#but here it is! thank you so much! love u anon

[official-cvntified-gay]

GIRLY I AM CRAVING FOR SOME LARISSA "MILF" WEEMS RN

Would you write Larissa falling for Reader, (She literally just simps over Reader lmao) and Reader is just oblivious to it until Larissa just blurts it out and Reader buffers then has a 'oooh' moment 😭

Idk it's silly lol. Anyways thanks babes! Love you lotssss 💞💞💞

Clueless

note: thank you so much for this dear anon<3 I tried with this, u have my love<3

The rain drummed softly against the windows of Larissa’s quarters, the golden glow of her lamps casting a cozy warmth over the room. She’d invited you over after a particularly long day, saying that a quiet night in with wine and “some well-deserved relaxation” was just what she needed. You, ever the good friend, had happily agreed, chalking it up to nothing more than a comforting night spent together—like a sleepover, you’d thought with a smile.

You curled up on one end of her sofa, your glass of wine in hand, marveling at how different Larissa looked in her own space, freed from the crisp professionalism she wore around Nevermore. She’d let her hair down, the loose waves cascading over her shoulders, and swapped her usual formal clothes for a soft, cream-colored sweater that only made her look more striking.

“Thank you for coming over tonight,” she said, smiling softly as she settled beside you with her own glass. “It’s… been a day.”

“Oh, of course!” you replied with a grin, nudging her shoulder. “This is what friends are for, right? Besides, it’s nice to just… relax with you.” You took a sip of your wine, missing the way her eyes lingered on you, something tender and longing in her gaze.

You’d come to know Larissa quite well over the last few months, and you’d grown close, often spending evenings like this together, sharing laughter and conversation. But lately, she’d been acting a bit different. The little gifts, the way she would sometimes touch your arm or shoulder when she laughed, the look she got in her eyes when she thought you weren’t paying attention—all of it confused you. You’d chalked it up to her being friendly, affectionate, even if it did make your heart race now and then. She was just… generous, right?

She turned to you now, a small, almost hesitant smile on her face. “Do you ever think about love?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Love? Well, sure, I guess.” You laughed, brushing it off, but her expression stayed intent, her blue eyes steady on yours in a way that made your breath catch.

She took a deep breath, her fingers toying with the stem of her wine glass. “Have you ever been in love?”

You pondered the question, not sure how to answer. “I’m… not sure,” you admitted. “Maybe someday, if the right person comes along.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze slipping away as she looked down into her wine. “It’s a strange thing, love. To be around someone and feel your heart speed up, to bring them little things just to see them smile, to want to be near them in every way… even if they have no idea what they’re doing to you.”

You blinked, suddenly taken aback by her tone. She sounded almost frustrated, her usual calm composure faltering just slightly, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. You opened your mouth to say something, but she continued, as though she’d held these words back for too long.

“All the times I’ve sat here with you, hoping you’d notice the way I look at you… the compliments, the little gifts…” Her eyes softened as she looked up at you, her gaze raw and almost pleading. “Merlin’s sake, I’ve been trying to show you. I’m in love with you.”

You stared at her, her words settling over you like a gentle but jarring realization. She’d been leaving signs all along, hadn’t she? The lingering glances, the little touches, the gifts, the affectionate way she’d always smiled at you. You’d thought it was all part of her warmth and kindness, but now—now it was as if a veil had lifted.

“Oh,” you breathed, your heart racing as each moment with her came rushing back. She’d been in love with you this whole time. And you… you’d been too oblivious to see it.

“A-all those times…” you murmured, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. “They were for me? Because you love me?”

A hint of relief crossed her face as she nodded, a small, shy smile breaking through her usual poise. “Yes. All of it was for you.”

You were at a loss of words, your brain having a malfunction at her words, "say something... please"

You quickly gather yourself. You felt a wave of emotions rise within you, a rush of warmth and realization that filled the space between you. “Larissa… I—I didn’t realize…” You trailed off, searching for the right words, feeling your own feelings for her bubbling to the surface, feelings you’d buried without understanding why.

And before you could second-guess yourself, you reached for her hand, entwining your fingers with hers. She let out a soft, almost surprised breath, her smile widening as her thumb brushed gently over your knuckles.

“Well,” you whispered, a bit breathless, “I think we need to schedule a proper date. I’ve clearly missed a few things…”

Her laughter was soft, affectionate, as she leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with a newfound joy. “I think I’d like that very much.”

And in the quiet of her quarters, the rain tapping against the window, you realized that your heart had known long before your mind did.

[andromeddog]

hi!! I wanted to pop in here to say how much I absolutely adore your art, it scratches my brain perfectly, and you hit my interests so well lmao!! Thank you for the wonderful art you share ❤️

wahhhh thank you!!!!!!!! this was such a lovely ask to get on a monday morning! neat to hear that my work can scratch a brain heheh it’s getting in there! have a nice week anon thank u for the kind words here’s a wip of mr captain andy haldane

[foolsocracy]

Hi, hello, I’m new to your blog. I’ve made myself at home. Lovely carpet.

Can I please know more about your spider Robbie pie? Can’t seem to find the silverware.

but of course, kind anon

Spider Robbie is an au in which Robbie Robertson takes up the spider mantle after the death of the one before him. He is the third, following Ben Urich and, most notably, Peter Parker.

This au is very much canon divergence from Eyes Without a Face, where Peter makes it in time to save Robbie from his original fate but dies in the process. Peter is shot while rushing Robbie and the others out. In his panic and elation at finding Robbie physically unharmed, Peter outs himself as the Spider Man to his best friend. Robbie stays with him as he bleeds out and resolves to continue to hide Peter's identity.

Peter is buried and remains that way for... an undetermined amount of time.

Robbie is left with a mask, a jacket, and the question of just who was this other half of his friend. As he learns more of who this... Spider Man was, he gets more and more involved in the spider's cases and conflicts. Robbie gets more sure of his own abilities and makes a bit of a name for the Spider Man within his own community, though the people of Harlem are largely unaware that the appearances of a masked vigilante match the interests of one Robbie Robertson.

It is to be noted that none of these aforementioned abilities are spider-god-induced powers like Peter's. Robbie, especially at the beginning of his spidering career, leans more into Urich's role than Parker's. To me, Robbie has been passionate about the press and journalism in a way that Peter never was. For Pete, his job as a photographer and reporter was a job he took until he could get into college and study science. Robbie has a way with words and communication that Peter frankly lacks. Of course, that isn't to say that Robbie won't be kicking ass, because he will. It will just take him a bit of time to get some of those skills as he's, well, a normal guy. Not everyone can get their biology scrambled like Pete.

And just because Robbie hasn't been scrambled doesn't mean he's completely separate from all things supernatural either!

I think the marvel noir universe is at its best when there's a magical, supernatural undercurrent. This concept isn't super prevalent in the actual comics, but HoplesslyLost on ao3 has done some really cool world building with it.

I think in Robbie's case, where he would be the narrator, "magical realism" would be an interesting avenue to take it. I use this term in particular because I most closely relate it to Toni Morrison in my head, when I first learned about it through her work in high school. For Morrison, the concept was inseparable to blackness and I think for Robbie, where his blackness is so central to his character and his motivations, drawing on that could be more of a service to his character. It feels better to do that than ignore how incredibly racialized his society and story is. It will make his relationship with the spider god, Peter (who I will get to very very shortly), his community, and his own mythos as The Spider Man really interesting and complex.

So it's been established that Robbie doesn't have spider powers. And we all know that Peter did-- or should I say does. One of the spider god's abilities is to bring Peter back to life. She does this in the comics, but not in any of the runs from 2008-2010 (the runs that make up this au). When Peter dies on Ellis Island, he does not think he is coming back from that. Waking up again is a surprise.

Here's where I think the au really takes a left turn. Do I think the Spider God is purely evil and spiteful and has it out for Pete? No, not really. Will I be ramping said traits up to 11 for the au? Yeah, I guess I might. This is because I love a little bit of horror and the came back wrong trope. I will hopefully be fleshing the spider god out in the near future, but I really haven't given her the many hours of thought I have the other characters. For that I'm sorry spider god </3

Peter digs himself out of his grave, more spider than he ever has been. For much of his new, waking life he is more animalistic than not. There is clearly something wrong with him; his joints are too flexible and loose, he's got some eye-shine going on, his skin is pale and his veins are starkly dark beneath it. He's possessed. Someone is puppeteering him, someone who knows a lot-- almost everything about him, but it's clear that the someone isn't him.

And Peter--- the body, it can't be Peter. At least, that's what Robbie thinks when the figure catches his eye the first time. Because Peter is dead and buried, and he has been dead and buried for weeks.

[mappingthesky]

planymphia wives honeymoon cutesy fluffy and overwhelmingly emotional drabble pleaseee

take my hand (take my whole life, too)

or: it’s their first week of being married - jane can’t stop referring to nymphia as ‘my wife’, nymphia can’t stop crying, and no one has ever been more in love in all of time.

Jane wakes up when Nymphia rolls over and flings a heavy arm across her torso in sleep.

Jane’s eyes flutter. Sunlight threatens to spill in from the other side of the heavy hotel room curtains all too soon. She’s only half conscious, and her eyes are still a little blurry with last night’s wine, and she’s content to drift back off to sleep, lulled by the gentle brush of Nymphia’s fingertips down her sternum, but then-

A little gasp, a sharp intake of breath. “Oh my god.”

“Mmwhat?” Nymphia mumbles, her eyes still closed as Jane grabs for her hand. Again, when her wrist is nearly pulled from the rest of her arm. “What?”

“Nymphia,” Jane whispers, but it’s thin, because she’s smiling. Nymphia can barely make it out through the dim light of the room and the sleep that clouds her vision, but she knows it just the same. She would recognize that smile by the sound of Jane’s words spoken through it, by the feeling of her soft gaze upon her. She would know it anywhere - even in the dark.

“We got married.”

Nymphia’s eyes blink open and look over at Jane. She’s on her back, holding Nymphia’s hand up to the light. She turns it over carefully, fingertips against her open palm, thumb tracing over the silver band on Nymphia’s ring finger. A diamond glitters in the dark.

“I know,” Nymphia grumbles, still half-asleep, still unwilling to be awoken for anything at all. “Spent eight months planning it, ’member?”

It was longer than that. It was the culmination of years of dreaming and months of planning, of Nymphia ironing out every last detail, Jane somehow even more stressed than she was, because she’d wanted it all to be perfect. For her.

(“You have a say, too,” Nymphia had reminded her on more than one occasion. “This day is about the both of us.”

“I know, baby,” Jane said, that spot between her brows that creases when she thinks too hard momentarily relaxing as she kisses Nymphia’s cheek. “But it’s really about you. Everything is about you.”)

Jane pulls Nymphia’s hand closer, studies it for a long while. Nymphia’s eyes are just closing again when Jane presses a kiss to her ring finger, then to her palm, more kisses up the inside of her wrist, the length of her arm, up her shoulder. Nymphia whines.

It comes back to her slowly as Jane coaxes her from her sleep, the only one she’d ever allow. Their night. It was everything they ever could have asked for, more than that. Their friends lining the aisle, swearing that they knew this day would come, arguing over who had really called it first. Jane, who had sworn she wouldn’t cry, who had warned Nymphia not to be worried if she didn’t, dissolving into tears the moment Nymphia emerged in all white. Nymphia, unsurprisingly to everyone, openly sobbing for half of the night, dabbing a tissue underneath her damp eyes at the dinner table. They’d had two glasses of champagne each, and nothing else.  They’d promised, because they wanted to remember this: the toasts, the dancing, each other, every moment.

Nymphia is beaming by the time Jane kisses her shoulder blade, eliciting a hum.

“Was it everything you wanted?” Jane murmurs, brushing a dark strand of hair back to kiss Nymphia’s ear.

A smile splits through Nymphia’s sleep, eyes still closed as she nuzzles deeper into the pillow, deeper into Jane. “It was perfect.”

Jane kisses Nymphia’s cheek. “What was your favorite part?”

“Mmm,” Nymphia hums, because how could she ever pick just one shining moment to stand out among the rest? How could she even begin to split the single most incandescent day of her life into segments? 

“The part where we went home,” Nymphia says, and Jane is pulling her closer. “The part where we went to bed and you let me sleep in.”

“Can’t let you sleep in,” Jane says, chin coming to rest on the crown of Nymphia’s head where it comes to press against her chest. “Too in love with you.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, basking in the warmth of last night as it rolls over to this morning.

“Wanna know my favorite part?” Jane asks, and Nymphia can feel the soft reverberation of her voice through her skin. “The part where we wake up and I get to say that you’re my wife.”

Nymphia can’t help but laugh at the sentiment. “This part?” she says, finally tilting her head up to look at Jane. She’s never gotten used to this - Jane looking at her every day like she’s still shiny and new. She doesn’t think she ever will. 

“Yeah. This part,” Jane beams, one hand coming to cradle Nymphia’s cheek as she smiles. “You’re my wife.”

“This part’s pretty good,” Nymphia stares into Jane, belly burning with butterflies, a love bigger and brighter than she ever thought was possible. “Say it again.”

Jane grins and brings her lips to Nymphia’s, kisses her with a lifetime of devotion. She pulls away, and there’s forever in her eyes. 

“You’re my wife,” Jane smiles. “And I’m yours.”

-

Jane doesn’t travel well.

She puts her packing off until the last possible minute and grumbles all the way to the airport. Nymphia can’t be upset though, because Jane ‘my wife’s’ Nymphia at every possible opportunity - she does it to the disgruntled employee who checks their bags, and the TSA agent who checks their passports, and the barista who makes their coffees while they’re killing time at their terminal. Nymphia rolls her eyes every time, but she’s smiling too, and can’t stop examining the sparkle on her left hand ring finger. 

Jane goes so anxious on the plane that Nymphia has to hold her hand through the takeoff. She doesn’t let go until thirty minutes into the flight, when Jane is finally distracted enough to drop her shoulders and stop thinking about the miniscule possibility that they go plummeting to the ground.

Eventually, they settle in. It’s a long flight, nearly twenty hours, and they shelled out on first class for the occasion. Nymphia’s got the window seat (partly because Jane knows she likes to look out the window, and partly because she can’t stomach seeing the ocean several thousand feet beneath them), and Jane wastes no time getting comfortable. 

(“It’s for my wife,” Jane tells the stewardess when she requests an extra blanket. “She runs cold.” 

Nymphia stares up from her book just long enough to swat Jane’s arm, muttering “that’s not even true.”

“I know,” Jane shrugs. “Just wanted to see what playing the wife card could get me.”

“Careful,” Nymphia warns. “You’re gonna wear it out.”

“What, calling you my wife?” Jane grins. “Baby, that’s never gonna get old.”)

They’re curled up together, alternating between books and movies and laughing at odd little happenings around them. Jane scoffs at shitty jokes on the screen, and Nymphia leans over to read her passages from her book, and Jane hums like she’s listening, but really she’s just admiring Nymphia in her comfy clothes, dark hair pulled back, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She likes her the best like this.

At the end of her movie, Jane glances over at Nymphia. “Are you excited?”

She thinks she knows what the answer will be, but she’s asking anyway, because she wants it to be perfect - their honeymoon, their first trip together as a married couple, their first foray into the rest of their lives together. They’d debated on a destination for weeks on end. They’d considered a roadtrip across America (too pedestrian - they’ll save that one for another summer), or a week in Vegas where they’d get married again in some cheap chapel (too cliche - they’ll save it for their vow renewals). They’d debated on whether or not to book a room in the most luxurious resort they could find in Thailand, but had settled on a cozy beachside bungalow instead. Jane thought Nymphia would like that the best, knew she would too, because she’d be happy if Nymphia was.

It’s funny how someone can change you so completely and entirely, how they can bring out the best part of you that was waiting to be discovered. Before Nymphia, Jane had always put herself first, even at the expense of others. She was content like that, and then she met Nymphia, and the center of her universe shifted outside of herself. For the first time it wasn’t a chore to care for someone else, and Jane was better because of it. 

“For the honeymoon?” Nymphia asks, folding her book in her lap. She looks down at Jane all nestled in her blankets, hoodie pulled over her blonde hair, and can’t help but smile. 

Nymphia had always been a hopeless romantic, all too eager to hand her heart over to the wrong person. She was a tender thing then, bruising easily in careless hands, burning through her own wells of hope faster than she could replenish them, and after the almost-great-loves of her young adulthood, she felt like she’d been cored. Having her heart handed back to her so unrequitedly time after time, she’d thought she’d been selfish to want a love as big as her own, to expect anyone to be able to return what she gave to them. She’d stopped dreaming of it altogether, and then she’d met Jane. Jane, who reveres her like the Earth reveres the Sun, who worships the ground that she walks on, who straightened out every desire Nymphia had crumpled up inside of herself and gave her more than she could ever dare ask for. 

Now, Nymphia knows she can be selfish. She looks over at Jane and thinks that she wants this for all time - all of Jane, all to herself. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m so excited.” Nymphia reaches over to take Jane’s hand. “Jus’ wanna spend time with you.”

“Good,” Jane smiles, “me too.” She tilts her head up, puckers her lips in a silent request for a kiss, and Nymphia obliges.

-

The plane starts its descent several long hours after they’ve woken up, and Nymphia is grabbing Jane’s hand before she even has to ask, because she knows she hates this part the most. Jane sucks air through her teeth as the last bit of turbulence rocks the plane, and Nymphia rubs her thumb in soothing circles over the back of her hand. As soon as they hit the tarmac, Jane snaps back into place, blocking the whole aisle just to get Nymphia’s carry-on out of the overhead compartment.

“Sorry,” Jane says over her shoulder to a disgruntled passenger. “My wife. She’s pregnant.”

“Jane,” Nymphia hisses through her teeth. “You of all people should know I’m not pregnant.”

“Not yet,” Jane kisses her shoulder before they maneuver down the aisle. “But when I’m through with you…”

Nymphia scoffs, smiling into the air, because she knows it’s impossible, but if anyone’s love could defy the laws of science, it would be theirs.

-

Despite their sleep on the plane, Jane and Nymphia are so impossibly jetlagged, and the car ride to the bungalow is a delirious haze. Determined to push through the rest of the day, they tumble out of their room and onto the tree-lined streets, perusing the local offerings and getting dinner while they speak to each other in exhausted, two-word sentences that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. It’s all they need.

And then they’re out under the sky, wandering in this beautiful place with blue-green water that laps in whispering waves over the sandy beach, and Nymphia has never looked so beautiful to Jane as she does under the moonlight. 

She’s running up the beach, shrieking as the water splashes at her feet, or when Jane chases her up the shore and catches her, spinning her around and pressing crazed kisses against her hairline. Nymphia is laughing, and then her cheeks are wet with tears, and Jane is wiping underneath her eyes.

“Hey,” Jane says, pushing Nymphia’s hair behind her ears, a careful concern crossing her face. “Why tears?”

“I’m just so happy,” Nymphia blubbers, smiling through the silver-wet stars in her eyes, because it’s all been such a beautiful blur, and it hasn’t hit her until right now that this is the rest of her life. “I can’t believe we get to do this forever.”

“God, you’re unbelievable, you know that?” Jane smiles. “Here I was thinking you stepped on a sea urchin. Or you got stung by a jellyfish. And I’d have to pee on your leg or something. Wouldn’t that be a great start to our honeymoon?”

“Shut up,” Nymphia sobs. “You’re ruining the moment!”

“M’sorry, my love,” Jane coos, wiping another tear from Nymphia’s face. “You’re the most sentimental girl alive, you know I can’t keep up with that.”

Nymphia just laughs, because yes, she’s endlessly sentimental, but, secretly, so is Jane. She still remembers the first time she’d opened a card from Jane and was met with pages filled almost entirely with ink, letters squished together to make room for as many as possible, words winding around whatever tacky quote was stamped in the middle. Jane had a way with words, despite whatever she’d tell you otherwise, and never ceased to amaze Nymphia with the sincerity she seemed to save just for her. 

(It crosses Nymphia’s mind then what her favorite part of the wedding really was - when Jane had recited her vows from memory in front of all their family and friends, had taken those impossibly beautiful things that were usually relinquished to their most intimate moments and had loved Nymphia enough to profess it in front of everyone. Not that they didn’t know already. You can’t hide a love as enormous as this one.)

“You keep up just fine,” Nymphia says softly, resting her cheek against Jane’s hand. She swears Jane’s eyes go misty just before she kisses her right there on the sand, beneath the stars, beneath the universe that brought them together.

-

Nymphia smiles when Jane crawls into bed. She’s in a gray crewneck that’s cut across her shoulders, and she’s propped up against fluffy pillows, and Jane is pushing the book out of her hands.

“Dinner was perfect,” Jane kisses her cheek before slipping into bed beside Nymphia. “But is it bad that I just wanted to get back to the room?”

“It’s terrible,” Nymphia turns over, slotting her back against Jane’s chest. “Is this the part where we get old and boring?”

“Yes,” Jane envelops Nymphia in her hold, fits against her in the way they’re going to for the rest of their lives, slides a hand down the length of her torso and up the inside of her thigh. 

“Not even gonna call you a whore or anything,” Jane kisses her ear. One hand cups Nymphia’s breast, the other dips between her legs. “Just gonna fuck you good and tell you how much I love you.”

“So boring,” Nymphia sighs, already melting away.

“So boring.”

(It’s not boring at all.)

-

Now that it’s hit Nymphia, she can’t stop crying every time the sheer enormity of it washes over her.

She’s always been emotional, but sometimes there’s a delay. Her life moves so fast, always swept up in the current of whatever dream she’s chasing, and sometimes it isn’t until she has a second to slow down that she realizes just how special every fleeting moment has been.

It’s been a whole week of being married, of wandering through villages and long hikes up mountain sides and afternoons spent sunning on the shore, of dawns and dinners and keeping a distance from the rest of the world as they know it. Now, Nymphia is sitting in a hammock at the edge of the beach, and she’s looking out over the water, and she’s basking in the overwhelming perfection of this moment. It’s something out of a dream, the sort of thing she’d long thought would be impossible for her to experience, and she can’t help but want to slow it all down, to draw out every precious moment long enough to memorize them, to make them last forever.

She’s sniffling just a bit when Jane finally finds her. She slides into place beside her, knees tucked into her chest, and stares quietly at the last of the sun as it sets over the ocean.

“Beautiful,” Jane murmurs, and it’s about the sunset, but it’s about Nymphia too. She presses a soft kiss to Nymphia’s shoulder.

“I don’t want it to end,” Nymphia sighs, unwilling to look away from the heaven that’s in front of her. They still have another day of this, one more perfect day at the edge of reality, and then they’ll be packing their things, leaving the quiet paradise of their bungalow and flying home. Back to work, back to their crazy, stupid friends, back to the never-ending rush and whirr of the city.

It’s not just that Nymphia doesn’t want the honeymoon to end. She doesn’t want this to end: her and Jane, so head-spinningly in love that nothing else matters, so finely attuned to one another, so freshly devoted to making it last. Nymphia wants so desperately to do it right, for their love to outlive that of either of their parents, for them to see all of their promises through for years to come. The possibility that they can’t pull it off is mind-numbingly terrifying, but the possibility that they can…

It’s an impossible promise to make to one another, and yet they’ve already done it. 

Nymphia sighs, mind swirling, and Jane somehow knows exactly what she means when she says, “what do we do now?”

Jane goes quiet for a moment, staring out over everything she’s ever wanted, and does her best to be brave for Nymphia.

“We sit out here until we’re too tired to keep our eyes open, and then I’ll take you to bed,” Jane says softly. “And then we have one more beautiful day, okay?”

“Okay,” Nymphia says, chewing on her cheek, still unable to look away from the landscape should it all disappear on her. “And then what?”

“And then we go home,” Jane looks over at Nymphia. “We go back to our house. And I’ll take you to work every morning, and then I’ll come home and be pissed about something, probably, and you’ll roll your eyes and tell me to shut up and I will, because I love you and, y’know, I generally think you’re right about everything. And we’ll have our stupid friends over and show them a billion pictures from our trip and kick them out so we can watch Project Runway and fuck. How does that sound?”

Nymphia giggles, and when she finally tears her gaze away from the beach, she realizes there’s another heaven right beside her, one that she gets to take home. And home, their home, the one with the fat cat and the mismatched furniture and their pictures all over the wall, that's another heaven too. Suddenly, the trip being over doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. Nymphia is almost looking forward to it.

“Are you scared?” Jane ventures softly, searching Nymphia’s face carefully. “It’s okay if you are.”

“Only a little,” Nymphia mumbles, voice wavering, eyes watering. 

“I’m a little scared too. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?” Jane continues, looking a little smaller all of a sudden, pushing through every worry that threatens to override her strong front. “I know we’ll have bad days too, Nymph. I know I’m gonna fuck up and not listen enough and piss you off sometimes, but I love you to fucking pieces. I’m gonna give you the best I’ve got, I promise you.”

Nymphia takes Jane’s hand, and there are silent tears streaming down her face, because it’s only been a week and she already loves Jane more than she did on the day that she married her. It’s enough love to override everything that threatens to pierce through their perfect bubble, enough to fuel the years to come, enough to roll over into the next life and the one after that.

“And if you get sick of me,” Jane teases, squeezing Nymphia’s hand. “Y’know. Just say the word.”

“Shut up. I’ll never get sick of you,” Nymphia cries, throwing her arms around Jane’s shoulders. Jane laughs into her neck, pulls her closer into a bone-crushing embrace. This is the best part - Nymphia married her best friend. It’s enough just to hold her, just to be beside her. All those other parts, the sex and the sweet nothings and the swearing each other to forever, they’re just the luxuries of being in love with her. 

“You promise?” Jane says into Nymphia’s hair. She knows what the answer will be. She just wants to hear it anyway.

“I promise,” Nymphia whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jane says. “With all my heart.”

(They go home two mornings later, back to the city and their couch and their cat, and they aren’t scared anymore, because the warm glow of one another lasts much longer than fleeting sunsets over foreign shores. They wake up together, kiss goodbye on the way to work, hang their wedding photos on the wall and muse over the best day of their lives for years to come. They have lots of good days, and a few bad ones, too. They fight, and then they talk, and they never go to bed angry, just put each other back together in the way that only they can. And then they wake up and love each other more in spite of it.

The honeymoon was great, but here’s the best part: they make it last.)

[a2zillustration]

What species is Croissant, anyway? They have elfin (or gith) ears, but their eyes don't look like anyone else's

Trying to be very normal about answering this since I've been spinning Croissant's lore around in my head like a microwave for months.

Croissant is a half-elf!

Their mother is a wood elf, and their father is a fey of the fox persuasion (drawn glamoured and unglamoured). Croissant gets their eyes from him, though they didn't always look like that.

[sxfterhearts]

DROPPPP THE JIUNG SMUT FIC 😭💔😭💔😭💔 literally nobody writes for him anymore and it makes me sad idc if it’s fluff, angst, smut, etc. just need me some jiung tbh

OMG ANON!!! this is insane i'm literally SO HAPPY TO RECEIVE YOUR ASK UHM THANK YOU AND UH ALSO I LOVE YOU IG? 💗 sorry is that too dramatic

okay youre so real tho literally nobody writes for my love jiung........... except i USED to write only fluff (i think i have around 3 fluff fics in my masterlist) and im not even joking, i literally have not wrote a single word of smut in 4years. FOUR YEARS. can you imagine???? it took kcon and dfesta and hello82 CHOI JIUNG TO BRING ME OUT OF MY SMUT HIATUS. WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS TRIGGERRED I REALLY MEANT IT COS OHHHHHH MY GOD I FR WAS LIKE FKJEJNFEILJNR RAHHHHHHHHH 👹 haha ha im gonna rant below under the cut sozzz

anyways TL;DR: DW MY FELLOW CHOCOCHIP your girl's gotchu i SEE u and i HEAR u and i will be working on the smut fic in earnest tonight (wish i published it earlier but damn it really is harder than i rmb to write smut) so yes. it will be dropped sometime tonight if all goes well (aka if i dont lose my mind will writing my own smut fic) you have been warned !! get keen !!!!! also feel free to DM me if you would like me to add you to a taglist or notify you when it's published (i'm aussie so time diff wise it will probs drop at a time that is convenient for americans cos LOL tumblr is an american site fr) !!!!

thank you so much for this ask btw it has been received and much appreciated by this little piwon writer living in her own tiny corner of the internet <333333333333 like i say this all the time but anytime anyone interacts with me and reads my fics it legit blows my mind cos im like who?? me??? damn.. //blushes

also ur so right i think its crazy how the popularity of members in terms of fanbase vs which members people actually want to read fics for is like... so different like worlds apart omg JUSTICE FOR HYUNG LINE PLSSSS i need more hyung line writers omfg

[wexhappyxfew]

judy and rosie have a wholesome age gap

that is all

SWEET ANON I WOKE UP AND SAW THIS AND SCREAMEDDDD!!!!!!

yes bc let's talk about this bc i COMPLETELY. AGREE. that is it cute, especially in terms of judy and who she is and where she comes from, and rosie, too.

there was an ask a few months back where we discussed judy rybinski's past and how that's pretty influential to who she is as a person and how she approaches life - leaving her pretty inexperienced in a great many things in life - one of those being relationships.

now, enter rosie rosenthal - he's a little bit older than her, nothing crazy - but he's kind, quite handsome in judy's eyes, respectful, a good leader, someone who will listen and help how he can, and more than anything mature.

for me, they started out in the sort of 'respectful zone' of he holds a higher rank, he's the newby crew, silver bullets has been around for a bit, judy calls him 'sir' and that's that. but - she can't help but develop a little crush. he was sweet! respectful! kind! and probably one of the 'best-looking-men-she's-seen-ever' (to quote judy herself)! i just think it's adorable that judy is over here crushing on rosie rosenthal, so hard-core, and she really doesn't eve realize it, she just can't believe this dude is so respectful and nice to her and actually wants to engage in meaningful conversations. AND HE WANTED TO DANCE WITH HER?!?!?!

meanwhile - rosie likes judy (he thinks just as a friend at first because well he's here to fight a war). they talk, they grow a little closer on R&R after those days in october. and eventually, he finds himself wanting to hang around her more. she's probably one of the sweetest people he's ever met - and doesn't realize he feels a certain way until she takes a hit in the ball turret and is hearing about her injury and how she almost died and-

ok i'm going to stop my ramble because YES. YES YES YES!!! can you tell i am ALSO EQUALLY OBSESSED?!?!! tbh, when creating some of the couples here that i wanted to work and write with, i really didn't have judy paired up yet until just....very last minute. for me, judy i knew would be the youngest and i wanted to write her with a more innocent and naive nature about her - while also being hopeful, a little sensitive, but also one of the friendliest and willing to do anything for anyone. and i started writing a bit and sorta kinda loved the idea of judy really looking up to the leaders of the 100th. especially when rosie gets in. and then i realized - judy would be the person to crush on rosie rosenthal because of the fact the way he was around her. and then those feelings were on both sides.

and the fact she goes through a period of time where she's questioning things about the fact she grew up fairly poor, she doesn't come from much, why would rosie want someone like me?, sorta vibe. and rosie really proves to her that he DOES want someone like her?!?!?! LIKE A MATURED MAN WHO WAS A LAWYER BEFORE THE WAR LIKE YES GIRL!!!!! idk, there's something about having that bit of an age gap in there for these two that is just the cutest thing (nothing crazy yall lets remember that), but enough for it to be quite cute!

HAVE WE MENTIONED THEIR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE YET?!?!?!?!

[angeart]

Ange, ily, I am excited to read all the things, but it is okay that it takes time to write them <3 no pressure to get anything done quickly, take it easy on yourself!!!

-🎀

ok but what if i sob at u—

😭🥺❤️😭😭

[fluxweeed]

hey. hope this message doesn't bother you. I love you. I love your work. you are one of my favorite fic authors, I am absolutely obsessed with everything you write. reread everything ten times over, drarry or not, fluffy or angsty - even when it absolutely shatters my heart (e.g. for lack of wanting, SUCH a great fic btw i'm so obsessed with it). the four doors? life changing. two to lie and one to listen? engraved into my brain for eternity. what's mine is yours? what a ride holy shit, im VERY normal about it. wrapped? my comfort read. and so it goes.

if I could aggressively smother you with kudos and love I WOULD!!!

awhile ago you said that there's no such thing as "big deals" in fandom and I 100% agree but at the same time you are a big deal TO ME!!! not in the sense of any kind of hierarchy but purely based on the fact that I think you are such a cool person and your writing is amazing and poignant and your presence in fandom makes it so much better. it's been a pleasure following you here on tumblr and just reading your tags and posts.

idk I just think you rule. that's it. thank you for hanging with us. MWAH 💛

ahhhh anon sorry for leaving this message sitting in my inbox for a couple of days but !! i have zero idea how to react to this!! you're so kind!! thank you!! please discard any and all inclinations u have that i am a cool person bc i can assure you i am NOT!!

[httpiastri]

hiii 💓 i just wanted to say that i started following you last summer for your lando blurbs and have been following you since, we used to talk about lando podiums, which seemed impossible before austria, and now he has his first win 😭

sweetheart !!!!! this makes me so 🥺 gosh im very very thankful youve stayed with me for this long even though i barely post f1 stuff anymore (i will soon again tho, promise!!) and god i feel the same way. back in the days we were just glad over points, barely daring to imagine podiums… and now we finally have that first win we've been dreaming of 😭😭

[jrueships]

i think you are very smart :)

getting this ask was very sweet and wholesome until i went to dinner with friends & was amazed at the extreme ninja skills of our waiter who kept refilling my water when i wasn't looking because it would always be higher even when i thought it would be lower after drinking some... and when dinner ended i realized that my water's ice cubes have diminished both in stature & quantity.... and then i realized my water had ice cubes and ice cubes have water and when an ice cube's solid water form melts, it turns back into normal water; therefore, replenishing my water over time without human intervention

[inkyclive]

some more thoughts for science and funsies

do you think cid is open to sharing? not to just like anyone, more specifically gav?

gav who always watches over the princess when he’s gone? gav who always has his baby girl’s interests at heart?

surely that’s worth a reward right? at the very least a show. and if cid is feeling super generous maybe gav even earned a few participation points ??? 🥹🐥

YES, 100%!!!! i can see cid sharing with gav, especially since they’re close and he trusts him, he knows gav does everything he possibly can, everything in his power, to keep his lil princess safe when cid’s away, and cid greatly appreciates that. it enables him to leave her with minimal anxiety because he knows she’s going to be well looked after + taken care of, even if gav does spoil her a little too much, and cid comes home to a baby that’s extra bratty, extra entitled, extra clingy <3 (not that he necessarily minds, of course)

honestly, cid doesn’t strike me to be someone who is extremely selfish or possessive. i think he’s extremely protective, so like you said he wouldn’t share with just anyone, but people he believes genuinely have your best interests at heart, and people he himself loves and trusts, are okay in his book. if they’ve earned it, if he thinks they’re deserving of it, then yeah he’s up to sharing! i could also see him sharing with clive!!! lately i have this idea bouncing around in my lil head of reader/you/us being her bratty, slutty, needy self and being extremely playful and teasing with clive, especially when he’s v new to the hideaway c: just flustering him, ‘accidentally’ flashing him her pretty panties or putting a dainty palm a little too high on his thigh to be appropriate, generally seeing how far she can push until he breaks—gets mad or gives in, not knowing is half the fun!—and then getting to make it up to him (or get punished! by him or cid or both <3).

cid thinks it’s pretty cute, thinks it’s pretty amusing, can’t help but chuckle to himself with a fond shake of his head when he sees her bending over in front of clive or touching him or batting pretty lashes at him as she says something borderline indecent and giggles at the way he chokes on his words or sputters and gargles his drink or growls about how she’s being inappropriate and she should stop this instant <3 cid’s pretty curious to see just how far she can push, too, and how clive will react when he finally snaps and loses it. will he take matters into his own hands immediately, grabbing lil princess’s wrists in a single large palm and shoving her against the wall and snarling at her to cut it out already? will he give into all of her teasing because he just can’t take it anymore, bending her over the nearest surface in a thick lust-and-anger induced haze and pounding the life out of her without thinking twice about it? will he come to cid with shame in his eyes and remorse in his voice and express that he doesn’t know what to do or how to handle this, worried cid might get angry at him, or her, or both? it’s a game to them both <3

[inkykeiji]

IVE BEEN WAITING TIL YOU MAYBE WERE GONNA WRITE TOKYO REVENGERS!!!! they have so many characters i thought you’d do so much justice :3333. the kazutora piece is by far my favorite <333333. i cant wait to see what you do with the haitanis!!!!

OH HEHE HI ANON!! <33 aw thank you so much!!!! i’m really happy to hear that you enjoyed my lil kazutora piece!! (´∀｀)♡ i can’t wait to write more for tokrev!!! i have like three different haitani oneshots in the works (but they’re all set within the same AU) n a bunch of other lil pieces hehehe c: my favourite characters are:

rindou (!!!!!), ran, mikey (!!!), shinichiro, mitsuya, kokonoi, kakucho, takeomi, sanzu, kazutora (!!!), wakasa, hanma, and shion

so those are the characters u can expect to potentially see writing for / those are the characters i’d like to talk about and write about the most!!! <3

[mappingthesky]

i was going through your works and decided to reread iyldwm bc its one of my ao3 favs and it got me thinking ,,, this could very well be the same universe and backstory of ik,b,na with jane’s thought of It was four months and some days into her and Nymphia’s… whatever it was. They hadn’t really talked about it, and they didn’t really need to.

it reminded me how ik,b,na nymphia broke down after months of uncertainty while jane was confused bc she thought it was clear from the start. a cute hypothesis, nonetheless. love your writing!

WOW i love this so much… first of all, thank you for loving if you lie down with me… i LOVE THAT ONE and it makes me really happy that someone has gone back to it :’) wowwwww i absolutely love this theory and i think it makes perfect sense…. i didn’t plan that per se, but i tend to write pn as having this unspoken togetherness, and i think that vibe in iyldwm completely tracks with jane’s assumptiveness in ik,b,na….. perhaps it is the same universe after all ::)

[definitelynotshouting]

I am bonking you on the head for worrying this chapter wasn't good because that was FANTASTIC and I'm so hooked on this damn au.

I M JUST A LITLE GUY,,

[hirokiyuu]

ace/riddle/floyd - nonary game

"We shouldn't trust him," says Ace, whose voice is a little rueful and whose watch reads 6; "Like, c'mon, when did he do a single thing that made any sense while we were in that room with him?"

Never, if Riddle's being honest--which is exactly why he can't shake the trepidation lingering in the hollows of his chest. Floyd is erratic, the type to get bored and wander off in the middle of a death game, and that means at this very moment on a whim he might be pressing Ally with just a single point left on his bracelet--or he might very well be pressing Betray.