#and thank you for making Stranger Things Have Happened happen

[alice-everafter]

"Is the room to your liking?"

Riddle's tentative voice rings through the peaceful silence. He's stood like a stranger, unsure and hesitant in his crimson pajamas. Which is ironic given the fact that it’s his own room that the two of you are in. Really, that should be you standing around awkwardly. But instead here you were, sat on his king sized bed in similar pajamas without shame.

"Riddle," you don't have to fake the giddy grin as it stretches across your face painfully wide. "Any room is to my liking considering the shack I currently call home."

He gives you a concerned little smile in response. You couldn’t help it, you were excited to finally be able to sleep on a mattress that wasn’t lumpy. Or creaky. And or slightly moldy. The point being you’re excited to get some good sleep.

Riddle flicks off the lights and starts to settle into bed. You follow his lead, because if there is one thing Riddle Rosehearts can do is be a commanding presence even in satin pjs.

He turns on his side, staring at you from across a reasonable gap given the fact that you were currently sharing a bed. A really big one at that but a bed regardless.

And then continues to stare as a questionable silence occurs.

“Do you always go to bed this early?” You blurt out before you can think any better of it. The awkwardness was just asking to be broken.

“This is early?” Riddle’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “I’ve always gone to bed at this hour, even as a child.”

You can just vaguely make out the light of the still setting sun from the window behind you.

“Well, I mean, what time do you normally get up?”

“6 am.”

“Oh,” well. Maybe he’ll let you sleep in, enjoy the luxury of a non-lumpy bed while you still can.

“You seem apprehensive.” Riddle fiddles with the blanket in his hands where it rests right below his chin. You try and shoo the imagery of a small child being tucked in out of your brain.

Thank god his unique magic didn’t have to do with reading minds, otherwise you’d be thrown to the streets with a collar as a parting gift.

Speaking of collars and lack there of, today had marked a month since Riddle’s “big summer blowout” as you have codenamed it as. And what started as a “1 month of sobriety” joke by Ace turned into an actual celebration by Cater. So, naturally, you dragged yourself along and helped yourself to Trey’s mouthwatering pastries. But then one thing led to another and somehow you were roped into playing a Twisted Wonderland version of Monopoly that led to Grim melting all the plastic house pieces in a fit of firey tantrum to then being forced to fix them by Riddle in an impromptu magic lesson/lecture and—

Yeah, so a lot happened. And next thing you know, you’re being surveilled watched by Trey as you meticulously brush your teeth along to his direction… for some reason? Turns out Ace wasn’t spewing complete lies about Trey’s “fetish” for teeth. You wouldn’t call it that, personally. It was more like a… slightly uncomfortable passion.

But anyway, here you are. Sleeping over at Heartslabyul because Riddle had insisted you and Grim stay the night since by the time you had realized, it was past curfew. Though, surprisingly, Riddle insisted that you share his bed. And Grim, still more than a little apprehensive about the Dormhead, scampered off to sleep with the other freshmen. Cramped dorm rooms be damned.

“Prefect?”

You shake yourself from your thoughts, realizing you had left Riddle hanging for your answer.

“No, no. I’m just… difficult to get up in the morning.” You settle on saying, fiddling with the comforter much like Riddle was.

“Oh, well you can’t be worse than Ace. He’d sleep the entire day away if I allowed it.”

You can see that familiar spark of disapproval flare up behind his eyes and you instinctively tense up. Though as quick as it was there, it fizzles out. Reminding you that yes, this was Riddle, but not the same one that nearly decapitated you with a rose bush.

This is the one that you saw break down in tears on the Heartslabyul lawn after treating it like a playground sandbox. The one that nearly did it again—the crying part, not the sandbox bit—as he pulled you aside and apologized for nearly killing you.

You remind yourself that as you decide to take a small leap of faith with your next words.

“I was also sort of hoping to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Oh,” is all he says. Which isn’t terrible, but not exactly good either.

“Since, you know. It’ll be Sunday. And, you know, still the weekend so. Good to get caught up on sleep while you can… you know.”

He’s analyzing what you’ve said, you can tell by the way his eyes get wide and concentrated. Oh, he’s biting his lip now. That means he’s actually considering your thoughts. He’s thinking, he’s about to speak—

“Alright.”

“…Alright?”

“Yes, alright.” He seems to solidify his answer with a nod. “Let’s sleep in.”

Those words settle in your chest like the sweetest relief.

“Brilliant idea, Riddle!” You can feel the excitement as it grows in your chest. So much so you reach over and grasp his hand, shaking it in emphasis. “You won’t regret this, I tell you.”

“You’re acting like I’ve just done something revolutionary.” He titters, cheeks pink from the unexpected contact as you basically start shaking his hand like an eager businessman after a hard won deal.

“How many times have you slept in before?”

He opens his mouth to respond, ponders, and then slowly shuts it.

“See! So it's basically revolutionary. Why do you think we threw you a party?"

"Oh, and that's another thing." He seems to remember something at the mention of the party. "The fact that Ace and Cater kept congratulating me on my '1 month of sobriety' is pure nonsense. I've never had a lick of alcohol my whole life, so why would I be sober if I never got not sober to begin with?"

As he rambled, you could see his confusion slowly shifting towards indignance. His cheeks were beginning to flush, eyebrows knitting together. His fingers were clenching and unclenching in the sheets pulled over his body.

He looks at you now with pursed lips, bordering on pouty, waiting for a reply.

"...Well, it's a, um..." You stop yourself from saying joke. If you wanted Riddle to not possibly get offended, you'd need to overexplain as much as he can overthink. "It's supposed to be ironic. As in like, 'haha get it? Riddle would never get drunk and therefore sobriety makes no sense and therefore is funny!' kind of ironic."

You subconsciously ended up avoiding eye contact throughout your entire explanation. And also leaving out the comparison of his... "moments" with alcoholism, since you didn't think that would go over very well. So when you finish and decide to just bite the bullet and look, his expression is one of... disappointment?

"Oh," he says, simply and softly. "I see, I guess that... makes sense."

...Maybe you should explain the comparison. "If you need me to elaborate, I can."

"No," he quickly responds with a shake of the head. "That won't be necessary. Your explanation was more than enough."

His eyes are trained on a loose piece of thread near the edge of his pillow yet it's like he's staring straight through it.

"Is there... something else then that's on your mind?"

"I guess I am just... realizing a few things about myself. Especially in regards to these past few months. All those times when I overheard a student comment that I 'couldn't take a joke' were, in essence, correct."

"What?" Talk about a topic shift. "Wait, hold on a second, where did this come from?"

"From just now, actually." He begins picking at the thread he's been zoning out on. "I mean, you saw me. I almost talked myself into a tizzy over, what? A harmless phrase that had no intention of demeaning my character? That ended up turning into a party meant to congratulate me?"

"Well, I mean, there is an underlying comparison between your 'tizzy' moments and alcoholism so—"

"Ace was right."

You blink, momentarily wondering if the person laying across from you is actually Riddle or not.

"How?" You don't bother with hiding your incredulousness, too confused to sugarcoat.

"When he said that everyone around me only panders to my behavior." He huffs, a small humorless laugh filled with self deprecation. "I, all that time, was just silencing thoughts and behavior that I viewed as wrong even though it would've been right. It's no wonder some of the freshman are still hesitant with me. Why it feels like everyone is walking around eggshells when they talk to me."

"Even you, Prefect." He looks... small, truly like a child. Curled into himself like he wishes to disappear from sight. Blinking rapidly like he's trying not to cry. "Even you do it. You let me do what I want, you're never 100% honest with me, and you justify my responses. Like just now."

You open your mouth to rebuttal, but he shakes his head, smiling sadly.

"Don't bother, I can give you examples. Asking me if we could sleep in, expecting me to disagree. Only half explaining the meaning to me since it'd be directly referencing my anger. Which you have yet to actually name for what it is, not once."

You... hadn't even realized you were doing that. It was all just, natural. Instinctive.

"I can... I'm not the most perceptive but, I can tell when you tense up, Prefect."

He meets your gaze, and that's when you process the tension in your shoulders. You had been tensing them, for who knows how long.

"I don't blame you," he speaks before you can begin to try and say anything in response. "Not after everything I did, not after I overblotted and nearly got us all killed."

He looks defeated as he turns over to lie on his back, staring up at the canopy of his bed.

"Ace and all of them were right, I'm just a baby tyrant."

The two of you lapse into silence, you with nothing to say and him having said it all. You don't know how long you stare at his profile for, just scraping the recesses of your brain for the words to say. But eventually, you decide "fuck it" and just let him have it. Like he deserves.

"So you're a bit of a control freak." His head snaps to you but you force yourself to ignore it, barreling onwards. "Scratch that, you ARE a control freak. Can you blame yourself? What with that shitty mom you have, I'd be surprised if you didn't turn out some form of fucked up."

"My mother is—"

"Nope," you abruptly hold a finger up right to his face. "None of that, I'm talking. You want the truth so I'm giving you the truth. Your mom sucks, severely. She basically made you into the baby tyrant that you are. And we, as friends and as your dormmates, have perpetuated that attitude. Thereby continuing the cycle of tyranny until when someone eventually called you out on it, you exploded."

All that momentary fight dies out the more you went on. Every new statement was like a lash across his face. Now he refuses to look at you, too disappointed to meet your gaze. Eyes glossy with unshed tears.

You cross the invisible wall between you two and reach out, grabbing his hand once again in yours.

"But that doesn't mean you can't change." You squeeze his hand, whether to reassure yourself or him is beyond even you. "The fact that you're acknowledging your behavior is proof enough that you're on your way to fixing it. But even then, healing isn't linear. If you take a few steps back, just get back on it again. It's going to be a while but there's nothing you can do about that except let it happen and be patient. Don't let every reminder of your faults be a dissuasion, let it be a motivator to keep going."

You take a moment to breathe, but also to gauge his reaction. Wide eyed and staring at you in wonderment, Riddle lays unmoving. Nothing but the dim impression of street lights outside to illuminate his form in the darkness of his bedroom. Looking at you and only you.

"I'll do better," you tell him, resolute. "I'll hold you accountable. I'll remind myself more to say what I mean, or even call you out on your shit if I need to. And if not me then someone else will, especially Ace. Consequences be damned with him."

He's lying once more on his side, mirroring you like before. His fingers have since found their place around your hand, holding it in kind. His grip tightens with the lull in your speech. You don't know whether it was intentionally or not but it's enough to encourage you to let that last little thought out.

"And for what it's worth, I think you're doing as good a job as any, Riddle."

Silence settles in, him with nothing to say and you having said it all. Well, almost having said it all.

"So," you pipe up before those tears you can see in his eyes decide to fall. "I think this call for a concluding hug, what do you say?"

So, so many emotions fly across his face as you hold open your arms as best you can while lying on a bed. Eventually, what he settles on doing is laughing. Watery and in disbelief, Riddle laughs and leans forwards into your arms.

"Honestly," he chides without an ounce of real intent as he presses his face into your shoulder. "That's how you decide to end your thoughts?"

"I don't see you doing any better, Mr. 'I'm just a baby tyrant.'"

A month ago, that response would've gotten you a one way ticket to collar town. But tonight, he only laughs and holds you tighter.

"Touché, Prefect." He leans back enough that you're able to watch as a smile spreads across his face, unabashed and bright like the sun.

It's one of the firsts of its kind that you've ever seen on his face. You hope you can keep producing more just like it.

[runninriot]

A Christmas Wish Come True

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 25

prompt: Christmas | rated: G | wc: 1.000 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, found family, strangers to lovers

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+ bonus epilogue)

“So, wanna tell me about your little side gig as grandpa, Wayne?”

It was meant as a joke but his voice sounds angrier than he intended and it makes Eddie instantly feel bad.

   “I’m sorry. It’s just- why haven’t you told me?”

   “Look, that kid, Robbie, she only has her dad. And Steve is doing his best raising her all alone but- you know how me met? I’d just gotten off work, drove by his house and saw him sitting there on the front porch, looking like he was two seconds away from a mental breakdown. That man was a mess and he needed someone to take him by the hand. So, I reached out mine and he took it.”

He scrubs a hand over his chin, a habit he always has when he’s deep in thoughts.

   “I wanted to tell ya, I just didn’t find the right moment. And I was a little worried you’d have a problem with it. I know you had a thing for that boy back in high school and I didn’t know if you guys had ever been... close, so-“

   “No, no! Back up, Wayne. What?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in shock. It’s not like he ever had to hide the fact that he likes guys – Wayne always knew, always accepted Eddie for all he is. But never, not once, did he mention his stupid infatuation with Steve. There’s no fucking way his uncle knew.

   “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Every single piece of paper lying around your mess of a room had a little heart with Steve’s name on it.”

    Oh, right.

   “Okay, I give you that but why would you think we’ve been like, together? Even you must see how ridiculous that is. Have you looked at the man?”

Eddie bites his tongue before he says something like ‘He’s way too perfect to be with someone like me’. Wayne doesn’t need to know that he’s still got heart eyes for Steve and he already said too much.

   “Yeah, I saw. I also heard how he talked about you. How he got all soft when he talked about all the mischief you were up to in high school. That cost me all my hair by the way, so thanks for that.”

Wayne laughs and Eddie would too, if he wasn’t so confused right now.

   “Whether you knew it or not, that boy liked you. And seeing you two today, I’m pretty sure you still have that in common. You are both so bad at hiding it.”

Their conversation did not mess Eddie up. It didn't, okay? And he's definitely not nervous when he opens the door for Steve and Robbie to come in, right on time for Christmas dinner.

It doesn't make him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin when Steve takes the seat next to him, so close their knees occasionally touch.

And it doesn't cause a full-body shiver when their hands accidentally brush while reaching for the same bread.

It's fine. Everything is fine. Wayne doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing between them. No sparks, no fire, no longing glances. They’re just two small families celebrating Christmas together. Nothing more.

That's why, when Eddie excuses himself to have a smoke outside after dinner, and Steve follows him, he doesn't think much of it.

But of course, reality always comes crashing in. And when Steve huddles closer, stands right next to him, sharing his cigarette like that’s normal, Eddie can’t take it anymore.

   “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, trying hard to control the tremble in his voice.

   “Wayne thought you and I were, you know, a thing in high school. That’s why he didn’t tell me about meeting you.”

Eddie laughs but it sounds fake, and for a long moment, all Steve does is look at him, eyes piercing like they’re trying to see into Eddie’s soul.

   “Mhm, very funny,” he then says but doesn't sound amused at all.

   “No, it really is, because I had the biggest crush on you back then."

Eddie swallows, looks, waits. Doesn't know what for because it feels like anything could happen.

   "Had?" It almost sounds like a tease but Eddie can sense that Steve's nervous.

   "Would it be bad if it was still true?" Eddie asks, unsure of where this is going.

   "Depends.” Steve answers, a tentative smile on his lips, “Would it be bad if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Eddie isn't sure if he's still breathing and if his heart's still beating because the world is spinning too fast and-

His lips are on Steve's, testing, pressing, and there are hands in his hair, and the night becomes day, and everything feels right, feels good, feels like something finally clicks into place.

They kiss until their lungs hurt, kiss some more after a giggle fit. Kiss again until the door opens and Robbie is standing before them with wide eyes.

   "Oh, sh-oot! Hey, baby! Sorry, Eddie and I were just-"

   "Thank you, Santa!" Robbie yells against the sky and Eddie's heart explodes.

The worry on Steve's face makes way for confusion and Eddie feels bad for cheating because contrary to Steve, he's in on Robbie's secret.

   "Grandpa Wayne said to tell you we're having hot chocolate and cookies for dessert."

   "We'll be right there," Eddie answers for Steve, who still seems a little frozen in place.

Once the door closes behind her, Steve releases a shaky breath.

   "That- did not go like I thought it would."

For a moment, Eddie worries Steve's going to take it back. That the shock broke him out of whatever spell he was under.

But Steve kisses him again, before taking his hand to lead them back inside, where Wayne greets them with a smug smile. Eddie can practically hear the 'I told you so' but that's okay.

He's happy Wayne was right.

Happy that a little girl's wish aligned so perfectly with his own.

A Christmas wish come true.

[namism]

Request: Heyyy!

I saw that you were requesting some fics, I was wondering if you could do a Trafalagr Law fic where Y/n or You has a flavored lipgloss gloss (any flavor), you could take it any direction you want!

Thank you and have a nice holiday!! ❤️

citrus | trafalgar d. law

➳ categories: canonverse, gender neutral reader, established relationship

➳ warnings: slight nsfw (detailed kissing)

➳ word count: 1.1k

➳ summary: Law isn't a fan of your flavored lipsticks and glosses when he tastes the flavor of Japanese plums, but you think you just found an alternative.

➳ notes: thanks for the request! ❤️ law canonically doesn't like umeboshi (pickled japanese plums), but for the sake of the fic, i made him a fruit hater ☠️ happy holidays, everyone!

➳ cross-posted on ao3

Before you began dating Law, you didn't expect him to be the many things that he currently is to you. To start, Law presents himself differently in front of many people that his attitude in dealings pretty much boils down to who he's talking to. As once a stranger to his crew, you saw a side of Law that was meant for business, a side of him so serious and monotonous that over time, became bothersome to deal with.

Yet you persisted through his seemingly dull personality until one piece fit into the other and you decided to date.

A relationship so sweet yet so unexpected, you learned many things about Law that he never would have thought of telling you, things about him that he always kept secret, locked inside his heart or his thoughts. Things that he could only say to his closest friends, others only for the ears of his lover.

That is to say, before you began dating Law, you didn't expect him to be a kisser.

He kisses you all the time, but the depth and length of his kisses vary. On some days, he would peck your lips. On others, he would peck your cheek. On most days, he would take his time kissing your lips. He can't help it—he scored a goal by dating you, and it gives him the peace of mind that he's the only one who can kiss you the way he does.

As much as he loves kissing you, however, there is one thing that deters him from doing so on rare occasions.

Your lipgloss.

He can explain—he generally has no problem with you and your cosmetics, secretly even liking it when you kiss him on the cheek and your lipstick leaves a faint mark on his tan skin, but he does have a problem when he kisses your glossed lips and tastes the faint flavor of fruit, some of them which he likes, some not so much. You love wearing different pigments on your lips, different products and brands that make your face look much more colorful, more full, so you often rotate among your collection of lipsticks and glosses, each one surprising your boyfriend whenever you greet him with a sweet and colorful kiss.

Law loves that you feel beautiful in your own skin to wear all of the makeup that you do, but he has a great distaste for some of your lip products. The flavored ones, to be exact. He's not a big fan of fruit (ironic, he knows, since he's literally a doctor), so he freezes up whenever he kisses you and tastes the flavor on your lips. You always make sure to tease him whenever he does so, calling him a big baby for not liking the taste.

"Oh? What's with the long face?" You once picked on your boyfriend as his lips flattened into a tight line after a short kiss. Law usually smiled afterward.

"You taste like plum," he said. Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Sad about it, are we? You hate my lipgloss?"

"It reminds me of that pickled snack Bepo eats." He shrugged, a chill running down his spine upon remembering the taste of Bepo's strange snack. Umeboshi, Bepo called it. Law could never get past its sour and salty flavor.

From that day onward, you would dodge Law's kisses whenever you happen to be wearing the ume-flavored gloss on your lips, often choosing to send a flying kiss toward his way as an alternative. When you visit Sabaody Archipelago, however, an idea comes to mind.

With the Polar Tang docked somewhere in the outer groves, you bid them goodbye as you make your way to Grove 30 for the island's shopping mall, where you stumble upon a vast selection of cosmetics. Eyes shining brightly, you indulge yourself in retail therapy as you blow your money out on the finest products you could find. When you walk past a stall vending a particular item, you halt in your tracks and come running back.

A lady sits behind the stand, her features telling of her youthful age. She smiles as you point at the array of lipgloss on the table, and urges you to swatch them out on your hand.

"That one's flavored," she says matter-of-factly as you hold a yellow tube in one hand. You read the printed label. Lemon.

"Do you have anything else?" you ask.

"I've got a lot to show you!"

As the lady disappears under the stand to rack for the new line of glosses, a smirk forms on your lips, the pit of your stomach turning in excitement.

When you come back to the Polar Tang, your excitement is apparent to your crewmates who wonder where you've been. You provide them with a giggle in response before you skip happily to your Captain's quarters.

You knock on the door. Law grants you entry a few seconds later.

"Miss me?" you tease him as he steps aside to let you in. You drop your bags to the ground, while he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Where have you been?" he asks.

"Just went shopping, like I told you."

He shrugs. He doesn't think much of it, assuming that you just had a few hours of fun to yourself before you set sail again. His hands drop to the side when you approach him for a kiss, your hands gliding across his chest before encircling his neck.

Before you can kiss him, however, he stops you abruptly.

"I smell something," he notes. He sniffs the air and looks at you questioningly. "It smells good."

You bite down on your lip discreetly to keep yourself from laughing. "How does it smell?"

"Like citrus," he answers. "Is that... you?"

Standing on your tippy toes, you move your face closer to his.

"Find out for yourself."

Law leans into you when you successfully catch his lips, his eyebrows jumping upon tasting yours. He notes the citrus flavor that he detected just a few seconds ago and almost scoffs at your little ruse. Expecting him to pull away, you sigh in relief when he leans further down to deepen the kiss, his hands coming to rest on the small of your back.

Law tugs on your upper lip slowly, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. He swipes his tongue on your lower lip to taste the flavor of lemon, and repeats it so often until you're losing your breath.

Pushing away, you gasp for air.

"So? Do you hate it?" you ask breathlessly.

"No, I'm into it," he mumbles, pulling you in closer. "Another one, please."

The pit of your stomach stirs in need as he holds you intimately close. You peck his lips and pull him to the other side of his quarters, laughing to yourself at the turn of events.

You guess you just found your default lip combo. Law liked it more than expected, after all.

[castdust]

under the mistletoe.

✩ pairing : manon bannerman x annoyed!reader

✩ about : going to a party and just sitting alone was just the goal for tonight’s party, but kissing someone wasn’t really your destined plan for tonight.

✩ genre : fluff

✩ a/n : this shit be cute asf | 993 words

♫ playing : mistletoe by justin bieber

It was one of those parties that Y/N didn’t really want to go to but found herself attending anyway. The kind of party where laughter echoed through the room, and strangers brushed past each other with quick smiles. Y/N glanced around the living room, lit with warm yellow string lights and adorned with ornaments that shimmered under the soft glow. The scent of pine mixed with the aroma of freshly baked cookies, and the muffled sound of a cheesy Christmas playlist filled the space.

She nursed a glass of eggnog and found a corner to retreat to. Being surrounded by unfamiliar faces wasn’t her ideal way of spending Christmas, but with her family miles away, it beat sitting alone in her apartment, scrolling through social media and feeling sorry for herself.

And then, Manon happened.

“Hey! You’re the quiet one, right?”

Y/N blinked, looking up to see a girl with long haired curls bouncing as she approached. She had a bright smile that somehow made her look both approachable and intimidating. She wore a red sweater with a cartoon reindeer and had a plate of cookies in one hand.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Y/N sipped her eggnog, hoping it would signal she wasn’t in the mood for a conversation.

Manon didn’t get the memo. She plopped herself onto the armrest of the couch Y/N was sitting on, nibbling a sugar cookie.

“I’ve seen you at this party every year,” Manon said, leaning closer. “Why do I always see you here? You never talk to anyone, and you’re always just… there.”

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Y/N said, her tone blunt. She immediately felt guilty, seeing Manon’s smile falter for a split second.

But then Manon’s grin returned, wider this time. “Well, then! Good thing you came! I’m Manon, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she replied hesitantly.

“Y/N,” Manon repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “Cute. Anyway, since you’re here, why not make the most of it? You should mingle! Or at least try one of these cookies. They’re amazing.” She held the plate out to Y/N.

Y/N shook her head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Manon didn’t seem fazed. “Suit yourself. So, what do you do, Y/N? Like, for work. Or fun. Or life.”

Y/N sighed internally.

This girl talked too much.

“I’m a graphic designer,” she said, keeping her answer short.

Manon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! Do you make logos and stuff? Or is it like posters? My cousin’s friend is a graphic designer, and she—”

Y/N tuned out after the first sentence. Manon was still talking, her words flowing like an endless stream, and Y/N found herself growing increasingly irritated. Why did people feel the need to fill every silence with chatter?

“…and that’s how I accidentally set my toaster on fire last month,” Manon finished, laughing at her own story.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Never mind,” Manon said, waving it off. “The point is, you should come out of your little corner and actually enjoy the party. Life’s too short to sulk, especially on Christmas.”

“I’m not sulking,” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms.

“Sure you’re not,” Manon teased, nudging her playfully.

Before Y/N could respond, a new voice interrupted them.

“Well, well, look who’s finally socializing!”

Both girls turned to see Lara, the party host, walking over with a knowing smirk. Lara was tall, with sleek black hair and an effortless elegance that made her the center of attention in any room.

“Y/N, you’re talking to someone?” Lara teased. “This is a Christmas miracle!”

“Ha, ha,” Y/N deadpanned.

“Don’t give her too much credit,” Manon said with a grin. “I’m the one doing all the talking.”

“Of course you are,” Lara said, rolling her eyes fondly. Then she pointed upward. “By the way, you two know you’re standing under the mistletoe, right?”

Y/N froze. Her eyes darted up, and sure enough, there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorway above them.

“Oh,” Manon said, blinking. Her grin turned sly. “Well, you know the tradition.”

“Nope,” Y/N said immediately, stepping back.

“Oh, come on!” Manon said, laughing. “It’s bad luck to ignore it!”

“That’s not a real thing,” Y/N said, her cheeks burning.

“Actually, it is,” Lara chimed in, her smirk widening. “You don’t want to tempt fate, do you?”

Y/N glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

Manon stepped closer, her playful expression softening. “Relax, it’s just a kiss. We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

For some reason, that made Y/N pause. Manon was annoying, sure, but there was a kindness in her eyes now that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, looking anywhere but at Manon. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Manon’s smile returned, and it was somehow both mischievous and gentle. “Alright, then. Come here.”

Before Y/N could overthink it, Manon leaned in. Their lips met in a soft, fleeting kiss, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background. Y/N’s heart raced, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, she felt… warm.

When they pulled apart, Manon grinned. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Y/N’s face was on fire. “Whatever.”

Lara burst out laughing. “You two are adorable. I’m gonna leave you to it.” She winked and walked away, leaving Y/N and Manon alone.

There was a brief, awkward silence before Manon spoke again.

“So… you wanna grab some cookies and keep talking? Or was that kiss too much excitement for one night?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. But no more weird stories about your toaster.”

Manon laughed, a bright, genuine sound that made Y/N’s chest feel lighter. “Deal. Let’s go.”

And just like that, the night didn’t seem so bad anymore.

[genderqueerdykes]

Just a rant about some things I have been seeing for a while now on some videos.

Basically the videos I'm referring to usually have something to with LGBTQ+ (Mostly TQ+) and then when I go to the comments I see something like this,

'I'm a gay/bi/lesbian and I don't really care about the TQ+ side and because of (random thing that really isn't an issue like pronouns) this is why the LGB is divorcing the TQ+ side day by day."

It really just annoys me how people can be acting like this to their own community. They make it sound as the TQ+ is the 'louder minority' as so they put it they are less normal than them the other people that a part of this community.

It really just annoys me, with the way they say 'The LGB side should divorce the TQ+ side because they're weird and making us look even stranger than we already are!' Like buddy, I have actually seen those stuff twice, one when I was a homophobe and the second one when I realized I was multigender and cupiromantic/demisexual.

And let me honest, my first reaction to those comments the first time were literally, 'Oh hush, you all still weird as fuck with or without the TQ+". Because seriously, no bigot sees any difference between the casual gay person and trans person. All still abominations in their eyes, talking from my point of view before I stopped being homophobic.

Plus, they are all meant to correlate?? Like you can be trans masc and be gay. You can be a nonbinary lesbian. So people who say the stuff genuinely confused me as I myself is a gay multigender who also so happens to be trans.

It really just hurts how some people don't understand we need to stick together.

yeah i've literally never understood this logic either ??? thanks for coming to point that out, i've been thinking about this a lot lately. like when i see "lgb without the t" my brain just goes ??? because it just makes literally no sense

like why on earth do some people think the queer community "belongs" to cis perisex lesbians, gays and (sometimes, not always) biexuals, and that they're just "lending space" to trans people, intersex people, other queer people, questioning people and so on. i've literallly never understood the logic that cis perisex gays, lesbians and bisexuals are the "real" community, and then everyone else is toxic weirdos trying to "invade" their community. where did they get this from, because it's not historically accurate at all

it's disturbing that this is about controlling the queer community to folks who say "lgb witout the t(q+)". nobody should be in control of the community. we all share it together. equally

trans people have been fighting for queer rights alongside cis queers since the beginning. genderqueer, gnc, genderfluid, agender, multigender and intersex queers have been standing right beside cis queers at marches and rallies. trans people have been writing about homophobia, lesbophobia, biphobia and intersexism alongside the cis queers in modern queer history. why do people think they need to erase that? why would you erase progress for the sake of being petty??

its wild as hell that people genuinely think like this, i agree, it's one of the most unhinged takes i've seen in the longest time. like imagine if us trannies said "gbtqi+ without the L" literally all hell would break loose. tumblr's servers would crash from the monstrous level of backlash people would be facing. you'd be shot dead in the water. but for some reason, it's perfectly okay when you slice off a huge, very important chunk of the community because some people are uncomfy with not being able to tell what genitals a stranger has. it's so petty

i hope people who think this way get past it soon. it's dumb. like you said, queerphobes see us all as gross nasty freaks. it doesn't matter what you identify as. the thing nobody fails to realize:

the queerphobe can't tell what you actually identify as.

let that sink in.

they are guessing. they can't read your mind. even if your pin says "I'm a genderfluid trans neutral butch!" that does not mean a queerphobe knows what the fuck that means. queerphobes see: dyke, faggot, tranny: one of them queers. that's all they see. that's it. they don't know what anything else is. it's not trans' peoples faults that they see us as dykes and faggots, so how is it trans people's faults that other people get slurs hurled at them? it's not. they hate you for being queer. that's. it.

blaming trans people for other queer people's oppression will never make sense. thanks for stopping by! take care. this shit pisses me off too, i'm glad it's not just me

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

Fresh Snow and Twinkling Lights

Zhongli x Reader / SFW / Reverse Isekai / Ending is up to interpretation / I'm a slowpoke so this is late T_T

You had left the login screen of the game open on the monitor of your computer. A sudden sound downstairs distracted you, forcing you to leave your bedroom to investigate. You never found out what the sound was, but when you returned, you froze in your doorway. The initial shock and confusion eventually wore off. If this was simply a dream, then so be it, you thought. It wasn't everyday that you get to dream about him. "The way the streets are decorated reminds me of Liyue Harbor during Lantern Rite. It's quite a beautiful sight." Zhongli remarks as the two of you take a stroll around the block. "Are you perhaps celebrating something?"

You jumped at the opportunity to tell him about the holiday that has the whole city decked out with multicolored lights, tinsel garlands, and ornamented trees. In the game, it was always Zhongli spewing stories and random trivia about every little thing you passed by. You finally had the chance to introduce him to traditions and history that he had never seen or heard of before. Along the way, you insisted on purchasing a little gem-encrusted brooch for him. He stood still while you fastened it to his lapel for him. Of course, you also filled him in on the tradition of gift-giving on Christmas as well. He listened intently to your every word, etching it carefully into his memories. "This is hot chocolate." You handed him his cup as soon as the street-side vendor had placed it on the counter.

"I can see why you enjoy this in the winter." He remarked after trying the drink. "The sweetness of the chocolate coupled with the frothy whipped cream makes for a comforting sip."

"Mines is eggnog. Do you want a taste?" You offered, holding out your cup to him.

He eyed the straw your lips had been wrapped around just a moment ago. You did not appear to mind, so he took the eggnog from your hand, giving it a try. Unlike the hot chocolate, this drink was chilled, creamy, and rich. There was a hint of alcohol in it as well.

"This one is also quite good." He smiled appreciatively.

"This is the best Christmas gift I could ask for. Thank you Zhongli." You said with a fond smile on your lips as the two of you walked along the lighted path. A Christmas date with your favorite character, even if it was just for a few hours, was enough for you to reminisce over for a good while. You just hoped you wouldn't forget everything that happened as soon as you wake up from this dream.

"You give me unearned credit, dear. Though now that you mention it, I may indeed have something I can gift you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flower.

It's delicate golden petals appeared to be sculped from a smooth stone. You immediately recognized it to be the Flower of Creviced Cliff, part of the Archaic Petra artifact set that you had spent weeks farming at the Guyun Stone Forest for. It felt strange, holding something from the game in the palm of your hands.

"I'll cherish it." You assured him.

This gift would disappear like morning dew, but at least you would always remember how it felt in your hands. You would also remember the feel of his hands against yours as the two of you walked side by side under the string light canopy as snowflakes fluttered to the ground around you. Zhongli had taken off one of his gloves and given it to you to wear on the hand he was not holding. All around you were strangers, but he was the only one in your eyes.

"Wait, Zhongli!" You tugged his hand.

He followed your eyes up to the curious bundle of leaves and little red berries overhead. Before he could ask you what it was, you spoke up.

"Can you close your eyes for me?"

He chuckled, taking notice of the nervous flush on your face. "Sure."

You took a step towards him, heart racing as you lifted your heel off the ground. If this was all just an indulgent dream, then surely he wouldn't mind fulfilling this little wish of yours too, right? Your lips pressed against his. As soon as he felt the touch, his eyelids fluttered open. You could hear Zhongli draw in a startled breath, but what happened next exceeded your boldest imagination. His arms circled around your waist and brought you closer. The timid ministrations of your lips against his was emboldened by his reciprocation. He held you gingerly in his arms, like the precious gift you were. Ever since he had met you, he had wondered what kind of soul was behind those starlight eyes. Now that he had truly met you, he would never allow himself to forget this magical night.

"Now will you enlighten me on the reason you've decided to kiss me?" Zhongli asks you, a gentle but obviously amused smile on his lips.

"There's a tradition..." You began explaining. Heat blossomed over your cheeks yet again. "Two people standing under a mistletoe have to kiss."

"So you wouldn't have done so if not for that plant hanging above our heads?" He asked you, although he already knew the answer.

"No! I wouldn't mind kissing you even if it wasn't there." You said all in one breath.

"I see..." He stroked his chin in contemplation. "I suppose I would not mind it either."

"You what?" It was your turn to be speechless. Even if you knew this was all just a dream, it still managed to feel unreal.

"We should head back." He simply said, reaching out to catch a handful of snowflakes. "Liyue does not experience such frigid weather. It's beautiful to behold, fresh snow and twinkling lights. Nevertheless, I would hate for you to catch a cold."

You return to your home. Your eyes drifted over to the clock on the wall. Zhongli sat on your bed, thumbing through a photo album of yours as you took a shower. When you stepped out of the bathroom, changed into a comfortable pair of pajamas, all trace of the man who had been keeping you company all evening had disappeared. Your heart fell, but it was nothing unexpected.

The fans on your computer hummed softly, indicating that it was still on. You had forgotten to shut it down before leaving the house. With a yawn, you woke up the monitor. There was Genshin, looping endlessly through the login screen, a familiar door at the center. You clicked into it.

As soon as the white screen cleared, you could see the familiar backside of Zhongli. It was expected. He was your favorite character so it was natural that you parked the game while he was the active character. You still had one daily to finish before you could log off again. Another yawn escaped you as you finished the simple task, teleporting back to the wayport closest to Katheryne. Just as you were about to exit out of the game, a glint on Zhongli's lapel caught your eye. Your heart skipped a beat. No, it can't be. You had to rub your eyes to make sure you weren't hallucinating.

There, on his lapel, was the pin you had gifted him hours ago. You had fastened it to his lapel with your own hands.

You refused to blink, afraid that the pixels your eyes were seeing would disappear the moment your eyelids closed. Maybe you had too much eggnog earlier. Or you had to still be in a dream somehow. Right, none of this had actually happened. It was time to go to sleep. You would turn on the computer and open the game as soon as you woke up in the morning. Surely everything would just go back to normal.

[thecoffeelorian]

The Anomaly Series, Chapter 3: The Quest (Jod Na Nawood x Reader)

A/N: ...Yes, this story is now, OFFICIALLY, canon divergent. Ya know, because I don't condone/endorse violence against children, and any other disclaimers I need to put here.

Also, there are three literal episodes left, so pardon me if I'm still holding out for Jod and Neel eventually twinning in their clothing choices in canon. 'Nuff said.

Chapter Title: The Quest

Genre: Drama/Romance; Slow Burn; Obvious Canon Divergence.

Word Count: 1,698 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: As I'm not yet sure how I even begin to breach the topic of child abuse here...let's just do the safe thing and label this as 'Spoilers up to Episode 4'. Thank you.

No Pressure Tags:

@chenoa-devyn-blog @not-approvedtrash @lulalovez @deepestballoonllama-fandoms @papa-poutine

@xbeyondthegatex @bridge-always @loverdjudeforever @kucharka23 @khaleesihavilliard

@xitlalli2001 @braveincafleet @amawu23 @gun-roswell @bruceewayne

@shirley-girly @cloudofpinkicecream @lokigirlszendaya @valdasha @aemondvelaryon

@carry-on-wayward-daughter @pantasticalcat @robin-hyperfixates @down-down-by-the-river @sydneyann623

@brookeandherfandoms @kazunish @redermraven @ladyofthelakee @nightlordsvengence

@tarboo13 and anybody else who wonders what romance would look like for this hot mess of a man. :D

I’m a person who needs your help…

As of ten seconds ago, every other thought that had once been safe inside your mind feels as though they’ve all flown away, and so not left much else behind them save for one of the few thoughts that remains.

You’re officially involved.

There’s no other way around it now, because you’re feeling it too deep in your consciousness to turn back. You’re involved in this stranger’s case, and it’s going to take nothing less than a little Reclamation of your own to knock you off this path, and—despite all of your previous attempts to calm down, there’s some of the old adrenaline starting to course back into your body.

My help…? What kind of help do you need?

This rush makes you just a tiny bit lightheaded as you wait for Jack’s response, not knowing if he’s about to try and sweet-talk you into arranging a jailbreak or not. That was THE one thing that the Reclamation Committee had been worried about, and so, even if he let loose with a mountain of ‘Sweethearts’, odds already were that you would have to turn him down due to your ingrained obedience to the Law.

The same Law that, unfortunately, has spirited him out of your reach and out of your sight.

Something that I doubt my jailers want anything to do with.

And why is that?

They’re the ones who just robbed me.

Not that you’ll necessarily have to, maybe, because he hasn’t brought it up yet…but then again, he could always try to trick you up by slipping some kind of missing key or lockpick into the mix. Judging by how the security droids were more than happy to keep their weapons trained upon him, anything is possible here.

I’m sorry.

No need to apologize to me, sweetheart. You’re not the one who did this.

But I am the one you want to help fix it...right?

That depends. How good are you at finding lost things?

That’s one thought you have to keep fresh and safe inside your mind no matter what, along with eventually refusing him in that sense if it should happen.

In the meantime, though, you’re adding a second page to this new file of yours, as you have a slight feeling that you might certainly need it later.

Well…I once found my best friend’s missing keychain back in school.

That must have been a while ago, though. What about recently?

That depends on where you’re going with this. What’s so important that you need my assistance?

Fine. They took all my belongings away before they locked me up. Happy now?

Another thought that you’re unfortunately blessed with, though, is the image of Crimson Jack being attacked by two prison droids. The first never thinks twice about administering a few short electric shocks; the second strips him clean of any and all weapons or tools; and then finally, both of them turn and tilt their heads to each other in a gesture of smug triumph.

More like slightly flustered, but thank you—

—‘Flustered’?

It’s what happens when a person’s annoyed, confused, or both. Continue.

All right…

This is one thought you don’t want to fixate on too strongly, because you already have a feeling that you might end up worrying yourself sick if you don’t pull yourself together first. No, it’ll be better for the both of you if you have work like this to focus on instead, and for this reason, you add a third page.

…First item, a blaster pistol of my own making, about twenty-five years old with a slim wooden handle. Second item—

—Wait, what’s a blaster?

You’ve never seen a blaster before?

I’ve never seen a war before. Care to describe it?

There’s a small pause between writing, almost as though he’s stopping to think or else let out a sigh of frustration—then your next set of directions comes.

All right, look. I don’t want to take all day, and I’m guessing you have plans, so let’s keep it simple. Put your hand flat out in front of you.

As for you, you’re left raising both eyebrows before doing as you’re asked, though not without feeling just a little bit silly.

Now, take the last two fingers on whatever hand you’ve picked, and curl them in towards you.

Another curious direction, to be sure…yet you obey that one as well.

And finally, once you’re ready, raise your remaining three fingers up and act like you’re shooting the wall.

Once you’ve fully caught on to this particular mental image, however, that’s when you almost drop your writing equipment out of shock.

…Heck.

Nasty thing, isn’t it?

Wow, you think?!

Try spending twenty years with one of those aimed at you, and you’ll get what war is.

Whatever you say, CJ…

You let out an annoyed huff of your own before adding a fourth page to your document, somewhat feeling as though you might cut this conversation off if it gets too—well, wild. As someone who still knows precious little about the one you’re writing to, you certainly count this idea as a possibility.

…Any other weapons I need to know about?

‘CJ’?

Those are your initials, silly. Think of it like a nickname if that’s easier.

Hm…

Another small pause. He seems to be taking his time figuring out what to make of you as well, or so the slow pacing of this ‘meeting’ suggests to you.

…Anyways. As I was saying, second item, fairly unused Lightsaber as I prefer the blaster.

I suppose that's like a knife?

If you want to make comparisons, yes. It's got a thin, metallic hilt and so far, it's powered by a green colored stone somewhere in there.

Right...thin hilt, green stone. What else?

Brown jacket with gray stripes on the sleeves and collar. That’s the third item I’m missing.

And the fourth?

It’s sewn inside the third. In fact, if you have a chance, I’d prefer to recover both of them before we find the others.

So it’s all a big mystery for you to solve, then. Some off-the-wall version of the Great Party Icebreaker to endear you to The New Guy In The Office, provided as always that you don’t end up contracting Foot-In-Your-Mouth Disease.

Ah, well...your nights at home, totally alone, were getting a little boring anyway.

Very good...so you’re in a holding cell right now, I assume?

Obviously.

What are you being charged with?

A fifth page. Gods, this file’s getting a little big, or so you’re all too happy to tell yourself as nobody else can see the awkward look on your face right now.

Nobody’s bothered to tell me.

Have you been provided any legal counsel?

What’s that?

And yet, as awkward as all of this feels, you’ve definitely got your work cut out for you. Work that involves making sure that any possible trial moves forward without a hitch, because with a suspect as high-profile as this one, there’s no way anybody will want to risk the case being thrown out.

A pity they don’t make Lawyer Droids for this exact purpose.

Nevertheless, with the three words ‘MUST. FIND. LEGAL COUNSEL.’ written on the imaginary wall in your mind, you’re still pushing yourself onward just a bit further, as you’re more or less feeling that you’re too far in to turn back now.

Okay...just a few more things before we wrap things up here.

Go on.

Firstly...why me? And—and what was it that happened out there on the landing pad?

A third pause. He’s either taking his time finding the right words to answer you with, or else to cook up a pretty plausible lie with which to keep you occupied. Strange how the one seems so much like the other, at least at this moment in time.

I...don’t really know for sure.

‘Don’t know’? You don’t know if you have some special talent, or you don’t know why your special talent reacted the way it did?

Both. Neither. It’s as crazy to me as it is to you.

Fine…

You’ll be sure to find out what’s really taking place here, though, if there’s any way to get in touch with the people—or droids—who took him into custody. You might also try poking around the local library later this week, if there’s any chance at all that there might be some hint of your new life situation to read up on.

As for how the little crew he traveled with might figure into this, a fact that you’re far too keen to forget about even as you add a sixth page to this file—

And the last thing you wanted to ask me?

Simple…do your traveling companions know where you are?

—You’re working on it. Maybe you’ll have to get parental consent before questioning them. Maybe they’ll instead show up on your doorstep one day, hands full of dataries and voices full of pleading, totally ready to cooperate and compensate you for your time in one go. Either way, they’re witnesses.

When it comes to whether or not Crimson Jack himself will help his case or harm it, well...that concept just isn’t as clear. In fact, he very nearly confuses you with no pauses, awkward silences, or hesitations of any kind.

Just a slowly written No, almost as though just thinking about this part is too painful.

As for you, you can still remember how scared those kids were at the mere thought of him being harmed by the security droids...so it’s more than just a little bit understandable. Whatever else happened up there, whatever blaster fights, lightsaber duels, or anything else that this group saw...they must have had some time to bond.

But you’d like to see them, right?

YES.

Good. I won’t waste any time if I can help it, but I will need you to give me something in return first.

And that is…?

Your true name.

And if you have any grasp upon this stranger’s character, which you hope very much that you do—that bond just might be the key to saving old Crimson Jack’s life.

TO BE CONTINUED

[lykegenia]

2024 Writing Roundup

tagged by @juneiper-art - thank you!

words posted: 73,510

additional words written: between all the buffer chapters in my longfics plus a few sundry bits it's at least 30k

grand total of words: just over 100k altogether, I think

fandoms: Dragon Age, The Wayhaven Chronicles, and a backstory short story for one of my DnD characters

highest kudos: Rosemary and Citrus, a Rookanis slow burn retelling of Veilguard that's already grown far past its original scope

highest hit oneshot: He Makes Her Cry (He Doesn't Like It), my first foray into MasonxF!Detective from TWC, set during Book Three

new things I tried: I mostly stick to my habits, though with Rosemary and Citrus I've been posting as I go and trying to stick to a proper schedule, which is unusual for me.

fic I spent the most time on: As The World Falls Down, my AU retelling of Dragon Age Origins in which Alistair was raised by the Couslands instead of going to the templars

fic I spent the least time on: He Makes Her Cry, but only because it's so short compared to the others

favorite thing I wrote: This whole upcoming chapter for As The World Falls Down, really, but here's a sneak preview:

Cautiously, he wended his way through the shadows to Eamon’s office, girded by his imagination and the knowledge that getting caught couldn’t be worse than whatever fate was being decided for him just beyond the door. Even before he rounded the final corner, he caught the timbre of angry male voices spilling out into the hallway, and as he edged closer along the wall so that the squeak of floorboards would not betray him he strained his ears to make out the words. “– told her he sleeps in the kennels, that he gets only scraps from the cook! There is no answer for it.” The voice held a note of familiarity, but one that Alistair could not place over the shock of hearing himself so vehemently defended. “Regardless of where you get your information, this is not a matter within your purview,” came a terse reply – Eamon, in a tone low and deep with disapproval. “That is your concern here?” demanded the first voice. “I made enquiries after what I saw that day. I must say, you kept him well hidden, but that does not excuse you. Had I entrusted one of my children to the care of another, only to find them so poorly mistreated, the person responsible would find themselves very sorry indeed.” “You told me the boy was cared for.” This was a third voice, the second stranger who had ridden into the yard. “You assured me it would be so.” “I have done more for him than any would rightfully expect me to, given the circumstances,” Eamon retorted. “I have even secured him a future in a role worthy of respect –” “You wanted to make a problem disappear and thought the templars would be the easiest way to explain it.” “How dare –” “Enough!” The third voice sounded angry, and weary. “Eamon, I should have been consulted before you spoke with Knight-Captain Renwick.” “Consulted?” the second voice scoffed. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but –” All three went silent. Too late, Alistair clapped his hand over his mouth. He backed away from the door, the imaginary echo of his gasp ringing in his ears. Whichever way he tried to run, the hallway was too long, he wouldn’t be fast enough to get out of sight before –

favorite thing(s) I read: I've done a lot more reading this year, but I'm limiting it to three:

Kiss Me Moonstruck by @theluckywizard - I'm in love with this Garrett Hawke, who manages to be a famed mercenary at the same time as a complete sap and a passable wit, and the premise of the story happens to tick all of my favourite romance tropes

Attachment Theory by @thee-morrigan - Everything about this Natex F!Detective AU is rich and delicious and the imagery is gorgeous

Sanguine by @effelants - If you want an Alistair whose characterisation is on point, then this is the fic for you. The Changes to the plot of the game keep the story fresh, and the mystery around Moira is a very compelling dive into the lore around magic and spirits

writing goals for 2025: be more consistent with actually writing, try to get my word count up, and actually go back to the longfics I've been neglecting and start posting again

new works:

Patience, And Words, And Waterfalls - TWC, musing on Leah's inability to tell Nate how she feels

Mercies - The battle for Haven, with the feelings starting to show between Cullen and Maighread Trevelyan

He Makes Her Cry

Rosemary and Citrus

Tagging forward to everyone already mentioned, plus @vela-ad-astra @athenasdragon @serenpedac @naiatabris and @lalizah - no pressure!

[lostintransist]

You’re writing is amazing you’re amazing and just all the love my goodness I can’t get enough 💕

Oh my goodness! Thank you! I know sometimes (I feel at least about myself) that it reads as just a casual thanks! as if you were passing on the street but I need you to know that this is like caught me in the side of the neck with feels and I will gush about you to my spouse and my soul mate (I am supremely lucky they aren't the same person).

Now I don't know if you are a fan of König (or reading Chiseled Heart) but this has been rattling around my brain like those cans people use to tie to the bumpers of cars for people who got married so I want to share becase we are a long way from it showing up in the fic.

*I like to give people words when they stop by. I treat it the same way sevice people come to my house to fix things. "You want a snack? I got snacks."

I've only had one guy take a snack.

I keep offering.

König freezes, hand on the doorknob, as your voice drifts in from the porch’s open window.

“König? I really like him.”

Your words are full of soft meaning that slaps at him; beating against his skin like the hands of the children who would laugh and pinch him. Even when he was small he had been too big.

“What about him though?” It’s your friend, Tori, “We haven’t seen his face and yes he is built but he doesn’t say much.”

“He seems to treat you well. I guess what we are saying is that we are concerned. He is nothing like your usual type and I want to be sure this isn’t a rebound.” That is Amara, Tori’s girlfriend.

His hand is starting to cramp around the round knob. He relaxes his hold; nothing in life was built with him in mind. König knows he should move, leave, make his presence known, something. The deepest parts of him, those bits hidden that would flourish if only a spare drop of love could find its way down, made him stay silent and still. No one else had been in the house when he came in to use the restroom. The openness of the floorplan would alert him to anyone entering the front door. And so, he stayed.

An annoyed huff leaves your mouth as you must shift in your chair, cloth shifting against wood. He can imagine you, arms folded tight as you force your shoulders down.

“He is kind, and not only to me. Mara, I have seen him pay for a stranger’s tank of gas when we stopped once. I hopped out to use the bathroom. There was a line so I happened to glance outside and see him getting hugged by a sobbing man with his hand still pressing something to the machine. The two receipts for gas confirmed what happened. He buys gift cards every time he goes to the grocery store and often turns around and hands them to moms in line behind him.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

“My usual type is pretty. But pretty men only bring pain. König isn’t pretty.”

König had been stabbed several times, your words punched him with the same force. He shifted his weight to move away, deepest soul shriveling further at the imaginings of your harsh words.

“Have you ever had someone become beautiful before your eyes?”

Your friends must nod or respond in some way he can’t see because you go on.

“He is striking. König’s face is my favorite thing to look at because every time I look he has become more beautiful to me. There is a scar here,” you must be pointing somewhere on your face. Lord knows how many scars he has mapping the landscape of his. It is one of the reasons that he wears a mask even now. “That whites out when he smiles big.”

Something unfurls in his chest, a desert plant tasting rain.

Tori again, “But this isn’t a rebound?”

“I don’t see how it can be? He doesn’t know I like him this much. Honestly, I would be happy being his friend. If he got a girlfriend I would sob myself to sleep for a few weeks as I make friends with her,” you sniff and clear your throat.

“Ah, hun,” Amara croons at you, “You’ve got it bad for him.”

The watery laugh you let out trails König as he slips away to the front door and away from the private conversation.

“God, I’ve got it so bad for him.” The tears in your voice water his broken parts.

Divider

[thislovintime]

Happy birthday to James Lee Stanley!

“[I] worked in a nightclub called The Shadow. And I think it was late June [1964] that the Phoenix Singers came through, and Peter [Tork] was in the band, he was the banjo player in — behind the group… And he and I hit it off, and that Monday night, we did an impromptu show together, we just played a couple of tunes, you know, and had a good time, and stayed friends. And then when I opened a club in 1965, there was no place to play in the winter in that area — Virginia Beach, Norfolk… So I opened a club on my own with two friends, we called it The Folk Ghetto, and I contacted Peter in New York City and said, ‘I wanna hire you to come down here for a week and be the headlining act.’ Which he did. […] [H]e was fantastic. He was so good. […] Anyhow, we became friends, and we were friends ever since. [...] And I can tell you that he’s been one of my best friends for my entire life. And one of the more generous people I’ve ever known. And just to give you a window into the kind of guy he was, he would come off a Monkees tour where everything was handled, you know, they would take care of his tickets, they’d take care of his room, they’d carry his instruments, they’d carry his bags, he just had to show up at the airport and they gave him the, you know, the ace treatment. And then he comes off a tour like that and he gets in a rented Dodge with me and we drive around the country playing little rooms, which we filled to the max because it’s Peter Tork, and then he demands that, because I booked all the dates, I take a booking fee off the top. And then he demands that we split the door. He, I mean, you know, he didn’t have to do that. [...] We would hang out, and I said, ‘Peter, I noticed that all the other Monkees have solo albums. Why don’t you have a solo album?��� And he said, ‘Well, I just never got around to it.’ I said, ‘Well, you know, I have a label, I have national distribution, and I have a studio.’ I said, ‘Why don’t we make a record and we’ll try, you know, we’ll shop it to the majors and if nobody picks it up, we can still put it out on my label. So there’s no doubt about it, we’re making a record that’s coming out.’ And he said, ‘Okay.’ So we worked on it about four months, and at the end of the four months, he said, ‘You know what, James? I don’t want to shop it. I want it on your label.’ So I got to put Peter Tork on my label without, you know, paying a huge upfront thing to have a world-famous celebrity on my label. You know, he just said, ‘No, let’s do it with you, man.’ He was, he was great, he was just a great guy, you know [...] He was, he was just my best friend, you know. And a great spirit." - James Lee Stanley, Tales of the Road Warriors, March 7, 2019 (x)

“James is about my oldest friend. No, make that my friend of longest standing. I worked with him once before, in my early days, and I thought, as a result of that experience, that it would be very good for me to work with him again [on Stranger Things Have Happened].” - Peter Tork, Beachwood Confidential newsletter, 1995

“My personal thanks to James, I have my first album, after all these many moons. How far freakin’ out, man. I waited a long time to work with him again. Thanks beyond words, buddy. Thanks, too, to those who stuck by me. Love to all, Peter” - Stranger Things Have Happened 1994 liner notes

“In a nutshell, Peter and I are really good friends. Working with Peter, well, he’s like one of the best men on the planet.” - James Lee Stanley, Sacramento Bee, April 20, 1997

“James and I have a lot of fun playing as a tandem. We don’t just wail on the guitar in unison; we’re very articulate… I’ll be playing a light backbeat or playing the big bass strings while James plays filigrees. A lot is going on when we play together, and then James does his originals during his set… I love working with the Monkees, and I love working with James. I have the best of both worlds.” - Peter Tork, The Record, January 19, 2001

“Tork later confided in his brother Nick that Stanley had given him his life back. ‘I wept when I heard that,’ Stanley says.” - Stranger Things Have Happened 2020 reissue liner notes

[findafight]

Robin chose Steve. Robin made the conscious and deliberate decision that she could and would trust Steve. She already liked him! She had fun working and bantering with him! They were already on their way to being weird little bffs and the torture just expedited the process. Steve chose Robin just the same! He thinks she's fun and cool and likes her so much! He chose to be honest and open with her too, putting himself out there.

Even though their interests on the surface level don't match why wouldn't they share them? Steve clearly caves when Robin wants to watch a movie he doesn't think he'll like, Robin can watch a March madness game or five.

Stop trying to take away their bond oh my god people can be close to more than one person!!! Their best friend doesn't have to be dismissive or mean or whatever in order for a romance to be special to them!

[pixlmonkeys]

I say this with the deepest sense of hatred imaginable, fuck this article

[depressedtheatrekiddo]

Picture this.

Stevie on the most fucking perfect killer queen dress you could ever think about, Robbie and them decided on going to see a drag performance and then fuck around a little, dance and be so fucking fabolous and pretty and all

AND

Robin isn't there, she's running late. Why didn't he pick her up? Well, Robs was staying at Chrissy's and she was dropping them. As Steve's sent a message to Chris and she told her that she already left Robbie there, so Stevie went to check out outside.

Robs there, uncomfortable, searching a way to enter the club, their eyes scanning the street, fear on her eyes.

Steve sees there's a man with her, has them by her wrist and is awfully close

What a fucking dumbass

AND THEN BAM

Steve does that shit they did on the Russian base you know, the think that he picked up that thing and hit the Russian guard

But

Now it's her heel they quickly put in his own hand in two seconds and hit the man in the face once they see Robin being touched

And she thinks "not again" because they didn't know what happened to Robin in the Russian base but he can imagine

So he knocks out the man with her heel

"I get you're jealous because she pulls more girls than you would never but there's no need to be an asshole" And then she spits on the man eye "ya infertil ass, next one I'm gonna rip your balls and make me earrings with them"

And then she switches back as their sweet self "Are ya okay Robs?"

"Perfectly fine Stevie"

Robin's eyes goes from scared and empty to fondly and full of love as she looks at Steve. Stevie smiles softly and takes of their face a stroke of hair.

" 'm glad, wanna enter again?" Steve offers their hand and his soulmate takes it as they enter the club, Nelly Furtado singing Maneater as they do

And it's fucking epic

And they rule.

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[fvcking-panda]

Me reading the whole Flight of Icarus tag just to find some person mentioning the only fucking piece of information i will take as canon be like:

I JUST WANT TO KNOW FREAK REAL NAME DAMMIT

[imflyingfish]

Fish you are so good at building to me your the Bdubs of people I know

Pheo ;w; ty