#and i am sending you a heart like this -> <3

[sheyfu]

sun and moon ☽｡⋆

𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 a waltz takes place beneath the sun and moon.

feat. kamisato ayato (f!reader)

cw. none :)) js enjoy some tooth-rotting fluff (HELP I HOPE I DIDNT FLOP ERMMMM IM SO BAD AT WRITING ITS NOT EVFEN FUNNY ANYMORE 😓😓) (omg does 'kinda proofread' count as a cw ERMMM HASUDHUSADHA)

note. GRAHHHHHH MS SAIGON RELAPSE (i wasnt able to watch it live when they did the ph leg D: but my cousin sent the clips he took and now i cant stop watching them (especially sun and moon and the last night of the world [and the finale 😈😈😈] so you can expect [kinda] ms saigon related works HUAHDUASHDUH (gang im still tryna expand my vocab when it comes to very flowery words so HAUDHAUDH my works will [probably] get better from here trust) + this was written with miss saigon's sun and moon (specifically lea salonga and simon bowman's version) playing in the bg on repeat so yeah HWHAHAHA wc. 504

“may i have this dance with you?”

the moon casts its gentle gaze upon the beings of chinju forest — a symphony of frogs sing with the breeze as a troupe of bake-danuki accompany the piece with their dance.

in the midst of all these, a hand is offered.

"quite the romantic you are, mr. commissioner,” you show him a grin as you take his hand, slotting your bodies to form a cocoon of melody and warmth.

“only for you, milady,” the commissioner, kamisato ayato, returns your grin — his warmth radiating off your body as you fall into a steady waltz under the bed of stars.

the pair dance under the moon’s watchful gaze; the string of harmony and rhythm from the beings reduce to a gentle diminuendo as the pair lock eyes with each other.

“careful now, ayato. wouldn’t want the shuumatsuban catching their lord tripping and stepping on his lady’s feet now, do we?” a chuckle escapes from your lips as you sway to the tempo of your hearts. 

ayato brings his forehead to yours as he pulls you closer, “hm? is that so? well, lucky for me”, he abruptly turns you to face the scenery of chinju forest — his hands lay on your hips as the ghost of his breath cascades down the shell of your ear, sending chills upon its caress — your gentle waltz coming to a momentary halt. “i have a great dance teacher who coincidentally has the same name of my lady. and for all i care, those ninjas shouldn’t be intruding on their masters’ alone time. hmph.” 

laughter bubbles up in your throat as you hear the rustles of nearby bushes around you. “oh? is that right? well, care to tell me about the oh so wonderful dance teacher you have?” turning to your lover once more, you catch him in an embrace as you resume the gentle sway of your bodies. 

“we’ll be here until dawn then, my dear.” ayato sends you a gentle smile; his hand leads your head to his beating heart, gentle pats landing on it as he does the same to your shoulder. 

“if that’s the case, then i am most honoured to share this night with you.” you feel the rumble of his chest as he entertains your idea.

“well then. should we start with the part when said teacher confessed her undying love for me, her student?” a playful lilt touches upon his words as he spins you around.

"hey now. that sounds like i did something... nefarious." a small pout forms on your lips as your husband chortles at you.

as the night joins with day, their waltz continued without a misstep — the string of harmony and rhythm continue to accompany the lovers as they get lost in their own world of tell and tale.

and with the gazes of both sun and moon, they continue to sway to their own beat — holding each other tight as if it was the last night of the world.

tagging: @ayrastv

🐈‍⬛️: genshin has been added to the list of options for my taglist! please access the gform below if you'd like to be added to my taglist <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[milunalupin]

— full moon farms

Part One: Potter's Pumpkins

james potter x reader ★ 795 words

thank you to the lovely @ttulipwritezz for helping me out <3

When Pandora had invited you to come to the farm she worked at, you assumed you would be wandering around the attractions together.

"There's tons to do here, and my shift is only for a few more hours!" your best friend squeezed your hands and smiled apologetically.

You knew it wasn't with mal-intent, having you come by yourself. Having just moved into town, your old dormmate thought it would be a good idea to meet the locals and get out of your flat. You supposed you should stay and look around since you're already here, although the chilly autumn breeze had you wishing you hadn't forgotten your jacket back home.

"Have fun, love you!" she blew you a kiss as her perfectly manicured hands pulled her hair up into a ponytail. You held back a sigh as you watched her blonde curls bounce back to the cafe.

You take it you should start somewhere, so you head the closest attraction, the pumpkin patch. The cobblestone trail was adorned with autumn-colored flags and pumpkin-shaped fairy lights. At the entrance of the patch stood a wooden archway with a hand painted sign reading 'Potter's Pumpkins'.

Multitudes of younger kids ran around, warming your heart as some attempted to pick up the larger pumpkins, or begged their parents for a mini one to take home. To your left were multiple tables that were covered in what looked like the aftermath of a pumpkin massacre.

"Afternoon! Is there anything I can help you with?"

A surprised gasp escaped you as you almost ran into the tall stranger, your hand laid over your chest.

"Oh," your response came late, not wanting to offend the man standing before you by laughing at his stereotypical red flannel and overalls, "No, just walking around, thank you."

He smiled brightly as if he hadn't noticed your hesitancy, his shirt buttons struggling to stay together as he lifted an arm to run a hand through his curls.

“What a shame! You just missed the pumpkin carving contest. Little Christopher carved a wicked design—first prize was a free hayride and a dozen donuts from the café.” Sighing, he nodded toward the chaotic scene of orange pulp you had observed just moments before.

"That's nice, we didn't have anything like this back home." you smiled.

"Well, allow me to give you a little tour then, follow me."

As he walked you around around the patch, James explained explained to you the origins of Full Moon Farms, how it was his friend Remus' uncle's farm and him and his friends grew up on these grounds. Eventually the old man retired, leaving the property to Remus, who then with the help of James and their other friend Sirius made it into a local attraction during the autumn season.

"I really want the kids to have a good time here, so we also do carving contests, painting, and sack races."

James points out your untied shoelace, so you two take a break on a nearby bench. Before you could full sit down he was already on one knee pulling on your laces.

"Not pulling too tight, am I?"

You shook your head no, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. As soon as he finished tying your shoes, he sat beside you on the old bench, jumping into a friendly interrogation. You answered his questions about your background and reasons for moving to this little town happily. In return he gave you great recommendations on shops and restaurants to try in town.

He was very expressive when he spoke, his hands waving anywhere and everywhere, while his bright eyes danced around your face, his smile growing with every positive reaction you gave him. You quietly wonder if it's the autumn chill or the look he's giving you that sends a shiver through you.

Once you circle back to his booth, he reaches behind the counter and pulls out a miniature pumpkin, "Welcome to town, this one's on me."

"Oh I can't," you shook your head, pushing the orange squash back into his hands.

"You can," he grins, putting his larger hands over yours to move his offering back to you, "I insist."

"That's really sweet of you James, thank you so much."

"Well, I'm glad Pandora dragged you out here, it was nice meeting you." his eyes trailed from the pumpkin in your hands up to your face, quickly fixing his posture and moving his gaze as it wasn't very professional to be staring at you this long. "Um, if you're not sure where to go next, I'd recommend the haunted house down this way, left of the popcorn cart."

Cradling your new pumpkin, you thanked and waved goodbye to the bespectacled man and followed the wooden fences to the next attraction.

[ikea09]

"Come on, grandfather !" An 8 year old Telemachus cried as he ran up the road to laertes's hut.

He stopped and waved impatiently for the dawdling old man.

Surely he could go faster than this ?

"I'm coming, boy, slow down" laertes yelled.

Suddenly, the man collapsed.

Telemachus ran down to his side as fast as possible.

Laertes lay on his side.

Telemachus shook him, desperately hoping he was ok.

"Telemachus....." the old man wheezed at last, getting up on his knees.

"Yes?"

"Am I a good actor?" Laertes smiled.

Telemachus mouth hung wide and he pushed laertes's shoulders.

"That was cruel grandfather, you really scared me"

"Ok ok I'm sorry child. I won't do it again"

He patted telemachus cheek.

"Help me up and we'll walk together, hm"

Telemachus huffed, then got up, lended laertes a hand and yanked him up.

He gripped his hand all the way to the orchard outside the hut.

"The apples are ripe, shall we pick some then ? We'll make a nice pie~." laertes asked.

Telemachus nodded.

Laertes went off to fetch the ladders. Telemachus ran inside to grab the baskets.

The picking was easy and the apples looked amazingly juicy. They had managed to collect 3 baskets of them and Laertes chose 5 for their pie. The rest he stored away.

The baking was fun though it ended with both of them being covered in flour.

They sat at laertes table and he cut a slice for each of them. Taking a spoon, he carved off a chunk of telemachus' slice and fed him it, with a hand beneath his chin.

"It makes it taste better" he whispered.

Telemachus happily accepted.

Laertes took and fed him another chunk but found he couldn't take the spoon out of telemachus's mouth. The boy was holding the spoon fast between his teeth.

He chuckled.

"This is revenge, isn’t it" laertes sighed.

The boy only smiled. He looked positively dopey with the spoon hanging out of his mouth, Laertes thought.

Laertes pulled on the spoon a little harder and telemachus had to let it go.

"Aww , I really thought I could hold it" Telemachus whined

"Tsk. Tsk. The adult wins again." Laertes smiled cheekily as he tapped telemachus's head with the spoon.

12 years later...

It had been 2 days since the suitor slaughter.

Telemachus had been dying to talk to his grandfather ever since eumaus told him of how laertes had taken his disappearance.

"For many years, poor man, heartsick for his son, he'd always keep an eye on the farm and take his meals with the hired hands whenever he felt the urge to. Now, from the day you sailed to pylos, not a sip or a bite he's touched, they say, not as he did before, and his eyes are shut to all the farmyard labours. Huddled over, groaning in grief and tears, he wasted away- the man's all skin and bones"

Telemachus's heart broke to hear that but he had more important things to focus on.

He only told eumaus to send a slave girl to tell laertes of his arrival. He and odysseus had visited yesterday but he and laertes couldn't have a full conversation since the suitor's families arrived, looking for revenge. Afterwards, odysseus and telemachus had gone home.

So on he walked to laertes's hut.

He found the old man sitting slumped outside his house on a bench.

He kneeled in front of him and gently shook his shoulder.

"Grandfather? It's me, telemachus."

Laertes looked up at him.

"Telemachus?"

"Yes"

Laertes lifted his hand toward telemachus's face

and pinched his cheek, hard.

"AH!"

Laertes finally let go and Telemachus rubbed his cheek

"What was that fo-"

"HOW COULD YOU BOY? how could you leave us like that, scaring us all half to death? You could've drowned or been assassinated and , and-"

Telemachus could only look down in shame, rubbing his bruising cheek, his eyes becoming watery.

A hand clutched the back of his head and tucked his face into Laertes's shoulder.

"And i'm so glad your safe... " he whispered shakily.

Telemachus wrapped his arms around his grandfather. He felt his tears land on his head as laertes kissed his hair.

"I'm sorry grandfather.."

"Shh sh, don't apologise. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper"

Telemachus eyed the apples in the orchard.

"Well, you could make it up to me with a pie."

"..alright, child"

Picking the apples and baking the pie went by quickly.

Laertes cut a slice, took a spoon and carved off a chunk.

He lifted it to telemachus's face and...

hesitated.

Telemachus was an adult, 20 years old. He had killed people. He couldn't treat him like a child.

And that hurt. It hurt to know the sweet, little boy he fed pie wasn't there anymore. He sighed. He would just have to get over it. He lowered his spoon and looked away.

Telemachus noticed and smiled

before opening his mouth, giving Laertes this last little mercy. He always was his grandfather's sweet boy.

And he always would be.

Laertes chuckled, slipping the spoon into telemachus's mouth.

Only to find he couldn't take it out.

Telemachus had bitten down on it and now held it between his teeth. He had that dopey, foolish grin again. Laertes tried to pull it out but telemachus's strength had grown in the last 12 years and he held on. Laertes tried again in their little tug-of- war but telemachus just jerked his head aside

and sent the poor man flying to the floor. He looked on, startled.

Laertes grabbed the table edge and hauled himself up. Telemachus finally conceded the spoon before Laertes got thrown again.

Laertes smiled and , for the sake of completion, tapped telemachus's head with the spoon.

At that, telemachus pouted and gave laertes big, watery eyes.

"Grandfather, why do you abuse me so? First you bruise my cheek with your cruel pinch and now you strike my head? What have I done wrong?"

"Your just trying to guilt me into giving you a second slice, aren't you."

"Is it working?"

"...yes"

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[puckpocketed]

hi!!! i saw ur post abt sam dickinson when he got drafted and then a few abt jacob fowler and as a newly indoctrinated sharks fan, i was like oh!!! so i just wanted to stick my head in and say hi!

hhii.....i just want to say we do NOT do refunds around here . no takebacks. any psychological damage suffered is something you consented to on the waiver. ok? ok. welcome <3

i must stress i am new here and stumbling around blind in the dark . this blog is not your sharks blog source. i think ill just link my favourite sharks blogs - in no particular order!!! (there are also blogs not mentioned here because they're some of these peoples mains/alts, i honestly just didnt wanna make this 2000 words long, so sorry if i missed u, i am thinking of u fondly!!)

@neonfretra <- ok i said no order but im lying about this one . my beloved colleague in sharks academia. we are half reblogs of each other during lbs so . deepest apologies for that. come to puckpocketed and see neonfretra2: the sqeakuel. neonfretra makes very cool art (said like a completely regular person with all my hinges attached !) <3

@oensible <- they are equal first in my heart my other beloved colleague and literally the very first sharks lb'er i ever interacted with. made the space silly and warm and ough <3 not super active atm but very very occasionally drops banger art + gifs + shows up in lbs and i cherish every SECOND !

@pacific-coast-hockey <- u will learn very quickly that being a sharks fan means also having brain worms about the sj barracuda. unavoidable disease SORRY!!! we love our silly ahl team. this is your cuda source!

@18minutemajor <- wall to wall bangers . art. art. beer league stories if u like those. more cuda content. like i cannot stress to u enough about the cuda part of Sharkudablr . also posts sheng pengs deranged editorials sometimes <3

@matthewmaticallyeliminated <- sharks media poster. + sometimes photos u wont find on other socials !! really, really good at screencapping games. 10/10 great taste in caps, bangers all the time.

@tofumilanesa <- skating blog, sometimes scholarship, and sharks shitposter. been here a long time. wekky source (to ME) . every time we talk im scared ill embarrass myself <3

@knitpurlgoal <- sharksposting!! also textile arts. also been around a lot longer than me :) honestly everyones been around longer LMAO !!sometimes sends me pager alerts like im due for surgery when theres big news.

[hermitshell]

little out of the blue here but i just wanna say if you have trichotillomania, you aren't bad for it and it doesn't affect who you are as a person. you are wonderful and deserve many good things and there are other people out there like you

[apparently-artless]

●◉✿ BOKU NO KOKORO NO YABAI YATSU S02E07 ❀ KYOU & ANNA ✿◉●

↳ requested by Willow (@motto-chanto-itte)

[aether-weather]

haii i saw u wanted requests what about blaze and marine in silly outfits? :3c

hiya!! sorry it took me so long to answer this, art block hit me right in the middle of drawing this so if some parts look a bit wonky just ignore them (specifically marine's hands. please dont look at them i struggled so much ;-;)

i didnt exactly know what you meant by "silly outfits" so i kinda just drew them in outfits i thought were cool lol

this was super fun to draw though! i hope i did your request justice >:D

now never ask me to draw marine again /lhj

[averlym]

wow wow wow wow i came here to say it’s jane seymour’s deathday and saw that you have done so much improvement it’s crazy everything looks so lovely and amazing you’re doing great

~ holiday anon

quick portrait i did a while back. lovely reminder to see you again ily holiday anon

[causenessus]

NEVER MIND IM NOT THE OLD MAN ANY MORE ‼️RETREAT RETREAT‼️ I WOULDN’T SAY THAT‼️

also hi i luv u i hope u are safe and okay now

LAMOAOAAO IT'S OKAY MITCH HELLO <3 I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I AM GOOD THANK YOU!! I HAD NO IDEA HE WAS GOING TO TURN OUT THAT WAY (TO be fair if i drove to the library [where i was at] to drop off books and a random man started walking towards me i would also probably drive away [this is what happened, and then he was like "wow, go back to your pathetic little home, slut" and i just saw in my car like "dear god someone help me." do u like my parentheses within my parentheses!! i'm sorry this is a nightmare to read] but i digress bc i also told him he should go and he wouldn't leave and ik he meant the best for me but at that point i was getting the ick. so like. move away old man. thank u. /lh AND I DON'T FEEL BAD ABOUT SAYING THIS BC HE CALLED SOMEONE A SLUT)

AND IT'S OKAY BECAUSE!!! I ENVISION YOU AS THE LITTLE WHITE PENGUIN MY FRIEND HAS ON HIS REARVIEW MIRROR <3 THAT WAS U ON THE WAY TO SAVE THE DAY AND PROVIDE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT!! THIS IS YOU!! <33

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

do you like nanami? because i do.

nanami is the epitome of my life—my oxygen, the one that keeps me going. his words, his voice, his touch, his eyes; from his head to toe was what perfected him.

he was made with such details, such perfections, each stroke—each freckle, each pore, each crease on his skin was made with the intent of creating a man loved by all.

yes, loved by all. you love him, i love him, everyone MUST love him.

his voice; a mix of sultry and sweet, a combination like a fine sip of coffee seeping through one's tongue during an early morning. as the sun seeps through the curtains of the clouds, it brews deep into one's soul.

love nanami, our beautiful 50/50 firework, for a better life. #nanamikento'soneandonlywife

😭😭😭 least down bad nanami stan.

/LIGHTHEARTED BTWW i respect you so much anon. speak your truth!!!!!!! let them know!!!!!!!!!!! nanami is objectively the best jjk guy after suguru i think…… he would treat you so well. and his voice……. phewwwww . tsudaken the loml <33

I LOVE NANAMI he’s actually . the reason i got into jjk. 👉👈 he was my absolute favorite for a Long Time before i read the manga and everything and now :’3 he’s . well . not one of my Favorites but i love him lots!!!! i promise!!!!!! and i’m happy he has so many devoted stans <33333 nanami loves you so much anon. he told me!!!!!!!

[mythvoiced]

-. inbox call ♥

*leans back in chair, folds hands over tummy Grandpa Style again* my fingers are itching to bother you folks, but I don't want to jumpscare anyone, so pls leave a like comment & subscribe DROP ME A HEART as a green light to duck waddle into your inbox

[sxfterhearts]

omg chat why is writing kinda hard???

ok so this is a bit of an aside (warning: this post is long) but @348kg and i talked about this and honestly writing fanfics is a way for us to express ourselves creatively while using our idols as inspo for our work. and it’s fun most of the time.. but like honestly, 70-80% of the time, writing is hard. it’s not easy, like… it’s actually quite hard work.

and i know everyone has seen posts of like “pls reblog instead of just silently reading” or “pls like at least to show your appreciation” etc etc etc and ur probs sick of hearing it but like, it’s so true???

writing is honestly hard. and for most of us fanfic writers.. im sure you know but we have lives outside of our blogs. we are students, or we work normal jobs, we have life responsibilities, we have problems to deal with, and yet somewhere in between our busy lives we manage to find the time to sit down and create these pieces of writing for you, the reader, to read.

and tbh, i don’t really know where im going with this? i just want to let you know this: a typical 1-2k words one-shot probably takes me around 2-3 hours to write (on average, on a good day - sometimes longer or shorter). but it takes you maybe 10-15 mins, at most 30 mins to read depending on your reading speed. isn’t the time gap a little wild 🫠 on a typical work day, i get home from work at about 6, i cook myself dinner and eat, i shower and clean up, and if i know im writing that night, i make sure to clear my schedule (ie no overtime, no phone calls to friends or parents etc) and i sit on my laptop and write from about 10ish to about midnight. then i pause and i edit, and set things up to get ready post (think: pictures, title, word count, writing the warnings, summary, doing the tags) and by the time i post, it’s probably 1am.

i breathe a sigh of relief because it feels good! it feels really good to release my labour of love (literally) out into the world. and honestly, you know who you are, but those of you who constantly read and reblog my work, i see u!! (Alexa play i see u by p1harmony) and those who leave comments or reviews in the tags, i also see u (that’s why i like to reblog and respond to your tags too)!! it honestly brings me so much joy when someone comes and talks to me about something i wrote and how it made them feel. or even when someone recommends a fic i wrote. all these things that are so little and take so little of your time actually mean so much to me and im sure other writers as well.

and so i guess what im trying to say to everyone is: if you are a fic reader, if you read any fics, i just want you to know that the fic you loved reading took the writer a lot of resources to write (brain power, creativity and importantly time). i hope this gives u an insight into the process of a writer/writing a fic because im hoping it might help with whether or not you decide to hit that like or reblog or comment button in the near future!!

(also, i think it’s a shame that as writers sometimes we have to compromise on what we actually want to write vs what to write to get more engagement, likes, rbs etc. personally i have been writing on tumblr since 2020 on and off so ive been on here for four years now and i have a good sense of what is a good formula for a “successful” fic - usually it’s smut, usually it’s for the most popular member in terms of fic reading, and usually it’s of a certain length posted around a certain time etc etc. but i guess i don’t rly care anymore bc im a kinda old tumblr writer who isn’t bothered about the notes as much as i am just grateful for the little comments people send me saying that what i wrote made them feel seen or resonated with them. cos i think that is priceless 🥹)

PS. in no way am i complaining about the engagement or lack thereof that i personally get, nor am i complaining about the mere fact that writing is hard bc yes i am aware that i wanted to write in the first place and so it was my decision haha

[niallandtommo]

.

[jovenshires]

My dearest, darlingest Katie 🩷

First of all, I want to wish you a very happy birthday! 🥳I sincerely hope that you get to enjoy your day as stress- and cold-free as possible! 💚 And in general wish you many, many wonderful and pleasant days to come! 🫶

Now since you provide so well for us with your wonderful fanfics <3 I wanted to make sure that you got something as well, and therefore made you a little (emphasis on little) present!

And while I love your recent works so, so much! (and hope you know that through my comments 😹💕). I wanted to go back to the fanfic that made me fall in love with your writing in the first place! “The right side of my neck (still smells like you)” will always have a very special place in my heart, as one of the first fics to have read more than like 15+ times by now!  You have such a great skill for writing truly comfortable intimacy and so much more, ofc!

Hope you’ll like this <3 and take good care of yourself! 🤗💜

Love you literally so much!

Stella 🩵

STELLAAAAAA omg this means. SO MUCH to me you have no idea!!!! i love you, i am so glad we met through this lil community and became friends, this is gonna send me absolutely spiraling from now until forever. i ADORE you ty so so so much <3333333333

[andrewwtca]

did I do something right? the world is being kinder to me.

no, it's not being kinder. I've finally started accepting its kindness. I breath in the air and hold on to the good; and I keep the bad in my heart, to keep me human. I keep everything inside of me as a reminder that I'm real, I'm alive, I'm here.

I'm here, and the wind rushes as I run. I'm alive, and I stifle laughter from outrageous messages. I'm real, and I reach out - and people reach back. they're real, they're alive, they're here, and they've been calling out for me, for us.

I did do something right. I started loving myself a little bit more. the world is not kinder; I am.

thank you for your loving.