#expect more of these in the future i have

[mosabsdr]

🌍✨ A Voice from Gaza: Holding onto Hope ❤️‍🩹

Hi, my name is Mosab, and I just want to take a moment to say thank you. Your kindness, your generosity, and your willingness to listen have meant more to me and my family than I can ever express.

When I first shared my story, I didn’t know what to expect. I was scared, exhausted, and uncertain if anyone would care. But you did. You showed up. And because of you, hope feels a little less distant today.

💛 Our Journey So Far

With your support, we’ve been able to find small moments of relief in the midst of overwhelming hardship. Every donation, every share, and every kind message has given us the strength to keep going.

But our struggle isn’t over. Every day, we are reminded of what we’ve lost and the challenges that still lie ahead.

🏠 Still Searching for Stability: We are doing everything we can to secure a safe and steady future. 😢 The Pain of Loss Never Fades: The absence of 25 loved ones weighs heavily on us every day. 💔 Dreams Still on Hold: Survival takes all our strength, but we still believe in rebuilding.

🚀 How You Can Help Us Keep Going

Even the smallest act of kindness can make a difference:

💛 A $10 donation may seem small, but to us, it’s a lifeline. 💛 A reblog can help us reach someone who can support us.

If you can’t donate, just sharing this post helps more than you know. Every share is another chance for someone to see our story, to care, and to help.

🙏 You Are Part of Our Story

Your support isn’t just about donations—it’s about reminding us that we are not forgotten. That there is still kindness in the world. That even in the darkest times, there are people who care.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for helping us get this far. You are part of our story now.

With love and endless gratitude, Mosab and Family ❤️

[youryurigoddess]

So one thing led to another, and I’ve just paid a visit to the first (that we know of) confirmed Good Omens S3 filming locations. Due to the obvious sensitivity of this material, please tag it accordingly and share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers.

A fellow Good Omens fan has mentioned that residents of a certain Edinburgh area had unexpected guests recently, knocking on their door and telling them they are filming in their street soon. Imagine their surprise when a polite question about the details led to the offhand answer: “IT'S ONLY GOOD OMENS”.

For those unaware, the City of Edinburgh Council has been working really hard on promoting the city for film and TV industry for a few years now (the effects of which we saw in S2), and has a set of very clear and very publicly available guidelines regarding the modus operandi here.

The Good Omens production has both large scale and a high impact on a specific location due to the crew size, amount of technology used, and requirement for crowd control in most of the exterior and interior scenes (e.g., bookshop, pub, or coffee shop windows), which is why not only the local authorities, but also residents were informed about the filming with an at least 8 days notice:

Ironically, I just had happened to have a trip here planned and a hotel booked within walking distance to the locations on the attached TM and parking plan map, so it would be a waste not to use this opportunity for the greater good of the fandom. Can’t stay long enough to see the actual crew, so unfortunately the hair photos will have to be made by someone else. Disappointing, I know. But there’s still a lot to be excited about!

According to the provided notice, the filming will happen within one working day with the required set-up planned for the day before, mostly in the afternoon hours. The attached map shows planned parking suspension and SYL dispensation on two streets close to the chosen locations, which is where the trailers and equipment vehicles will park:

Location One turns out to be, rather surprisingly, a cosy corner bookshop. The shop — one of the Edinburgh’s oldest surviving secondhand bookstores — is very small, but crammed with a wide ranging library of beautiful books to serve readers and collectors, including antiquarian true first editions and signed copies.

It’s giving Muriel’s sweet and whimsical charm, but the bits and pieces of the unpublished Good Omens sequel point out not towards Whickber Street, where the angel currently resides, but more towards a new in-universe location. Maybe one that will be opened in the future post-Second Coming, maybe one that will remind one of the characters about a home base of operations back in the heart of London’s Soho (and theirs— wait, who said that?).

Notice that the road closure includes north and south sides of the pavement visible in the last photo, so both indoor and outdoor shots could be expected:

Location Two seems a bit more complex, since it’s basically a skewed triangle consisting of one longer street and a short side street diverging from it. Conveniently for the filmmakers, the architecture here is uncharacteristic enough that it could be easily presented as British, Scottish, or even American. I’m personally a bit partial to the last option since it would make sense story- and budget-wise, especially now with the two people previously adamant on shooting the US scenes only on location there not on the production team anymore.

The contrasting structures and materials visible here easily offer background for multiple potential contexts and scenarios, so much in fact that it’s easy to imagine more than one scene being shot here for cost- and time-effective reasons. Some of the buildings along the cobbled road have the right look and feel for historical flashbacks, as you can see below. I find the two separate entrances next to each other particularly lovely:

A considerable part of the buildings in the area, however, belongs to a more modern complex that communicates a very different personality and function. With a bit of camera and post-production magic, it could transform to a wide range of settings — please let me know your thoughts and ideas if you have any!

Specific filming times and more detailed information are consciously not shared out of concern for the crew and cast members who clearly don’t want them to become public knowledge. Those of you who live in the area and might visit the set anyway, please don’t forget to make sure that your presence won’t bother them as well as other locals. And remember to keep any new photos and information contained with tags so that you won’t spoil it to the people who would rather wait for the movie itself!

[quesocheeso]

GIVE US A SHADOWPEACH KISS 💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜💛💜💛

Have a panel from a future drafted chapter💃💃 also I’m surprised you’re the first person to ask for a shadowpeach kiss lmaoo

Kinda expected more people to ask more stuff related to them but I am loving the more lore related asks I’ve been getting recently lol

[plummy-squish]

THIS IS MY NEW RELIGION!

Im going to go off topic then come around.

Growing up Mormon i was so sick of this expectation put on me to be perfect, especially being perceived as a girl in the church. There is this look i needed to present, vibe i needed to give off, and value to give especially the men in my life. They also demonized feeling emotions and making mistakes and learning from them. I genuinely stopped me from being me and i didn’t even realize.

It also irks me when a guy says he wants to “leave behind this legacy”. They often are thinking of this movie characters saving the world, or pulling this huge heist, or having lots of money and fame and this huge personality. I feel like they grew up being told if they don’t do something great with their lives that it was meaningless. And they are always the worst guys to be around, always talking about the future and feeling depressed about who they are right now.

If we go into a room with others we have to provide value to it always and especially with a personality and experiences we just aren’t or don’t have. And that’s ok! We will make ourselves miserable doing that.

CANT WE JUST BE HUMAN?

If you want to do something great with your lives that’s fine but i hope that comes from a genuine place of desire. I feel like it’s been engrained into us to do something and be perfect. And that’s just not realistic of being human. Most of us won’t live up to that and all of us aren’t perfect. I wish we would place more value in contributing to a room or the world the ways we do best.especially in this capitalist society we live in we are told we have to do something.

If you look a Brennan now he’s doing just that. He’s created this community of people that provide value because they are able to be them selves in this community. Therefore providing more than they would have force to fit into this box people make up. (If you want to think of it as providing, i like to think of it a thriving). He has unintentionally created this so called legacy by doing what makes him happy. (If we all strived to do what actually made us happy we would “contribute to society” more than we will if our goal is just to contributing to society. But also there is just value in being alive).

This need to fit in a box set by others and to avoid being perfect has limited growth but especially happiness for me. I think there is beauty in enjoying life as we are and living for the day to day moments not in what we contribute to others. Why can’t we just believe we are valuable because we are alive?

There is beauty in uniqueness, there is growth in enjoying living, there is art in imperfections.

“Can’t i just be me? Is that not allowed?” -messy by Lola young

feeling so many feelings about all of this

[plaidos]

hello! i saw in your pinned that you and your partner are looking to move to the states due to the transphobia in the uk and was curious if this last week has maybe impacted that and what you think is best for staying safe in the coming years?im non binary and doing the opposite - im moving from the states to the uk and its like. cool cool rising transphobia everywhere feels good feels comforting (/s) and obviously it is even worse for trans women! anyways maybe the answer is uhhh none of my business which is totally cool but i just wanted to hear your thoughts bc im kinda like oh this whole world is getting increasingly hostile and its hard to stay positive!

even with the new transphobic legislation under the trump administration, new york city is safer than the UK for trans women. period. also my partner already lives in the states, so the only reconsidering would be whether i go there or she comes here or we both go somewhere else (which is a lot less feasible).

i need you to understand that in the US right now courts are blocking attempts for Trump to move trans women into men’s prisons. in the UK, there is no question about it — trans women just go to men’s prison. this is just one example. here’s another: not disclosing you’re trans in the UK before you have sex with somebody can be legally considered rape by deception. which obviously is going to affect even people who do disclose.

from where i’m sitting there is absolutely no question about it. in the UK the so-called leftwing party is arguably even more transphobic than the right wing parties — I’d argue much more, even, considering that they’re rolling back trans legislation that the Conservatives put in place

i promise promise promise you things can be worse than outside your door. whilst “terf island” may be a nasty, unhelpful & cruel joke to the trans women living here, the situation it’s referencing is 100% true. in every practically university in the UK there are open terfs working and teaching there. just anecdotally, I was sexually harassed on the bus by a terf, my last cisgender ex-girlfriend introduced me to a terf she was friends with at her birthday party (and she somehow didn’t even twig her as a terf until I pointed it out).

like from context and the way you’ve phrased things i’m assuming you’re TME, so if the UK truly seems safer to you i say go ahead, everybody’s circumstances are their own. but if you want HRT or top surgery in the foreseeable future, expect to be on a waiting list for years if not a decade. also the trans scene here is utter shite. but again no offence if youre not a transfem you probably wouldn’t even notice (it’s fine if not thriving for nb folks cafab ime) so, grain of salt

[kyri45]

Hey hey! I wanted ask about ur personal schedule for shadowpeach bioparent comic(i just read through all of it in the span of a handful of hours i am slightly obsessed your work is wonderful)

when it comes to posting/drawing each chapter, how far in advance do you have everything sketched out/ready to go? i saw you also have a webcomic so im sure you have a similar schedule to keep yourself on track.

Are there any tricks that work well for you personally to keep you motivated/working consistently?

hope you’re well! very excited to sit next to everyone else and wait for the next update now lol

I expect you want to know because you might want to do something similar if I may assume?

be always at least one update ahead of time. DON'T post everyday, even if you are in a burst of motivation and u have like 4 chapters ready. DON'T POST THEM. SCHEDULE THEM. Future you will thank you.

There's either the issue of "i can't find motivation" or "I have so much I just want people to see it". You fill fluctuate between both multiple times.

Find a time in the day where you know it's easier for you to draw your stuff (for me it's after dinner). Don't draw until exhaustion. This is not your job.

I repeat.

This is NOT your JOB. DON'T TREAT IT AS ONE! ( I know it's tempting, but I must hold myself when my brain goes "hey, we could add more detail there so that everything is super high quality- NO. IF it's something you REALLY want to do and have fun then yeah sure go ahead. But if you know it would only be tiring but you are doing it just so you think people will like it more, then at that point you are working for the people.)

[mlthree]

hand in hand (au) (premedmajor!reader x businessmajor!simon)

author’s note: i have been going through it recently so it’s important to note that this is completely self indulgent. like, completely self indulgent. 

simon is a business major. your stereotypical one, at that: endowed, frat boy, fuckboy. 

you're a premed. not as stereotypical as him, but people could piece it together from your behavior patterns if they had a bit of intellect. you’ve been told your entire life that medicine is what you were going to do, and as jackson avery said, “when you grow up hearing the same thing over and over, you can’t really think about doing anything else.” so when people tell you that you fit your major, you have to grit your teeth and say thank you.

you knew you should’ve hated him when you met him. you’d been dragged along to a frat with your friends and were outside taking a break from all the sweaty bodies and 110 decibel speakers when you ran into him. he was smoking a cig — which was funny, you thought, because a pen or a vape you would've expected, but... a cig? he offered you one but you shook your head, “those things are bad for your lungs.” he had scoffed. “there are other routes that can kill you faster, y’know.”

but, for whatever reason, you didn’t hate him. almost like you could tell there was more to his story than the reputation his friends had told you about, basically having given you a verbal dossier on all the boys from the frat when you were getting ready to go out mere hours earlier.

and you were right. he’d had a terrible childhood: father abusive, mother a victim, and younger brother an addict. his father viewed him only as the heir to his business empire, not as a son. he had to get his mba to become his father’s right hand man in their business tradings and unlock his trust fund. even though he had never been given the chance to decide his fate for himself, he was smart enough to know he’d be a fucking idiot to throw the cards which were given to him away.

you were shocked upon hearing his story. mainly because your background was incredibly similar — father abusive, mother a victim, a younger brother you missed every day, whom you had to leave at the house you wished to never see again. your father cared more about your future than you as a person — become a doctor, at any cost. and he meant any cost. your friends, your sanity, even your life. “both of your parents are doctors. anything else you do will be the same as working at a mcdonald’s. we have a reputation to maintain.”

simon’s dream had been to become an astronaut. what kills you whenever you think about it is his father had had the means to help him become on, but he just hadn’t cared. you’d had many dreams: racecar driver, actress, federal agent — all shot down the first man who was supposed to teach you what real love looked like. it had been your senior year of high school when you’d finally come to terms with your fate, having realized there was truly no way out of it, giving yourself some solace by remembering there were worse career paths to be forced down. plus, by the time you’d gotten your medical degree, simon would be in control of his father’s business and you two would be free to do whatever you pleased, with the means to do whatever you pleased. you want last minute garage passes to the abu dhabi grand prix? done. simon wants to take the both of you on a trip to kashmir this weekend for a month? not a problem. the common factor of your fathers using money to control you both finally, after decades, being damned.

so you two found solace in each others’ company. 

on tuesdays you both had a gap from 12 - 2, so you'd have lunch together. or, moreso, si would force feed you your lunch while you hastily wrote up your lab report for orgo which was right after.

fridays were your movie nights — your exams, reports, and labs for the week all done, you always crashed on fridays. you couldn’t even begin to think about actually using your brain, so si would pick you up around 6, take you to target to get whatever you were craving, and then it would be back to his apartment. your favorite movie night was watching la la land in a makeshift pillow fort where the blanket had collapsed on you two a few times throughout the movie, causing multiple tickle assaults where simon claimed the perpetrator must've been a ghost haunting his apartment. he didn’t understand why everyone said the ending turned it into a horror movie — that was before he watched it. he had been sobbing silently by the end of it, and you had to apologize for the movie choice while kissing all over his face before he even thought about forgiving you.

sundays were always interesting. the mornings were lazy — you two tangled in the sheets, unwilling to let each other go until it got too late to ignore the blistering rays of the sun coming in from his window. the nights were hectic — you were always finishing assignments and quizzes you’d put off until the last second, and he always had hours of meetings before the workweek began. at this point, you’re sure the target regional sales managers have been wondering why their data shows an uptick in sales of instant coffee and strawberry apricot red bulls on sunday afternoons. that's how much caffeine was consumed on sunday nights.

it was healthy, in a way — the anger you couldn’t hold towards your father for whatever reason you held towards simon’s, and the anger simon couldn’t hold towards his own father he held towards yours. both of you knowing the other had a person that fully understood them, understood their reactions to seemingly normal situations, understood their anxieties, and understood how they operated after 19 and 20 years of only being told they were deserving of conditional love.

and that’s the other thing — the unconditional love was scary, at least at first. you loved him loudly. talking about your boyfriend to all your girlfriends, all the time. instagram stories you’d clearly worked on for a while before hitting post. getting visibly jealous when another girl tried to make a move on him, not caring that everybody could notice you practically turning green with envy. 

he loved you more quietly. a package by your doorstep he’d never mentioned buying with whatever new trinket you’d saved to your paycheck week pinterest board. waiting outside for you after you mentioned you knew the day’s lab was going to be a rough one (grignard reagents), ready to scoop you up off your feet and take you home. the nuances in both your childhoods leading to the difference in how you two expressed your love for one another. you were shocked by how much was said in the unsaid, how loud his love could be with the smallest of actions. him, on the other hand? he was just shocked someone could love him as publicly, as undeniably, as you did.

and it wasn’t only healthy because you two shared similar life stories. you didn’t know how to describe it, but when you were with him, you felt like you’d known him your entire life. within just a few weeks he could predict your every move, your every word. he knew what you were feeling before you could put a finger on it. he was your ghost, always your shadow, so much so that he knew everything about you.

and you were his fawn, always jumping or spinning or pacing or running circles around him with those big doe eyes of yours, laughter bouncing off the walls, a ball of energy, his own personal sun.

he brought you security, love, the external masculinity you desperately needed in your life. you brought him a reason to wake up in the mornings.

⁀➷ more

₊˚⊹♡ taglist: @ghostlythots @redartifex @pricesprettyprincesss @negomisan @smutty-littleslut @thatgurlyoudunn0 @diseasedclitoris @j-k-6

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part one)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, very indirect subtle mention of sexual activities (no actual scenes), mention of drug usage (no actual scene)

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him.

word count: 2144

a/n: i haven't written this kind of stuff since like 8th grade (i recently graduated from university sooo yeah) but i kinda felt like it now and idk. there are so many smut involved fics on here (which isn't bad, i just need more softer slow burn stuff). not saying there won't be any smut in future parts hihihihi. also i have no clue how the american school system works (i'm from europe) so pls just accept this lol. and kelce's last name is statter bc apparently it was never mentioned in the show. anyway, this is for all my introverted and overthinking girlies (who may or may not be little freaks) <3

*****

Fuck my life.

That was the only thing on your mind as Mr. Smith announced the partners for the upcoming two-week art project. In pairs, you were supposed to create a reinterpretation of the Greek gods.

The assignment wasn’t the problem. In fact, it actually sounded kind of fun. But your partner? Yeah, that was the real issue.

Fucking Rafe Cameron.

Of all the people in this class, it had to be him. You didn’t even know why he'd chosen this class. Rafe was probably the last guy you’d expect to take an art elective—well, right after Kelce Statter.

He'd probably thought it was an easy class to boost his GPA. Rookie mistake.

Okay, whatever, it was just a small project. You could handle this.

NO, YOU COULDN’T, HOLY SHIT.

The thought of working with Rafe Cameron made your skin crawl. In all your years at Kildare Academy, you'd maybe exchanged two words with him—and that was only because he'd mistaken you for another girl.

"Y/N, right?" Rafe appeared at your desk at the end of class, a bored expression on his face.

Okay, okay, just act normal. Be nice. You nodded. "Yeah."

Rafe stared at you for a moment, like he was waiting for you to say more. His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he tilted his head. "Cool, okay. Let’s just meet up during lunch break and get this over with."

Did he seriously think you could finish a two-week project in one lunch break?

When he saw the look on your face, he raised his brows in amusement, his tone teasing. "What? You too busy?"

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. "No, lunch sounds good."

"Okay, then let’s meet after the fifth period." Before you could ask where you should meet him, he turned around and disappeared out of the classroom.

You frowned. This was off to a great start.

Just two weeks, you reminded yourself as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to math class.

On the way, you unlocked your phone to text your bestie Cara:

You shoved your phone away and tried to ignore the uneasiness creeping into your stomach.

You didn’t usually have trouble talking to guys but Rafe Cameron was a whole different story. Not because he was "too cool" or some dumb shit like that.

No, Rafe was just... intimidating. Not in that bad-boy, cringe Wattpad kind of way. It was something else, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

He wasn’t arrogant—he was proud. He was loud, but not in the annoying way Kelce Statton was. He wasn’t rude—he just said whatever the hell was on his mind.

He was just ... himself. And yet, somehow he wasn't. It felt like there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.

Maybe that was what made him so interesting to you. Sure, he had a nice face and a well-known name, no doubt about that. But more than anything, you wanted to know why he was the way he was.

Was he just a blunt person who didn’t give a fuck, or was there more to him than his looks and his last name?

So yeah, maybe a part of you was curious about him. But he had such an overwhelming presence, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

In the past, he'd had a few friends-with-benefits situations, but none of them had lasted long. And that was definitely a path you didn't want to go down. Under different circumstances, maybe you could but you've never even held hands with a guy, let alone kissed one or—yeah, no, not going there.

Okay, chill. Internally, you cursed Cara for fueling your delusions.

You had more important problems at right now anyway. Like math class with Mrs. Richman. And no one could claim you were a star student in that subject.

----

The lesson dragged on, your thoughts constantly drifting. After class, you were supposed to meet Rafe.

Rafe, who had PE right now.

Shit. You tried not to think about a sweaty, heavy-breathing, and—NOPE, NOT NOW.

"Okay, that’s it for today. Don’t forget about the math test next week. But for now, go enjoy the nice weather," Mrs. Richman announced, dismissing the class.

Your hands felt clammy as you got up to leave. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You headed to the restroom and washed your hands. Why were you so nervous about spending one lunch break with Rafe Cameron? Fuck you, social anxiety.

"Everything okay?" A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You look kinda pale."

You turned to see the pretty face of Molly Crane. Red hair, cute freckles, and a super charming smile. She was one of the few Kooks (if any existed at all) who was genuinely nice.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah, all good. I think I just ate something bad for breakfast."

Molly didn't look convinced. "You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Really, thanks, Molly. I’m fine now." With an awkward smile, you excused yourself and headed out—only to realize that, well… great, you and Rafe had never picked a meeting spot.

Brrrt.

Your phone had been buzzing since math class. Of course, it had been Cara.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and texted back.

Should you really wait in front of the gym? That felt weird af. But at the same time, you didn’t want to miss him and end up having an awkward conversation about it in the next art class.

The cafeteria would've been the most obvious meeting place, but would Rafe actually look for you there?

You pressed your lips together. Fuck it.

Heart pounding, you headed toward the gym.

Good thing your body totally knew how to distinguish between social interaction and actual danger.

When you arrived, you heard muffled voices of the boys inside, along with Coach Brown’s instructions.

Just breathe, it’s just one lunch break, you told yourself. Then again, this was probably how the next two weeks were going to feel.

You held your breath as the gym doors swung open, and a crowd of sweaty—oops wrong, freshly showered—boys streamed out.

You awkwardly stepped to the side, ignoring the curious glances thrown your way.

No sign of Rafe yet. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. Even worse than being here and having to explain HOW you knew that he would be here, would be explaining why you were standing there if he didn’t actually have PE right now.

But then relief washed over you when you spotted Kelce Statter and Topper Thornton. And right behind them—Rafe Cameron.

You tightened your grip on your bag. Okay, okay, I can do this. They’ll probably say bye to Rafe and leave for lunch now.

They didn’t. Great.

When Rafe saw you, something flickered in his gaze that you didn’t want to analyze. You expected him to just walk past you but instead, he headed straight toward you—with Kelce and Topper right behind him.

Just smile. No, not like that, you probably look like a creep. Oh god, okay.

"Hey," Rafe greeted you with a slightly puzzled smile as the three of them stopped in front of you. "I didn't expect you here."

In other words: Did you stalk me or how did you know I was here?

Kelce and Topper eyed you with amusement. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

Blushing, you pointed at the gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Well, I saw you bringing a sports bag today, and PE is usually scheduled right before lunch ... so I just assumed you’d be here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kelce stifling a laugh. You wanted to disappear from Earth, no from this universe. No way anyone would believe--

"Right," Rafe replied with a lopsided grin. "I would’ve just waited in the cafeteria."

So you had been right. And you could've saved yourself this painfully awkward moment. G-r-e-a-t.

"Good thinking though. The faster we get this project over with, the better."

Shit, did Rafe just compliment you? Then again, why did the last sentence sound like he didn't want to work with you?

You smiled awkwardly. "Exactly."

"You're Y/N Y/L/N, right? Your mom owns Y/L/N Yacht Sales." Topper’s voice cut in, and you were grateful for the topic change.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Was that admiration on Topper’s face?

"Ohh, a business Mommy, I like that", Kelce said, and both Topper and Rafe eyed him with shaking heads.

Topper blinked at him annoyed. "Bro, shut the fuck up for once."

Kelce just laughed.

"My dad bought a Grady-White from you guys recently," Rafe remarked, and your gaze flicked back to his blue eyes.

Jesus, he wasn’t just looking at you—he was staring into your soul. If he was always looking at girls like that you'd gladly be his friends-with-benefits-girl.

You prayed to whatever gods were listening that you didn’t blush. "I remember. A 456 Canyon."

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched up. "Yeah, a pretty model."

Your cheeks warmed, and either he didn’t notice, or he chose not to comment on it.

"Oh shit, that sounds like a boat party," Kelce chimed in with a grin and looked at you. "If I were you, I’d have thrown a dozen parties by now. So many possibilities…"

Rafe scoffed amused. "Good thing she isn’t, or her family would be broke by now."

You allowed yourself a small smirk.

„Hey, I’m just saying.“ Kelce raised his hands innocently.

Topper tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. „Okay, dude, and I’m saying we’re leaving now before you say more stupid shit.“ Then he looked at you apologetically and turned his gaze to Rafe. „See you later.“

Rafe just gave him a short nod, his expression hard to read, before turning back to you with a tired smile as Kelce and Topper disappeared behind the gym. „So, you hungry?“

Why did this situation suddenly feel so… intimate? It wasn’t. Definitely not. There was absolutely no reason to feel weird about this. And yet—standing here alone with Rafe Cameron was… a lot. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—calm, focused, as if he was actually paying attention.

Or maybe it was the damn wet strands of hair falling into his forehead after his shower.

Get a grip.

You nodded quickly, trying not to overthink it. „The cafeteria has quinoa veggie bowls today. Or fries, if you’re not into influencer food.“

Oh God. Was that your attempt at being funny? Tragic.

Rafe’s lips twitched with amusement. „So, you’re assuming I don’t like quinoa bowls?“

Oh. Oh no.

Heat immediately rushed to your face, and you could feel your cheeks burning. Why the hell did you say that?

„No—I mean…“ You let out a nervous laugh, which sounded more like a weird cough. „Not that you wouldn’t like it, but you’re just more like—uh, not that I’m putting you in a box or anything, but you don’t seem like someone who… uh…“

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. „Someone who eats quinoa?“

You sighed. „Forget it. I’m just talking nonsense.“

„No, no, now I’m curious.“ His voice was amused, almost teasing. „How exactly do I seem?“

You swallowed. Shit.

„Uh…“ Your eyes flickered over him for a second—his broad shoulders, the damp strands of hair falling into his forehead, the fresh polo shirt fitting way too well against his body—oh God, wrong direction.

„I just meant…“ Maybe you should just stop talking and dig your own grave. You sighed and smiled awkwardly. „Okay, look, I'm sorry if you’re actually a secret quinoa veggie bowl advocate. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.“

Rafe laughed. Not in a mocking way—no, it was real, warm, which somehow made it worse because it only made you more nervous.

„No, no, I get it,“ he said, shrugging with an amused smile. „I guess I need to work out more if I’m giving off ‘fries guy’ vibes.“

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. „That’s not what—“

„Relax, I know what you meant.“ He cut you off, tilting his head toward the cafeteria. „Come on, you can keep judging me in there.“

I am the most embarrassing person alive, you thought, face still burning.

Still, you fell into step beside him, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Brain, could you please shut the hell up? Thanks.

It didn’t.

Because why did Rafe’s presence feel so overwhelming—in the best way possible? And why did his ridiculously good aftershave still linger in the air between you, like some kind of cruel distraction?

And most importantly—how the hell were you supposed to survive two whole weeks of this?

[ravliksblog]

I can finally share my work in my first zine: I've always wanted to try my hand at this business, and now I finally have the opportunity. It was very interesting to work together with so many artists and creative guys. Of course, everything was not without problems, but where without them?)I'm not very happy with the original print, but it was expected and I'll keep it in mind in the future. It was an interesting and exciting experience, which was enough strength to participate in two more artbooks, which are due to be released this year)

[silent-stories]

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: based on this.

Noah felt it before you even said a word.

That something sitting between you, like you were about to say something that was going to change everything. You were curled up on the couch, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve, your knee pulled up to your chest like you were trying to make yourself smaller. That wasn’t normal.

And then you spoke.

"I got a job offer."

His fingers stilled around the beer bottle, grip tightening just enough that he could feel the condensation slide against his skin. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t trust himself to. "Yeah?"

"In another city."

The words hit harder than he expected.

For a second, just one, he let himself think about what that meant—about this house without you in it, about days without your voice filling the empty spaces, about knowing you were somewhere else, somewhere new, somewhere without him.

And it made his stomach fucking sink.

But you didn’t belong here, did you? You never had.

You weren't his and he wasn't yours. All you had ever been was just friends.

He always knew you’d go. He just never thought it would be so soon.

You kept talking, explaining—something about better pay, bigger opportunities, a smart move. Noah heard it all, but it was like listening through static, every word just another reminder that this was real. That this was happening. That you weren’t just thinking about leaving. You were already halfway gone.

And what was he supposed to do? What was he allowed to do?

Because yeah, maybe he thought about it. Maybe he thought about pulling you in, pressing his forehead against yours, telling you he didn’t want you to go. That he needed you here, that he—

And then, for the first time, it really hit him.

He never told you. Never fucking told you.

Not when he first realized that the way he looked at you wasn’t the way a friend should. Not when you laughed at his dumb jokes, and he caught himself staring at your smile like it was something he could get addicted to, wishing he could bottle up the sound of your laughter, save it for the nights when the silence felt too heavy—when you weren’t there to fill the space beside him.

Not when you fell asleep on his shoulder during long car rides, and he stayed perfectly still, barely breathing, just to make the moment last a little longer. Not when he watched you dance around the kitchen in his hoodie, not when he felt his heart ache just being near you.

Not when he should have.

Not when it would’ve mattered.

And now, sitting here, the words he should’ve said—I like you. No, I love you. More than a friend. More than anyone—were useless. Too late. You were already slipping through his fingers, and he had no one to blame but himself.

So he stayed quiet. Because what was the fucking point now?

What was he supposed to do—throw everything at you now, at the last second, when you had a whole future waiting for you? When you were basically already half out the door? When he had every chance before, and he wasted them all?

No. That wasn’t fair.

Not to you. Not to the life you were about to build. Not to the love he’d never had the guts to give you.

So he bit his tongue. Kept his hands in his lap so he wouldn’t reach for you. Forced his voice steady as he said, "You should take it."

And fuck—he hated how easy it sounded. Hated that it came out smooth when his chest felt like it was caving in.

You hesitated. He could feel you watching him.

"You think?"

Noah swallowed hard, leaned forward, let his eyes settle on the floor instead of your face. "Yeah," he said. "Sounds like a great opportunity." Another shrug. Another lie. "You’d be an idiot not to."

The silence that followed was the worst part.

Because he could feel it—the shift, the way something between you cracked, just slightly, just enough that he knew it wouldn’t go back to how it was.

He tried to imagine what it would feel like to be around someone else the way he was with you. He’d never been able to picture anyone else in your place, never wanted to. You were a part of him now, you were the person who knew him best, the one he always leaned on when things got heavy, the one he could rely on when everything else felt like it was falling apart, the one who always answered his texts sent in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep.

And now you were walking away. And he couldn’t imagine filling that gap.

The comfort of having you around, the steady presence of your friendship, even if it had always just been friendship, was something he never thought would disappear. It was just always there. And it was hard, almost impossible, to wrap his head around the fact that it might never be like that again.

How would he ever find that again? He couldn’t even begin to picture it. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. You were it. And now, as he sat there, heart heavy with the weight of what he couldn’t say, of what he had never had the guts to tell you, he knew that he had just let you slip through his fingers. The easy, effortless thing they had—the laughter, the comfort, the quiet moments, the understanding—was something he couldn’t replicate. Not with anyone. Not now. Not ever.

"Right," you said, voice quiet. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

Noah didn’t move. Didn’t look at you.

Because if he did—if he saw the way you were looking at him, if he saw even the smallest flicker of doubt in your eyes—he knew he’d break.

And if he broke, he’d beg you to stay.

So instead, he just sat there, fingers gripping the beer bottle like it was the only thing holding him together, and let you slip further away.

A few days later, you were sitting on the leather couch in the living room of the house you’d spent so many nights in again.

Folio was giving you one of his usual "don’t forget" lists—one that had become a comforting part of your routine over the years for all the times you went on a tour or trip together. This time, however, it sounded different, as if it was the last.

"Okay, remember to pack all your jackets. And the extra batteries for your camera. Oh, and make sure you’ve got your phone charger, you always forget it!" He waved his hands in the air as though he was trying to remind you of the most crucial thing in the world, like the fate of the universe rested on you not forgetting your phone charger.

You chuckled, leaning back on the couch, a small smile tugging at your lips as you gave him a playful eye roll. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Nick. I’ll pack everything. No need to worry."

Folio grinned. "Good. You know I worry." He paused, then his tone softened, almost hesitant, like he was preparing to say something serious. "I’m really going to miss having you around. It won’t be the same without you here."

The words hit you harder than you expected. You had been preparing yourself for this goodbye for days, but hearing him say it out loud made it real, made it feel final. You swallowed, forcing a smile. "I’ll miss you guys too. And don’t worry, I’ll send plenty of pictures. And I’m sure I’ll come back to visit."

Folio nodded. "Yeah, of course. And we’ll come to visit you, too. So you don't forget us." He said it with such certainty that for a brief moment, you let yourself believe it—believe that things could stay the same, even when you knew they couldn’t.

But as Folio finished his sentence, you glanced over at Noah. He had been sitting at the other end of the room, quietly listening, but now he abruptly stood up, his movements stiff and awkward, as though something had snapped in him.

Noah didn’t say anything, just turned toward the door and walked out without a word. His departure felt like a heavy silence in the room.

You blinked, watching him leave, confused. "Did I say something wrong?" you asked softly.

Folio didn’t seem surprised by Noah’s reaction, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. "It’s been like that for a couple of days now," he said, his voice low. "I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s been… off. Something’s going on in his head, but he won’t talk about it."

You felt a knot form in your stomach.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had acted the first time you spoke about the job offer. That cold, almost detached response, like he had no opinion on the matter at all. You replayed it in your mind over and over: "You should take it. Sounds like a great opportunity." But something in the way he said it—something in the way he couldn’t even look at you when he spoke—made you wonder if there was more to his reaction than he let on. Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he hate you for making the decision to leave?

You tried to push those thoughts away, but they kept creeping back. It was impossible, you told yourself. He couldn’t possibly hate you. Because you were just friends, right?

But just friends never felt like the right term for what you two had. Not for the long nights you spent talking, for the way you always seemed to understand each other without saying a word, for how comfortable you felt in his presence—like you were home when he was around. It had never been just friendship for you. Not really. Maybe it had started that way, but over time, something shifted. You couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but you’d always known that your feelings for him ran deeper than what you were supposed to admit.

You thought back to that first time you’d met him, to the way he’d walked toward you with that easy, confident stride but still looking so damn shy. You liked his long hair t, and his eyes—those brown eyes, warm and sweet—that had locked onto yours in that instant.

He had smiled, and you’d felt it all the way down to your bones. It was like something clicked, something undeniable. That’s when you knew, even if you didn’t have the courage to admit it then, that there was something about him that made your heart race.

And all these years, that same feeling never really went away. Not when he touched your hip for a second to grab a cup from a high shelf you couldn’t reach, not when he would pass you the last slice of pizza even though he was starving, not when you’d sit together in silence and it never felt uncomfortable.

You told yourself over and over that it was just a crush, that you were just friends, but every time he touched you, every time his hand brushed yours or he’d take your hand in his while walking through a crowded space, your heart would skip.

And when he would hold your hand, you’d feel the heat flood your face, and when he was on the stage and his eyes locked with yours for a moment, it was like the world disappeared. It was just the two of you.

Did he ever notice?

Did he ever feel what you felt? Was it possible he ever sensed the way your heart raced when he would grab your hand, as if the world didn’t matter and you two existed in your own little bubble just for a while? You wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d caught the way your breath would hitch when he’d look at you with those brown eyes, like you were the only person in the room.

But now, all of that was left in the past. You were about to leave, and nothing between you two was ever going to change. You were just friends.

You thought about getting up and going after him. But what could you say? "I'm sorry I'm leaving?"

He was the first person to tell you to take that job, it wouldn't have made sense. So you stayed there.

The day had finally come. It felt surreal, the finality of it weighing on you as you stood in front of the door, ready to say your goodbyes. You had spent the last few days avoiding the inevitable, pretending like you still had time, still had something to hold onto. But now, as you stood there, your suitcase in your car and your heart feeling like it was somewhere deep inside your chest, the reality of leaving was all too clear.

You walked into the living room, where the band was gathered. They were all quieter than usual. Folio was the first to greet you, giving you one of his bear hugs that made you feel both comforted and sad at the same time. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Don’t forget the pictures. And don’t be a stranger.” You nodded, blinking back the sudden lump in your throat.

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” you managed to say, your voice wavering a little.

Then, one by one, the others came over to say goodbye.

“Don’t forget us,” Matt said, pulling you into a quick hug. “I'll miss the food you made for us.”

You laughed and pushed him away as he pretended to be hurt.

Finally, there was Noah. He was standing a little apart from the group, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t approach you right away, and you weren’t sure why that felt different. But when your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you could see something unsaid flickering in his eyes.

He stepped forward slowly, pulling you into his arms, and for a moment, you didn’t want to let go. You hugged him tightly, the warmth of his body against yours a reminder of all the small moments you’d shared over the years. You could hear his breath, steady and calm, like he was trying to hold onto this moment too.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and the quiet between you both felt almost too much to bear.

“I’m really going to miss you,” you whispered, your voice cracking just slightly.

Noah gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hand lifted, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face, a touch so tender it made your heart ache.

“I’ll miss you too,” he said softly, then, without saying another word, he kissed the top of your head.

You only looked at him for a few seconds before taking a step back, as if if you stayed longer, it would only hurt more.

Then, you finally turned toward the door, ready (or maybe not) to leave and start something new. But you also knew, deep down, that no matter where life took you, a part of you would always be right here, with them. And with him.

About two hours later, Noah was sitting on the edge of the couch, his leg bouncing up and down nervously, the restless energy radiating off him like a low hum. His gaze was distant, unfocused, as if he was somewhere miles away from where he actually was, lost in thoughts that seemed impossible to escape.

Nick, who had been trying to make sense of the silence in the room, finally broke it. "What's going on with you?" he asked, eyeing Noah with a raised brow.

Matt, who had been observing Noah for a while, leaned forward, a knowing look crossing his face. "It's about Y/N, right?"

Jolly, sitting across from them, raised an eyebrow. "Y/N?" he echoed, confused, like he hadn’t caught on.

Matt shot him a look as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course, it’s Y/N. He’s been in love with her since the first time he saw her."

Nick blinked, a little stunned. "What? And you never told me?" He looked genuinely surprised, a slight hint of betrayal in his voice.

Folio let out a smug little laugh. "Ah! I knew it. I ducking knew it!"

Noah, who had been tuning them out, suddenly snapped back to reality. He stood up, his frustration bubbling over. "Enough. You’re not helping," he interrupted, his voice louder than usual, the words spilling out in a rush. "I fucked up. I let her go. I feel like shit. Because…" He hesitated, but it was like the weight of it was too much to keep in. "Because I love her. I’ve loved her for years. And when she told me about the job… I thought it was too late to say anything." He shook his head. "I’m such an idiot. I'm such a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, you are." Said Folio, who had been waiting for the confession.

"It’s not too late." Jolly spoke.

Noah turned to him, shaking his head with a defeated look in his eyes. "Yeah, it is. She’s gone."

Matt glanced at his watch. "Her flight hasn’t left yet," he said, his voice steady, as if offering a lifeline Noah hadn’t considered.

Noah froze, his eyes wide for just a moment before the doubt came crashing in. "I can’t do it," he muttered.

Nick leaned forward, a serious expression on his face. "Do you love her?" he asked, not bothering with any other words, just cutting straight to the core of it.

Without thinking, Noah nodded immediately. "Yes," he said, his voice barely a whisper but resolute. "Yes, I love her."

Nick didn’t waste any time. "Then go," he said, his voice firm. "Go fucking get her."

The words hung in the air, and for a split second, Noah didn’t move. He was caught in all his own doubts, his fears, his regrets. But then, something clicked. Maybe it was Nick’s certainty, maybe it was the look in his friends’ eyes, but Noah felt it—he had to go. If he didn’t, he would regret it forever.

He had nothing to lose.

Noah never thought he’d be that guy—the one who ditches his car in traffic, sprints through a crowded airport, and makes a total fool of himself in the name of love. And yet, here he is, running through the terminal, heart hammering in his chest, lungs burning with every breath, because you’re about to board a plane and leave, and he can’t let that happen.

Traffic had been his worst enemy, but he didn’t care. His car had been left behind in the middle of the arrivals lane, engine still running. The thought of you, suitcase packed and ready to leave, was all he could focus on. Every second spent on the road felt like an eternity, but he had to get to you.

He run through the airport.

He narrowly avoided a child who’s been skipping along, then almost tripped over a suitcase abandoned in the middle of the aisle. He bumped into people left and right, his shoulder knocking into a couple who glared at him as he shouted, “Sorry! Sorry, I’m in a hurry!” He didn't wait for their response, didn't care. His focus was on you only.

He cut through crowds, hands brushing against strangers as he weaved between them, the sound of his own breath growing louder in his ears. Another wave of people blocked his path, and he barely managed to swerve, knocking into a woman holding a cup of coffee. It splashed across the floor, the warm liquid spreading out in a wide arc.

“Watch where you’re going!” she yelled.

"I'm so sorry! It's important, I swear!"

The overhead announcement blared, sharp and unrelenting. Final boarding call for Flight 237, please... He didn’t hear the rest. His mind was focused on one thing: You. The gate was in sight. There you were, standing at the counter, your ticket in hand, a look of quiet resolve on your face, your eyes scanning the people around you.

"Wait!"

Heads turned. People gasped. A security guard stepped forward as Noah sprinted toward you, chest heaving, his breath coming out in ragged bursts.

"Don’t go," he blurted out, his voice raw with desperation.

Your brows furrowed as you turned to face him. "Noah, what—?"

He took a step closer, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to confess everything he’d kept locked away for years. "I love you," he said, the words tumbling out, frantic and real. "I fucking love you," He could barely keep his breath steady as he looked at you, his heart thundering in his chest. "And I know—I know I should’ve said this sooner, that I should’ve told you everything before it got to this point. I should’ve been braver, I should’ve figured it out sooner, but I didn’t. I’ve been so damn stupid, too scared to say what I’ve been feeling because I never wanted to mess this up. But I can’t—I can’t let you go without telling you, because if I don’t, I’m going to lose you, and I can’t lose you."

He ran a hand through his hair, "I know I don’t deserve a second chance. Hell, I probably don’t deserve even one, not after all the times I avoided the truth, but please—please don’t get on that plane. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. It scares the shit out of me, honestly, because I’ve let you slip through my fingers, and I’ve never been more afraid of anything in my life than losing you."

He took a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. "Please, just… give me a chance. Don’t go. We can figure this out. You and me, together. I’ve been an idiot for not telling you this sooner, but I know now—I know what I want. And it’s you. It’s always been you. Just don’t walk away from me. Not when I finally have the guts to tell you that I have been in love with you since the first moment I saw you."

There was a moment of silence.

You were sure that a girl was filming the scene, ready to post it on tiktok, probably without even knowing who Noah was.

The security guard took a step toward him, but Noah didn’t flinch. “Sir, you can’t be here—”

"Just give me one second," he said with his eyes locked on yours, pleading.

You stared at him for a moment, a mixture of shock and disbelief in your eyes. Then, as if the weight of his words hit you all at once, your ticket slipped from your fingers and hit the ground. Without thinking, you grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss.

It wasn’t like the movies—there wasn’t a crowd cheering or anything like that. Just the hum of the airport and the soft murmur of an old woman sitting nearby, who, after a brief pause, simply gave a small smile as she went back to reading her book. It made you almost laugh, the absurdity of it all.

Noah smiled against your lips, the warmth of your kiss sinking into his chest.

“You are such an idiot,” you murmured, smiling through the kiss, your hand gently resting on his cheek.

“But an idiot you love, right?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the affection in your gaze. "Yeah, you idiot. An idiot I love."

You both shared one last smile before you pulled away, glancing back toward the gate. The security guard had stepped back, his hands raised in surrender.

Noah took your hand, leading you out of the airport, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

As you walked with him, you couldn’t help but tease him a little. "I never thought you’d pull the 80s movie move to tell me you love me."

Noah gave you a sheepish grin. "At least the security didn’t tackle me."

You laughed, the sound light and free, as the two of you walked through the terminal, together.

"You should write a song on that, you know?"

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

[aethon-recs]

This Month (January) in Tomarrymort (1 – 31 January 2025)

So many wonderful fics and updates were posted in January! The Tomarrymort tag on AO3 is officially at 15,508 fics at the time of this posting — after hitting 15,000 only just in mid-December. That’s so many new fics in the last month and a half — congratulations to all the writers in our (no longer so) little ship on all their hard work! 

This post got a bit long and unwieldy since it’s been a few weeks, so I’ve split it up into two parts (Part 1 - completed fics + one shots; Part 2 - ongoing fics). Be sure to check the reblogs or click here for Part 2 (Ongoing fics). I’m going back to a biweekly update schedule after this, sorry to everyone for the delay 🤍

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Tomarrymort Completed Fics

friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight (E, 28k, complete)

There’s something very unsettling about Tom Riddle. Whether it’s the way he moves, all long limbs and eerie fluidity, the dissecting gaze he follows them with, or the way he speaks, with an accent that doesn’t match his manners. Maybe it’s how he drinks in Harry’s presence like a religious zealot, or how his eyes wander over Harry’s body as if he’s seen the skin and flesh underneath before.

the horror and the wild by @boyneptunee (NR, 21k, complete)

Time travel AU where there's an antique shop that acts like a portal, a ghoul that behaves like a cat and an armchair that could possibly be a puppy. OR: Harry and Tom find themselves in the middle of a string of murders that threaten to pull them under. They must find the culprits before it's too late.

Lovely Bitter Water by @pagesinmylife (T, 30k, complete)

After stabbing the diary, Harry is haunted by the ghost of sixteen year old Tom Riddle. Unfortunately, he seems to be the only one who can see him. OR: Tom Riddle decides to haunt Harry Potter in order to fill his need for attention and validation. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 126k, complete)

When the enigma named Harry Potter stumbled into his world, Tom couldn't have been more unimpressed. That’s not about to stop Harry from adopting him and changing both of their lives. Harry's mission to stop a future Dark Lord’s murder spree and return to a better future and Tom’s pursuit to rule the world and achieve immortality inevitably clashes, and they’ll end up changing the world together. Hopefully, in Harry’s favor.

Touch of Death by @moontearpensfic (E, 9k, complete)

"I don't want to die," Tom informs Death. After a particularly harsh winter at Wool's, Tom Riddle wants to live forever. He calls to Death to bargain for immortality.

An Exquisite Tomarrymort Corpse 2024 by @exquisitetomarrymortcorpse (NR, 35k, complete)

A collection of 21 artists’ and writers' works spanning almost a year, seamlessly stitched together to create an exquisite Tomarrymort corpse. An Exquisite Corpse is a game in which each participant adds to a fanfiction in sequence by only being allowed to see the end of what the previous person contributed.

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Tomarrymort One Shots

One Shot | strong-armed and dangerous by @duplicitywrites

One Shot | Eternal Hunt by @metalomagnetic

One Shot | pruning shears by @boyneptunee

One Shot | Kill his darlings by @sri-verse

One Shot | The Faculty of Sight by @duplicitywrites

One Shot | housewives' club by esotericmuse

One Shot | Tom Riddle And The Case Of The New Eye-Phone by anonymous

One Shot | say my name (and every color illuminates) by lilacscented

One Shot | 1 in 10 people you know may be an eldritch being by @izharmilgram

One Shot | 5 Reverse Tropes + 1 Trope (OR: The time Tom seduced Harry) by epi_tome

One Shot | tomorrow contains tom by @octoir

One Shot | Ravenous for the Ravishing by @bubbleversity

One Shot | all that is conquered (where we revel in our verities) by @inarticulateimbecile

One Shot | Sell the Sinner the Sins by @neurowriter14

One Shot | Stalker with Benefits by @unrealexistence

One Shot | The Pre-Flight Mile High Club by @moontearpensfic @duplicitywrites

One Shot | you chain me, i chain you by RajaMarika

One Shot | The Manor by @se7enriddles

One Shot | sulphur by @cealesti

One Shot | Beloved by @moontearpensfic

One Shot | How to lose your dignity in 4 steps: Tom Riddle edition by Hina_97

One Shot | I was born depraved (hungry) by lovelycatharsis

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(These following fics updated December 20-31, but I wanted to include these here just in case anyone missed the updates!)

Chapters 66 and 67 of draw me after you (let us run) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

Chapter 4 of Crush by @chiocchi

Chapter 2 of Of a Feather by @officialsporkintheroad

Chapter 2 of Reign by @syntheticsoulmates

Chapter 2 of Time Traveling Tomfoolery by @corpium

Chapters 42 through 53 of Terrible, But Great by @isalisewrites

Chapter 44 of Of Monsters, Of Men by @ca-xan-dra

Chapter 6 of Goodbye Evergreen by @v33r00

Chapter 21 of with eyes like these (who sees anybody else) by @cealesti

Chapter 1 of Anything You Like (Within Reason) by @ramabear

Chapter 65 of Holly & Yew by @lovely-lotus

Chapters 1 and 2 of Igual a morte by Limerencia_Obscura

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[jejelovescats]

My analysis on Spy X Family chapter 111

well uhm today's chapter was something initially I though the chapter was too short to write about, but we did get valuable information, and writing isn't only about the present, it's also about the past and future so I've been thinking about this for a few hours and here's what I've found. First point I'd like to make was way back in chapter 1, we got a very brief introduction about Anya, it was stated that she was an unintentional consequence of research experiments and that she had later escaped the facility.

Now since the chapter was quite short, many statements I make can be far-fetched. Alright now, when they said, "unintentional consequence of research experiments" they could've simply meant that the woman (who Anya refers to as "mama") could have just gotten pregnant and called that "unintentional consequence" and when stated "research experiments" they could have simply meant her mother. Now I said "the woman who Anya refers to as "mama"," because she could still be a woman who Anya has grown fond of and called 'mama', this is quite unlikely and I believe that she is her biological mother, still just a thought Now we ask ourselves, in chapter 111, was that a lab? my answer: yes, I do quite think so why? if you look closely, on the back of both Anya and her (probably) biological mother, there are strings holding the dress from behind like a lot of hospital clothing..

And one panel that really stood out to me was this one. Some people theorized previously that if Anya were to have a biological parent, they'd be the reason of her being held captive in the lab. This has been debunked after today's chapter. It seems that Anya's biological mother wanted freedom just as much Anya did, she's a victim in this too. Another point I'd like to make is that Anya's mother probably helped free Anya (as stated in chapter one, all it said was that she escaped, doesn't mean no one helped her) since she knew she couldn't escape herself. The symbolism is symbolizing 🙂‍↕️

Now this is where we ask ourselves, where is Anya's mom? my answer: Probably dead. Why else would she have cried on the interview day? She appeared to be very close to her mother in today's chapter and it would explain her tears. She could also just be trapped in the lab, but I find the first explanation more logical, even though they're both a possibility, that's just my opinion.

Something else, are Anya's powers inherited? probably, they could have messed up with the mother's DNA and passed it on to Anya, and they experimented further on Anya to further develop her powers Last thing, the hair. we saw in chapter 1 that Anya had her hair in buns, as well as today with her mother, and present Anya always has those cone shaped hairpieces on her hair, we've never seen her without them. why? no idea I've gathered a bunch of theories that are plausible 1) they have some type/form of horns hidden underneath their buns 2) scars now the scars would make sense for 2 reasons 1) Donovan, who's probably a mind reader (though we can't verify Melinda as an accurate source) has scars on his head as well, now even though the placement isn't the same, they're still scars. 2) They want to convince their selves they're normal people

hear me out. A woman and her daughter are both trapped in a lab, being experimented on, they have scars, won't hiding them give them some sense of normalcy?

And also, the fact that Anya asked Yor if she could read her mind, the poor kid is looking for anything that might remind her of her mother, in the chapter, her face wasn't shown, just like Loid's flashback. I also noticed while Anya was dreaming that she held bond quite tightly, I think that's because she was trying to hold out to her mother.

well, I did NOT expect to write this much given the length of the chapter😂 can you tell that this was VERY rushed? Since loid did mention that she was sleeping before her bedtime, that probably means that when Anya sleeps again, she'll dream of her mother once again. well, that's me rambling! hope you enjoyed! please feel free to share your thoughts or any more thoughts you might have! okay but isn't baby Anya just adorable? SEE Y'ALL IN 2 WEEKS<333

[atangledfate]

Jewel Watched the others closely to gauge there reactions as she knew Lanolin had effectively been in command thus far. She didn't know what more she could add. but, she just had to get everyone motivated and on point. Her first major priority was to get Surge in a room alone so she could could make a confession recording. This would be important as GUN wouldn't be able to manipulate it how they pleased. It would be vital in the future if they ever expected to get her story in to the public eye.

" Miss Surge i understand you probably have alot on your mind right now. But i also know you want to keep Kitsunami safe... we need your full confession on tap for that. Plus... you two likely have alot to discuss..."

She placed the recorder down in front of Surge and Kitsunami and motioned to a room off to one side.

" You can have all the privacy you like... when you both are ready, just record what you remember, your feelings... emotions... your story. Alot people don't know about either of you... and i want this to be your chance to speak your mind--- To tell the world your side of things. You ... might not get another chance... "

Jewel turned around to Belle fluttering over to her so she could address her directly. She thought about it but, that was highly invasive in her eyes. Belle had been a valued member of her organization and, she had PLENTY of evidence of her good nature and desire to do right by everyone!

" No Belle that would be like... a Truth Serum to us. Even worse then that in reality... we have lots of people who can vouch for you... and not just sonic and tails either. Good people you worked with every day...plenty of hard working individuals who will stand beside you. I have no intention of handing you over... come what may i will personally use all my political sway to push back on any attempt to take you "

Tails shifted his head at Blaze as this was new information, and it wasn't good information. If Starline had some method of survival, it could be similar to what Surge and Kit had, or something else. A robotic double? Eggman used that trick lots. The bigger fear was that there were still more like Surge and Kitsunami out there. Other projects yet uncovered.

" Its always been a possibility... Guys like Starline always have a backup plan. I'm more worried what he'd do with your genetic data if he got ahold of it...it could explain some of Surge's abilities but... just as likely he used it for who knows what else. "

He sighed and his eyes shifted to Surge and Kit who he doubted would take this information well. That the man who tortured and cut them up was alive or worse made another like them.

" Either way... its probably best we worry about that after this crisis is over... no point dwelling on it now..."

The sheep sighed and stepped forward gripping the railing as she looked down at Miles and the others. It would be important to ask now especially with Surge in the room. Especially with how important this would be to her specifically.

" Blaze believes it might be prudent to inform GUN of this... or even use it as a bargaining chip or a sign of good faith. I'm not so sure about that... so we need to get everyone's feelings on this...should we involve GUN? or take care of this possibility on our own..."

Her eyes landed on Surge as she wondered how this information was going to effect her especially.

" Since its a very personal topic for you two.. i thought it important to ask now... before we go any further... "

"I for one personally thing messing with time isn't a great idea, though it does seem Silver always has an idea of what to do somehow." Belle hadn't actually met Silver so was going off mostly stories, though it from what she's heard he always came to the past knowing a specific problem to fix. This had made the tinkerer wonder what the hedgehog was here to fix this time, though hoped it wasn't because of something G.U.N will do.

"Don't feel like it," Surge said while keeping her focus on Drippy. Wasn't going to be easy talking down the fennec to letting them take her, though she can pull it off. That said, the tenrec found it hard to ignore the fact he was fidgeting so just put a hand on top of his head. It seemed to calm him down, though he clearly had his thinking face on. Of course he wasn't fully believing that she'd turn herself in.

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"I wouldn't be too sure. After all, there could still be a difference of opinions when we bring this news up. Though I suppose having Jewel's input is a wise choice." Blaze wasn't sure how easy of a decision this would actually be given everyone in the room, though supposed there was only one way to find out. Hopefully things don't get out of hand.

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"My story is I fucked up the city and tried to ice Sonic and Tails on my own. That's the truth, and I intend to stick with it." Surge didn't see a point in saying what everyone already knew. "And if I'm being honest, I sorta blacked out at one point." The tenrec remembered who she was fighting thanks to Drippy explain it, though at one point everything was a blur. Maybe because that device was putting her brain on overdrive.

"I also have thought of an idea for dispelling G.U.N's fears about my programming. Perhaps we could offer one of their tech specialist to check my code and programming, supervised of course. I may not be fully comfortable with the idea, though if they want to push the subject it would be a smart way." Belle knew that was the main reason for targeting her, though hopefully seeing that her program rejects the Eggnet might put them at ease.

"There is another matter to talk about, though it's a bit of a delicate matter," Blaze said, taking a moment to make sure she knew how she wanted to say this. "So, I myself was attacked by this Starline fellow. I believe it was before what he did to Surge and Kitsunami. However, I thought I had ended him. Seems I was mistaken, so with that said he could've survived his battle with Eggman."

[looulouv]

first meeting — epic!telemachus x reader

pairing: telemachus x gn!reader synopsis: telemachus hopes that this new guard has everything they need to keep the suitors at bay, someone who exudes fear and respect, who can intimidate them with just one look. but when the ship arrives, he quickly realizes he should have kept his imagination in check. yet, he can't wait to see where this goes. genre: fluff warnings: none ig, maybe one joke about offing oneself word count: 1.5k author's note: lil guard and lil tele !!!!! i was just thinking of making little parts of them interacting, kind of just building their relationship to the ithaca saga and maybe after that. have a nice reading, and please keep in mind that english is not my first language, i apologize for any mistakes ! part 1: here!

At fifteen, Telemachus was still an imaginative boy.

His mother had been vague when she told him about the new addition to the palace, only saying that they would be arriving today from Pylos, sent from Nestor himself, and that it would be his duty to escort them from the docks. He hadn't thought much of it at first, assuming that it would be a strong individual—a hardened soldier, someone experienced, someone who could keep the palace safe from the growing number of suitors infesting their halls.

The more he thought about it, the more his expectations grew. He could picture it, a real soldier—a warrior, the kind who loomed over men like an unshaken pillar of war, the kind whose armor groaned with the weight of its own history, the kind that had fascinating stories from gruesome fights and countless kills on their book. Perhaps an older man, one of Nestor’s veterans, weathered by years of battle, with a face carved by scars and a voice like grinding stone. That was what Ithaca needed. That was what his mother needed.

Instead, the figure stepping off the ship looked like they had just come from weaving garlands in a meadow. The first thing that registered was that they were… small. Not in the sense of frailty—there was something too controlled about the way they moved, too precise. But they were young, maybe his age. And their features— Gods help me, they're beautiful—were delicate, almost angelic, like a marble sculpture of a very beautiful, elegant noble.

For a brief, horrifying second, Telemachus thought they might be a companion for his mother, a royal from Pylos. Then—gods forbid—his future betrothed. His heart seized in panic. But when they finally reached the dock, standing at full height, they squared their shoulders and spoke with calm, unfaltering precision.

"My greetings, Prince Telemachus."

Voice smooth, measured, utterly professional—and completely at odds with their face. He was staring. He knew he was staring. He could not stop staring.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He barely managed to keep his reaction contained. He must have looked ridiculous—stiff-backed, mouth slightly open, blinking like an idiot. His hands twitched at his sides as he forced himself to snap back to reality.

"Uh—Yes. Welcome." He cleared his throat, struggling to gather whatever dignity he had left. "Of course, hello."

They didn’t react to his awkwardness. If anything, they barely regarded him at all before shifting their focus to the steward beside him, awaiting further instruction. And that's when it clicked.

They weren't a noble. They weren't some delicate thing come to weave at his mother’s loom. They were the guard.

This was the new guard? The one meant to keep his mother safe? The guard sent by Nestor of Pylos, sent to protect them, to make them feel safer over the looming shadows of the suitors.

His eyes flicked to the sword at their hip, the careful way they carried themselves. Now that he was looking properly, he could see the truth of them—disciplined, well-trained. The confidence in their stance wasn’t that of a teen used to courtly mannerisms, but of a soldier used to command.

Telemachus finally managed to force his mouth shut, though his brain was still playing a losing game of catch-up. His expectations had been torn to shreds, and now, as he walked alongside the newly arrived guard, he was scrambling for something, anything, to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete idiot.

“So… uh, you have a name?” he asked, attempting casual conversation. He regretted it immediately, his face scrunching up with embarrassment. Of course they had a name. Everyone had a name. What kind of question was that?

The guard turned their head slightly toward him, eyes unreadable. "(Y/N)."

Oh. A nice name. Not that it mattered. Not that he was thinking about that. Not that he was kind of reciting it in his head, his mouth itching to repeat it...

"Right. Good." He nodded, as if that somehow helped. "So, uh… you came from Pylos? How was the trip?"

(Y/N) didn’t hesitate. "Pleasant, my prince."

Pleasant. That was all. No complaints, no small talk, no elaboration. He had never met someone around his age who spoke with so much restraint. It was almost unsettling. Almost impressive. Intimidating, he dared to say.

They reached the stone steps leading up to the palace, and just as Telemachus was about to say something else—anything to fill the unbearable silence, probably something stupid again—a servant carrying a heavy amphora stepped out too suddenly from the side, directly in (Y/N)’s path.

Before Telemachus could react, they shifted. A small, precise movement, nothing flashy, but enough to pivot neatly around the servant without so much as brushing their tunic. The servant, oblivious, continued on their way.

Telemachus, however, was left blinking. He had seen plenty of people stumble in similar situations, caught off guard by sudden obstacles. But (Y/N)? Not even a second of hesitation. Their footing had been steady, controlled—like avoiding a collision was second nature to them.

The guard barely acknowledged the servant’s near collision, continuing up the steps with the same measured stride. Meanwhile, Telemachus forced his mouth shut before he embarrassed himself even further. He had been staring again, and judging by the brief flicker of attention (Y/N) gave him, they had noticed.

He cleared his throat and picked up his pace, gesturing vaguely as they walked. “Right, so, uh—this way.”

They followed without question, as silent as a shadow. It was unsettling. Telemachus found himself talking just to fill the empty space between them, pointing out the stone archways, the flickering torches casting long shadows across the walls, the occasional glimpse of the sea from a high window. He fumbled with his words, surely talking more than necessary for the both of them, letting out a few nervous chuckles and internally dying every single time (Y/N) answered with less than ten words.

“This will be your home now, I suppose,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Not that you’ll have much time to enjoy it. Lots of standing around, glaring at people, that sort of thing. Sounds fun, right?”

(Y/N) said nothing.

Gods help him, he should stop talking.

“Uh—what I mean is, uh, I’m sure you’ll, um… do well. Not that you need me to say that, obviously…” Another nervous laugh. “You probably know exactly what you’re doing.”

A beat of silence. Then, they finally spoke.

“Yes.”

That was it. That was all they gave him.

Telemachus had never wanted to fling himself into the sea more in his life.

Finally, after a few moments of silence —silence that made him want to scream or just jump out of a window— Telemachus took the new guard to Penelope's chambers, informing that it was less likely for his mother to be out in the day, as she preferred to keep her sanity, and that meant to stay away from the suitors that roamed the halls, infesting the place with their stupid faces.

"Welcome," Penelope greeted warmly once they made it through the wooden doors, her voice as soft as it was strong. There was no distance in her tone, no royal stiffness. Only kindness.

(Y/N), to their credit, straightened even further and bowed their head. "My lady."

"Oh, my dear. Nestor spoke very highly of you," Penelope continued, stepping forward. "We are grateful for your presence. I trust your journey went well?"

They hesitated, but only for half a second. "Yes, my lady. It was… comfortable, thank you."

A small pause. Then, Penelope smiled—a true, open expression, one meant to ease tension rather than demand respect.

"I imagine Ithaca must seem a bit different from Pylos," she mused, her tone light. "I do hope you’ll find it welcoming."

For the first time, the new guard's carefully composed expression wavered. It was subtle, but Telemachus caught it—the slight shift in their features, the way their shoulders, previously held so stiffly, lowered just the tiniest bit.

And then, to his complete shock, they… smiled.

Not much, just a small, barely-there curve of the lips, but it was real. Genuine. "Thank you, my lady."

Telemachus stared. He had barely gotten more than a handful of words out of them, but his mother? With just a few kind phrases, she had already coaxed out something warm, something human. He could understand it, though. His mother just had that energy that screamed kindness and warmth, and made every soul that met her feel at ease.

He quickly looked away, focusing instead on the blue, clear sky outside the window while his mother kept easily coaxing words out of (Y/N), getting to know them like he hadn't tried to do that for two hours straight. (Y/N), despite their small moment of softness, had already returned to their professional demeanor, yet their words to Penelope were soft, gentler than when they had arrived. Telemachus had seen it now—the glimpse of someone who wasn’t just a guard, but a person. And he prayed to the gods above that he could be the one to make them smile again.

He had a feeling that he would make that his favorite hobby.

[ayax-art]

▶️ Animación lawlu ♡

no es wip, está terminada

[qoldenskies]

How do you think cc Donnie would take the Technodrome? Any aftereffects you think he'd have?

i would NEVER do anything to cc!donnie like the horrors i put cvd!donnie through (because ive still danced around in the story it but its BAD bad) ,,, and my reason is just "i think he's been through enough" but depending on your interpretation of how you want the movie to go i think there's still plenty of horrors there. i could see him being in the console being extremely triggering because of his claustrophobia, at the very least!