoke of mutual encouragement. “I hope you will not find Pemberley lacking in your expectations,” he said, stepping closer. “Viktoria has been quite eager to show you around the estate.”

“I am sure it will surpass all expectations,” YN said, attempting to remain composed.

“Come, let us take a stroll in the gardens,” Viktoria suggested, her enthusiasm infectious. “The flowers are in full bloom, and you will surely find them delightful.”

As they wandered outside, YN could feel Max’s presence beside her, and she dared to cast a sidelong glance at him. He looked thoughtful, as though he were carefully considering his words.

“Miss Gomes ” he began, hesitantly, “I hope you are well. I have often recalled our conversations, particularly the discussions of character and judgment.”

“Indeed,” YN replied, her heart racing. “I have also reflected upon those discussions. They were enlightening, though at the time, I was less than gracious in my opinions.”

Max’s brow furrowed slightly. “I would not have you blame yourself. I was often blind to the worth of others, a fault I have since endeavoured to correct.”

“Your self-awareness speaks well of you, Mr. Verstappen,” YN remarked, emboldened by their mutual honesty. “It is easy to hold prejudices against one another, but it takes courage to acknowledge them.”

“You are more forgiving than I deserve,” he replied earnestly. “I acted wrongly towards your family, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

“I cannot deny that your actions have caused some distress,” she admitted, “but I have come to understand that we are all susceptible to misjudgments. What matters is how we choose to rectify those misjudgments.”

Viktoria, noticing the exchange, interjected with a bright smile. “Let us speak of lighter matters! There is a new rose garden that I am sure you will admire, YN.”

As they walked, YN felt her heart soften towards Max. His sincerity had altered her perception of him, and as she observed him interact with Viktoria, a different side of him began to reveal itself.

“Mr. Verstappen,” YN said, “I have been meaning to ask you. How did you come to cultivate such a beautiful garden?”

“It was a labour of love,” Max replied, his eyes lighting up at the topic. “I have always believed that nature possesses an undeniable charm, and it brings me peace to create and care for these gardens.”

“Your care is evident,” YN said with genuine appreciation. “It is as though the garden reflects your own character—bold and yet harmonious.”

“Bold, you say?” Max raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “I shall have to consider how that reflects upon my nature.”

Viktoria laughed, breaking the tension. “You see, YN? Even Max can be teased.”

“Do not let it go to your head, sir,” YN added playfully. “I would not wish for you to become too proud of your talents.”

Max chuckled softly. “I assure you, Miss Gomes, I remain acutely aware of my limitations.”

As they continued their stroll, YN felt an ease between them, a newfound understanding. Their previous encounters had been marred by misunderstandings, but now, in the serenity of Pemberley’s gardens, the air felt charged with a different kind of energy.

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Later that evening, as they gathered for dinner, the atmosphere was lively. Mr. Gasly, Kika's affable suitor, joined them, bringing an air of lightheartedness.

“Miss YN, do you recall that debate we had over the merits of love versus fortune?” Pierre asked, laughter in his eyes.

“I do, and I recall you were quite stubborn in your insistence that love would conquer all,” YN replied, smiling. “But I wonder if that sentiment holds true when faced with the pressures of society?”

“Ah, but that is where you are mistaken,” Pierre retorted. “Love can flourish even in the most challenging of circumstances. It is the heart that must lead, not the purse.”

Max observed the exchange with an amused expression. “It seems you are advocating for impracticality, Gasly. One cannot live on love alone. There are far more pressing matters to consider—such as the ability to support oneself.”

“True enough,” Kika interjected, her eyes sparkling. “But surely a balance can be struck. Love can enhance one’s fortune, after all.”

“And what if fortune enhances love?” Max queried, raising an eyebrow. “Is it not a worthy consideration?”

YN seized the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, Mr. Verstappen, you would argue the rationality of the heart! How very unlike a gentleman of your stature.”

“You mistake my intentions, Miss Gomes,” he said, a wry smile forming on his lips. “I seek only to understand how best to ensure my sister’s happiness. It is not always about the heart.”

“Then we shall find a heart to accompany the fortune,” Pierre declared with a jovial laugh. “If that is the case, I shall be in need of a fortune myself!”

As the evening wore on, YN felt her spirits lifted. The repartee flowed easily among them, and she found herself increasingly drawn to Max’s intellect and depth.

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Later, as they stood on the terrace overlooking the grounds, YN turned to Max. “Mr. Verstappen, I must confess. You have surprised me with your amiability this evening.”

Max smiled, his expression sincere. “I am pleased to hear it, Miss Gomes. I hope to continue to surprise you.”

“You have certainly accomplished that,” she replied, her heart fluttering. “And I believe you have more depth than you allow others to see.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, “but I am learning the value of opening oneself to those who show understanding. I admire your wit and wisdom, YN.”

“Then let us continue to cultivate our understanding of one another,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling. “I would enjoy more discussions such as this.”

Max nodded, his gaze steady. “I would like that very much.”

As they exchanged smiles, a subtle bond began to weave itself between

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #pierre gasly x kika gomez x reader #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x kika gomes #pride and prejudice #kika gomez x reader #gomez!reader #gomes!reader #kika is readers older sister

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sjmvillainweek · 7 months ago

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SJM Villain Week Rules/FAQ

Welcome to SJM Villain Week taking place on the 1st - 7th of October to kick off the scariest month of the year.

In order to inspire creativity within the fandom, we are running a prompt submission form to collect your ideas for what the prompts should be for the event! Each day will have two prompts, as well as a free day on the seventh.

The prompts list is now up! Here is the link to the list

Click the read more to see the rules and FAQ for this event week!

To help this event run smoothly, here are the rules to follow

This event is about the big bad guys of the SJM universe, but that does not mean that hate will be accepted. Remember to be kind and respectful to everyone joining in on this event. Any kind of hate mail sent will be deleted and the user will be blocked, no questions asked.

Projection of harmful stereotypes will not be allowed. Any kind of portrayal of the villains is welcome, as long as everything is kept respectful, and it is clear that certain kinds of behavior are not justified.

All relationships and interpretations of sexualities are welcome! So long as your villain of choice is at the forefront of your content. Shipbashing is not permitted. You are also of course welcome to create general and non-ship content.

No A.I content is permitted and therefore will not be reblogged.

NSFW and mature content is allowed, so long as everything is appropriately tagged. That means on Tumblr, their guidelines for NSFW images are followed, and on AO3, or other posting platforms, the work is sufficiently tagged and rated according to that sites rules.

As we are dealing with the villains of the story, it needs to be clear, graphic depictions of Rape/Non-Con will not be reblogged.

Whilst we all have different headcanons, and interpretations of characters, these are some characters that are not villains, and content centering around them will not be reblogged or otherwise featured during this event-

Tamlin

Eris Vanserra

Rhysand

The Inner Circle

Bone Carver, Weaver, Bryaxis

Cormac

FAQ

How do I participate in this event?

Any kinds of participation are welcome! Whether that be headcanons, fanart, fanfiction, moodboards, playlists, edits, or anything else you come up with! Remember, any A.I content will not be reblogged.

Is there an AO3 collection?

There is a collection on AO3 for the works posted, (here is the link) There are three ways you can add your works to the collection.

If you go to the collections page you can press "Post to Collection" and post your fic as normal.

When posting your fic, scroll to the option "Post to Collections/Challenges" you can manually type in the name of our collection (SJM Villain Week 2024) and add it.

If you fic is already posted, click edit and scroll to the option "Post to Collections/Challenges, and add it to our event as you would when posting.

Who is running this event?

This week-long event is being hosted by @hieragalbatorixdottir, @achaotichuman and @readychilledwine

What if I have a question about the event?

If you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask to the event account! We would love to hear all of your questions, headcanons, or any content you wish to share with us! If you want your ask to be answered privately please state that in the ask, otherwise all asks sent in will be published.

And please remember to not send any asks regarding the event account to our moderators. Please send them through the ask box of this account.

Do I have to stick to the prompts?

The prompts are there to help inspire creativity, that being said you do not have to stick to them. There will be two prompts for each day, you can use both, just one, or none at all! Whatever inspires you to create work! There will also be a free day where you can go utterly nuts and write whatever you want featuring our villains!

What can I do for SJM Villain Week if I am not a creator?

Any kind of interaction with the creators' making content is the best way to support them and encourage them leading up and during the event week! Consider liking, commenting and reblogging the content you see. This is the best way to let the creators know their content is appreciated.

Up to and during the event, we will be reblogging and sharing content made for our villains. If you have seen or have created works for our villains don't hesitate to share with us so we can reblog it!

Without further ado, welcome to SJM Villain Week, where lies, secrets and evil abounds. We’ll see you in October.

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gremlin-girly · 1 month ago

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Flufftober 2024 Masterlist

Hello lovelies, Grem here.

I followed @flufftober for the prompts this year. This year, I decided to challenge myself with 2 writing challenges for October, as a way to help me get back into and practice writing.

And oh boy, was that hard.

In fact, I was late finishing both. Regardless, I finished them, and am so happy to have done that and proud to have accomplished it.

I'm also so happy that these challenges actually brought in 100 followers! Three of which are mutuals (which made me kick my feet with excitement haha)

Honestly, it's really inspiring and has given me a lot of confidence and hell I'd say the comments etc. Means more than finishing the challenges on time! I hope you all stick around for the stuff to come but enough of the rambling from me. :)

Some of these prompts elicited more than one part or more than one idea, so I do hope to share the continuations/alternates at some point. Stories/collections will eventually get posted separately.

All of the fics below the cut are listed under the characters on my master list here.

Happy reading!

Week 1:

Day 1: Lost Pet Meet-Cute

Title: Alpine's Adventure

Warnings: brief mention/description of a panic attack

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gn!Reader

Summary: Alpine escapes the apartment and decides to go on an adventure to find Bucky the perfect gift, eventually enlisting the help of a newfound friend to help her plan come to fruition.

Word count: 3.3k

Day 2: "Left. Other left!"

Title: On Your Left

Warnings: other than a trip into the lake and a little suggestive at the end - none!

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Gn!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend suggests going for a bike ride and picnic one sunny day, only for you to end up being glared at by ducks and soaking wet.

Word count: 1k

Day 3: Favourite Scent

Pairing: Dean x Gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of misogyny (calling candles "girly" on Dean's part but that's it)

Summary: Dean’s ‘man-cave’ smells a little too funky for your liking. So, you make Dean pick a new candle scent.

Word count: 1k

Day 4 : Market Day

Title: For the Love of Plums

Warnings:

Pairing: cw!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You go shopping at the market for plums for a baked treat and share a cute moment with a stranger over plums.

Word count:

Day 5: Acorn, Chesnut, Pinecone

Warnings: None

Pairing: Halsin (BG3) x gn!Reader

Summary: All children in Emerald Grove take part in an annual game to find 3 things within the forest. Having never played this before, and being a new member of the grove, you are ecstatic to play (despite being an adult) and challenge the arch druid himself to beat you in the game.

Word count:

Day 6: Mistaken Identity

Warnings: FLUFF, coffee shop meetcute, kissing/brief PDA, reader is VERY worried their "celebrity" crush was cheating for second there, don't worry it's just Natasha undercover (like the escalator scene in CA:TWS) :)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Summary: You bump into, who you believe to be, one of your celebrity crushes at a local coffee shop. But she's acting a little strange, especially when she kisses you in the middle of the store.

Word count: 850

Week 2

Day 7: Hoodie Weather

Prompt: Hoodie Weather

Pairing: Jake Jensen x gn!reader

Warnings/tags: FLUFF, established relationship, petnames (baby, my love), suggestive/innuendo (only bc it's Jake)

Summary: You get caught in the rain on your way home and can't wait to put your favourite gigantic, fluffy hoodie on. Fortunately for you, it's already pre-heated. Unfortunately, for your boyfriend that means he he has to share.

Word Count: 725

Day 8: Chopping Wood

Prompt(s): Chopping/ piling wood

Pairing: pre-serum!Steve Rogers x Lumberjill!Reader

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF, kind of a meet-cute?, mentions of coughing/retching/nausea, pre-serum Steve, descriptions of asthma attack, muscled reader (ofc), nicknames (sweetheart, love, dame,)

Summary: When Steve has an asthma attack on a training drill and gets lost, he meets a friendly axe-wielding dame who takes his breath away.

Word count: 1.6k

Day 9: Don't Do That!

Prompt: "Don't do that!" / "But..."

Pairing: Yelena Belova x gn!reader

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF, Yelena being annoying (but we love her), confessions, kisses

Summary: You decide tonight's the night you're going to make your move. But Yelena beats you to it.

Word count: 1k

Day 10: Bet, Game, Contest

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Warnings/tags: misogyny/catcalling/dude being a creep and asshole (not Dean), duelling, canon-typical violence, Dean being a dork, I'm putting a warning here for cringe/stalker/gross behaviour from the asshole, FLUFF

Summary: Whilst perusing a stall at the renfair you encounter a guy that just won't leave you be, when Dean overhears. As penance for coming to your "rescue", he's challenged to a duel for your hand.

Word count: 1.1k

Day 11: Ingredients, Potions, Spells

Pairing: sick!Loki x gn!reader

Tags/warnings: Loki (he's a warning), descriptions of cold/flu symptoms, gn!reader, feverish confessions (but it's sweet I promise), mutual pining, FLUFF

Summary: Loki gets sick and reader takes care of him :)

Word count: 2.3k

Day 12: "This is spooky." / "Really?"

Tags/Warnings: : FLUFF, discussions of kids/wanting kids, innuendo, flirting

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam and reader go trick or treating with Sarah’s kids and it leads to some sweet discussions about kids.

Word count: 758 words

*Day 13: Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

Title: Attic Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader Tags/warnings: FLUFF, Arachnophobia, implied smut at the very end (but I did write with the intention of just kisses!), retching/vomiting/nausea mentioned, literally as scared as you could possibly imagine, crying, panicking, comfort, friends to lovers (ig?)

Summary: You haven't cleared out your attic in a long time and rope in Bucky to help you; not expecting to be scared out of your wits.

Word count: 2k

*This prompt has alternates: Cellar and Hidden Room linked at the bottom of this post

Week 3

Day 14: Mundane AU!

Title: One Piece At a Time Prompt: Mundane AU Pairing: Mechanic!Dean Winchester x f!Reader Tags/warnings: Dean being Dean tbh (big ol' warning there), FLUFF, meetcute (I really like these apparently ahaha), Dean is a Mechanic, Sammy Stayed in law school :), John is still dead (I still hate him), Reader knows nothing about cars, 2nd person (female Reader – use of "lady" once), tattooed! Dean, this is 10000% a grumpy x sunshine now that I think about it

Summary: You have car trouble and head to the nearest mechanic, Singer & Son, where your grumpy mechanic gives you an earful for not taking care of your car.

Word Count: 2.1k

Day 15: "What are you wearing?"/"It's laundry day!" Double Prompt: "What are you wearing?" / "It's Laundry day!" + "Yes. No. Maybe."

Pairing: Steve Rogers (Captain America) x Reader Warning/Tags: FLUFF, allusions to sex/innuendo at the very end, established relationship, petnames (sweetheart)

Summary: It's laundry day and you whip out your handy cosy outfit you wear when Steve isn't around. However, Steve comes home early...

Word count: 879 words

Day 16: Only One Bed Prompt: Only One Bed @creativepromptsforwriting prompt (which can be found here) : “We’re just friends, this doesn’t need to be weird.” Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, innuendos, suggestive themes, not really anything romantic in this one I'm afraid, could be the start of something who knows, but Bucky and reader are friends :)

Summary: Bucky thinks double room means a room with two beds and after a long mission, both of you just want sleep.

Word Count: 1.5k

Day 17: Bewitched Prompt: Bewitched Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader tags/warnings: Love at first sight, mutual pining, confessions, kiss, FLUFF Although Reader's gender is not specified the translations below (specifically Vrăjitore) are feminine!

Summary: Bucky and Sam come your apartment for a few days to hide out and a certain Sokovian Baron is enamoured by you.

Word Count: 2.6k

Day 18: "I've got you."

Title: Apollo's AccidentA follow up to Alpine's Adventure (Part of the Tails of New York series) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader Tags/warnings: FLUFF, a lil mutual pining, friends to lovers, cat dad!Bucky, gn!reader, awkward situations with a pan (I don't want to give away the plot), mentions of a family emergency (not described).

Summary: Your friend Bucky Barnes cat sits for you when you have an emergency. However, after one little accident, you come back to the strangest welcome ever.

Word Count: 1.7k

Day 19: Paw

Pairing: None, just you and Lae being buds :) Warnings/Tags: FLUFF Summary: Scratch and Lae'zel bond over fetch. Word count: 460

Day 20: "I hate it." / "No, you don't." Alt 2: "I hate it." / "No, you don't." Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, swearing (it's Ran). established relationship

Summary: Going to a charity gala, Ransom despises the tie you've gotten him.

Word Count: 626 words

Week 4

Day 21: Rainy Day Alt: Rainy Day Pairing: Loki x gn!Reader Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, cuddling, pet names (my love), not beta read

Summary: When your plans for a walk get ruined, you and your boyfriend decide to have a lazy afternoon instead.

Word count: 886

Day 22: Stormy Night Pairing: Thor x Reader Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, not beta read, kissing, confessions (sorta), holding hands, sharing drinks, slight angst

Summary: You show the God of thunder your favourite spot to watch the lightning

Word Count: 2k+ (2054)

Day 23: Comfort Food Pairing: Wanda x Reader Warnings/tags: FLUFF, very bad jokes, very, very bad cooking on reader's part, gagging, pet name/term of endearment (Honey) Summary: Wanda is feeling homesick and you make an attempt to cheer her up.

Word count: 1k

Day 24: Alternate 6: Graveyard Pairing/characters: Steve Rogers/ Captain America x gn!reader, Bucky is mentioned :) Tags/warnings: Fluff, Angst, talk of death, grieving, a very morbid-ish meet cute (again with the meetcutes I know. IM SORRY), it's set in a grave yard so graves/funerals/and loss of loved ones is spoken about (albeit briefly)

Summary: You volunteer at your local graveyard to clean headstones. One day you meet someone you never thought you'd bump into, noting the beginning of a very wholesome relationship.

Word count: 1.7k Note: This is set after the battle of New York and before the events of TWS :)

Day 25: Haunted House Pairing: Jake Jensen (The Losers 2010) x f!reader Warnings/tags: violence (brief!), blood/bleeding, I don't wanna give away too much plot haha, Jake being Jake, meet cute (if u really wanna call it that), clowns/zombies etc. mentioned in the haunted house

Summary: Jake begrudgingly takes his niece, Aimee, to the Haunted House at the fairground. Putting on a brave face is a lot harder than it looks when you don't like clowns.

Word count: 1.6k

Day 26: "I can't find it." Prompt: "I can't find it." Alt Title: Sweater Weather Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, pet names, swearing (it's Ran)

Summary: Ransom's iconic cream sweater mysteriously vanishes...

Word count: 556 words

Day 27: Alt 8: Written but Never Sent Alt 8: Written But Never Sent Pairing: Steve Rogers x gn!Agent!Reader Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, ANGST (idk why I'm putting Steve through the ringer this week lol), mutual pining (this is apparently my bread and butter as well as my jam), mentions of death, crying/grieving, alcohol consumption/drunk (mentioned), confessions, first kisses, second chances, not beta'd, I try to cover everything in my warnings but they are non-exhaustive - please read at your own risk! I will say that this fic is Angst heavy for the majority of it

Summary: You've been missing on a mission for longer than expected; all of your friends and teammates believe the worst to have happened. When packing up your apartment, Steve finds a series of letters addressed to the team in a box in your closet, and decides to read the one addressed to him.

Word count: 2.6k

Week 5

Day 28: Lucky Charm Prompt: Lucky Charm Title: (Un)Lucky Charm Pairing: Johnny Storm x gn!reader Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, Johnny being a flirt, minor injury, alcohol consumption, gagging (mentioned), not beta read

Summary: Johnny has had nothing but bad luck recently whilst you have been the opposite.

word count: 927

Day 29: Betrayal Pairing: Sam Wilson x gn!reader Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, for the first time in days there's no angst with it

Summary: Sam asks his nephews an important question and is surprised by their answer.

Word count: 270 words

Day 30: "Forever?" + "Wait, you love me?" / "I always have."

Day 31: Make a Wish

Alternates:

Cellar

Hidden Room

#flufftober #writing challenge #flufftober 2024 #flufftober masterlist

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mcytblrescape · 1 month ago

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Welcome to the Escape Room!

Hello, and welcome to the MCYTblr Escape Room Event, run by @edgarallanpoestan and @patorucho! This is an event where you follow clues and fulfill prompts with a team, in order to escape and complete the challenge.

Interested? Our current stage of running/creation is below, as well as more information about the event itself!

Discord

AO3 Collection

Our current stage of running/creation: Interest Checks!

Our next stage of running/creation: Sign-ups!

Schedule

-> Signups: October 19, 2024 12:00 am CST - November 30, 2024 11:59 pm CST

-> Team Assignments: By December 14, 2024

-> First Room Opens: January 5, 2025 12:00 am CST

-> Event Ends: March 15, 2025 11:59 pm CST

(Below is a rough breakdown of rooms; NOT necessary to stick to this schedule. Each new room opens once you complete the previous room, the only strict deadlines are those above)

-> Room One: January 5, 2025 12:00 am CST - January 18, 2025 11:59 pm CST

-> Room Two: January 19, 2025 12:00 am CST - February 1, 2025 11:59 pm CST

-> Room Three: February 2, 2025 12:00 am CST - February 15, 2025 11:59 pm CST

-> Room Four: February 16, 2025 12:00 am CST - March 1, 2025 11:59 pm CST

-> Room Five: March 2, 2025 12:00 am CST - March 15, 2025 11:59 pm CST

Rules

-> As per Tumblr and Discord Terms of Service, all participants must be 13 or older at the time of sign-ups, no exceptions

-> You must join our Discord. If that is an issue, contact a mod, and we will try to figure out a workaround, but you must be present in the server in some way

-> Show all other participants respect and consideration. You will be on different teams, but you are not against each other. Help out your fellow escapees, and be kind to everyone!

-> Work with your teammates, make sure to contribute! We understand if something comes up, real life should always be your first priority. When possible, please at least give a heads-up to your team

-> Absolutely no AI generated content

FAQ

What is the Escape Room Event? How does it work?

-> All teams are given a clue to start out. These clues will lead the team to a prompt. If you get stuck don't worry! Teams will be allowed to vote on hints. There are 5 rooms to solve, and for each room "escaped", your team is given the aforementioned prompt to create for. These can be created a few different ways: every person in the team takes a prompt to fulfill (or, each person creates one or two full pieces, depending on team size, throughout the course of the event); all team members work together to fulfill every prompt (or, each person contributes to each prompt! A webweave made with multiple people looking for content, while others are writing drabbles or doodling something to include, multiple artists working on the same art piece, one fic broken up into multiple parts for each writer, the ideas are endless); or any other combination your team would like to try, as long as everyone is participating! There is no penalty to not finishing all the rooms, this is all for fun!

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mrs-stans · 2 months ago

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Sebastian Stan Talks Career Interests And His ‘A Different Man’ Film

By Jeff Conway

Sure, you likely know him for his many Marvel film appearances as Bucky Barnes, but actor Sebastian Stan has often taken “the road less traveled” when it comes to his career, having built quite the unique repertoire of memorable performances in far less conventional films.

That observation has arguably never been more visible than with his involvement in the new A24 film, A Different Man. Written & directed by Aaron Schimberg and co-starring Adam Pearson and Renate Reinsve, it tells the story of Edward (Stan), an aspiring actor who undergoes a breakthrough medical procedure to transform his facial appearance, but soon regrets his decision when he becomes obsessed with reclaiming what he has lost.

I sat down with Stan, Pearson and Schimberg to uncover the origin and the creative thought process that went into this new project, which is now playing in select theaters in New York and Los Angeles - nationwide come October 4. For filmmaker Schimberg, this purposefully uncomfortable narrative and the overall project hits rather close to home.

Schimberg said, “I mean, for me, it’s sort of a personal story. I have cleft palate and it’s just sort of me thinking about how it’s affected me in my life and others’ perception of me and my perception about myself. My previous film [Chained for Life] also dealt with the subject in some ways, so that’s sort of what I am always thinking about when I am starting to write a film. I was also thinking about Adam because I had worked with him previously and he played a shy character in Chained for Life, my last film, and he’s not shy at all - and yet, people I think sort of thought that he was playing himself in my movie because they sort of assumed that he must be shy. So, I was inspired to write something that was closer to who he is - taken to a comical extreme, maybe, and I wanted him to show off his range, but I also just wanted to work with him again, so these were some of the starting points.”

Pearson, a British actor with neurofibromatosis, which is a rare genetic disorder that typically causes benign tumors of the nerves and growths in other parts of the body, went on to share what it was about A Different Man and his Oswald character that most intrigued him to want to make this his next film.

“Well, I enjoyed working with Aaron the first time, so when he said, ‘Would you consider working with me again?’ Straight away, I was like, Ding Ding! Round two - let’s rock and roll. Then the script - all the words have weight. There’s very little wasted motion in the script. The end result of the film is quite challenging and holds up a mirror to an audience. I’ve never been a fan of hand-holding or sugar-coating. I think audiences can be a lot smarter than we often give them credit for. A good film will change what you think for a couple of days, but a great film will change how you think for the rest of your life. We’re certainly trying, at least, to be in the great film business.”

With Stan not only acting in A Different Man but also an executive producer, I wondered how he has perhaps noticed his interests and priorities towards the stories that matter most to him as a professional and human being evolving as time goes on.

Stan said, “Well, you get a little older and the questions get a little scarier. A few years ago, I just decided to kind of just be a little bit more aggressive about finding specific work that was interesting and different and kind of challenging for me than what I was getting to do. Eventually, you find yourself in conversations that are in the development of certain things and that might lead to a producing kind of aspect. I think in this [A Different Man] situation, I was involved before A24 came on, which never really happens for me. Not only because of obviously how I felt about the story and so on, I felt really brought in by Aaron and [producer] Vanessa [McDonnell] into their journey with this film and like what they were wanting to do. So, I felt a much bigger attachment than I usually do as an actor in a way.”

When it came time to film A Different Man, Stan recalls the production not having much time, which he actually found to be helpful within his producer role “because when you’re involved in some capacity beyond acting, sometimes you can kind of go, Hey, let’s continue shooting or something. You can help add more to the making of it in some capacity and that was big for us, given our time - that we didn’t have a lot of time.”

In fact, during one particular scene in the film, Stan remembers while everybody else was wrapping up the production trucks for the night, he decided to head out on the streets of New York City with his A Different Man director of photography Wyatt Garfield and Schimberg to grab additional footage. “I just kind of took one of his other little cameras and then we started going up and down Columbus Avenue. It was Friday night and we just got all these shots. Maybe you don’t always get to do that, so that was helpful.”

As I began to conclude my conversation with these three gentlemen, I wondered what Pearson and Stan would say to their A Different Man characters, Oswald and Edward, after seeing their stories play out on-screen and understanding their wants out of life.

Pearson said, “I’d be like to Oswald, Maybe turn it down a little bit. Be nicer to [Stan’s character Edward] because he might not say it, but he loves you and he needs you right now.”

As for the message Stan would tell Edward, he said, “Listen to me! I’m here - I’m telling you. I don’t know how I feel about this. Just hear me out.”

He then added: “It’s very interesting because we all have these moments in life, big or small, where you make a decision or you even say something because you’re with other people or you’re supposed to say something the right way, but you know your reaction in the moment or the decision you’re making is not what your gut is like really telling you. Then, you feel kind of like you’ve abandoned yourself, but then you just quickly deny that - that can kind of like spiral down. We’ve all kind of not owned certain things in the moment and that’s sort of what happens. He kind of drowns out that voice.”

#Sebastian Stan #Adam Pearson #Aaron Schimberg #A Different Man #A24 #Jeff Conway #Interview #mrs-stans

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modevernon · 1 year ago

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rainy days # chwe vernon

pairing: vernon x gn!reader genre: f2l, comfort warnings: cursing, mentions of food word count: 1.25k

ever since autumn fell into your hands like a stale, unwanted gift, vernon had been acting strange. well. ‘strange’ was difficult to define. vernon was, by nature, pretty strange.

rather, he ceased to act in his normal, strange way, and that was what bothered you — where were the out-of-the-blue “fried chicken, my place, shrek” text invites? where had those gone? where were the absurd, vine-reminiscent tiktoks and goofy screenshots of infinite challenge? where were the multitude of beanies strewn across your house? where, and when had he taken them back? where was he?

yes, seasonal depression existed. but he had explicitly told you, as you were munching on a cinnamon roll for breakfast three months ago, that fall was his favorite season. and yes, you two had only started hanging out this year, so it wasn’t as if your friendship had ever been set in stone. but even so, you didn’t deserve to be ghosted, or slowly distanced from until he had erased you from his life.

and yet, you could pinpoint the day, the moment, the very conversation during which his demeanor shifted so precisely that you figured something must have gone wrong then, and maybe it was your fault.

so you ran back the dialogue to the best of your recollection: it had been a rainy saturday, the kind of humidity that simply begged you to stay inside, and vernon had been making cold hot chocolate (“so… chocolate milk?” “no, you don’t see the vision!”) as you drafted emails at your desk.

when he completed his little concoction and entered your room with a mug of it, you were enjoying a self-proclaimed break, perched on the edge of the table, scrolling through instagram.

“bro, you have to see this,” you called to him casually, hearing his footsteps approach.

he did approach — slowly. stopping before you, he placed the mug on the table. “am i your bro now?”

eyes still glued to your phone, you knocked jokingly at his arm. “sorry.”

after a beat, you looked up, as if finally absorbing all of what had been said so far. “wait.” vernon gazed back at you patiently. “you’ve never complained about that.”

he opened his mouth slightly, some unforeseeable sentence at the tip of his tongue, then closed it and glanced away. “yeah, well,” and he took a step back, “never said i was complaining.”

then you had taken a sip from the mug, and said to him that it tasted just like chocolate milk, but lukewarm, and he had laughed softly without a rebuttal, and you had showed him the instagram story you had found funny, and he had laughed again without comment, and half an hour later he had left from your apartment and the rain had kept falling and everything had seemed eerily quiet. the end.

except it wasn’t the end — it couldn’t be the end, when vernon’s pretty little face was all you could think about even as weeks, months passed without his presence.

today, you were feeling especially fed up, inhaling a cinnamon roll from the same café you’d visited with vernon in the heat of summer. it was suspiciously warm for late october, as if the weather was actively forcing you to reminisce, and it stayed warm until the sun slipped down and suddenly it was cruelly, unbearably cold — and rainy. wrapped up in blankets, you stirred your (real) hot chocolate, watched the downpour vandalize your windows, and wondered what to do with your fraught, ambivalent heart.

vernon was surprised to get a call past midnight, and more surprised that he was on his phone at the exact minute to pick up. he swiped right, forgetting to read the contact.

“hello?” he spoke first.

“hey.” vernon could tell by one syllable that it was you. he checked the screen to confirm anyway. you continued, voice inexplicable: “what’ve you been up to?”

first question, and he was already feeling guilty. “work,” he replied, with faux detachment, “kinda tiring.”

“tiring?”

“mm-hmm.”

“busier than usual?” your tone was veering from innocent to interrogative.

“yeah, you could say that.” what excuse could he give that wasn’t the reason?

“you still could’ve kept in touch, you know,” you hit back. quiet on the other end of the line. “i had to watch bottoms without you.”

“oh, that’s a great movie,” vernon blurted, then immediately regretted.

he could almost see your eyes narrow. “so you watched it on your own?”

“… yeah. on my own.”

you let his response hang embarrassingly in silence. after a beat — “do you have anything to tell me, hansol?”

oh. hansol. shit was getting real; but vernon tried to dodge the fact. “do you have anything to tell me?”

“stop acting cheeky. it’s not cute.”

“no, i’m serious. you must’ve called to say something.”

“i can’t just call to say hi?”

“that’s what you wanted to say? hi?” the words came out far more acerbic than he had intended.

and for the first time, your voice faltered. “didn’t… didn’t you miss me?”

to answer that would be to burst a dam. he felt no choice but to fall back on old tricks. “did you miss me?”

you huffed. vernon knew he was pushing your limit, but it was all he could do. now it was quiet on your end, and he was contemplating a better way to weasel out of this when the bell of his apartment abruptly rang.

perfect. “um— hey, so sorry to cut this short, but i just— there’s a friend coming over, they’re at the door—” and he walked hastily toward it. “we can talk later.” and he hung up before you had the time to reply, simultaneously opening the door to find you, drenched, no umbrella in sight, staring daggers into him.

he was so stunned that he couldn’t exclaim. you kept staring until you grew tired of it, and blinked away. with your hair dripping so much, it was impossible to tell whether your face was wet with tears or rain.

just as vernon began to take up his hand to wipe your cheek, you spoke again. “really hard fucking way to get me to ask you out.”

his hand froze. to what? “of course i missed you, hansol. i missed you so much, i couldn't do anything else. i missed you so much, i ran here while it was pouring, and you know i hate going outside when it's like this. i missed you so much, it’s been driving me insane! what the hell did i do that was so wrong?” your voice was breaking, fracturing. “can’t you tell me?”

the way vernon stood made him look like a film on pause. only his eyes trembled, ever so slightly, drinking you in with excruciating care because heaven knows how much he missed you too.

before he could think of what to say back, his body moved reflexively into yours, arms wrapped around you, head buried in your neck. you were so cold against him, so tense with emotion that his embrace left you melting.

“i thought you didn’t want me,” he breathed, still enveloped in you, “the way i wanted you.”

you sighed, somewhere between relief and exasperation. “why would you assume that, idiot?” it wasn’t really a question. “someone who’s usually so slow to act.”

at that comment, vernon peeled — slowly — away from you to face you again. “i’ll be fast this time,” he vowed, and you tilted your head in puzzlement. “you’re asking me out? my answer is yes.”

a/n: excuse my like two month hiatus. kung chi pak chi summoned me back.

#seventeen vernon #svt vernon #chwe vernon #chwe hansol #vernon #vernon x reader #vernon comfort #vernon fic #vernon imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader

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diazguzman · 9 days ago

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Part 6 : Interviews and articles focused on Buck/Oliver, Eddie/Ryan and Tim Minear

24/10/10 "Ryan Guzman is back on the cover of DAMAN"

24/10/12 'A Book Of: RYAN GUZMAN: FUELED BY FIRE'

These two excerpts belong to Richard@twitter

24/10/17 9-1-1 boss reveals what changed in the airplane episodes — and when we'll find out why Eddie has a mustache

24/10/21 Oliver Stark Teases "A Lot Of Clarity" For Buck & Tommy In Upcoming 9-1-1 Episode

24/10/22 9-1-1 Star Oliver Stark Hopes For More Slow Burn In Buck's Love Life: "I Want The Audience To Be Longing For It"

24/10/23 Star Oliver Stark Teases "Changes" And "A Lot Of Possibility" For Buck In 9-1-1 Season 8

Oliver Stark: Yeah, listen, I think the best relationships are ones that have a slow burn element.

youtube

24/10/24 9-1-1's Eddie and Tommy stay by Buck's hospital bedside in exclusive preview of Halloween episode (I kept this one because the article contains quotes by Oliver and Tim)

24/10/24 ‘9-1-1’s Oliver Stark Unpacks Buck’s “Silly” Halloween Storyline And Teases “Challenges” Ahead

24/10/24 ‘9-1-1’: Oliver Stark Talks Halloween Episode & Teases More Buck Spiraling

youtube

24/10/24 Oliver Stark on Leaning Into 9-1-1’s ‘Silly,’ Finding His ‘Focus’ and Playing a ‘Bisexual Bi-Con’ (Exclusive)

youtube

24/10/24 ‘9-1-1’ Boss Says Creating Denny's Near-Death Halloween Experience Put Him on Edge

24/10/24 Oliver Stark Talks 9-1-1 Halloween Episode, Buck’s Upcoming Relationship ‘Difficulties’ & More

24/10/25 "Really Beautiful Story": 9-1-1 Star Oliver Stark Teases Episode 6 Scene With Eddie

"I think that kind of moves along a little bit in episode 6. Eddie has some really beautiful story in episode 6, and I think there’s a really nice scene between the two of us, myself and Ryan, at the end of 6, that speaks volumes to what the relationship between them is and how even when they don’t have to say too much to each other, they know how to be there for each other."

24/10/29 '9-1-1’: Oliver Stark on What Buck Wants in a Relationship

He added, “Obviously, right now he is with somebody that is a first responder in Episode 5. But yeah, I do think in the long term that would be, I mean, not necessary but helpful.”

youtube

24/10/31 ‘9-1-1’s Oliver Stark Shares A Sweet Confession Ahead Of Season 8, Episode 6

“This has been a huge period of our lives. We’re coming on eight years, which is longer than your high school. It’s longer than periods of time that people consider extremely formative in our lives,” Stark explained. “So I feel like in many ways I have grown into the person I am through my own experience, and that has been guided and influenced by the people I get to work with every day.”

As for “Confessions” the episode, Stark teased challenges ahead for Buck and Tommy, saying, “It’s a case of being in a new relationship with someone and there’s more and more stuff to learn about them. Some of that stuff can be jarring and make you have to reevaluate where you are. I think that’s true of any relationship, whether that’s on television or in real life.”

24/10/31 Why a New Episode of ‘9-1-1’ Season 8 Isn’t Airing on October 31 and When Will It Return?

Part 5b Part 7

#buddie #ryan guzman #oliver stark #evan buckely #eddie diaz #articles #interviews #tim minear #911 fandom #911 on abc #ryliver

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jo-harrington · 17 days ago

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Corroded Coffin Fest Halloween - Gluttony

Summary: The Corroded Coffin boys just can't say no to candy.

Word Count: 1031

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Friendship, teenage shenanigans, boys will be boys, food/eating, implied sickness

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn't start on the first day, you can still participate.

Tagging @the-unforgivenn @1lostsoul0fishbowl upon request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Monday, October 28th 1985

It was no secret that Eddie Munson had a sweet tooth.

It was honestly a surprise that his teeth hadn’t rotted out of his head yet, with the amount of soda he drank and confections he devoured.

“What can I say,” he grinned that big, boyish, crooked Munson grin. “I am a champion at brushing my teeth.” He chomped them twice to emphasize his point.

But that sweet tooth always meant trouble come the candy holidays.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dustin questioned on morning, after the older boys asked if the freshman were ready now that candy season had arrived.

"Candy Season!" Gareth shouted and jumped out of the van. "You know, all of the holidays that you'd typically expect to find candy. Halloween, Christmas."

"Valentine's Day, Easter," Jeff added.

"Some teachers bring candy in," Eddie explained. "Some bring baked goods--Mrs. Arnold's brownies are to die for--and usually the cafeteria has some kind of sweet on the menu. Pumpkin pie, peppermint fudge..."

"Eddie always complains that it's a shame there's no school during the summer--"

"What?!" All of the freshman screeched.

"--because he is denied his favorite: cherry pie."

"Oh Cherry Pie," Eddie dropped to his knee, arms outstretched towards the heavens. "How do I love thee, let me count the--Dave, if you kick me, I swear to god you have to walk home the rest of the year."

“Then get up!” Dave snarked. “Forget the Cherry pie, there’s candy waiting just beyond those doors Shakespeare.”

Oh, was there candy.

And baked goods.

Sugar beyond any teenage boy’s wildest dreams.

They had helped themselves to handfuls of candy corn or tootsie rolls throughout the day; Mrs. Arnold, indeed, had trays of brownies with a pumpkin cheesecake swirl on top to surprise her students.

The more they ate, the more hyper they got. Eddie's English teacher created a fun challenge to tell a spooky story and Eddie, ever the rule breaker, decided that he would energetically recite Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven. He barely took a breath between each stanza. He was rosy-cheeked and heaving by the end but he won.

The prize? Yes, a little baggie of candy.

"I didn't even know I knew the whole thing," he admitted sheepishly as he bit into a piece of saltwater taffy.

At lunch, the PTA moms held fundraiser for new marching band uniforms. Never let it be said that the members of the Hellfire Club weren’t about school spirit when they spent the entirety of their lunch period munching on those candy apples.

But, all good things come to an end.

“Ugh,” Jeff groaned by the end of lunch as he leaned back in his seat and rubbed his aching stomach. “Someone call Ridley, I feel like I’m gonna burst.”

“You have nothing to complain about,” Mike scoffed. “I have PE after this. I'm not gonna make it."

All of the boys groaned at the sound of the bell.

"Eddie I'll give you all the money in my piggybank if you can help us ditch the rest of the day," Dustin pleaded.

"There are only three periods left, Henderson," Eddie hefted himself to his feet, even though he, too, felt like shit. "You'll make it. Think of the candy."

"I don't wanna think about candy ever again for the rest of my life," the younger boy groaned.

Eddie ruffled Dustin's hair and then headed to his next class.

O'Donnell's. US History.

By the time he got to his seat, his heart was racing and his vision was blurry and he had the horrible realization--

"Am I getting too old to stuff myself with candy?"

--but he said a quick nah and put his head down on his desk.

Normally, he'd be able to sit in the back and close his eyes during O'Donnell's class. But he'd been doing better so far this year, making the effort in order to finally graduate.

She'd let one little nap slide, right?

"We have a fun lesson today," O'Donnell announced and handed stacks of worksheets to be passed back. "In the spirit of Halloween week, we'll be talking about the origins of the holiday here in America. Alongside a few spooky topics. The Salem Witch Trials...Regional folklore."

What would've been the best lesson of Eddie's life turned terrible as the world lurched when he lifted his head to grab the worksheets.

He raised his hand weakly.

"...we'll even get to read about...er...yes Edward?"

"May I go to the bathroom?" he asked, earning a huff of annoyance.

"You know the classroom rules: bathroom breaks during the last five minutes of class only."

"Then can I go to the nurse's office?"

She instructed the class to look over the assignments and she approached him.

"Eddie, I thought this would be something you'd be excited for," O'Donnell told him, gently. "I'm not trying to be hard on you but if you want to pass, you have to try."

"I'm really not feeling good today, Mrs. O," he whined.

With pursed lips, Mrs. O'Donnell looked him over critically and then shook her head.

"You look fine," she insisted. "You can go to the bathroom in the last ten minutes of class."

She tapped her finger against the worksheet and then walked to the front of the classroom to begin the lesson.

Eddie did his best. He tried to listen, he tried to be enthusiastic, he tried to fill in the worksheet.

But the classroom was too hot and his skin was too tight and his stomach was cramping and his whole body just felt wrong.

So he simply couldn't wait until the end of class; he needed to get out of here. Now.

He was gonna pass out, or shit himself, or...uh oh...

He stood and hastened towards the front of the classroom.

"Munson!" O'Donnell shouted at him as he closed the distance to the door. "Sit back down! I told you that you could use the restroom at the end of class I..."

And just when he opened his mouth to tell her to shove it, the candy that he'd happily stuffed down his throat made its return back up.

All over Mrs. O'Donnell.

#corrodedcoffinfest #corrodedcoffinfest: seven deadly sins #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #gareth stranger things #stranger things fic #tw: vomit #tw: food

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kiskisur · 1 year ago

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Hello! So hm I'd like to request some fluff with Lyney x male/ftm reader👉🏻👈🏻 reader asking Lyney why do he loves them (if ftm reader and you're comfortable with it, because theyre feeling some dysphoria) all of sudden while he's doing some magic tricks, and the magician start being all cute and flirty🫡

ᝰ.ᐟ we fell in love in october.

warnings: male reader, lyney being a cutie patootie :((, reader is referred as [name] and goes by they/them pronouns, slight angst(?)

note: honestly this is so cute!! tysm for the idea! :D atp I was crying over my own story HAHAHA btw I am not french so I do apologize if I made a mistake :( I just used Google Translate huhu. anyways I was born so I decided to do this lolol

Under the moonlit sky, Lyney and [name] found themselves on a tranquil hillside, the soft rustling of leaves and distant chirping of crickets creating a serene atmosphere. They often came here to escape the hustle and bustle of their daily lives, to share quiet moments away from the world.

On this particular evening, Lyney had set up an array of flickering lanterns, their gentle glow painting the surroundings in a warm, inviting light. [name] leaned against a tree, watching as Lyney moved gracefully amidst the lanterns, his movements fluid and mesmerizing.

As the last lantern was lit, Lyney turned to [name], his violet eyes sparkling with excitement. "Tonight, I have a special performance just for you," he announced with a mischievous grin.

[name]'s heart skipped a beat, their curiosity piqued by Lyney's words. They settled onto a cozy blanket spread out on the ground, their eyes fixed on Lyney's every move.

With a flourish of his hand, Lyney conjured a deck of shimmering cards, each one glimmering like stardust. He shuffled them expertly, his fingers dancing across the cards as if they had a life of their own. "You see, [name]," he began, his voice a melodious whisper, "magic isn't just about tricks. It's about creating moments that make your heart race, moments that take you to another world."

As he spoke, he revealed the top card, a queen with a radiant smile. "This queen represents your strength," Lyney continued, his words holding a quiet reverence. "The way you face challenges head-on, never giving up. It's the fire within you that inspires me every day."

With a flick of his wrist, the card transformed into a blooming rose, its petals unfurling to reveal a hidden compartment. From within, Lyney produced a delicate silver necklace, a heart-shaped locket dangling from its chain. He approached [name] with a soft smile, placing the necklace gently in their hands.

"This locket is like the key to my heart," Lyney confessed, his eyes locked onto [name]'s. "Inside, there's a small mirror – a reflection of all the beauty and wonder you bring into my life."

[name]'s fingers traced the contours of the locket, their heart swelling with emotion. It was a gesture so heartfelt, it left them speechless.

But Lyney wasn't done. With another flourish, he waved his hand over the locket, and the necklace began to glow softly, casting a gentle light around them. "And now, [name], it's your turn," he said, his voice a velvety whisper. "Tell me, what's in your heart?"

As [name] met Lyney's gaze, a mix of vulnerability and determination flickered in their eyes. "I... I love you, Lyney," they admitted, their voice steady yet filled with emotion. "But sometimes, I wonder why you would love me."

Lyney's smile never wavered as he knelt beside [name], his hand gently lifting their chin to meet his gaze. "Oh, [name], you are a treasure beyond measure," he replied, his words carrying the weight of his feelings. "I love you for the way you make me laugh, for the kindness that radiates from you. I love the way you see beauty in the simplest things, and the strength you show even when you doubt yourself."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small crystal orb that shimmered in the lantern light. "This orb represents the bond between us," Lyney explained. "It's as unique and iridescent as your smile, [name]."

With a gentle touch, he placed the orb in [name]'s hand, their fingers brushing against each other. "You ask why I love you?" Lyney murmured, his breath warm against their skin. "It's because you're the magic that fills my world with wonder. Your flaws and insecurities are part of what makes you so beautifully human, and I cherish every part of you."

As [name] looked into Lyney's eyes, they felt a sense of warmth and acceptance they had never experienced before. In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of lanterns and the twinkle of stars overhead, they understood that love wasn't about being flawless, but about finding someone who saw their true worth.

With a soft smile, Lyney leaned in, his lips brushing against [name]'s in a tender, lingering kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the magic of their love.

Their hearts beat in sync, and [name]'s hand instinctively found its way to the back of Lyney's neck, drawing him closer. The kiss deepened, a gentle exploration of emotions they had both held back for so long. It was a kiss that spoke volumes – of affection, desire, and the unspoken promise of a shared future.

As they finally parted, their breaths mingling, Lyney rested his forehead against [name]'s, his violet eyes locking onto theirs. "You are my greatest enchantment," he whispered, his voice a caress against their skin.

ᝰ.ᐟ that's why I love fall <3

#amab reader #genshin impact x male reader #male reader #x male reader #♡ ;; kiskisur !#𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ works ~#lyney x male reader #lyney x reader #genshin lyney #lyney x y/n #lyney #lyney x ftm reader #x ftm reader #x reader #genshin men x reader

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awetistic-things · 3 months ago

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❗️please, stay

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Ola Abu Jbara (@olaabujbara)

instagram

listen to her story, share to the best of your resources, donate even if you don’t have much to give

Ola doesn’t have to do this alone, no one does—offer your hand, we must keep one another going

〰️

“I am Ola Ferwana from Palestine ,Gaza. I'm a mother of 3 kids Yamen, Qusai and Mira. My husband travelled to Egypt to get medicines before 2 days of the war 7 of October on Gaza.

I faced very great challenges and the responsibilities of my three children in the absence of my husband, as he had traveled and the crossing was closed and we could not see each other. The amount of suffering I was feeling cannot be described.I am reaching out to you today with a heavy heart and a plea for urgent assistance. I have left my home and have been displaced more than 8 times with my children. I am living in the war_torn region of Gaza, facing unimaginable challenges, with lack of water, food scarcity, and constant threats to their safety.

I have delivered a girl baby,Mira, through the war, She was 10 months old and my husband didn't see her until this moment.

Yaman was 7 years old, and his simplest dream was to complete the first grade at school, but his school was completely destroyed. He lost the most beautiful thing that he was happy with and enjoyed that he had reached this stage.

Qusai is 5 years old, and until this moment I do not have the courage to tell him that his kindergarten was also destroyed, the first place and refuge in which he was happy, but in this war he lost everything beautiful. He lost his father’s hug, which was his only refuge when he slept at night, telling him his daily story to fall asleep safety.

Mira, my daughter, who had never seen an hour or a moment devoid of fear, came into this world and was surprised by a war that destroyed many, many things. It destroyed her house and her room, which I was waiting for as I prepared and brought her all the beautiful clothes and colorful dresses she needed. She was surprised by the sound of missiles. She could not sleep because of it. My husband hopes to get a smile and a hug from her daughter Which he had been waiting for some time.

We lack of the basic human needs, no food no electricity no water. We were poisoned and infected because of the unhealthy water that we drink.

My three children and I had to be hospitalized. We suffered from liver dysfunction as a result of malnutrition, widespread diseases, and recurring infection.

During this period, I felt remorseful about how difficult it is for a mother to see her children sick and unable to treat them because she is also very sick.

The Rafah border crossing, which is the only way to escape from the war, is closed now.

If it is opened, I can't go to Egypt as I don't have the money because my husband is the sole breadwinner for my family.

I hope to provide us by giving support in order to cover the costs associated with ensuring our safe passage of Egypt through the borders. Please stand with me, we are now homeless, with absence of children needs like milk, diapers, with no food. Please help us to stay a live and leave Gaza with my children. Share this link as you can as possible.

Thank you for your kindness, empathy and generosity during this challenging time.With sincere thanks and warm regards, Ola”

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muse-write · 26 days ago

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Towering Past

Here's my entry for the 2024 Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge)!

Jan. 12, 2023

H.,

Sorry for not responding to your Christmas letter…or your New Years’ letter. Really, I am! I know you probably think I’m tired of this method of communication—and I can’t rightly say I’m not—but there was more to my lack of response than sheer avoidance. I know you well enough to know you haven’t watched the local news anytime recently, so you might not have heard about the October explosion on the upper east side of the city. They’re saying it was a bomb planted in the subway system. It took out half the Northern line and a couple of blocks in every direction.

I have my own story to tell about that explosion, but I would sound insane, so I’ll leave this letter at that. And anyway, my hand is hurting from scribbling this letter out in record time now that I feel up to writing at all. You at least know I’m alive and hopefully you believe I wasn’t avoiding responding on purpose.

How are Jen and the kid doing? If you weren’t so set on letters like this you could text me pictures, you know! Why can’t you just call me like a normal person, H.?!

Love,

Frankie

Jan. 17, 2023

Dear Frankie,

Thanks for responding—finally. I was about to hop on a plane or send a strongly worded letter to your commanding officer just to make sure you hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth. I suppose a cellphone would make this kind of thing easier, but we’ve had that conversation too many times to rehash it now. Jen’s doing fine. Eric is running around and getting into trouble, and we both know who he takes after on that score. I always was a good son, Mother always said. If you please, you might want to drop by and visit next time you’re in the area; you might have some tips born of experience for how to deal with a little boy who insists on coloring on the walls.

What a vague way of ending your story; you aren’t saying you were anywhere near the explosion, are you? I know it’s your job and all, but don’t blame a man for getting worried when his sister defuses bomb threats on the daily. Anyway, you know I wouldn’t find any of your stories insane, and you must tell me your version of events. Just don’t wait another two months to do so, or I really will send your CO a letter asking after you.

Glad to know you’re alive,

Henry

P.S. In the envelope is a bracelet Jen borrowed from you a few years back. She was very worried that you thought she was planning on keeping it forever.

Feb. 10, 2023

H.,

I’ll tell you what happened if you insist. But you have to promise me not to laugh. I haven’t told anyone else what happened; I’m not entirely certain it was not a vivid dream. And you know I’m not much of a storyteller, so it won’t rank among your beloved novels. But it will be what happened to me, as accurately as I can put it. Forgive the late letter. This took days to write down.

First off, the explosion wasn’t an explosion at all—so you can put your fears about me being among the defusement team to rest, at least this time. I had woken that morning to a leisurely day, not having so much as a drill to look forward to on my day off, and that meant I had a clear view out the window at the precise moment a tower erupted from the concrete sidewalk only a block or two away from my apartment. When I ran from my complex down the street, I had no thought of entering the tower—I didn’t even know if it was that kind of tower, one that could be entered—but I knew someone had to check it out, and that someone had best be me, with my gun and military training. I brought my Sauer and phone with me (not being a technophobe like you) and approached the tower.

It was not pretty or elegant or admirable in any way. In fact, it was rather ugly, with sharp jagged peaks—I forget what they are called—at the top, and the walls made of black brick—except it wasn’t brick, it was more like marble or stone, lopsided and uneven, like the tower had been thrown and glued together. And it was completely silent. Nothing moved, except at the very tip-top there was a flashing blue light. Like a signal. It didn’t seem to be Morse code or any other signal method I could make out.

And then something moved in the very highest window, and through a pair of binoculars I took from a man next to me (there was a crowd forming by now) I peered up at it and saw that it was a human.

Henry, do you remember Lieutenant Gorsk? A few years back. It was him. Somehow he had found his way into the tower and all the way to the top, and any doubt of my venturing in there was put to rest.

I would find him.

I am ashamed to say that I didn’t prepare. I was so afraid that if I went back home and returned with gear it would prove to be a dream that I marched straight up to the entrance—I know you’ll beg for a real description, but all I can say now is that it was a door, black and wood of some kind, with an ornate gilded knob for a handle—opened it, and walked through, my hand on my Sauer the whole time. I still had the binoculars from the man outside.

This is where it gets insane, H. The interior of the tower was like one of those ancient cathedrals, you know the ones, like in England. The ones tourists go to and exclaim about and take pictures of sunlight streaming through the windows. Though there wasn’t any stained glass here. And the windows—don’t laugh—they didn’t look out onto Seattle, H. They looked onto a completely different world.

I can’t describe it. I can’t remember it all that clearly, either, it’s a huge blur in my head, after the hospital and…anyway, I remember that outside the sky was red—like blood-red, and below there was a dark river, sluggish and black and I didn’t like to look at it for very long, so I turned away and looked at the tower instead. It was Gothic, I guess. You’re the architecture freak. I’ve attached some pictures below, so make of them what you will.

Anyway, I’d entered a large foyer-like hall, with a great staircase sweeping up the far side and climbing the walls in spiraling loops. There were statues in this room, tons of them, but they were—they had such terrible expressions of sadness and terror that I couldn’t look at them for long, either. Even more than the sights, it was the feeling that stays with me, even months later; there was something utterly depressing about the place despite its eerie beauty. It sank deep into my bones and chilled me to the core. But I had to get to Lieutenant Gorsk. I tightened my fingers on the Sauer and began up the stairs, ready for…well, anything. I had no idea what to expect from a place like this.

And what I encountered, I had no way of expecting at all.

What descended down the stairs towards me when I had only climbed a few steps was a horde of—I don’t know what to call them. Demons, I suppose. They were not like the demons you see on church windows under the feet of angels. Some of them almost looked human, but were spindly and covered in scales like lizards or dragons or fish, scales that were matte and dark and reflected no light. Others weren’t human at all, but animal-like, though they resembled no animal I’ve ever seen except that they traveled on four legs, or maybe more. The horde of things surged toward me and I raised my gun to shoot.

I have killed people in my career, H., you know that. I’ve spent entire nights awake in my bed unable to get rid of their faces. I killed these things almost too easily, though the scaled ones gave my bullets some trouble. I had to resort to picking up a sword, fallen on the ground a few feet away from a bleached skeleton, to pierce through the gaps in the armor. It was helpful in preserving my ammo, since I’d only brought the few rounds that were in my gun, and I would need one round for when I reached the top--though I wondered what kind of other world I’d stumbled into. Who had this person been who had ventured in and died with a sword in their hand?

I proceeded up the stairs past the corpses, which were dusting away as though they had never existed in the first place. The tower reared up above me. Along its walls were grotesque tapestries of things I do not wish to remember, and I kept my eyes on the stairs and the gaping doorways I passed, waiting for another horde of demon-like things. I have been a soldier for decades, and never have I been more grateful for it than when I was ascending those stairs. My training kept me safe.

I reached the first landing and had to fight through another horde. I will not describe them all—some of them I don’t remember clearly enough, and others were simply too odd to put into words. All I know is that, with gun and sword, I managed to clear a path up the stairs.

But then one of them got the first hit in. I remember these clearly: three large, hulking things, with mouths like lions and bodies like eagles, large golden wings sending strong wind swirling around the landing. I could not move forward. My bullets barely pierced their hides. My sword could not break through their guard, and one of them sent an arm forward and its claws slashed my shoulder to ribbons. It burned like a gunshot wound, and I knew there was no hope of me defeating all three of them. I could only run and hide and hope they didn’t pursue me, so I turned and left the staircase to venture into the rest of the tower.

This floor was full of branching halls and large empty rooms that smelled of decay. The red sky outside left a garish red tint to everything that unnerved me, but I ran down hallways at random and tried to remember my way back to the stairs in case I lived long enough to return. The lion-eagle creatures chased me, but gave up soon afterward, and vanished into other areas of the tower. I ducked into an empty room and used the relative peace and quiet to inspect my arm. It was bleeding heavily, and I made a note to myself to check it for infection later in the day, assuming I survived that long.

I could have turned around. Abandoned my quest. Left Lieutenant Gorsk up at the top of the tower and returned to the peace of my house, a peace I had fought so hard for and tried to attain for so long. But you know what he did to me, Henry.

At the time, it seemed obvious to me that this was my second chance at justice. My chance to make peace, finally, with what had been done to me, and leave it in the past.

It never occurred to me to wonder how Gorsk had found his way here, or what had been done to him in the process, until much later on that day.

I wrapped my wound in strips from my shirt and hoped it would hold and wished I had some antiseptic, but a dirty shirt would have to do as gauze. Then I tried to creep out of the room, but realized that the door was locked. I had not closed it.

Demons appeared in the room around me, the scaled spindly ones I had fought off before, and I had become used to their movements and attacks and knew with relative certainty how to defeat them. A few strong strikes with a sword would weaken them, a gunshot through the head would finish them off. I would rely mostly on the sword now; I was running low on ammo, and I did not know how many more floors I would have to fight through. I refused to think about the fight back down once I reached the top. There had to be ten demons in the room, and my shoulder was burning and slowed me down, and there were quite a few close calls I prefer not to think about. I don’t know what it would have been like to be killed by one of these things and I don’t want to imagine it. They had sharp teeth meant for ripping and biting, and at some point after I killed a few of these I began tearing those teeth from the corpses’ mouths for extra weapons.

Ten of these demons were more than enough to test me, but with a lot of luck I managed not to die, and had a pocketful of demon teeth-blades to show for it at the end.

The door unlocked by itself as the last demon corpse dusted away.

I ventured back to the stairs, losing my way a few times in the process, and it was amazing what a relief it was to see the familiar grand staircase spiraling up over my head once again rather than the red wash of the old windows. The castle grew darker as I headed further up, and there were less and less windows, and less and less red, until I began to long for the light, eerie as it was. It was never dark enough to blind me, but it was surely dark enough for the shadows to shift and move and look like demons. I have had decades of experience calming terror in combat; this tower tried my nerves in a way I have never experienced before and hope to never experience again. In all of those books you’ve read, have you heard the phrase, “bear wrongs patiently”? In the military, I turned that into a talent. I bore the hazing, the combat, the setbacks and the horror and the fear. I tried to do that here, too, but the tower seemed to steal that control away from me, until even I was left trembling like a little girl surrounded by monsters. I gripped my gun in one hand and my sword in the other and ventured on, wishing more and more that I did not feel such an urge to find the Lieutenant. Wishing that I could be normal and move on from that time.

You can maybe understand why it took me so long to finish writing this letter.

I will leave it at that for now, so that you can get your letter in two months and not feel the need to call up my superiors. Though I think a glare from you, looking like some Oxford don, might just frighten Commander Paik more than all the roughest thugs in the city.

Love,

Frankie

Feb. 18, 2023

Frankie,

I don’t quite know how to start this.

First, let me say thank you for trusting me with your story. I don’t think you’re insane, and I didn’t let out a single chuckle.

Second, I am familiar with that tower. It appeared in my own city—around the time yours did. It looked exactly as you describe, and the pictures confirmed it. It was the same, or one of the same type. I entered the tower, though not at all for the same reasons.

You see, when I looked up at the top of it, in the window I saw Jen. Of course, I couldn’t leave her there.

I did not tell you of this before because I did not wish to worry you or cause you alarm; after all, what transpired became something much greater and more beautiful than I could have imagined when I first stepped through the door.

I sympathize with your quest to get to Lieutenant Gorsk. I remember him very well, and I wish I could have been there too, to punch him in the face (a second time, if you remember!). I don’t know if I can condone your mission, nor the intentions you implied, but after what the man did to you, I can’t say I wouldn’t have considered the same. And considering you are not writing me from a jail cell, I need to know the end of the story as soon as you can bring yourself to give it to me.

I did not bring a gun with me—you know my stance on them well enough—but, as with you, there were plenty of demons. I have never been a fighter, but I picked up a stray sword and a dagger or two and managed to hide and slip past many, and fought those I couldn’t. It was with a great deal of trepidation that I climbed those stairs—I can only imagine you, flying up them like a goddess of vengeance with wings at her feet! It was an eerie experience for me; the light made everything look as though blood covered it. The sun outside was not—right. It was deep and vibrant and would have maybe been pretty if not for the sickly pallor to the sky around it, like when a tornado is about to touch down.

I deciphered that I had entered a new world a little earlier than you. I had found a storage room to hide in—and what a storage room, with jars and masks and boxes—and could not help reading a few of the files I found stuffed in drawers (I know you’re rolling your eyes at me about now, so stop it!). The files were plain documents, just text written in a crusted brown substance I refused to consider any further than necessary, but I couldn’t read a word of it. It was not Latin, nor Greek, nor any derivation of any language I have ever come across. The letters themselves were indecipherable, and anyway I felt like it was best not to know what was written in them, so I shoved the papers back into their drawers and did my best not to wonder. I am not very good at that, but it was time to move on, and my survival (and Jen’s) relied on not being overly distracted by the theoretical.

I reached the top of the tower perhaps slower than you, but with far fewer injuries (please tell me you went to the hospital, Frankie!), and emerged from the stairs into a long corridor that extended to a single door. This part of the tower was not a maze, as I had discovered in the lower levels; it was very straightforward and clear about where I was meant to go. That door was my destination, and behind it must be Jen, and the window through which I had glimpsed her.

There were no enemies laying wait for me along that corridor, but I fully expected there to be some monstrous creature waiting for me behind the door. I grasped the knob. It swung open easily, terrifyingly easy.

I assume this room looked much the same for me as it did for you—circular walls, broad windows letting in that wash of red light anew, a view of a mountain range of some other world, dark and strange, stretching out beyond. Jen was there, and I called her name, but saw that she could not move, because, though she stood, she was enclosed within a barrier of some sort—her hands, I saw, were burned where she had attempted to push through it. There would be no breaking it.

And then the monster—appeared. I mean that very literally; one moment it was not there, and then I blinked, and it was. I could not make sense of it at first; it did not fit your descriptions at all of any of the demons you encountered. It was hulking and winged, but appeared to be made of chitin all over its body, like an insect has, and blue flame flared from the gaps in this natural armor. It bared teeth—I suppose would be the expression, on something that had such an unnatural face—at me, and there were two rows of sharp needle-like prongs.

This terrified me.

But it held Jen, my wife, the mother of my son, and what would I ever say to Eric if I let this beast harm her, or whatever it planned to do with her? Whisk her away? Kill her? Keep her imprisoned here, like some damsel out of a fairy tale, to lure adventurers with?

I tightened my grip on my sword, feeling a sense of hopeless doom fall upon me (yes, that was the only way to describe it, let me have my sense of poetry once in a while without mocking me, Frankie!). There did not seem to be a way I could triumph over such a foe. But neither could I hide or flee or distract it. So fight I must, even if it led to my own death.

I see no reason to regale you with the battle; there was nothing glamorous about it, as you well know. Suffice to say, I charged at it, which was not a good strategy, and my strategy changed to accommodate this. I was injured (and Jen gave me a good lecture about my stupidity later) and the pain nearly made me sick, but miraculously I managed to stay upright. It was a long battle, the monster was fast and strong and wanted me dead as badly as I wanted it dead, and I was afraid every instant, but eventually I managed to get lucky, and the blade sunk deep into one of those infinitesimal cracks in the monster’s chitin, and with a wrench I managed to twist the blade hard into its heart. That is not a feeling I wish to relive, Frankie.

But in the end, the monster lay there, its breath rattling out, and the barrier simply disappeared, just as the monster had suddenly appeared. Jen could move again—she later told me that the barrier had not been there until, presumably, my hand had touched the door; the monster’s doing, I assume—and she rushed to my side. I have never before felt like a brave man, especially when compared to you, brave sister, and I wish it had not taken such awful circumstances to turn me into one.

Jen told me later that she had no idea where she had been; in a moment she had been whisked from the living room of our house to the top of the tower, and for hours she had been staring out at that dark mountain range and the red sky and attempting to find a reasonable way of climbing out. The door had been locked, and the lock had repaired itself even as she had broken it, and escape seemed hopeless, unless she were to throw herself out, and she had not been quite that desperate yet.

Hearing your story, I simply wonder why? Why was it Jen who was picked up and plopped in that window to send me creeping up the stairs? Why was the same done to Lieutenant Gorsk? Was it a punishment? Or coincidence?

Do you have any theories, Frankie?

Henry

Feb. 30, 2024

Henry,

I never would have imagined that you had had such an experience, or that both of us have been carrying it around with us for months without letting on. We’re both stubborn—well, a soldier’s language isn’t something I want to subject you to, so I’ll leave it there.

When I finally did reach the top—though I don’t think it was so much as a goddess of war as a very frightened, very stubborn military-trained soldier—it looked the way you described it. The same long corridor, the same door at the end, the same suspicious lack of enemies. I had one bullet left in my Sauer, and plenty of demon teeth in my pockets.

Except there wasn’t a monster for me. Maybe the tower had decided I’d had my fill. Maybe the final challenge I encountered was the monster. I don’t know. I didn’t think much of it then. I just knew that odious lieutenant was behind that door, and I needed to get in there and shoot him dead, military protocol be damned.

It was a desire for murder, plain and simple, but I wasn’t thinking about the consequences then. I was thinking about those two years of hell, with the king of demons being Lieutenant Gorsk and his stinking breath and wandering hands and my only savior the friendship of Corporal Alice Lewis.

I turned the door, and there he was. Oddly, he was kept in place by the same barrier you described.

H., have I ever told you how easy it is for me to kill someone with a gun? My trusty Sauer, familiar and worn in my palm, my callouses formed around it, my target in its sights. It’s far easier to pull the trigger on my old friend than it is to take my Swiss knife and stab someone in the guts, but I’ve done both. I was prepared to do either, if it meant ridding the world of someone like Gorsk.

By now it’s been…what? Eight years since I was under his command? Not that long, in the grand scheme of things. Two years of hell, and eight years recovering.

I’ve put him out of my mind as best I can. I had almost imagined that I could go my whole life and think only of moving forward, but that vanished the second I laid eyes on him again. All my old rage and hatred and desire for vengeance came back to me in a moment, and propelled me up those stairs. Maybe in that way I was some goddess of vengeance after all.

My gun was lined up with his temple. He stood there, unable to move, his hands and arms burned by the barrier, knowing that I would be the last sight he saw. There was no doubt in his mind in that moment, I’m sure, that I would kill him.

I did. I did kill him, Henry.

I pulled the trigger and he fell back against the wall. It was a clean, cold kill. The door behind me unlocked, and I stepped out onto the stairs again. Going down, there were no enemies to fight, and I relived the moment I had shot him again and again, and did not regret leaving his body there at the top of the tower. I was victorious, the winner, the survivor, and I had killed the man who had made my life a misery for years.

I returned to my apartment, and the tower…crumbled. It fell, brick by brick, stone by stone, back underneath the city, and left no sign it had ever been there. I was quite satisfied with myself, and didn’t feel guilty about what I’d done until that night, when I remembered suddenly that he had had a wife, the last I had heard. Maybe a son, too, but I’m not sure. The next morning, while I ate breakfast, he appeared in the news—but not news of his death. Instead, there was something about some promotion to Major General, and I stabbed myself with my fork and threw my plate across the kitchen.

I realized what had happened soon after that.

I am not writing this from a jail cell, Henry, because to all intents and purposes Lieutenant Gorsk is still living—in this world, anyway. In whatever terrible, twisted mirror world I found myself wandering through, Lieutenant Gorsk is dead, a bullet’s clean entry and exit wound through both sides of his skull. I know I killed him, and I must live with knowing that I was capable of doing so, that I was fully aware of what I was doing. In my mind, he lies in a pool of spreading blood.

Love,

Frankie

#inklingschallenge #inklings challenge 2024 #team lewis #genre: secondary world #theme: patience #story: complete #theme: forgive

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