#and has connected many people to this day by being an honest expression of these feelings

[ellipsus-writes]

Stories of resistance; communities of power

(Read over on the blog!) The first time I met a queer character was a literal flash in the dark: stumbling onto Maurice on the IFC channel, sometime around midnight—the Merchant-Ivory adaptation of E. M. Forster's novel where the two leads actually get a happy ending.

Before that, the only queer characters I’d ever seen were Scar and Ursula, camping, preening, and scheming their way to classic villainhood—swishy, fabulous, undeniably doomed. And then I found Oscar Wilde at the library: an actual gay writer (thrilling: I bought a poster on the nascent internet of the author lounging on a settee and taped it too my bedroom door—abandon straightness, all ye who enter here). And then I learned how it ended: destroyed by the state, dragged through a prejudicial court system—the ultimate doomed narrative, for the crime of being human.

There have been big strides in the, uh… how many intervening years? (Y2K was 10 years ago, right?) We no longer have to sit quietly, waiting for a flicker of queer joy on late-night TV, clawing our way through a wasteland of tragedy to feel seen.

Now, we make our own stories.

I wrote my own stories in high school; digging through the cracks to find historic queer spaces I could enter, rediscovering buried worlds and realizing we’d always been here. (Ask me about mid-18th-century gay life in Paris, or ‘20s Berlin... or don’t.) And fanfic, which went mainstream a little later, changed everything. It’s the way so many people carve out space for themselves—claiming stories that were never meant for us and making them our own.

Of course, it’s 2025. There are tragedies happening right now. Big ones, small ones, ones so personal they’ll never make the news; losses so massive they leave entire communities grieving. They can feel insurmountable.

But we have something stronger—community.

You’re already doing the work. You’re making yourselves visible—writing without permission, without waiting for gatekeepers to tell you what’s marketable or appropriate. You write anyway. You’re valid because you write. Your stories spread across the void, forming bonds when they most want to divide us. Instead of more tragedy, you’re making whole universes gay (literally).

Telling stories—messy, joyful, painful, honest, true—will always be a defiant act. Every time you write a queer character, spin a fanfic with queer headcanons, share a few lines that spring straight from your gut, you’re pushing back. The act of creation sets off a chain reaction—visibility, empathy, and the simple, profound reminder that you’re not alone.

That’s the gift of stories: to expand someone’s world, to help them see others—and themselves—more clearly, no matter what the world tells you. The power of storytelling has always been revolutionary, and the beauty of community is that it makes us unbreakable.

Our community proves this every day. You show up for each other—offering feedback, encouragement, shouting 2AM prompts and plotbunnies into the void (and the void answers back). You share your worlds, your ideas, your selves. You make space for each other, and you make Ellipsus stronger, more resilient, and more fiercely alive.

That’s why Pride matters. And why writing matters—more than ever.

For us, this work is personal. As a queer-founded company (myself—Rex—and my partner, John—hey how are you), we built Ellipsus as a home for creators who, like us, find deep belonging in community and creative expression.

With queer voices under attack—rights stripped away, books banned, Pride erased from calendars (FCK GGL)—we don’t need to tell you we’re worried. You’re worried, too. But together, we’re determined. We’re courageous and connected.

For Pride Month, we’re excited to give back to the community that gives so much to us—and to launch a few things along the way…

A new Pride theme for Ellipsus

Because queer joy should shine in every word you write. (Yes, it’s forever—not just for June!)

And coming soon…

You’ll be able to support your favorite little writing tool in more ways… yep, we’re jumping on the merch gambit. But it’s not all about us—50% of all proceeds from our shop will go directly to LGBTQ+ organizations fighting back against censorship, discrimination, and erasure:

The Trevor Project—Supporting LGBTQ+ youth.

Trans Lifeline—Providing life-saving resources for trans people.

The ACLU—Fighting for freedom of expression, trans rights, and against book bans and censorship.

... Pride is about all of us—so we want to hear from you.

What does Pride mean to you as a writer? How does your creativity reflect your community, and your hopes for the future? How does writing get you through it, help you make connections, and bring you joy?

Share your stories in our Discord, or shout into the void of Tumblr, Bluesky (and tag us!). We’ll be sharing some of your responses throughout the month. Our aim is simple: to give you a space to write freely, protect freedom of expression, and uplift queer voices—not just for a month, but for as long as it takes.

[cakewritez]

PLEASE can you write Zoey with a demon gf? hurt/comfort if you can!! THERES NO ZOEY X READER ANYWHERE IM STARVING😭

I DONT THINK YOUR READY FOR THE TAKEDOWN. ✧

Cw: OH BOY MAD ANGST LAWDDDD hurt / comfort, Zoey being insecure, panic attacks, just angst :( good ending though! Kinda short because this is hurting me 💔

She's in shock, denial. No no, anyone but you. First Rumi and now you? But, your not full of hate at all. You're beautiful and strong, not to mention everything she's not. How could you, be a demon? Everything she stands to hate, to distain, how could she love a demon like you?

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

You weren't supposed to get in the crossfire, you werent supposed to be in the line of fire at all. It was an honest mistake, you undid your jacket you always wore and laid in on their couch. You'd thought they would be gone for at least a week, considering the text your new girlfriend had sent you. God, you loved her.

You had met over a shared taste of food, and attending art museums you kept bumping into her. Your connection deepened from that, along with the little texts she sends you with cute selfies attached. You'd reply with your own before giggling to yourself and going on with your day.

The voices got louder, Gwi-Ma got louder. It hurt to hear him whisper the same thing over and over again, "Break up Huntrix and you'll be free from my control.. Break Zoey." you couldn't do that to her. You drowned them out as best as you could, music, podcasts, whatever that was loud and in your ears.

She told you about her job as a Hunter soon after, people always told her she was eager to please and a little too trusting, she'd made that mistake too many times.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

"Whhaaat? So your saying like, demons are real? And, you hunt them?" You tried your best to make a shocked expression, It melted your heart to hear her ramble about her secret life to someone other than Rumi and Mira. Although, you'd have to pretend like you weren't one yourself.

"Yess! I have like, these knives and stuff I throw at them! It's so fun, especially with the tricker ones." Zoey practically beamed at you with excitment. She explained the Honmoon and the things Rumi and Mira did with her. "You have a pretty good imagination, especially for a pretty girl." You flicked her gently on the forehead, as she calmed down a bit.

"Y—Yeah, it's our concept! Forrr ourr... next album!" Zoey fidgeted with her hands, you could tell she was feeling dejected and that tore you up inside, she couldn't know though. She would never know.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

At least, that's what you thought. They came home early. The marks on your arms had only gotten worse, the pattern spreading from your collarbone to your finger tips now. You silently cursed to yourself as you heard the door open from behind you.

"I'm back!! I just forgot something like always and—" She stopped, dead in her tracks. She took in the sight of you, perfectly gorgeous and perfectly.. horrible.

"No, no no.. this has to be a joke right? Your pranking me right? I told you, and you- you thought it would be funny to replicate the marks, but I never told you how they looked like—" Zoey's breathing quickened as she started to panic, the room started to spin and she was shaking. You automatically reached out for her but she flinched, you looked at her scared face and your patterns on your hands. You really are a monster.

In Zoey's mind, the worst thing possible could've happened. Back to back in fact, they find Rumi was a demon and now you? Gwi-Ma must be taunting them, trying to take away everything they loved. The voices she'd pushed down long ago were starting to bubble up again, the insecurities.

"No one could love you, except for a demon."

You decided to take the risk and step closer, you pulled her into a hug before she could draw her weapon and squeezed tightly. You felt her body stiffen up for a minute, before relaxing. Trembling arms came up and held you back, and you let out a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding.

"I'm, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you for so long." Tears started to well in your eyes and you held her, like something precious that would break and shatter. Zoey inhaled deeply before speaking.

"Do you even love me?" She choked out as she held you tighter, afraid and anxious you might leave her. You pet the top of her hair and nodded.

"Of course I do, since the day you spilled soda all over my shirt." That earned a soft laugh from her, which you gladly took. "Gwi-Ma gets in my head sometimes, but he can't force me to do anything. He can't drag me down there or summon me, I just wanted to live my life as a normal person." You stood in the hallway in silence for a moment, before pulling away and gently wiping her tears. "It's okay, I'll leave you alone if that's what you really want."

Unexpectedly, she pulled you in for another hug. The remnants of her tears you wiped staining your shirt. "Stay. Please. I'll deal with them, just.. be my partner. I don't want you to leave." And of course, who are you to deny your girlfriend?

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

She was still dealing with inner turmoil about the whole situation, but she found ways to cheer the both of you up. She painted her nails the color of your marks, and made sure to hide song lyrics about you in Huntrix's singles.

Yeah, you two would be okay.

[boosandbirds]

gotham hauntings (name undecided)

The ghosts in Gotham are different from the ones in Amity.

They're drifters, flitting around the streets and wandering aimlessly. Full ghosts seem rare, but there are dozens, if not hundreds of shades, and if he's being honest, Danny isn't really surprised. The city is known for two things, crime and vigilantes, and either one of those can lead to nasty consequences. 

Messy death, unsolved cases, people's lives ended without a second thought. 

It's a wonder Gotham hasn't been entirely overrun by Shades, Danny thinks, but never says. He doesn't think about what he would do if a stronger ghost, one with an obsession formed here.

After all, Danny Nightingale is just a regular guy, with no connection to the dead.

That never stops them from creeping up on him.

It doesn’t quite start with footsteps, but that’s the best way to describe it. The knowledge that someone – or, something – is following him, not at a leisurely pace, but not urgently, either. There’s an unnatural sort of silence, too, like the kind before lightning strikes the earth, and Danny has to suppress a tremor at the thought.

The echoing sounds that begin to follow him aren’t natural, either. 

Whistling wind, when there’s not even a slight breeze. Claws tapping against the ground, without a rat in sight. A lighter, clicking on and off and on and off, over and over again. Nails dragging against metal walls, when Danny knows he is the only living soul in this alley. 

Though, he supposes that the term living makes all the difference.

His breath turns cold as the ghost finally approaches him, a shiver running down his spine. He stops walking. Takes a deep breath as the chill sinks into his bones. The feeling doesn't bother him as much as it used to, but the first moments are still uncomfortable.

“My Lady,” Danny says, his voice soft. “I was wondering when I'd meet you. It's an honor.”

The laughter that fills the air is a crisp, crackling sort of sound, almost like wood burning in a fireplace. “You remind me of my Knights,” she rasps, and her voice is rough, like she's smoked every day in her existence. 

The thought is only cemented when her form starts to take shape.

Her body looks as though it's made of smog and scrap metal, swirling smoke giving way to sharp edges and rust. Her cloak – or does it resemble a dress more? Danny isn't sure – reaches all the way to the floor, leaving a train of fabric behind her that slowly fades into the asphalt. She’s tall, too, in a way that humans never are. Danny has to crane his neck to look up at her, and even then, her face is hidden.

Sheer black fabric is draped almost her entire head, leaving only her mouth visible, and the rest of her features up to his imagination. When she smiles at him, Danny catches a glimpse of bloodied fangs. 

He can’t see her eyes at all. 

“Do you fancy yourself one of them?” Gotham asks, a clawed hand reaching forward to delicately lift his chin. “Do you mean to become a bird, little ghost? Or shall you remain a Phantom?”

Danny does not look away. “Don’t worry about me, my Lady,” he says, allowing his confidence to show through. He respects her, he does, but Danny has fought too many Ancients to hide behind flattery. “I don’t want to be a hero, not anymore. I just want to help people pass on, if I can.”

She hums, and though her expression doesn’t change, Danny gets the impression that he said something right. “Not a Knight,” she says, voice cracking around the words, “but more than a mere spector.”

And this isn’t the first time a ghost has come to a grand conclusion about him, but Ancients, Danny hopes that it’s the last. It’s a little better when it’s someone he knows, like Frostbite and the Far Frozen, and even then, it’s stifling. At least they know him beyond the quips and snarky comments and all of the things he’s done. All of the things that he’s had to do. 

 They still see him as human, despite all the grandiose and titles they’ve given him. 

But to Lady Gotham? 

Danny’s just a kid, barely into college. He wishes that was all Gotham saw him as.

“You can call me whatever you’d like to,” Danny says, despite his thoughts. “I don’t mean to intrude on your Haunt, or replace anyone who’s already here.”

“You are different from my Knights,” Gotham says, laughing lowly. “You help the ones they cannot see, and for that, you have my respect.” 

Her ghastly form softens around the edges, and for a moment, Danny thinks he sees a pair of red eyes. For once, nothing about the color seems dangerous. There are no warning alarms going off in his head, no deep seated instinct to flee or to freeze, or even to fight. With her free hand, Gotham cards her fingers through her hair, her claws barely scratching his scalp.

Those instincts are still silent, and that is a rare thing. 

“I can’t argue with ya there,” Danny says, and for now, that’s the end of it.

[signanothername]

Can we have a more in depth look into how you think Dream and Nightmare experience autism and how it affects them?

YESSSSS LETS GOOOOO!!!!

Ok before we start this ramble, I’d like to emphasize how important the time period Dream and Nightmare grew up in, it was a time period in which anything mental health related was immediately connected with “demons” and “possession”

I like to say that the twins are masked Autistics a lot, but in truth, I like to think they both started off without masking their Autism at all, they never saw anything wrong with the way they behaved (cause there indeed wasn’t anything wrong), they were comfortable with who they were and how they behaved, it was their normal in a world that saw it as abnormal, but it was when the villagers started getting in the picture that problems started

Nightmare experiences his Autism through his special interest in learning new things and reading books, hyper empathy, isolation, avoiding eye contact, semi-repulsion to touch if he wasn’t the one to initiate it, understimulation, extreme difficulty in understanding his own emotions (and by extension, difficulty in expressing them), generally being blunt, brutally honest and direct, and selective mutism, Nightmare mostly stims by repeating certain sounds or phrases and humming

Dream experiences his Autism through his special interest in nature (especially flowers), precious stones as well as sewing, difficulty understanding social cues, selective mutism, extreme sensitivity to bright lights (he has a love/hate relationship with the sun) and loud noises, overstimulation, low empathy, and learning difficulties especially when it comes to language, Dream tends to stim by flapping his hands or stomping his feet

Both the twins perfer to follow a routine, however, Nightmare tends to plan his days carefully, and finds any change in his routine extremely distressing to the point it can cause him to experience a meltdown if he couldn’t think of a quick solution

Dream finds a change in his routine distressing too, but his reaction is a bit milder, he tends to get anxious and starts stimming to calm himself down all while he works on a way to get his routine back on track

Speaking of meltdowns, whenever the twins are extremely distressed, Nightmare is more likely to experience a shutdown while Dream is more likely to experience a meltdown, that doesn’t mean the opposite can’t happen sometimes, but it really depends on the situation

Then the villagers came and abused Nightmare into masking his Autism, using his Autistic traits as an excuse to demonize him, made comments about how he must be “possessed”, meanwhile they abused Dream into masking by making sweet tainted mean spirited comments about any behavior he exhibited that felt “abnormal” to them, they’d say things like “honey, it’s rude not to look someone in the eyes when speaking to them” or how he should “use his words” when Dream felt like he couldn’t

Both Nightmare and Dream internalized such comments deeply, and started subconsciously masking their Autism, they were children at the time after all, and especially after the apple incident, Nightmare truly believed he might be a demon or at least possessed by one for centuries after, cause for so long Nightmare couldn’t find a logical explanation in his beloved books for why he behaves the way he does

The word “Autism” never even existed back then, Nightmare spent years of his life researching for any logical explanation only to hit a dead end each time, and now that he’s out in the multiverse seeing how many people don’t really exhibit the same behavior he and his twin do, he was trying desperately to reassure himself that he can’t truly be a “demon” considering Dream exhibits the same “abnormal” behaviors (it rarely made him feel better about himself), even as an adult, the thought of being a “demon” distresses Nightmare so much that he sometimes experiences a meltdown cause of it

Nightmare eventually gives up trying to understand himself and instead starts consciously masking his Autism, he starts forcing himself to look people in the eye when he speaks or spoken to, he stops himself from stimming, he forces himself to speak when he’s overwhelmed, he starts hiding his love for his special interest (he has an entire big library of books yet he’d force himself not to spend most of his time there), he stops isolating himself and forces himself not to avert from anyone touching him, all to appear “normal”, all while it’s physically painful and emotionally draining to him

Same thing with Dream, except Dream never consciously masks, it’s all subconsciously, he forces himself to make eye contact, he stops stimming when people are around, he forces himself to act “normal” when he’s overstimulated, he forces himself to speak even when he feels like he can’t, he hides his special interest and puts on a mask of empathy even when he can’t truly understand/ tune in with the pain or feelings others experience but rather only able to understand their pain in a logical manner (and it makes him feel so damn guilty, cause Dream loves to help people, he thinks that he should be able to feel sad when others do), he pretends to understand social cues when in reality he only mimics how others act in social situations, he blames his learning difficulties on “time constraints” and how he simply doesn’t have the time to sit down and learn

Sometimes both the twins’ masks slip away when they’re extremely overwhelmed, other times, they let their masks slip when they’re alone, and it only adds to their stress cause they feel a sort of fucked up guilt and shame over not acting in a “normal” way, other times it’s a guilty pleasure, they almost reached a point in which they think their Autistic traits are some sort of privilege, punishing themselves if they mess up by not giving themselves the relief of letting the mask slip when alone (like forcing themselves not to stim)

The fucked up truth is, their masks also really impairs them socially, cause sometimes they get anxious thinking about being normal, that it might distract them or cause them to lose track of things

And even when the centuries passed by and science developed and changed and the idea of demonic possession became outdated and mental health became more prominent, and the word “Autism” came to be, neither twins really know they have Autism, neither of them even know what Autism is, Dream doesn’t have the resources to understand what it is, and Nightmare gave up trying to understand himself a long time ago to realize he’s not demonic for it

Will they eventually know about it, understand themselves better and get the support they deserve? It’ll probably take as many years to undo the damage done but I like to believe they do

A kinda part 2

[teastainedprose]

Mark You Pretty (Homelander x Reader)

My brain saw this post and ran with it. Homelander bruises you. 13k words, Homelander x GN!reader (Warnings for bruising, mild Sadism/masochistic play)

The first time Homelander bruises you, it's an honest mistake. He didn't mean to grab you that hard. Not really. Sometimes Homelander forgets how delicate normal people can be. It had been a reflexive thing, snatching you about the arm just above your wrist as you reach over him to gather up the handouts from the meeting.

"Leave it," Homelander mutters with eyes still fixated on the stack of papers set before him, gloves creaking as he briefly tightens his grip on your arm before releasing you. The small gasp you make as you withdraw doesn't penetrate his concentration. He doesn't notice how you rub at your arm, expression pinching up while stepping away. You're another faceless worker bee and Homelander has no time for you. The meeting is over and you shuffle out with the other nameless non-supe Vought employees. His attention is back to the paperwork in front of him, mind buzzing on how to handle the downswing in public opinion on The Seven. You're forgotten as Homelander turns back to the task of being Homelander.

He doesn't even register that he hurt you until the next day. It's the top you're wearing that does it. Long sleeved and out of season, which draws his attention to you for the second time this week. He registers the blooming bruise peeking out from under your sleeve when you bend over to offer handouts about the table. He blinks, clocking the imprint as a mirror of his gloved grip. There's no guilt associated with this realization, simply an understanding of the connection. He did that to you. Homelander marred your pretty skin with a bloom of purple where he grabbed you. Suddenly, it's satisfaction that's coiling in his gut. He likes how you wear his mark.

For better or worse, now he notices you.

Homelander lets his eyes wander up your arm, snagging briefly on your ample chest before flicking across your face. You instantly look away, unable or unwilling to meet his gaze. Cute. He smirks as he takes you in. You're a charming enough little thing. A bit too skittish for his taste, but the bruise he left on you keeps drawing Homelander's eyes back over and over again.

For the entirety of the meeting, Homelander lets his attention wander to you while his eyes roam your form. He's shameless with the ogling and never looks away when you catch him at it. No, he's only further pleased by it. He makes sure to catch your eye as his lips curl up and part slightly, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. That gets a blush across your cheeks and you're quick to break eye contact. This only amuses Homelander further and galvanizes him to find further ways to unsettle you throughout the meeting. You are his distraction to make this presentation a little less dull.

The meeting ends and Homelander puts you from his mind once more as soon as you walk out the conference room doors. You're nothing but a passing amusement, something to play with at the next meeting perhaps. He's already letting the image of your blush and the bruise he left on your skin fade from his thoughts before something catches in Homelander's ear later that day as he strides down the hallway.

There are many curious sounds within Vought Tower and Homelander has heard plenty. People whispering secrets across phone lines and into ears. Muffled moans of employees sneaking off to empty conference rooms or even broom closets for salacious rendezvous. The one that catches him now? It's soft, more a quiet exhale with a moan undercutting the sound. He blinks, pausing to look towards where the sound came from. It's your office Homelander finds himself standing outside as he cocks his head to the side. He watches you as you sit at your desk, clearly not thinking yourself observed. X-ray vision lets him watch as you press two fingers into the bruise he left on you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back that noise. You moan again all the same, your enjoyment evident as your face twists into a brief flash of pleasure.

Oh, isn't that interesting?

Now Homelander's fascination with you ignites. His eyes seek yours constantly throughout every business meeting the two of you find yourselves in now. He's prone to stepping too close and invading your personal space whenever Homelander comes across you, which has jumped in frequency. He even has the gall to hook his pinky on the sleeve of your shirt one day, tugging it up enough to check if the bruise is still there. By then the purple has faded to a duller, splotchy green. His mark is almost gone and Homelander finds he doesn't like that one bit.

The second time Homelander bruises you, it is very intentional. 

He's bolder the second week. Homelander deliberately holds you back after one meeting with a flimsy excuse. Those massive doors ominously shutting close after everyone else has filed out. Now you're trapped inside the conference room with him. It makes your pulse skitter with terror, which is an utter delight to Homelander. He can smell the fear off of you. A heady scent that stirs a primal need within him because it's mingled with your arousal as well. That fact alone has a smirk on Homelander's lips as he approaches you, hands clasped behind his back and under his cape as he leisurely strolls over. Normally, such posture would be non-threatening but on Homelander it's anything but.

It's a terrifying sight yet compelling. Homelander is ever the perfect superhero in looks. Vought's true golden boy that you and countless others privately swoon over in the break room despite his reputation. yet even you have learned that Homelander isn't the squeaky clean supe he's portrayed as. The looming trial only adds further credit to the rumors that circulate about him. Still, it's thrilling, and you may be a little too into the danger Homelander represents. You can't help the anticipation coiling in your belly as you watch him stalk closer.

He traps you there against the wall, shifting as he places a palm flat against it. You stare at his chest as Homelander slides his hand down, lifting it to cup your chin to tilt your gaze up to meet his own. "Er, you wanted to talk sir?" You manage to push the words out, flushing at the tremor in your voice. He smiles and those too sharp canines flash. You shiver, eyes wide as you meet the clear blue of his gaze.

"You bruise easily, don't you?" Homelander muses, his hand on your chin shifting to stroke down your cheek before moving to your neck. Electric heat shoots up your spine from the chaste caress, the leather of his gloves smooth against your skin. His fingers curl around your throat as you feel his thumb ghost over your pulse point. Your breath hitches at the subtle threat but then he's sliding his hand down to tighten his fingers about your shoulder. Homelander digs his thumb in just below your collarbone to the point of pain as he watches you intently.

You hiss in response, eyes squeezing shut before you huff out a sound. It’s not a pained noise. An echo of the sound he’d heard by chance last week. He eases up, a knowing look on his face as you open your eyes again.The scent of your fear lesses, while your arousal fills his nostrils. You like the pain. He smirks all the wider while leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Homelander rumbles out, breath a hot caress against your skin. For the other day or just now? You don't know which he's apologizing for and there's not much time to ponder over that because Homelander's lips are against your own in the next breath.

His mouth against your is Homelander's sort of apology, more for him than you but you enjoy it all the same.

[igglemouse]

Week 1 ~ Blood Simoleons (2.2) ~ Saturday

The sun shone through my mostly open windows, bringing the dawn of a new day, a Saturday, a day supposed to be filled with Love as it is Love day. The world today will buzz with love and romance and me? Well, I am just here alone with a stack of fluffy golden pancakes and when you think about it? Perhaps that is for the best? Pancakes would never disappoint me, unless they are burned of course, but I would never have to worry about their intentions. Their fluffy and syrupy nature would always bring me joy.

Romance can wait. Today, everything hinges upon tomorrow's commercial shoot. A single moment that could either launch my career...or destroy it. Wait, no, perhaps I am being dramatic? Yes, I suppose I am but every moment of screen time I get should be cherished, every second I'm on TV is a chance to sear my image into the mind of someone's memory. All I'd need is one take, one moment, become memorable. Leave them breathless and wanting to see me more. That's what this industry is all about, leave the audience wanting more of you no matter what you do.

Practice, that's what will get me there, practice, practice, and more practice!

I really did want to at least try and honor Love day with some classic romantic film, maybe something tragic even, but a call from my brother temporarily ruined those plans. He's calling from across the ocean and from his new home in Windenburg. We talked of nothing and we talked of everything and of course I was just happy to hear from him. One day, when I am rich and famous, when I have my own private jet or something, I'll fly over to hang out with him once a month or something but for now a phone call will do.

The day lazily drifts onward and I spent perhaps a good chunk of it at my computer and on social media. I use it sometimes to get my name out there, I do have an account with about sixty or so followers, nothing special, but I do connect with an old friend of mines.

Fernanda Guzman. A woman I thought I'd left in La Ciudad. She talks about how she might move out here to DSV in the hopes of chasing similar dreams and I, of course, egg her own. Leaving a reply under her post that I'd be here to welcome her if she makes the move. It would be great to have a friend here because right now I do feel like I'm going at this solo.

With nothing but hours before me I decide to spend them, at least a couple, with purpose. Practicing and working on my craft has become a meditation for me, each run through of lines and dialogue one step closer to a perfection that can surely never be attained. My bathroom has become a bit of a stage, I must admit, and my reflection a best friend of sorts. Making sure that each gesture and motion isn't awkward. The hands are a big part of it. You know, many people just don't know what to do with their hands?

There did happen to be some romance for me today, arriving in the form of a series of short but very thirsty texts. Marco. Who else? He just expressed his desire to see me and while it wasn't much I could certainly sense the need. It sounds like I'll be seeing him again, who knows when but it is definitely happening. I'll be honest and say I will be looking forward to seeing him again. He does give amazing kisses.

Evening comes with cooking, Strawberry Feta Salad, to be precise. I chop and season and mix but the entire time I can't help but think about my chance tomorrow, my shot. Imagining and visualizing it, even seeing, in my mind at least, the approval of the director, some applause from the set, the birthing of a star. The perfect take, no repetition, everything clicking and coalescing into a commercial that people will remember for years. "That was her first commercial!" People would say and they would be incorrect, of course, because my little Voidbop commercial would turn into a trick trivia question right under the entertainment sextion.

You might think me delusional as I daydream and have my dinner but you have to dream before you live it.

Night comes with Carina, my dear and troubled sister who operates much like an agent of this time of day. As if the lack of sun gives her courage. I realize, upon answering the phone at this late hour, that this is her working hours, that she is on the clock, I should say.

"They were really proud of how I handled it, the kittens I mean," she said, which was always her code word for Los Tigres. Kittens, cats, felines, whatever. "My new little guy really loves his catnip."

"Umm, yeah, congrats I guess?" I manage, although the compliment tasted sour in my mouth. It's hard to imagine that this is the little girl that I've grown up with but I must love her all the same.

"By the way! I'm getting a new tattoo soon!" She seems so excited about this. A tattoo in her world means everything, it means loyalty, first of all, and in her world nothing is more important. Los Tigres mark themselves with such tattoos, the higher members not much, but the one thing you can always look for is some kind of paw print or quite simply a tiger. Something vague enough to be hidden unless you know what you're looking for.

"Are you sure about this, Carina? The tattoo I mean? You know how some jobs don't like them."

"Huh? Yeah, I'm sure, it'll be a small thing, I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"Yeah..." but all I could do was worry. She's diving deeper into these waters when I had hoped that she would find something else. "Be careful...with the tattoo I mean," and I hang up the phone after curt farewells. I might have to make a hard decision sometime in my future to cut her off, completely. The little Carina I knew was becoming something else and if I let her she might drag me into her world, intentionally or not.

The Love day that had begun with golden and fluffy pancakes ends with a bitter taste in my mouth. I can't worry about Carina. She's made her decision and she's chosen her road and I've chosen mine.

Index ~ Next

[gloomwitchwrites]

Ink & Needle // Chapter Ten

Tattoo Artist Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): tattoo shop au, language, suggestive themes, rough kissing, arguments, angst, TF141 shenanigans

Word Count: 5.3k

Soap, Gaz, and Price come for a visit. At a local pub, Simon notices you are sitting with a stranger. An argument ensues. Things get heated.

Chapter Nine // Chapter Eleven

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Simon leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, sighing heavily. The rolling chair groans a protest. The thing is so old it’s a miracle that it hasn’t collapsed under Simon’s weight. He’s been meaning to replace it—it’s not like he doesn’t have the money—but there are so many other things going on in Simon’s life that he keeps putting it off.

His work laptop is open on the desk in front of him, the bright glow of the screen showing him the thousands of emails sitting in his inbox. Being on the cover of UK Ink is a tremendous honor, but it’s also becoming its own sort of creeping horror. Figuring out which inquiries are genuine, and which are just people seeking attention, is taking a tremendous toll on his personal time.

Every day, more and more emails clog his inbox. It’s likely that as he starts deleting them, more will suddenly appear, popping forth from the hidden depths of whatever server it’s connected to. Plenty of the emails are straight spam with a few consisting of people sending unsolicited nudes. Those go straight into the trash folder. The only naked body Simon wants to see is yours.

Many of the emails are people seeking to book appointments with him for tattoos and piercings. While a good chunk of the emails come from citizens of England, plenty more are from people all over the world. International inquires are a good thing, but those appointments have to be booked around flights and trips. There is also no guarantee that those people will actually show, which is why Simon has started to double-book in some places, or set forth a non-refundable fee for securing a time and date.

He's only one person, and the pressure of that is starting to creep up on him. Simon is going to have to hire more people. At least one additional person at minimum. Even if all they do is answer emails all day and book appointments, Simon will take it. Sitting on this fucking chair in between clients is exhausting.

Through all of that, there are also publications (both large and small) seeking their own interviews with the masked tattoo artist knows as ‘Ghost.’ Some are local to the region while others are international, reaching an even wider audience. For each inquiry, Simon is grateful. To see his work—his art—be appreciated to such a large degree is a great point of accomplishment for him.

It's not like Simon’s work during his time with the military. That is different. That was work. That was blood and metal and dirt. Tattooing doesn’t feel like work to Simon. It is freeing. It is creative. It is the release of a muscle after a long tension.

Tattooing is a distinctive sort of freedom. A place for Simon to lose himself in, to enjoy life again, to find comfort in a craft that doesn’t involve destruction.

But Simon is also distracted. Not because he’s stressed or anxious or concerned or even from the number of emails piling in. Simon is distracted because you were in his arms last night. You were sitting at his kitchen table. You ate the food he made. He distinctly remembers your soft smile as you gazed at his sketches.

Sure, Simon was making dinner, but he was keeping an eye on you the whole time. He noticed every expression on your face as your gaze admired each sketch. He noticed the way you held every piece of paper with tenderness, as if all of them were sacred and special to you. It was after, when the two of you talked, that Simon sensed hesitation.

He questioned you about Cambridge and Evie. You were not entirely honest, not that Simon believes that you lied, but he knows there is more you haven’t told him. Whether you don’t want to tell him or are hesitant to do so is still uncertain. What Simon wants, more than anything, is for you to feel safe enough with him to tell him everything. Simon desires your sharp edges. He wants to know how he can help smooth them, to ease all the worries in your head, to remove some of those burdens.

Which is why he asked you to come to bed with him. He thought that maybe if he kissed you for a bit, you might soften, and that is all he wanted. But then he had you under him, opening for him, and Simon’s control was close to shattering like thin glass under pressure. Your fingers found him, and Simon would have given anything to stay in that bed and make you understand just how much he desires you.

The glowing screen of the laptop and the sight of you sighing in pleasure beneath him keeps colliding with each other. It keeps melding, melting together only to break apart before meeting again.

The current email opened on the laptop screen is gibberish. No matter how many times Simon attempts to read it, your face appears there instead. Then, Simon’s mind drifts off to dream of your seeking fingers, and how perfectly they wrapped around him.

Simon pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He needs to fucking focus. He will see you again, and when he does, he is going to fucking enjoy it. The two of you are taking that date. The two of you are going to get away for a while. When that happens, Simon will make you his in all ways.

Exhaling loudly, Simon drops his hand from his face to rub at the back of his neck. He rolls it slightly, popping some of the tension out of the joints. He leans forward a bit and manages to focus on the email.

Spam. Fucking spam.

Simon hits the little rubbish icon and watches the email blink out of existence. His gaze returns to the little blue number next to ‘Inbox’ and immediately shudders.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, wanting nothing more than to shut the laptop and pretend they don’t exist for a while.

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon spies the front door of the shop opening. He turns his head to the left to see if it’s his final customer. Instead, he’s greeted by an annoyingly overenthusiastic Scotsman.

“Lt!”

“Gotta stop calling me that, Johnny,” sighs Simon loudly, as if getting out of his chair is a major hassle. Simon comes to his full height, hands on his hips as John MacTavish bursts through the door.

On his heels are Captain John Price and Kyle Garrick.

“Simon,” nods Price in greeting.

Kyle gives Simon a little playful salute before immediately heading for Bravo. The German Shepard goes up on his back legs. Kyle seizes the dog’s front paws in his hands, the two of them doing a little dance in the middle of the shop.

The moment Simon steps away from the chair, MacTavish is on him, throwing his massive arms around Simon’s middle in a hug.

“You’re bloody crushing me, Johnny.”

MacTavish squeezes him a bit tighter in response. When he let’s go, he grabs hold of Simon’s shoulders, shaking them slightly. “Fucking look at this place.” MacTavish glances around like he’s never seen it before.

“You’ve been here,” deadpans Simon. “Hasn’t changed.”

“But it has, Lt. You’re on the cover of a magazine.” MacTavish smirks and drops his hands from Simon’s shoulders. He then promptly punches Simon lightly in his upper arm. “We’re in the presence of a celebrity.”

“Hardly,” mutters Simon, but he’s smiling behind the balaclava.

Price presents his hand, and he and Simon grasp forearms. “Good to see you, Simon. Been a while.”

“It has,” replies Simon.

Johnny leans toward Simon and cups the side of his mouth like he’s an old hen about to drop a piece of juicy gossip. When he speaks, it’s just a projected whisper that everyone can hear clearly. “Captain bought up a bunch of magazines and handed them out to everyone on base.”

“Soap,” barks Price.

MacTavish holds up his hands, and then points at Price with one finger, jabbing it in the captain’s direction. “Just proud of you,” whispers MacTavish.

Simon simply nods but he’s grinning like an idiot behind the balaclava. Price glances in Simon’s direction and shrugs apathetically, not denying or confirming.

Glancing over Price’s shoulder, Simon frowns slightly. Bravo has his front paws on Kyle’s shoulders as he aggressively scratches the dog’s sides. Bravo’s tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth, hanging down toward the floor as the dog pants happily.

“Get down, Bravo,” sighs Simon, indicating with a quick nod of his head.

Bravo sucks his tongue back into his mouth, ears drooping slightly with disappointment. Kyle pats Bravo’s side and removes the dog’s massive paws from his shoulders, gently guiding the German Shepard back down to all fours.

On the phone, Johnny said they’d stop by on Saturday. It’s Saturday. Fairly late on a Saturday, with a final customer still expected to walk through the door, but they are here, just as promised.

Kyle strides up and clasps Simon’s shoulder. “Place looks good.”

“Hasn’t changed,” remarks Simon for a second time.

“Saw you on the cover of UK Ink,” continues Kyle. “Didn’t know until this guy started handing them out on base.” He tips his head in Price’s direction.

Price sighs heavily but says nothing.

“Big deal,” finishes Kyle.

“Congrats, Lt.” MacTavish grins and Simon cannot help but feed into their praise.

It is a big deal. This one interview, this one award, is pushing him beyond the scope of his vision. In forced retirement, Simon expected to fly under the radar, to enjoy himself while he created art. He never expected his work to be recognized internationally.

“Sign my copy yet?” asks Johnny.

Simon backtracks to his desk, picking up the copy MacTavish sent him in the post. Lifting it up, Simon brings it over to Soap, smacking him in the chest with it. Johnny whistles and holds it with both hands in reverence.

“She’s a fucking beauty, Simon.” Johnny places one hand over his heart. “You’ve honored me.”

“Piss off,” mutters Simon as Kyle expertly snatches the magazine from Johnny’s hand. He opens it up, flipping through the pages, side-stepping every attempt by Johnny to seize it back.

“Did we come at a good time?” asks Price as he and Simon watch the two idiots playfully bicker over the magazine.

Simon shrugs. “I have one more customer. Free after that.”

Price nods and grips Simon’s shoulder. “We have lots to talk about.”

There is a slight twitch in Price’s clenched jaw that puts Simon on edge. He isn’t sure if he should press Price and try to wrangle an answer out of him, or let it go and see what happens.

“Shit,” says MacTavish, drawing Price and Simon’s attention to him. “Nearly forgot.” He extends an arm to Kyle, making a “give it to me” gesture with his hand. Kyle, with a sly smirk, unzips the front of his windbreaker. Reaching inside, he presents a manila envelope.

Johnny takes it and then offers it to Simon. “Thought I’d give this to you in person. You know, instead of over the phone. Or email.”

Simon takes it, instantly feeling the heft and thickness to it. Opening the tab, Simon slides his hand inside, removing the thick stack of papers.

“It’s everything I could find on her,” continues Johnny. “Where she went to school. Social medias. Every person she’s possibly dated.”

Tucking the manila envelope under his arm, Simon starts sorting through the information. A copy of your birth certificate, school records from elementary to high school, recent phone records. There is even a list of every restaurant or fast-food place you ordered from over the last five years with a credit card.

Simon flips past another page and freezes. His head snaps up, a growl sitting in the back of his throat. “You included her fucking banking information, Johnny.”

MacTavish shrugs dismissively. “I was thorough.”

“Thorough?” mimics Simon. “Fucking hell.” Simon returns everything to the envelope and places it on his desk next to his laptop.

Simon will have to shred it all after he looks through it. But only after he takes a look. He did ask Johnny to find what out what he could. While it is a major invasion of privacy, a more primal part of Simon reassures him that he’s doing the right thing. He needs to be able to protect you, and these are just tools in his arsenal to maintain your safety.

“She’s pretty, Simon,” says Price.

“You told them?” asks Simon, turning his attention to Johnny.

The Scotsman’s cheeks redden slightly. “He bullied the information out of me.”

Kyle leans in and drapes his arm over Soap’s shoulders. “Price told him he’d put him on inventory for a month if he didn’t spill.”

“Wanted to see this beauty for myself,” grumbles Price, glancing at Simon. “Give you a hard time.” He winks. “She yours yet?”

She yours yet?

There is a double-meaning there. While Simon’s instinct is to say “yes,” he also knows that that isn’t entirely true. The two of you haven’t verbally confirmed what this thing is. Simon has only just now asked you on a proper date.

Can Simon call you his?

The possessive, protective part of him shakes its ownership of you in its fist. But Simon isn’t impulsive, at least not all the time. With you, the need to react is strong, but Simon also understands that Price is asking in a more traditional way.

Licking his lips, Simon forms an answer. “She will be.”

Price nods. “Good man.” He glances briefly at Kyle and Johnny before returning his gaze to Simon. “Mind if we stick around?”

Simon shakes his head.

“We’ll help you clean,” adds Johnny.

“Will we?” asks Kyle slowly, eyebrows rising slightly as he turns on Soap.

Johnny blatantly ignores him and keeps his gaze locked on Simon. “You call the shots. Isn’t that right, Lt?”

That’s when Simon’s final client of the evening finally walks through the door. Simon doesn’t have a chance to answer. The customer is a bit bewildered by the small crowd, but the guys know to make themselves scarce. They head over to the couch, lingering in the waiting area with Bravo, chatting quietly as Simon escorts the newcomer into the tattoo chair.

Bravo moves from Johnny to Kyle to Price to Johnny again, seeking attention as Simon sets to work. The tattoo isn’t complicated, and Simon completes in about forty-five minutes. The guy is in and out in an hour.

When the four of them are standing outside in front of the shop, Simon pushes up his balaclava and lights a cigarette. It’s warm for autumn, the leather jacket he wears already making him run a little hot.

“We’ve got an upcoming mission we want your thoughts on,” says Price. “Need somewhere quiet we can go and talk.”

An upcoming mission? That’s not entirely unusual. Price has reached out to Simon on multiple occasions post-retirement to ask him for advice or to dig around in his head. But never—never—has Price and the rest of the team showed up to talk to him a group or in person.

There’s something else going on.

Clutching the cigarette between thumb and forefinger, Simon opens his mouth, exhaling smoke, intending to suggest a few places.

But before anything comes out of his mouth, Price shots him a look. “Not that fucking pub with the old folks.”

“No one will bother us,” replies Simon dryly. It’s true. It’s why he goes to Dancing Faun every Sunday. And Ben will close up for the public but stay open for just the four them. They won’t be bothered, and they will have as much time as they need.

“You might be an old man at heart, Simon, but I’m not getting harassed by older women whose husbands have been dead for years.”

Kyle bursts out laughing before promptly covering his mouth.

“Don’t like the attention, Captain?” teases Johnny.

Price points at each of them individually. “Fuck off. All of you.”

There are only a few places they could go on a Saturday night where they won’t be disturbed. Sighing, Simon rattles off a couple within walking distance. The four of them debate until Price becomes so annoyed with their continuous back-and-forth that he abruptly selects for all of them.

The walk over is quick, and the four of them enter the dimly lit pub. It’s one of only a handful of places that serves food late. It’s also on a side street away from the main road. Traffic is light, and the interior isn’t crowded. Simon is starving, and he’d appreciate a full belly with a whiskey or two before he starts talking about things he’d rather forget.

Finding a dark corner, they settle in at a four top. Kyle and Simon settle in the booth, facing the pub while Price and Johnny take the seats across from them. Simon settles into the cushioned seat, contentment sliding into his bones. He’s at peace, even if the coming conversation might be messy. He’s with people he cares about, and tomorrow, he’s off.

Tomorrow, he can go see you. Maybe. If you’re not busy. The two of you can talk about that date, maybe go for a walk and then lunch? Simon just wants to spend time with you, and tomorrow is the perfect day to do it.

Simon shifts in his seat, leaning his crossed arms on the edge of the table, glancing out across the pub. His gaze travels over every person, his old habits from the military coming to the surface. Recognizing exits and looking for suspicious behavior is as natural as breathing. But everyone around them is minding their own business. They’re either sitting by themselves or with others, not glancing Simon’s way at all.

He does one finally sweep, and that is when his gaze falls upon two people sitting at a high top together near the very back of the pub. Of the two, Simon notices the man first. He has dark hair, possibly brown but it’s difficult to say with the low light. Slightly older than Simon by a few years, and the bloke is wearing an impeccably made suit. It’s odd for a place like this. It stands out.

Simon doesn’t like the man’s demeanor either. It’s…smarmy. Pretentious. Like he not only believes that he’s better than everyone else in this establishment, but that they should all know it. The way he sits in the high-backed stool is off too. It’s relaxed and yet completely on edge.

Simon frowns, gaze panning to the woman the man is talking to.

Everything suddenly goes cold within him. Arctic. The room has become a meat freezer and Simon is just a piece of dangling meat.

Because that is you, and you’re sitting next to a man Simon doesn’t recognize.

You are here, alone with a man Simon doesn’t know.

A bright, blindingly hot sensation roars to life in Simon’s chest. It wraps around and between his ribs, seizing him in a vice-grip. Against this heat, the iciness melts off of him, dripping to the ground to pool under his boots.

“Simon?” asks Soap, the middle of his brow creasing with concern. “What are you—fuck. Is that her?”

It doesn’t fucking matter who this guy might be or what he might mean to you. Simon is going to crack his fucking skull open.

“That’s her,” murmurs Simon, the low growl previously lodged in his throat coming up suddenly.

Price leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the top, glancing to where everyone else is looking. “Want me to take him out to the alley? Give him some fresh bruises?”

Simon’s hands form into fists. He starts to stand but Kyle and Soap grab onto him, shoving him back down into the booth. “Relax, Lt,” soothes Johnny. “Might be nothing.”

You haven’t noticed Simon yet. You’re too busy looking at this man—this stranger. Turned slightly to the side, your gaze wouldn’t fall across Simon unless you purposefully scanned the room. The worst part is that Simon has no idea if you’re enjoying yourself or not. There is a blankness on your face that Simon loathes.

Do want to be here? Do want to be talking to this man that Simon doesn’t know? And why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you say anything? Is there someone else Simon needs to worry about? Does he have competition?

Silently, Simon begs for you to turn in his direction, even if it’s only a bit.

This unknown variable, this stain of a man, reaches out. With red-drenched horror, Simon watches as he places that very hand on the top of your thigh.

All Simon sees is blood.

This bastard is going to lose that fucking hand. And then he’ll lose his goddamn head.

Simon bolts up out of his seat again but Kyle and Johnny are right there, grabbing onto him, wrangling him back down into his seat.

“Let me go,” snarls Simon through clenched teeth.

“You’re gonna cause a fucking scene if we do that,” hisses Kyle, shoving downward on Simon’s shoulders.

Why are you letting him touch you? Why, when just yesterday you were beneath Simon, seeking him with your fingers, begging for him, are you allowing this?

But you’re not allowing it. You didn’t give this man permission.

Within seconds of the man’s hand connecting with your thigh, your gaze turns downward, lips curling back into a disgusted snarl. You twist your body enough for his hand to fall away, and a flare of pride swells in Simon’s chest.

You didn’t want this man’s touch. Which makes Simon momentarily happy before it all comes crashing down. This man touched you. Without your consent. And that makes Simon angrier than if you had wanted it.

Simon craves blood. He needs his knuckles drenched with it. For it to sit between his teeth. To taste it on his tongue.

“Who the fuck is that?” asks Kyle.

“I don’t know,” growls Simon, wanting to take off and punch the guy right out of his fucking chair.

With the removal of his hand, the guy’s smug smile drops. He bares his teeth, starts speaking to you in a way that Simon immediately dislikes. Sure, Simon cannot hear what the man is saying to you, but from the look on his face and body language, it’s nothing nice. He is angry, and you’re clearly upset. Simon wants this to end, to go up to the guy and throttle him, to whisk you off and make you forget all this unpleasantness.

But Kyle and Johnny keep him seated. They won’t let go, which means Simon will have to literally fight them to get to you.

Small pieces of the conversation start to make its way over to the table.

“Archie.”

“Estate.”

Simon frowns, hears something that sounds like “pregnancy” and immediately rethinks everything. Does this have something to do with your friend? The husband is dead, but is this someone the husband knew? Is it a relative?

And does that matter to Simon?

No. He still plans on knocking the man’s teeth out.

Simon only catches a few additional words here and there, but then he hears three that make his blood boil.

“You fucking whore.”

Simon knows that Johnny, Kyle, and Price all hear it too because their gazes move away from Simon and to the man at the table. Soap and Kyle’s hands fall away from Simon’s arms, giving him permission.

Pushing up from his seat, Simon steps around Johnny and strides toward the high-top table. Your back is to Simon from this position, but that doesn’t matter. Simon has his sights set on this wanker who needs to learn some proper fucking manners.

The man notices Simon first, his angered expression turning away from you and switching to Simon. It slips slightly, the faintest bit of fear sliding across the man’s features as he realizes Simon is aiming for him. Simon inhales, falling effortlessly into Ghost, allowing the phantom inside himself to seek out its need for blood.

But with his removed attention comes your own turning. A wanting to know what it is he’s looking at. When your gaze falls upon Simon, Ghost deflates, softens, giving way to confusion. All the emotions passing over your face nearly stop Simon’s forward momentum.

Your own anger gives way to sudden panic, then switches quickly to irritation, further compounded by confusion. It’s likely that you didn’t expect Simon to be at the same place. And while Simon wants to turn to you and give you reassurance, he’s too fucking focused on this asshole you’re sitting with.

Simon decides not to address you. Instead, Simon turns on this thickheaded prat. “What did you fucking call her?”

The man’s lip curls. “Mind your own business.” Immediately, Simon notes the man’s accent. It speaks to social status and aristocracy.

Simon steps closer. “Repeat what you said. Out loud. Want to make sure I heard you right.”

“Simon,” you hiss, desperation leaking into your tone.

Your guest turns on you, anger flaring anew in his gaze. “You know this…man?” He says man like he wants to say animal.

“He’s—” you begin, but Simon interrupts.

“Direct your questions to me,” growls Simon, placing himself between you and this stranger.

“Simon. Please.” You tug on Simon’s leather jacket but he shrugs you off. His attention is completely on this asshole.

“Are you with him?” The man’s gaze flicks from Simon to you.

“Adam—”

“I thought we could have a civil conversation—”

“What’s civil about calling her a whore.” Simon’s voice rises slightly as the raging tide of fury boils within him like a thunderstorm.

Adam’s face grows bright red. He turns on Simon. “Do you know who I am?”

Simon could give a fuck. He could be the fucking King and Simon would still punch the piss out of him for speaking to you that way.

Price shoves himself between Simon and Adam, keeping his back to Simon, creating a barrier. “Let me help you to your car.”

Price isn’t doing this to be nice. He’s doing this so the police aren’t called.

Adam stands but isn’t nearly as tall as Price. “If you put your hands on me—”

“Deal with me or him. Your choice.”

Adam straightens his shoulders and tugs on the front of his suit, smoothing out the wrinkles.

Fucking prick.

He glances over Price’s shoulder at you. “This isn’t over. You’ll hear from the family solicitor.”

“Let’s go,” mutters Soap, caging the guy in, forcing him to move away from Simon. Kyle trails after them.

Price turns around, facing Simon directly. “We’ll stop by another day. You deal with your woman.” He squeezes Simon’s shoulder before following out after them.

Simon watches Price leave, and then he’s seeking you out, expecting you to be thankful.

But you’re not. Your anger is palpable.

Simon needs to fucking fix this. “You’re coming home with me,” is the first thing out of his mouth. It’s a command. Not an ask. And his tone is rough, nearly raspy.

Your eyes widen slightly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you whisper.

Simon draws back, startled. “You okay with him speaking to you like that?”

You huff, and get up from your chair, collecting your coat and purse. “You don’t know anything, Simon. You have no idea who that is and why we were even talking in the first place.” Shoving past him, you start for the door.

“Fuck,” mutters Simon, following after you.

His legs are longer, and he catches up to you easily. Before you make it to the pub’s exit, Simon inserts himself in your path, blocking your attempt to flee.

“Move.”

“No.”

“You’re making a scene, Simon.”

He glances up, notices everyone looking on with varying degrees of interest. Some confused. Others concerned. Sighing, Simon reaches back and pushes open the door, stepping aside for you to exit.

Once the two of you are outside on the street, Simom grabs you by the forearm, pulling you in the opposite direction.

“Let me go,” you snap.

“We’re going to talk.”

“Fuck off, Simon.” You yank your arm out of his grip. Something is forming on the tip of your tongue. Simon sees it in the way your lip quivers. But you don’t. Instead, you sigh heavily and wave him off like you’re tired of it all.

Turning, you try to cross the street, but Simon is already snagging your arm again, yanking you away as a car zooms by.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

“Then give me some fucking space.”

“No.”

You release an exasperated breath and try to circumvent him. Again, Simon steps into your path. The two of you keep moving like this down the street. Every attempt you make only puts you closer to him.

Simon is herding you on purpose, pushing you closer and closer to his flat. He wants some goddamn answers, no matter how mad you are with him. And he doesn’t understand why you’re upset in the first place.

When the two of you are outside his shop, Simon indicates the exterior door that leads to his flat.

“Get inside,” he demands.

“Don’t order me around.”

“Inside,” repeats Simon, shoving the key into the lock, opening the door, revealing the hallway that connects the shop to his flat.

You stare between him and the open doorway. Your chest is heaving, and fuck—you look so beautiful right now even though Simon can tell you’d really love to hit him.

The tips of his fingers itch to just push you inside and shut the door, but he doesn’t need to. You make the decision for him, heading inside. Simon follows, and as the door shuts, you’re already moving like a bolt of lightning, walking fast enough to create a significant amount of distance.

No. Fuck that.

With a few massive steps, Simon is on you. He grabs the front of your throat, yanks you back against his chest, pushing your face toward his. The balaclava is already up, already in place, and his lips connect with yours.

At first, Simon can sense the tension but then you melt into him as his other hand slides to your front, pressing low on your belly, pushing your ass into his groin. Your own arm slides up, drapes over his neck in such a loving way that Simon momentarily forgets all his anger.

The two of you hang like this, suspending, but you come back to reality, yanking yourself out of his grip, almost violently.

“You can’t distract me with kisses, Simon.”

“Want to test that?” asks Simon, reflexively reaching for your waist.

You allow him to touch you, to draw you back into him, but your arms are crossed over your chest defensively. “You don’t know,” you murmur. “It’s—it’s too much and you don’t know. You don’t understand, Simon.”

“Then help me understand,” he says softly.

You shake your head and there are real tears there in your eyes. Simon hates it. He wants to take them all away.

“You’re not my husband, Simon. You’re not even my boyfriend. I shouldn’t burden you with any of this.”

You will not push him away. Simon won’t allow it. The two of you are in this together, and he needs to know.

“I care about you.” Now Simon is the one shaking his head. “Don’t tell me what I can’t handle.” His hands draw upward, cradling the sides of your face. “We’re going up to my flat. You’re going to talk. I’m going to listen. Okay?”

One tear rolls off the corner of your eye, trailing downward to kiss his palm.

“Okay?” he repeats.

“Okay,” you reply.

[lostcauses-noregrets]

Not quite a question, but tbh I'm really frustrated that there will probably never been any canonical confirmation of eruri. I'm convinced there was smth between these two characters. And it's sad many ppl refuse to acknowledge the unique bond Erwin and Levi had, and refusing to acknowledge the romantic potential it had too.

So I’ve had a lot of asks like this over the years, and to be honest I’m always a bit bemused by them. Because, honestly, within the context of the story, what would “canon confirmation of eruri” look like, over and above what we’ve already seen? SnK is not a romance by any stretch of the imagination, although love is at the very heart of the story. This is a hill I will die on. However the way that love is expressed between characters is subtle.  It’s not all flowers and hearts and seagulls bluebirds, it’s more devotion and loyalty and sacrifice. And even when that love is made absolutely unambiguously explicit, as in the case of Eren and Mikasa, there are still those who refuse to recognise it for what it is and write it off as being “one sided” or whatever.  It really makes me wonder about some people’s expectations and experience of what love really is. 

So in the case of Erwin and Levi, what would canon confirmation look like?  They aren’t a pair of giddy hormonal teenagers, or star crossed lovers, they’re two 30+ year old war-weary veterans, who have lived lives full of trauma, violence, and loss.  We were never going to see hearts* and flowers**, and marriage proposals. And have you seen the way Yams draws kissing?? Thank the gods we were saved that. 

Instead we have a believable adult relationship, based on mutual trust, respect and understanding, which has grown and matured over the years. The foundation of Erwin and Levi’s  relationship is unshakable loyalty and trust, and when push comes to shove, the willingness to do everything in their power to help and support each other, even if that means making the ultimate sacrifice and letting each other go.   If that’s not the very definition of love, I don’t know what is. I’ve written reams about this over the years, which you can find in my Eruri relationship tag if you’re interested. 

I’ve said this before, but romance is rarely the most important or interesting aspect of committed, adult relationships.  However, when it comes to Erwin and Levi we do actually see lots of small, simple romantic gestures; quiet moments together, sharing meals, and clothes, gifts of small luxuries, private jokes and playful ribbing. 

I reblogged a lovely post about “true love” by @stellaluna33 recently and I’m going to share it again here because I think it bears repeating. 

In the older songs, "true love" is not some mystical quality, some type of connection that is magically better than other Loves. No. A love that is "true" merely means that your Love is "true TO YOU." "True" as in faithful and loyal and trustworthy. A lover who will stand by you and with you no matter what comes. True the way a good sword is True. True the way a good knight is loyal. The contrast is "False Love," which is a lover who betrays you, who cannot be trusted. "True Love" isn't something you find, it's a vow and a choice that you make, every day, to BE TRUE.

If people can’t see Erwin and Levi’s relationship for what it is, then I'm not sure I can convince them otherwise. That's their opinion and they're quite entitled to it. I just hope they are able to broaden their understanding of love one day. 

* I may have lied about the hearts…

** And flowers…

[luimagines]

He Realizes That You Like Him Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part three will include Time, Wild and Hyrule.

Content under the cut!

Time

He realized that you liked him faster than he’s ever going to tell you to your face.

Time knew that he was attractive to an extent. It’s not as if he hasn’t had people interesting in him. He just wasn’t interested in them.

But he’s had enough experience to see the signs.

Naturally, he wanted to write it off at first, thinking that perhaps he was just seeing things. However, there’s only so many times that he’s willing to brush things off as coincidences. 

Time could see your soft blushes, the way you glanced his way when you thought he wouldn’t notice. He noticed how you seemed a little nervous around him but still wanted to be nearby. You paid more attention to him than the others. You took into account his needs and wants and tried everything in your power to make this whole ordeal easier for him.

He could see it all.

But it was really when you admitted, albeit absentmindedly, that he was your favorite of the group that he felt as if he could whole heartedly close the case. There was no more room for doubt after that.

He’d have to admit, he felt a little better about himself in that moment. He even cheekily teased by getting close to your personal space. You held your breath as you waited to see what he’d so next. Your poor heart was beating so hard he could see the faint thump on your chest.

He grinned and smiled at you, leaving you there to gather your wits.

If Time was being honest, he felt like a dumb struck idiot. The amount of sheer will power that it took to not break out in a grin and start giggling like a fool was more than he thought he was capable of.

You were, thankfully, none the wiser, even when you chased after him, demanding he explain himself to you.

But what could he say? It’s not as if he could have put everything on the table and pour out his soul then and there. The others were still present and he knew that were never going to let him live it down if he did that. Besides, he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

You were simply irresistible, if a little too easy to tease.

But you liked him.

You liked him.

Whenever Time has to think about it, he has to fight off a boyish smile from your face. He should be better than this. He’s an adult. It shouldn’t make him dissolve into a giggly, giddy teenager all over again.

But it is an incredibly lovely thought, isn’t it?

He sighs to himself all over again as he thinks about you.

Incredibly lovely, indeed.

Wild

Wild could be a bit dense at times but he was still smarter than most people gave him credit for.

He knew... that you acted different around him but he would be the first to admit that he couldn’t figure out why. You seemed to get along with everyone. And don’t get him wrong, you both got along well as well, but there were times when you couldn’t quite meet him in the eye or seemed to be nervous when he got too close to you despite the fact that he wasn’t doing anything.... Unless he was.

But you would have said something to him, right? You both virtually hung off of each other at times, so he can’t see the connection or what makes some different than others.

There was a moment where he had remembered that your favorite food and you looked to be having a bad day. Now Wild was never good with words, but he hoped that a good meal of something you liked would help turn it around.

So he made the meal and gave it to you. It seemed to do the trick and Wild was happy to leave it at that.

But then you came to him with a shy expression and a blush on your face the next day.

Admittedly, it had taken his breath away. It was so incredibly soft. So tender. Wild had to fight himself to stay neutral and keep his hands to himself this time around.

He smiles at you and he thinks he sees your soft blush grow darker. “Hey. What’s up?”

It takes a beat for you to build up the courage to say what you wanted to say, but that’s ok, Wild thinks. He’s willing to wait for as long as you need him too. You cough and scratch your cheek. Wild notices that you keep one of your hands behind your back. “I... came to say thank you... For yesterday. You didn’t have to do that.”

Wild smiles brighter. How cute. “It was my pleasure. I’m glad you felt better afterwards.”

“Yeah...” You agree quietly. “I did... um.. Here... I wanted to give to you...”

You hold out a flower.

Wild’s heart get stuck in his throat. He recognizes this flower.

A blue nightshade.

Where did you even find this?

Recognition triggers at the back of his head to the time when he brought a blue nightshade to Wabbin at Lover’s Pond. He told you that story. Had you remembered it? 

Wild takes the flower between two of his fingers, studying it with quiet awe. You grin and are quick to make your get away. “Anyway! That’ll be all. I lo- appreciate everything you do! Ok bye!”

Wild stares after you silently, wondering when exactly his heart started beating out of his chest.

Does... does he thinks this means what he thinks it means?

Hyrule

Hyrule knew that he liked you for a while now. Your charm, your grace, your wit, your sass- It was all very attractive to him.

But that being said, he knew he wasn’t exactly a catch. There were plenty of reason that he could think of for you to choose literally any other person. 

It was just a fact, so he didn’t want it to bother him too much. He was still happy with your friendship and you were an awesome person through and through.

That being said, every doubt in the existence of doubts would circle around his head whenever he thought about telling you how he felt. It could never be that easy though, could it?

He was never going to pick up any hint you could have thrown at him. He was never going to pick on anything subtle or small that you could have thought of to try and show that you would have reciprocated his feelings. 

It would take something huge.

It would take something obvious.

It would take something that he wouldn’t be able to deny no matter what was thrown at his face.

“Hyrule.” You said softly. You had taken him aside from the group for a moment with soft blush to your face and an nervous expression. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Hyrule stood at attention, wondering what ti could have been that had you so nervous to tell him. It must be important. you looked ready to back out any minute. He hopes you wouldn’t. Hyrule wanted you to come to him with whatever would bother you.

“What is it?” He pressed softly, wanting to show his interest in what you were saying.

You stalled, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you thought about what you wanted to say. The silence was deafening. Hyrule had to stop himself rom copying your nervous movement.

“I like you.”

He stills. Did he hear you correctly?

You don’t want t wait for him to twist your words into something easier to digest. “Like... a lot. I like you a lot.”

Hyrule’s still processing your words when you take a step forward and kiss his cheek. His entire mind shuts down.

“A lot, a lot.” You clarify. “You don’t have to answer right now, ok? Just... think about it?”

You almost say, ’think about me’, but that might a bit too much for the young hero to handle right now.

You clear your throat, blushing brightly at your forwardness. “I’ll... that’s all.”

You run away.

A beat passes and Hyrule explodes into a blush now that you’re out of sight. His hands come up to cover his face as he sinks down to his knees.

There’s denying that. He couldn’t even if he tried.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hey Curly.

I don’t blame you for not being super excited about rescue, to be honest I’ve been a little nervous about it myself.

What if they don’t have good medical supplies? Or what if they do, but they have to put you in a coma or something? What if we won’t be able to talk to you anymore? How will things change when you get back on earth? Will everyone make it out okay? Will pony express get brought to justice?

What if whatever has been letting us talk to you doesn’t work when you’re on earth? What if it’s only when you’re in space—or only when you’re injured and unable to communicate?

I’ve wondered a lot about our purpose in all this. We helped provide light in your darkest days (well, most of us did). We helped prevent the worst outcome. We fulfilled our duty. Once you’re rescued, will there be a place for us anymore…?

Hopefully you’ll at least still be able to talk to Kind Words and Kestrel—they got they psychic connection stuff going on. And I don’t know if anyone here is from the same universe as u are, but if they are I guess there’s the possibility of finding you and reconnecting online or in person…

If we are cut off from you and never able to speak to you again…

I think I could accept that. It’d make me sad, and I’d miss you, and I know you’d miss us too, but… just knowing you’d be okay, that you were recovering and living your life and stuff, I think I’d be able to let you go. You won’t be alone. You’ll have your friends and family to support you. I know you’ve felt like everyone moved on without you, but you’re an amazing person, and I’m sure so many people would be happy to have you back in their life. And you have your crew. And it’s never too late to make new friendships as well.

Even if it wasn’t by… the best method, you’ll finally be free from Pony Express and Jimmy. You’ll finally be able to rediscover who you are without them, and learn to… live again. No more walking around on eggshells. No more being jerked around across the galaxy, unable to connect with anyone from your life back on earth and under awful working conditions.

Recovery will be tough, and scary, but you will get better. You’ll get skin grafts and prosthetics and stuff, yeah? And they got that eye tracking technology—so even if your throat/vocal cords don’t recover, or while they’re recovering, you’ll still be able to communicate, yeah? No more feeling completely trapped in your body, voiceless and powerless.

I think part of me always kinda knew… this couldn’t last forever. That sooner or later we’d lose you, or be cut off from you. Knowing the other possible outcomes… this one is probably the best. You’re safe(ish), and alive, and you’re gonna be saved. A lot better than the outcome I thought we’d be stuck with—you stuck in a frozen limbo, us never knowing if you’d ever be saved or just die there… so, knowing how much worse things could be, I guess I should complain, even if saying goodbye is still…sad.

Sure, there’s always been the possibility in my mind of us sticking with you even when you’re back on earth, but it’s also always seemed a bit… unrealistic. We’d probably cause some problems for you—hearing voices all the time while going about your daily life, trying to focus on conversations with someone right in front of you while these mental conversations are constantly going on… might make you seem a bit, I dunno, strange. Might make it harder to reintegrate and all that.

But well. Who knows what the future holds. I guess anything could happen, so there’s no point in worrying about it. Just gotta hope for the best, and keep moving forward I guess. Take things one day at a time.

If we’ll be cut off from you, and this is goodbye, well…

I just wanted to tell you… I’m glad to have been part of your life. Even if it was only for a little bit. I’ll never forget you.

~🌃🌠🌌

hey. might be having a panic attack about it honestly. a little bit. hahah. there's noises and shaking and i can't tell what's happening.

i don't know i don't know i don't know i don't know!!!

i don't know anything i don't know

i'm not ready for anything to change not if i don't know what happens!

i dont know if they'll even want to talk to me anymore

but not until im better please not until im better i dont want to be alone with the pain pleaseplease icant do it alone. they have im not they wont not when im . its not going to be the same thyere not goin to know me anyomore . the crew left they left id ont even know if swanseas alive the window screen just shut off its dark and maybe they left me here do you thiink?? they got onthe ship adn now itsflying away and they left me here theylfetme hereohnnoono hghhhhh

...no more walking no more connecting no more anything at all. tomorrow will be different but the sun nverer sets and tomrorow never comes...

i dont want to die here by myself im sorry i failed you please come back i know i dont deserve it but please dont let me die here i dont want to be here with him forever please i want to go home

mhmyeah btu it doesntmatter if i dont get to go home does it

what ? no . no please not now dont leave me now please idnot have anyone else pleasedont go odont go lpease please cant be godobye im aloen i dontwant to be alnoe please pleasepleaestaty lpelaes im sroyry dont leav me here please

...

hello?

can... can you still hear me, or

guess its okay if i cry then. ahhahahhhahahahahahahahhahhahh— ahahahahahhaah... hhhghh.. ghhhh...

!!

thersnoise thersfootsteps hgodhes alive hes alvie he heardmeoandnfgghes going to thurt mmem im soryrimsrory jimmy ims royr il be quite tim soryr i didnt hitnk oyou could hear or wloud nevr have bitherdyou im soryrpleas ill be quiet i swear i will

fuck ow waht is that hse puttng his flashlight in my eye icnat see anything whats that noise nonononon dont touch me please whatshpaneing whereare you takgin me please help me nononononono!

[sayhoneysiren]

WHAT'S UR SEDUCTIVE CHARM

I II III

book a personal reading here

welcome sirens! this reading is for entertainment pursposes only based on the downloads i receive. do not attack me if the message doesn’t resonate. keep in mind this is a collective reading, not a individual one. with that being said, enjoy!

join patreon for weekly tarot readings

tarot readings list

xx HoneySiren xx 🍒

I ~ Your charm is your Elusiveness. You prefer to keep your circle small and don't open up to others easily. It takes effort to get your attention and tie you down, since you have high standards. Many of you may attract athletes or be athletic yourself. People seem to be in awe with your physique. You could enjoy dressing in leather and velvet fabrics.

Underneath your cool exterior you are a very compassionate, sensitive and spiritual person who can be shy at times or have anxiety about being seen. People view your shyness as 'cute' and instantly become somewhat protective over you. In a social setting, you are probably stationed in the corner of the room waiting for others to approach you or surrounded by close people you know.

Your eyes are alluring and can be felt across the room. People yearn to know more about you and what lies behind your enchanting gaze. They question why you're so quiet and to yourself.

When getting to know you, people notice that you are blunt and honest, preferring to cut straight to the point. You can clearly see through players, fakeness and egos and you're not here to entertain the bs. It also surprises people that you are so intelligent, headstrong and charming. But you only open to who you deem worthy.

II ~ Your charm is JE NE SAIS QUOI, Unfamiliar, profound and spellbinding, You are a person of potent power and you know it. Your essence oozes a calm confidence that fascinates and touches everyone around you.

Many may view you as a lone wolf or distinct in the way you present yourself. No one can check you off into any box. Some of you are of a different descent than those around you,

making you seem exotic. People could be enthralled by your accent, voice, unique fashion sense or your culture. You don't care about appearing weird to others. Staying authentic to yourself is most important and by doing this you give others hope, expand their minds and show them that they too can express their truest selves. You take them to another world where they can see themselves with loving eyes.

A glo' up' has been real for some of you and your looks have evolved tremendously. People describe you as a baddie or an it girl. You just have a captivating quality. On top of that, you KNOW how to seduce and don't care about being labeled 'bad'. Some of you embrace the label of the 'bad girl'.

People love taking time to get to know you and you enjoy talking about your big dreams. You don't stay still, always seeking to grow. Therefore always evolving.

III ~ Your charm is the Finesser.

From first glance no one would expect you are a powerful witch. The spell work and affirmations you do helps you manifest things excellently. You are able to see situations for what they are and manipulate it into what you want them to be. You may also be connected to nature and have some unique spiritual tattoos.

You are the undercover player moving in very strategic ways. You’re the type to meet your crush and reverse them to like you. You charm them by playing coquette and get them on your side to do whatever you want. You may use the affirmation "Everything I want wants me more."

You have many different sides to show, but you never reveal your full hand all at once. One day you're innocent then the next day naughty, happy then sad. You always have a one up one people, so things never get dull with you. You may also love to shock and surprise people. 

You're not boastful or afraid of showing vulnerability. You know this works in your benefit and no one suspects you until it's too late. Until they're too far gone under your charm.

People think you're losing but you’re actually winning.

[simplysparrow14]

Pikelan is probably the most complex CR ship and more people need to realize that instead of branding it as the "haha funny gnomes" ship.

because the entirely of Pikelan revolves around Scanlan, a very charismatic bard who flirts with literally everyone around him but is head-over-heels in love with his cleric friend but is tragically dogshit at expressing it so he resorts to doing crude bits and gags that ultimatly mask who he truly is.

And then you have Pike, a cleric brimming with self-confidence, who absolutely loves Scanlan for who he is, but is constantly getting mixed signals, because on one hand, he's constantly doing crude jokes and flirting with every person he sets his sights on (even so far as going after his unknown daughter) but on another, he tenderly holds her while she's bleeding and he's constantly at her side during battle and even tends to her emaciated brother for her and it's beautiful to watch, but the moment, the moment she brings it up, he reverts back to his crass personality and it just leaves her reeling about who he truly is.

And then we get to Bards Lament, and Scanlan, after tip-toeing around his true emotions for so long, finally snaps and lets everything he's been feeling (all the pain, and self-loathing manifested as anger towards everyone else, because even in his darkest moment, he's still so dogshit at expressing it for what it truly is) and Pike, who's been wrestling with these mixed signals, finally gets his true feelings on what he feels, calling her magic weird, hating that the same magic that has kept him alive and safe for so long brought him back to his sad existence, hating her for doing it. In the end, Scanlan leaves, just as Pike left the first time and the second time. And Pike stays behind, watching as he heads towards somewhere where she cant follow, abandoning the team and her and grog and everything they've built for themselves. She loves him, and him leaving brings her to that point.

The two are split apart, and despite the anger and hurt, the need for connection with each other is so strong. Scanlan reveals that he dident fully leave Taldorei at first, that he was only 20 miles away in another town entirely, listening to Pike's earing conversations. And eventually, when Scanlan is on another continent, he finds a temple of the Everlight (or just simply begins talking to Everlight) and prays, prays for guidance on finding forgiveness for what he said and did. He's deeply in love with pike, and still is, going to her god for answers to his problems, the quickest connection to Pike that he has between one giant ocean and a continent.

And Pike, despite holding a very rightful disdain for what he said to her, keeps him up to date, informs him of her happenings with the people of Whitestone. She should fucking hate his guts and yet the person she wants to speak to at the end of her day is a bard who (for all she knows) threw his earing away and traveled to some far off place, forever gone from Vox Machina, from her. Yet she keeps speaking.

They switch roles, with Scanlan becoming the quiet solitary one seeking forgiveness for his actions and Pike becoming the people oriented one.

When they reunite, it's tense and sad and angry. So many things said in anger and hurt and they don't really know where to step in the case that something, anything might send them back to that angry, angry place. And suddenly their back at the same place they were before, before the fight.

Pike is, again, trying so hard to sift through the mixed signals he's giving because he's being Scanlan again! Charming bard, essential party member, more confident than he's ever been! but now he's standing near the back and holding his hands and apologizing with a soft voice that she hasn't heard in over a year and a half and rebuilding the bridges he's burned and she doesn't know what to think!

And Scanlan is giving an honest effort at trying to fix what he's broken. He's working harder than ever, he's apologizing. He tries very hard to have conversations with people and fixing what he can. But, again, he's Scanlan, who is less dogshit at expressing what he feels, but still pretty dogshit none the less, and now he's a crime boss and still a beloved bard, but he's also surrounded by the friends, some of them he loves so dearly and he's trying, he's trying so hard

Eventually, everything is forgiven and in the end, Pike and Scanlan come to term with themselves and each other. Pike comes to terms with knowing that Scanlan is a complex person, a broken person just trying to figure his way through this world, just as she had done.

in the end, Pike becomes the person Scanlan feels the most free to be around, one where he doesn't have to put on the mask of a performer, where he can just be Scanlan the gnome instead of Scanlan, bard extraordinaire. and Pike comes to terms with knowing that Scanlan is a complex person, a broken person just trying to figure his way through this world, just as she had done before.

and together, they are beautiful reflection of each other.

[sunvylovebug]

Love garden

↬ Warnings: No warnings …⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

↬ Female!Reader and person narration (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

↬ Author Note: I love Diluc<3 I've written some other stuff with Genshin characters, you can check it out on my profile if you're interested<3

↬ Summary: The uncrowned king of Mondstadt has begun to develop feelings for his childhood friend.

↬ Word Count: 1,003 Words

Since childhood, Y/N and Diluc had been inseparable. They grew up together in Mondstadt, sharing games, secrets and adventures in every corner of the city. Their friendship was as solid as iron, forged by years of laughter and loyalty, of promises and memories, of good and bad times together, little adventures and tons of love and care for each other.

As time went by, they both had to take separate ways, separating for a while, but even after so long their hearts were still connected, it was impossible to break a connection that had prevailed alive for so many years after all.

While Diluc, after years of being away from the nation, assumed his role as the owner of the Dawn Winery in the mornings and the enigmatic, mysterious and heroic Dark Knight Hero of Mondstadt in the evenings, Y/N found her own purpose after studying at the Akademiya of Sumeru, returning to Mondstadt to tend to a small garden that had been built in the heart of the city.

One day, while Y/N was in her garden arranging the flowers and making sure everything was in order, Diluc appeared unexpectedly. Although his face showed a serious expression, there was a soft intensity in his eyes that Y/N had not seen in a long time. "Y/N, I've been thinking about you." Diluc said, slowly approaching. "Can I stay with you for a moment?"

Y/N looked at him with curiosity and a slight smile on her lips. The garden had always been her place of peace, the place where everything seemed more pleasant, more simple and peaceful, Diluc's presence made it even more special. "Of course, Diluc. You're always welcome here."

He sat near her, on a small bench of the place, watching how she worked with delicacy and mastery on her plants, she already had a good time taking care of this place. A pleasant silence formed between them, interrupted only by the occasional birdsong and the soft rustling of the leaves as they moved in the wind.

"You know..." He began to say in a thoughtful tone. "Sometimes when I see the flowers here, they remind me of what we've shared since we were children, the days in my father's garden, the sunny days where we played hide and seek with Kaeya or Jean, or when we'd go looking for bugs and flowers with you... The times when as children, everything seemed simpler."

She looked up from the flowers, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and affection. They didn't usually talk about their feelings this way, but she felt there was something different about the way Diluc was acting.

"Kinda funny..." She said with a soft smile. "Maybe it's weird for me to say it like this but I've always thought that this garden is like a reflection of various connections I have with people, especially our friendship. I take great care of it cause it means a lot to me, as you do too, Diluc."

He was silent, but his eyes shone with an intensity that Y/N couldn't ignore. Finally, he leaned a little closer. "Y/N, there is something I need to tell you." He began, his voice filled with an unusual vulnerability. "How I've felt about you has changed over time. You're not only my friend, but someone I truly appreciate more than I could ever put into words. You are a beautiful girl, you are strong and honest, you are charismatic and kind, you are sweet and brave... I could spend all day talking about how I see you... but I'm scared, I don't wanna lose you because of the things I feel for you."

Her stomach flipped over, she felt her heart beating faster, her cheeks flushing as she listened to Diluc's heartfelt words. She wasn't sure how to respond, but the sincerity in his voice moved her deeply.

"Diluc, I've felt something special for you too, for a while now..." Admitted Y/N in a trembling voice. "But I- I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid it might ruin our friendship."

Diluc smiled, a gleam of relief in his eyes. "You don't have to fear that, Y/N. What I feel for you has grown over time and I think it's something worth feeling together, if you'll allow me."

With a gesture full of tenderness Diluc took Y/N's hand, looking at her warm and comforting eyes with an expression that blended love and affection that became overwhelming to the young woman's melting heart.

"Let me show you how special you are to me, not only as a friend with whom I have spent countless moments together, adventures and good times, but as someone I wish to protect, care for and love as long as you and life will allow me to."

With her heart overwhelmed with emotion, she nodded slowly, looking into his eyes, nervous and excited by his words. Her trust in Diluc and the love she felt for him came together in a moment of pure connection. "I'd love to do the same, Diluc."

He ran a hand around her waist with a gentle smile and a soft shade of pink on his cheeks. He held her chin with his gloved hand and looked down at her. "May I?"

It was the happiest day for both of them. She felt like she would faint soon from so much emotion her heart was feeling, she nodded shyly and it was then that Diluc brought their lips together gently, a tender kiss full of the love and affection they felt for each other.

From that day on, the garden became an even more meaningful place for them, a place to spend time together and create many memories.

Each visit was a mixture of laughter and intimate moments, as Diluc strove to show his devotion and affection in every gesture and action. Through the seasons, through time and through life's changes, their new relationship blossomed so beautifully, just as the flowers did in Y/N's garden.

[justchillandshipit]

Parents in the 911 Universe

The 'unfamiliar' situation Chris sees Eddie in is: Eddie trying to do home repairs without Buck. lol Kidding. I have no idea what is going to play out.

___

I love Ryan Guzman and I'm hoping to see his POV on bold display over these next few episodes, but I'm not looking forward to seeing Helena treating Eddie like crap only to be forgiven by the next episode without even apologizing. I'm low-key dreading the episode and thinking about skipping it until I see what fandom says about it.

I adore a lot of Tim Minear's work. I really do, but the way he handles these parenting relationships is so out of touch. Some people are so toxic toward their children that they should be in jail. The way every single parent gets a free pass and forgiveness within one or two episodes is unreal. (The only exception being Eddie apparently, and quite frankly, he shouldn't be lumped in with the bad parents in the first place. I'll get to that later.)

Let's look at Chim. Lord, Chim's father didn't even apologize. His second wife tried to explain his actions and excuse his behavior, while Chim's brother tried to guilt-trip Chim into thinking he is a bad parent for not letting his daughter get to know the man who ignored him for "how many years?" I haven't liked Albert since that episode. It totally ruined his character for me.

Both sets of my grandparents died before I was born. It didn't ruin me not to know them. It would have been a nice bonus if they were good to my parents growing up, but if they misused or abused my parents in any way, I wouldn't want them to babysit me, nor would I want to witness them degrade and humiliate my parents.

Don't even get me started on the mental abuse that Buck went through. I hate it for you Mr. Minear. Neglect is abuse, and grief over one child does not excuse what you do to the living children. I'll never get over them giving Maddie that baby box in front of Buck, knowing they never even attempted to make one for him. (The crazy part is that there was so much potential Buck backstory that could be tied to this neglect. Starting with Buck being unable to realize that his attraction to men was not something a heterosexual man would feel. He would also stand a better chance of realizing that the way he is feeling toward Eddie is not only friendship.)

For a moment, I thought Eddie's Dad might be okay, but he used the history he had with Eddie to manipulate Eddie into giving up Chris. (And no, I don't consider what happened with Kim in the same league. Eddie was honest with Kim and ended things with her. She was bat$#it crazy for dying her hair and showing up at his house uninvited.) Until the day I die, I will not forget the way Helena Diaz smiled as she walked out of Eddie's house with Chris, nor will I ever forget the way she was in such a hurry to leave that she told Eddie if they forgot something he could ship it or they would buy Chris something new.) Buck was the only one expressing concern for what Eddie was doing. [side note: I've never been onboard with Chris moving to TX. Spending the summer there and getting some distance after a huge upset would have been a compromise that worked. However, I truly believed that the whole point Minear had was to deconstruct Eddie and show us who he really is regarding his sexuality. For this reason, I've tried to put my faith in him. Yet here we are. All this time without Chris, and all of 8A could possibly be connected to a larger sexuality story arc, or it could not. (If anything, the Shannon story has two textual canon storylines. In one, she is the love of Eddie's life. The woman he hasn't been able to get over for the entire show. Every season just adds more and more to this part of the story. On the other hand, Eddie has had conversations with others about how he was young and only married Shannon because she was pregnant, they were pressured, & she made him feel normal. I want a definitive answer for what's happening here. For Gay Eddie, both of these things can't be true. For bi-Eddie it could be true. If Eddie is something else on the LGBTQ spectrum, it could be true.)

From 8A, I don't see anything definitive that says he has been deconstructed. The general audience sure wouldn't see it. A priest told him once to allow joy, and he danced in his underwear. (While entertaining, and in other ways, these were great moments and good episodes. It ultimately didn't help the general audience, and these could have happened with Chris still in town, but perhaps not at home for the dancing part.)

8B, on the other hand, has been really great for giving some of Eddie's POV. We have desperately needed that. I'm hoping it will continue. I think the general audience has finally been given something to see since they ignore the subtext. I think that is great. Kudos. Yet for all of this, I still think it could have been done without removing Chris. So my hope, at this point, is that in the next few episodes, Minear will deliver on why it was necessary to move Chris to TX. I already know he is not going to deliver on a satisfying parental ending with Eddie and his parents, so I want to see where removing Chris was worth it.

Anyway, I got a little sidetracked there. Back to parents. The only parent that I've seen earn forgiveness is Hen's Mom, who acknowledged that the blame fell at her feet, apologized for all the hurt and harm she caused, and then demonstrated and worked to prove that she loved her daughter and wanted to be a part of her life.

[xjulixred45x]

I saw your request were open can I please request a female douma in jjk.

For getou and gojo please her and gojo having the beautiful eyes and cocky attitude and douma and getou and her both owing a cult this idea is living rent free in my head.

Oh lalala~ this is interesting! I'm in!

SatoSugu x Douma Like-Reader

Genre: headcanons

Reader: Female

Warnings: The reader has the past and attitude of Douma from KNY, that is, she has difficulty understanding and expressing emotions. apart from a shady past and is worshiped by a cult. she has rainbow eyes and gray hair, if a reader with a specific appearance bothers you, don't read this. CULTS AND WHAT THEY CONVINCE, The reader and Gojo share a neuron, and they are horrible with their emotions, I think that's all.

Since you were born, you have been the center of attention in your family.

You were born with eyes of all the colors of the rainbow and gray hair. Your family was amazed by this.

Thanks to this, your family believed that they had been blessed by the gods, that YOU had been blessed by the gods and that you could communicate with them, so they started a cult in your name to be able to worship the idea they had of you.

You, being a small and innocent girl, did not understand any of this, but you acted how they wanted you to act to make them happy. You believed that if they were happy, you were happy, right? but you never really understood very well how emotions worked. They never explained it to you or bothered to tell you anything about it.

It was somewhat frustrating but you resigned yourself quickly. You had to maintain the role you had been assigned after all. keep your hope.

but there really wasn't any, you were never able to communicate with the gods…. there really was nothing to have faith in.

but these people were in denial, and would not allow you to give up your position.

Everything got worse when your parents died, your mother murdered your father…and then committed suicide.

you found their corpses.

but the worst of all was that you didn't know how to process the loss of your parents. how you didn't even know how to process your own emotions.

You just thought about how unpleasant the smell of blood was and you replayed the scene over and over in your head.

all while you didn't change your facial expression. smiling, the one that people wanted to see in you, a supposed "saint"

So you adapted that mentality to your daily life, no matter how many lies you have to tell, no matter how many people get hurt because of this--

As long as the believers were happy, maybe one day you would be too. some day…

Until then, Keep smilling, keep make them happy, keep faken up your emotion, maybe if you fake it enough, you will feel something more than this inmense Void.

but at least all this had its good side, you developed your own damn ice technique!

It was powerful enough that the people in charge of you decided that you needed help in managing it.

that's how you ended up at Jujustu Tech.

That's how you met them…

When you first arrived at Jujustu Tech, you attracted a lot of attention. not only because of your carefree attitude but, obviously, because of your appearance. You were fine with that, you were used to it.

but when Geto and Gojo saw you for the first time when they introduced you to their group…WOW they were silent. which was weird in itself.

Gojo, being Gojo, and well recovered from the shock, went up to you and asked if you had contact lenses, even if he could see that you didn't, he HAD to make sure you didn't.

Geto obviously scolded him and apologized on his behalf for his rude comment. But he didn't miss the opportunity to say how beautiful your eyes were.

With these first impressions you could get an idea of ​​what they were like. And honestly? You became friends very quickly.

To be honest, growing up adored by your cult and having a pretty powerful ability, you ended up being quite arrogant, well-meaning, but cocky.

Thanks to this, Gojo was able to connect with you quite quickly, at first with the intention of destroying that ego you had, but it always ended badly in one way or another.

For example, trying to outdo yourself in physical combat seeing that you depended a lot on your ability with ice, it's a piece of cake with his Infinity, right? well…

Both Gojo and Geto made the same mistake when facing you for the first time, UNDERESTIMATING YOU based on your seemingly silly personality.

You turned out to be more skilled than he thought, which cost him almost blinding him when you realized how special his eyes were. Something similar happened with Geto, he wanted to know more in depth about your abilities, but above all, to know if your eyes, similar to Satoru's, had any unusual abilities.

only to have his ass kicked for being distracted by them…

They could respect you from the beginning, they could see that there was something more than a smiling mask in you. a great power.

Although the more they got to know you, the more things came to light and the more they understood you.

You and Gojo could understand each other on the level of having people expect too much of you, things that are not yours and even putting you on a pedestal for that (in your case very literally). Gojo found the whole cult thing very shady when you told them both, but he also found it shady that you didn't understand how that was WRONG.

Geto was the same(at the start), you and he understood each other more on the side of having abilities (in your case appearance) that although "helps people" rather condemns them to a pretty miserable life.

Thanks to this he opened up to you when he was in spiral, he felt that if anyone would understand him, it would be you.

In case we follow the canonical route, you tend to show two faces with each of them, both authentic and part of you, but distant from each other.

With Geto, you show your most morally perverse side, enjoying for the first time your position in the cult, the power you have over the lives of those people, realizing that YOU ARE the one in control.

You and Geto united the cutls, becoming even more powerful and influential, Geto is a loving couple, I'm not going to lie. He continues to pamper you as much as you want, whether physically, materially or emotionally.

The family respects you a lot, not only because of your power, but because they see you as an equal to Geto, the legitimate queen of the new world for sorcerers.

Geto doesn't really agree with watching you fight, and since you yourself are a little lazy to do it, he leaves the part of interacting with the believers to be your strong point.

Despite everything, being with Geto in this case has its disadvantages, and that is that he does not let you get down from that position of power and believe that the rest are better, apart from the fact that he encourages your harmful behavior towards others (that is, he does not let you mature )

Although don't misunderstand me, he will do everything possible to help you understand and experience the emotions that you have been depriving yourself of.

and when you go with Gojo (he and Gojo "divide custody" in this case) you do a 180 degree turn. You show your most happy and carefree side.

With Gojo you feel like there is nothing to worry about, you like that, he is quite relaxed himself.

Similarly to Geto, he spoils you a lot and is a great cuddler. He LOVES having PDA with you, hugs, kisses, snuggles, anything. he loves it.

Gojo directly takes you to therapy for emotions and when you come out and talk to him about your progress he is very happy to see you getting better every day, it seems.

Unlike Geto, he would try to remove the cult's influence from your life by seeing them as primarily responsible for your traumas (along with the death of your parents) and is fiercely protective in that regard.

They know it, you know it, one bad move and they're screwed.

NOW, if we're talking about the AUS where Geto doesn't get corrupted and stays in Jujutsu Tech with Mimiko and Nanako…IT'S ALL FLUFF.

Both are great life partners, mainly because they balance each other and thus you get the best of the best of EVERYTHING.

(i cant write more than this so sorry if its seems cut off im triying to fix it)

[sonics-atelier]

Appreciation Post <33

Happy New Year fellow unhinged people, the past year has been one hell of a Rollercoaster and I'm glad I got to share it with everyone I love. I've made so many amazing friends and I'd like to tell them how appreciated, loved and cherished there are, hence this post. Wishing everyone so much happiness and success in this year and I hope your days go by filled with peace and joy, I love all of you very much 💗. ( Apologies for being late )

@shadowqueenjude - My Wife, My Love, You are charismatic, powerful, stubborn ( ily for that btw ), passionate and so damn hard working. I am the luckiest person on earth to have you as my confidant ( still dont know that i did to deserve you ). I remember last year when I randomly dmed you to vent about the fandom and you understood me so well, and how I stayed up till 4 am just to talk to you and how I had been searching all my life for someone like you and we found each other like it was always meant to be. The rest is history. We've been through sm together and never once has my love for wavered. You're just that amazing. I am yours, for now and ever. Keep being amazing 💕

@decadentpostnacho - Meri Jaan, You walked into my life and you were like the missing puzzle piece that instantly fit into my life and heart ( destiny fr ) You are the fuzzy green blanket I can wrap myself in when things get too much ( you're entire presence is calming ✨️ ). You're one of the most kindhearted and beautiful people I've ever known. We were put on this earth to find our ways back to each other ( long live the teatectives ). I love you more than words can ever express 💖

@mintedwitcher - I LOVE YOU. you are so fucking brave and amazing and I've come to cherish everything about you, I'm so grateful that cherik brought us together. Our late night conversations about our Headcanons and wips and your ability to make me sob have been the highlight of my year, ty for making things bearable and for going above and beyond for me, I will hold you dear always 💕

@achaotichuman - At the risk of repeating myself, you're a great person and an even better friend. You've been there when I've needed you most, you've been kind, understanding and unapologetically honest ( which i love ) and for being an amazing writer ( kaimond *sobs* ) and for all the amazing recs. I hold all our unhinged convos close to my heart. Thank you for being yourself 🫶

@matrixsss - YOU ARE PHENOMENAL. Becoming mutuals then friends with you was one of the best decisions I made this year. You're so talented and kind I am over the moon how our vibes match instantly ✨️. Thank you for being someone whom I could rely on and being the personification of comfort. ( we're Kakashi and might guy coded lmao ) Ilysm ( I'll always be there for you ) 🥺💗

@yaralulu - ILY, you're so sweet and fun to talk to. I AM IN LOVE with your writing. Getting to know you and becoming friends was by far one of the best things to happen in 2024. I adore your sense of humor and how you're able to be both sweet and sassy, like 🤌. tysm for dealing with my screaming about itwv ( I still need therapy btw ) and being awesome. Keep slaying ✨️

@praetorqueenreyna - MOTHER, I still remember how I screamed when I saw we were mutuals ( yes I'm an unashamed fangirl ). Thank you so much for introducing me to so many amazing fandoms like iwtv and the captive prince. You are a treasure and I love you so so so much. You're quite literally a role model. ( also tysm for holding my stupid ass back from doing things that would get me cancelled ) KEEP BEING THE ICON YOU ARE 💕

@highlordofkrypton - Awesome falls short for how awesome you are ( I'm lame Ik ). The way we instantly connected and then proceeded to bitch about a situation was the best bonding experience ever. I am in awe of how great of a writer you are. Your stories have me by the throat and what I love most about it is how you include cultures and history and motives in it, It means so much to me. You're an amazing friend ( I am so sorry for all the times I was ready to go to war and you had to keep me in check 😭 ) your intuition is always right, you're multitalented ( an artist now too !!! ). All hail agent Reacher 💗

@thegolden-tigeress - Shree, My Sweetheart, I love you to Saturn and back. Thank you for being the shoulder I could cry on and always uplifting me even I'm going through things. I don't know how I can ever thank you enough for that. You're invaluable to me. My life has been lit ( pun intended ) ever since you walked in it. Tysm for making me laugh, for loving my writing and for always having my back. I couldn't have asked for a better friend 🥺💗💗

@watcherintheweyr - SOULMATE, Oh how I love you, I was so elated that we share sm fandoms and interests. It's usually very hard for me to become friends and then have that bond stay strong but you've proven me wrong. I usually never took the initiative of caring about things happening in people's lives but for you I changed all that. You are like the elder sister I never had, you understand me so well and I love you sm ( totally didn't fall for you just because you had horses ). You're an amazing writer too, I'm OBSESSED with your wordlbuilding and ocs 🛐. I vow to be your hua cheng for eternity. Shine like the star you are Vira, ily forever 💗