#and appreciate this beautiful human being

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[aahanna]

"When someone compliments a specific feature of yours that you previously thought was a flaw, it can help you start loving and appreciating that part of yourself again."

(keep appreciating people around you)

[wayti-blog]

Successful is the person who has lived well, laughed often and loved much, who has gained the respect of children, who leaves the world better than they found it, who has never lacked appreciation for the earth's beauty, who never fails to look for the best in others or give the best of themselves.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

[torgawl]

if you call himmel pathetic i'm throwing hands at you. himmel showed the purest form of love for frieren and you guys think that's pathetic? what's pathetic is not respect other people's feelings or boundaries and acting like people owe you anything just because you like them. himmel was happy to have a friendship with frieren within her own conditions just because he genuinely enjoyed her as part of his life. he was happy to wait for her for his entire life is he had to but he also never stopped living for himself. that's fucking beautiful. loving someone so much you are able to let them go, not wanting to change who they are or impose anything on them? unconditionally, nonetheless? that's the point of life.

[angelof-thevoid]

Favorite Ship / Supernova

(disclaimer: i hc eris morn with they/them pronouns)

Lately, things have been calm and she got her paperwork for the day done sooner than usual, so with the free time Ikora decided it would be nice to have a spontaneous date. She sends a message to Eris, hoping they aren’t busy at the moment. At least, far as she knew there shouldn’t be anything taking up their time. After a few moments Ikora smiles when her screen lights up with a response.

-

It’s a cool, clear night where you’d swear you could see every star in the galaxy that wasn’t eclipsed by the moonlight. A sight like this wasn’t possible in the last city, and seldom did Ikora get the chance to venture out of it. Duty was a chain and it kept her not too far from the city, but in the rare chances she had the opportunity she wanted to take advantage.

Setting down a blanket on the side of a hill, Ikora places two comfortable, large pillows she had against the incline. Eris patiently stood by, their form illuminated by the light of the moon as they looked up to the sky. She wondered how much hive eyes could pick up on the distant pin-pricks of light, having been told they weren't the same as human ones. If you compared it to human vision, technically you could say they were blind.

Nonetheless, they mentioned their way of “seeing” just works differently now. They still had a sense of their surroundings, even knew the distance between themselves and the moon. An odd thing to be precognitive of but they chalked it up to it being the birthplace of their transformation, when Eris became kin to the very enemy they sought the end of.

How things have changed. Outside of that Eris had a sensitivity to paracausality which gave her a refined sense of other guardians as well as the shape of their light, despite being without. Strange changes, but not without some benefits. Ikora reaches over to gently bump her hand against theirs to catch Eris’ attention without startling them. As if much could startle them anymore.

“Finished?” Eris asks as they turn to look at Ikora who nods, the pair’s hands linking together as they settle onto the cozy patch. They lean back, side by side with hands still intertwined and multiple points of contact between their bodies. Silence hung in the air for a short time as they enjoyed the view, until Ikora broke it with a question. One she had long wondered about since Eris’ ascent from the Hellmouth. 

“Do you miss it?” She softly questions, gently squeezes Eris’ hand with her thumb rubbing against the length of theirs. “Miss what?” They reply after a short second. “The light. What you were, before-” Ikora stops herself choosing not to say the rest. 

A contemplative pause, “It doesn’t matter now, does it? It happened. All I can do is move forward in spite of it.” That solemn answer cuts straight through Ikora’s question with a knife’s edge. She turns her head toward Eris who continues, “Nothing good comes from dwelling on what’s missing.” and then a little quieter. “Do you wish I was unchanged?” 

Ikora frowns and quickly sits up, turning her whole body towards them. “I only wish for you to return from the things you hunt every time, safe and sound.” Eris gazes at her as she leans over to rest a hand against their cheek. “It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re still here.” She gives Eris an affectionate smile.

Eris’ own lips quirk up as they sit up as well, faces hovering inches apart before they make the first move to kiss Ikora. It lasts mere seconds as they slowly break apart but still close enough to feel each other’s breath. “In my darkest, loneliest moments, I miss the presence of your light over mine.” 

To think, after everything that’s happened including losing the light, Eris would rather have Ikora leaves her feeling a certain way. She feels the void open its empty maw in her chest, wanting to devour her heart over the proclamation. “Do you?” Ikora breathes out, letting the void energy trickle through her fingertips against Eris’ cheek.

Eris’ shivers a little from the sensation as they turn their face more into her hand, the ever present dark tears dissipate against Ikora’s radiant light. “I do.” Almost reluctantly, they retreat from the physical contact to look Ikora full on when they ask, “Show me your light.”

It comes out not as a question but like a lover’s request for their partner to share their body. And traveler save her, she finds herself bending easily to it. Usually Ikora wasn’t for unnecessary displays of her light, but she couldn’t resist Eris. So she adjusts into a kneeled position and brings her hands to hover in front of her mid-air.

Fluorescent violet light begins to form in a small, concentrated ball between her hands, steadily growing in size and luminescence. Ikora envisions in her mind pouring the void into a container, particles being shifted in an even circular motion that continues to slowly get bigger. 

It’s the size of a kick ball when she decides to stand up, purple light shining its hue across the two of them. Eris watches the nova bomb increase further and further until Ikora has to lift it over her head and release it up toward the sky, flying up and up to a seemingly impossible height until it explodes like a collapsing star.

Like a firework streaks of void shoot outward from the center and leave glittering trails of void as the bolts try and fail to find a target, thus bursting into smaller showers of purple that sparkle amongst the starry sky. An imprint of the void lingers like the burn of an afterimage from a too bright light.

“Beautiful.” Eris says in appreciation. Ikora sits back down with them as they reach out to grab her hand and trace it, making her shiver in return. She pulls their hand up to her mouth and kisses the knuckles of it, huffing a short laugh. “I’m glad you can still find beauty in the light.”

[sweagen]

[dontcallpanic]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out 💕

Ahhh diolch yn fawr iawn!! Thanks for chatting and generally been a gorgeous person inside and out! Your thoughts, and mind in general, are always completely and utterly brilliant and I'm just in awe most of the time to be honest! 🩵

[blossoms-and-petrichor]

most underrated thing about the bell jar is the consistent parallel between women being deprived of interiority and autonomy by both men and women's sexism and heteronormativity + mentally ill people being deprived of interiority and autonomy, their opinions and say over their own mind and body sidelined as a symptom or a hassle.

[transfemstarscream]

armada thoughts armada thoughts.......

[yeleltaan]

“Flesh.”

Down to her haunches, poised as a beartrap, the assassin slips a portion of dried meat past her lips, and chews thoughtfully before speaking again.

“Hunger, you possess. I know this for certain; you hunt for knowledge to feed upon, after all. You collect facts. You devour stories. But, and you’ll forgive the directness, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen your appetite sway towards flesh. You don’t stare at naked shoulder blades, your throat doesn’t parch at a bared thigh… I don't recall ever hearing you comment on the beauty of all that is bodily, as a matter of fact. I’m curious: is it just because the human form is unappealing to you, blood of dragons? Or the act itself simply not on the list of your desires? I do not judge.”

She angles her wrist in his direction.

“Dried meat?”

Before all else she utters the word, and as is the case every time Heysel presents him with another topic, Cayin puts his reflections aside to focus on what she may share. She imbues his interest in learning, something he would have deemed wholly unremarkable, with a lyricism that feeds the pride- but even with this in mind the mention of appetite, hunger and flesh briefly mislead him into a literal interpretation, one that would have swiftly led to confusion if she didn’t chose to elaborate. She does, and as the true meaning of her inquiry sets in, his gaze begins to lower following an invisible path to the grass at his side. Verdant strands are caught between his fingers as the latter squeeze and slide along their rising shape. An inhale signals for his response, but all air in his lungs fails to find the words to carry it in time, and so he only breathes out again, deep in the thought.

Think before you speak, one of those small wisdoms he tries to incorporate into his habits. But for some reason this time the deafening silence of his indecision rings his ears with a strange discomfort. His hands move to settle on his robe again, grasping and folding handfuls of it while his arms remain crossed loosely over his lap. Quiet breeds expectation, and today it is unwelcome, which is why he opts to begin prematurely, like one walks into the blinding mist hoping each step will reveal enough to take the next.

“…It’s not. I don’t dislike it.” It appeared strange to him once, but then so did the trees, the rivers and rocks and castles, sands, fields, clouds and even lights, nearly every piece of the world you could fathom, for it was new, and so were the eyes that looked upon them. In time it all fit into place more comfortably, including the physique of man and its many derivatives.  Some such sights he’s revisited through his memories, others he’s built solely from the foundation of an artist’s depiction. Harmonic, grotesque, balanced in its small asymmetries, each piece presumably there for a purpose. Worth picturing again sometime, maybe.

But that’s not what he feels when he sees them up close. Because in the truth of the moment, the first thing he catches is an absence of fur, or at least any dense enough to impede the path of his teeth where it matters. Then, an absence of scales- instead the thin, easily pierced skin that wraps around fat, muscle and cartilage. Shapes alluding to the bones within, connected by tendons, guarding only some of their organs. Everywhere, at every turn, his eyes look first to survival.

The same observations must come naturally to her, a master of her craft. Surely she knows these connections intimately by now, how to undo them without waste, how to bring about the collapse of the whole human structure, at times without even the need to sever. Somehow, it doesn’t seem to him like that’s stopped her from retaining a different paradigm of appreciation for it. Not that he’s ever witnessed the signs of it on her face.

 “It’s just… there’s much else to stare at. Much to look out for.” Things he truly needs for himself, and those he needs to keep away. Those that may make a difference when he’s in need of taking something else. “…I don’t know.”

When she offers the meal right in front of him, it all seems so much more obvious. Two clawed fingertips hook through the given meat, and without a second thought he bites a chunk from it. His jaw munches on its own, and it tastes good. And it is a pleasure that seems so much easier to make happen, than to find someone pleasing and willing to sate you in a safe place. A simple delight that comes in the form of a need that sustains him so vitally, of course he would be hungry for this.

And still, throughout all that chewing his head lingers in more of those stories he’s read. Upon swallowing, his eyes lift to hers to give another inquiry in return, as is their custom.

“…Would you say it’s something worth hungering for?”

[toyfrogs]

life update 🐛

[ackerfics]

Hello Rory! Another year draws to an end. We have all suffered and survived this year, growing up and understanding the world more and some people like me, are reflecting.

Every year at this time, I find myself in an odd, odd state of mind to say the least- filled with a melancholic blue that nothing else could replicate. I find myself listening to Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here and The Dark Side Of The Moon, soaked in a nostalgic ocean. Though, this nostalgia fills me with not the sense of longing for the past, but a longing for my lost time. I look at myself and realise how much I've matured and grown, how much I've changed and how much I've seen. Rory- I cannot even put into words my gratitude towards you.

I remember stumbling upon your blog roughly around a year ago and being absolutely enchanted by your writing- I was mesmerised by your words and stories, longing for those to occur in real life. I started writing anonymous asks and messages showing my admiration toward you, and soon, I wrote something that wasn't anonymous. Here I am today, just simply me- writing a long message to you, an author online who I had the honour of interacting with. You see, I am a writer myself, I write to express my emotions and one concept that has always captured my interest was time. I find it oddly fitting as my one of my favourite songs by Pink Floyd is 'Time' and something about it has always spoken to me. Roger Waters' lyrics made me think and ponder; what else is there to life? Does life even matter?

Yes, it does. We live this beautiful road called life that makes us cry in pain and anguish, makes us smile and laugh with the very essence of spring. We meet people, many of whom we will never meet again or even remember. However, that one day I first read your writing, something changed within me. Your writing filled me with an pastel array of thoughts- gentle like the ocean's waves on a still day. I took things I admired about your writing and made them into my own, contorting and changing them to fit my own shadow. Your stories filled me with pure, innocent joy that I looked forward losing myself into more everyday. Rory, my dearest Rory, your blog is something that I always come back to when I'm reminiscing about time. Your writing brought my own art a kiss of a cool breeze which forever changed it and made it better.

I wrote a piece about a dying woman and her lover, showing her slow but ultimate death through the change of seasons. For me, that piece was the one that forever morphed me as a person in some strange way. Rory- you are one of the reasons I began writing more, and for that, I say Thank you.

Thank you, thank you for your talent, thank you for helping this one little girl find her writing voice. Thank you for your Levi pieces that helped me become the hapless romantic I am today. Thank you for answering all my asks and finally, thank you for your blog being here for my moments of melancholic longing for time. I do not know if you remember me or not, but I know that I will remember your forever as the writer that helped me in my worst times and helped unknowingly change me. I beg of you, never ever delete your blog. I have been closing doors of my old life as of recently and I would not be able to stand this one closing as well.

Rory- I wish you a happy new year and a peaceful lifetime filled with everything you dream of. I do not know if I will write another something like this next year or not, but I am writing it now, and its just me bare and raw. I haven't been back to your blog in around 8 months and here I sit, writing my thoughts to you, knowing you as the Rory from my toughest times.

Happy New Year, and thank you

Anita

happy new year, anita! <33

receiving this message is one of the best things that happened in 2022 and answering it is the perfect way to start my 2023. i never knew i would come to a point where someone would be inspired by my writing yet here you are -- such a kind soul that i enjoy answering asks to when i have the chance. you know, i received an anonymous confession from a person in our university before the year ended as well but your message weighs so much more for me. there's no denying that your message made me teary-eyed when i first laid my eyes on it and it continues to give me unshed tears reading it now.

i'm so so proud of you for going through 2022 even with a heavy state of mind -- if only you can receive my hug from across the screen, i'd gladly give you a hundred more. this blog will forever remain your haven if you want. the stories won't go anywhere even if i decide to open another part of my life and they will continue to be a part of my past that i feel the most attachment with. i'm also thankful for you for being a part of my journey in this platform. because of you and some of the lovely people reading my works, the inspiration to create more stories never dies down. the fact that your presence in this blog continues to remind me to never let this part of my life go speaks so much. also, thank you for opening up to me like this -- my chest feels so warm whenever someone does so since your trust in me can be seen in the words.

may you have a prosperous new year, may it be kinder to you than the previous ones, and may it guide your writing in heights that it has never reached before.

i will forever cherish the words you sent to me, keeping them in my little jar.

(🌼)

[jtownraindancer]

@divine-victory as always you and are on the same wavelength

i walk a fine line between “i’m asexual and i hate how much the world revolves around sex” and “sex is way too stigmatized and people should be able to be more open about it if they want to”

[lowcallyfruity]

Me and Yusuke would date eachother Aroace style

[leftmysoulbythesideoftheroad]

it’s weird to think that i will honestly never know what it’s like to have my attraction limited by gender. i’m bisexual. when i watch romantic shows or movies (i.e. everything i watch), i never see myself as the heroine nor her love interest because i want both. i love elena gilbert, and i love damon salvatore. i love buffy summers, and i love spike. i love satine, and i love christian.

idk. i just wonder sometimes what it would be like if i only loved the men or only the women. i vaguely remember what it was like when i thought i was only into men, but even then, the love for women was always there, just suppressed.

no one can fully understand what it’s like to be another person. i’m not the first person to wonder about this. it’s just truly wild when i stop to think about it because i genuinely cannot imagine anything different

[ibvix]

ME TOO !!!