#his fear is being stagnant and settling for less

[slushiepizza]

if it's not obvious already, i headcanon that there's something severely wrong with guy that's masked with his upbeat personality

[kitsantoss]

[Andre Lamoglia, Cis Man, He-They ] — whoa! Kit Santos just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for 8 YEARS, working as a WRITER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 29 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit SNARKY and YAPPY , but I know them to be ENERGETIC and CHARMING. whatever. I guess I’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (Juicy, 21+, est, any, n/a)

tw: cancer, death

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Kit had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Kit was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Kit had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Kit couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Kit was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Kit figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Kit met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Kit experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[hxesandruin]

Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find ( Christopher "Kit" Blackthorn ), the (33) year old ( Author ) originally from ( Cardinal Hill ). Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're ( fun loving ) and ( vexing ), but what you might not know is that they are a ( human ), and that they’re hiding something… ― Logan Lerman, gay, cis man, he/they.

tw: death, cancer

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Kit had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Kit was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Kit had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Kit couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Kit was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Kit figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Kit met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Kit experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[duckygoncalves]

Full Name: Declan James Goncalves

Nickname(s): Ducky

Age: 28

Date of Birth: October 31st,

Hometown: Ottawa, Canada

Current Location: Sunny Shores

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: He/they

Marital status: Single

Children: n/a

Orientation: click here

Occupation: Author

Language(s) Spoken: English, Spanish, Portuguese

Face Claim: Andre Lamoglia

tw: cancer

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Ducky had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Ducky was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Ducky had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Ducky couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Ducky was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Ducky figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Ducky met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Ducky experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[duckysbook]

Full Name: Declan Carvalho

Nickname(s): Ducky

Age: 29

Date of Birth: October 31st,.

Current Location: Chicago, West Loop

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: He/they

Marital status: Single.

Children: n/a

Orientation: click here

Occupation: author

Language(s) Spoken: English, Spanish, Portuguese

tw: cancer, death

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Ducky had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Ducky was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Ducky had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Ducky couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Ducky was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Ducky figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Ducky met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Ducky experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[duckycarvalho]

Full Name: Declan Carvalho

Nickname(s): Ducky

Age: 29

Date of Birth: October 31st,.

Current Location: wilmington, nc

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: He/they

Marital status: Single.

Children: n/a

Orientation: click here

Occupation: author

Language(s) Spoken: English, Spanish, Portuguese

tw: cancer, death

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Ducky had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Ducky was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Ducky had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Ducky couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Ducky was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Ducky figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Ducky met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Ducky experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[malevolententity]

ITS BEEN A MONTH OH GOD PROJECT 10

i have ignored the results of the poll. i am still in unpacking hell, had more important projects to chunk at, and did not want to make a ghost so! blue chicken coaster! i havent been able to play stardew Also in about a month so blue chicken coaster... he is so silly and precious to me. he took a little less than an hour! i fear that i may eventually just work up an army of chicken coasters. i didnt put the optional hanger on him but i might down the road? or work up another one of these with the hanger with the Specific goal of using it as wall deco rather than a coaster.

SEASON THOUGHTS

we are still on e10 of segredo na foresta! arthur just fucking died what the FUCK. MY LITTLE GUYYYYS. absolutely fucked up to bring alex back to torment liz. we havent cut back to thaigo to see who his guilt is so m interested to see if it ends up being daniel or if its someone we havent seen before. either way this is incredibly fucked up and i am enjoying every second of it.

also yall m so sad that i havent been able to drill my portuguese as much as id like too. moving sucks AOP kinda carries my learning of portuguese with being able to rewind and listen back and read and i am throwing Hands that this month has been kinda stagnant because of my life. now that m more settled again ill get back into the swing of it but man. i really missed being able to crochet and watch aop for like an hour or so a day to test my very very basic toddler portuguese

[kitblckthrn]

✦ THOMAS WEATHERALL, CIS MAN, HE-THEY✦ CHRISTOPHER “KIT” BLACKTHORN the TWENTY-FIVE year old has been in Hidehill for HIS ENTIRE LIFE and was a FORMER STUDENTS to Miyeon Kang, the murder victim. Whispers on the streets are that the WRITER who lives in HARLOW ESTATES are said to be FLIRTY and SARCASTIC but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

tw medical, death

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Kit had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Kit was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Kit had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Kit couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Kit was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Kit figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Kit met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Kit experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[kismetharborapps]

application

ooc information

name: juicy

preferred pronouns: any

age: 21+

timezone: est

activity level: around a 7 I would say depends if I get another storm coming my way or not

triggers: n/a

anything else?: here

character information

name: Declan "Ducky" James Goncalves

faceclaim: Andre Lamoglia

gender & pronouns: cis man, he/they

age: 31

birthday: October 31st, 1993

place of birth: Ottawa, Canada

occupation: Author

neighborhood: downtown

time since arriving in kismet harbor: Ten Years

filling a wanted connection?: n/a

biography: 

tw: cancer, death

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Ducky had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Ducky was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Ducky had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Ducky couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Ducky was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Ducky figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Ducky met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Ducky experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

other: here 

pets: puppy samoyed puppy named Juliet, and a orange tabby munchkin cat named jiggy, both only five months old.

town activities: Dungeons and Dragons, ADHD, and Boundless Bookworms, LGBTQIA+

draw of luck: no

character blog url: duckysgoncalves

[americandadrps]

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Kit had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Kit was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Kit had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Kit couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Kit was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be       the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Kit figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Kit met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Kit experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[animezinglife]

I think Elain and Azriel are different in ways that matter long-term, just as I think she and Lucien are similar in ways that matter long-term.

Azriel would absolutely be an upgrade from Graysen (and I do mean this as a compliment to Az even though it's objectively not saying much), but I do think where he and Elain are incompatible would start to wear on them both over time. They're different on a fundamental level whereas she and Lucien are not.

I can see Az being too much for Elain not in the sense she'd ever have need or reason to fear him or that he wouldn't be sweet to her, but simply in how differently his mind and values have been forged.

How differently he acts and reacts.

I think they could have a good relationship while it lasted, but I don't think it would last. If it did, I could see it lasting only out of habit and comfort zones--stagnation and unwillingness to change or take risks.

I think Azriel would eventually tire her, and that it would become grating and stagnant given she would always feel that pull towards Lucien whether she wanted it or not. Unless, of course, it somehow was severed completely.

With Lucien, there's a fundamental similarity in values and temperaments. Lucien may have a bit of a mouth on him at times, but he's gentle. He's kind, witty, snarky, and warm. He can be a little wild, but generally has some of the best self-control in the series when it comes to not allowing himself to be goaded into an action that will cost him.

I think the blood dual line embodies that perfectly. Even if Elain hated Lucien (which she doesn't), she would never wish for him to be harmed or for him and Azriel to fight.

Azriel likes competition. Thrives in it. He likes his space and quiet, even though he can do both. It would wear Elain out, and I think between his nature and demands his role requires, Elain would start to feel neglected (attention-wise) over time. While I fully believe everyone underestimates her fortitude and what she's willing to accept among people, I believe Az's brutal profession would start to wear on her.

Elain was social as as human. She liked her parties, and she had friends. She wants both simplicity and the chance to do something greater; to test the waters and see who she can become. While both Az and Lucien believe she's capable of it, I can see her flourishing and thriving far more with Lucien.

With someone who can both utilize and weaponize relationships and connections through people and words.

Whereas Azriel is very much established in his life. His life and choices could change, of course, but old habits die hard and it's difficult to imagine leaving his spying and warrior upbringing behind.

Hypothetically, it's in all these ways where someone like Gwyn would be a better fit for him. Gwyn is a warrior herself. She's sharp and resourceful and thrives in environments where she can push herself to the limits and beyond them physically and mentally. She brings her own light into a room in a way similar to Elain, but Gwyn's is less of a warm sun's glow and more like a firecracker. She too likes her quiet; is used to working in the dark and quiet and settling her own mind in those moments.

Azriel also wants a mate. While it wasn't Elain's choice to be mated, it's worth noting that fact isn't anyone's choice in this series. Even if we look at a couple like Viviane and Kallias who arguably had the most convenient and comfortable bond scenario (in which they were already in love with each other, had decided to spend their lives together, and were newlyweds when it snapped), they still didn't necessarily have a choice in the bond itself.

Even if Elain and Azriel pursued each other, Elain's bond has snapped with someone else. As of right now, we can only assume Azriel has never had that (and I think his actions and internal conflicts support the idea).

If Azriel did end up having a bond snap into place, it wouldn't be with Elain.

It would be with someone else, and I wouldn't wish that on either one of them. They both deserve better (and Lucien does, too).

I want to see them all experience the highest form of love in their world and for that love to thrive.

Azriel would never intentionally hurt Elain, but he's often blinded by his own nature and ambitions where Lucien is not.

Azriel reacts. It's his method of survival and getting a job done.

Lucien considers. That's his method of survival and getting a job done.

Neither are this way all the time--Az can be silent and menacing, and Lucien can run his mouth and get himself into trouble.

But the differences in those tendencies matter.

At the end of the day, though, it will be Elain's choice, but value and temperament alignment are always worth considering.

Lucien wouldn’t even call a blood duel and if Azriel somehow called it I am 100% sure he would not participate. He abhors violence. He did not kill Graysen, the man who disrespected his MATE. He did not seek revenge for Jesminda’s death even though I know he wants to. He would not participate in it, tradition be damned.

But Azriel would.

Even if it hurts Elain. Even if it scars her. Even if losing her mate potentially messes her up. And we know that because of his eager response to Rhys. We know that because he liked the idea of Lucien killing Greysen even when Elain asked to spare him. He did not care. But Lucien understands this, Lucien understands Elain and their morals align.

That’s the whole point.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: mason gooding

full name: christopher "Kit" lovelace

nickname(s) / goes by: Kit, Chris.

pronouns & gender: cis man

sexuality: gay

birth date: october, 31st, day, 1993.

birth place: vancouver, canada

arrival to merrock: local.

housing: the suburbs

occupation: author, twitch streamer

work place: n/a

family: adoptive mother and father.

relationship status: single

filling connection: n/a!

PERSONALITY

+charming, charismatic, adventurous, flirty. -guarded, moody, brash.

WRITTEN BY: Vanjie (any), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

TW: cancer, and death. | admin note: hospitals, treatments, terminal illnesses & diagnoses mentioned/described.

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Kit had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Kit was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Kit had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Kit couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Kit was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Kit figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Kit met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Kit experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

[peace-for-levi]

Happy 600!!! SO proud of you! 🖤

For your event, I’d love to have my boy Levi & the prompt: “Don't look at them, look at me."

I’d love for this to be canon.

Levi gets a serious injury in the field for the first time and You can’t keep your relationship a secret anymore from the Scouts while Levi fights oncoming unconsciousness.

You just want to comfort Levi and be there for your baby before he gets the medic, talkng him through it and keeping him with you. If he mentioned “it hurts,” I will cry. Bonus points.🥲

Levi has fear in his eyes for the first time in his life and he just needs You to save him.🥹

so you and i sorta talked and to those of you apart from alla reading, we settled on recreating the after-effects of the thunderspear incident! this isn't my best but i do hope you sorta like it? focused more on the feelings rather than dialogue.

w/c: 3,842

content and warnings: descriptions of drowning, self-hatred and shame, and canon-typical gore/injuries. Slight canon-divergence in the sense that I wrote Levi with a stomach injury on top of his face being slashed open. Implied secret relationship. Reader goes berserk at Floch momentarily but i don't blame them tbh.

The soul of the heavens arrives in generous pellets of water. In downpours this heavy, one might feel cleansed and humbled. The mud on the ground is putted, washed clean of any footprints.

The crashing and roaring waves of the river – with no thanks to the rain making and pushing and pulling so merciless – are no less inviting than the pure Titan transformation he spots for a split second before his brain slows to a sudden halt. His eyes are shut as he's airborne, unable to brace himself.

There is a crash upon the impact: the impact of Levi being catapulted into the river. It's a heavy blow, he feels, and suddenly he's still; in limbo.

The water is murkier underneath than the surface. He feels it seeping in, keeping him snug as he plummets further. The dull ache in his right hand is gone.

He sinks further. It's slow, stagnant.

He feels like he's rotting now. The comforting lull, the darkness all around… It was eerily hypnotic and he feels his heart slow.

Death, right now, seemed so inviting.

I failed you Erwin and Hange, he says as he falls.

There's a feeling of decay building within him. His limbs feel heavier than a few moments ago.

[F/n], I… I failed you, too, he admits. He opens his eyes a bit at this realization.

Drowning was such a bitch of a way to go. Panic, fear, and then nothing. The stray hairs of his undercoat float up. Absent-mindedly, he reaches for something. He thinks he sees a hand – your hand – reaching for him; he wants to see your hand reaching for him.

[F/n], please…

Who's he begging to? More specifically, why was he begging to you? He's so far down below, he's a deadman.

He reaches forward some more. Is that the light of the sun he sees, or is this the light people talk about as you're about to cross over?

Death, right now, seemed so inviting… but not today. Not for him.

Not yet!

Levi does not get to rest easy.

He feels his lungs seize and he gasps. His throat burns and eyes snaps open, blearily blinking through grime and dirt. With whatever he could muster and before his lungs give out, he starts to swim upwards. It’s a struggle, even for someone like him, to try to swim in these conditions.

He heaves in massive strokes once he breaks the surface and thankfully, he’s not too far from the banks of the river. He fists onto one of the reeds sprouted by the river’s edge and pulls himself ashore. He braces his weight to the heels of his palms, but he buckles. He catches himself in time and lands on his back.

Everything feels heavy and dirty and wrong. He raises his right hand to dab at his face, and– oh.

His lips part. His index and middle finger– where did they–?

Before he can even contemplate where the fingers may have fallen to, he’s clutching his stomach in pain. Bile is building up in the back of his throat. Even as he lies dead still, blood is gushing out of whatever arteries were severed in great surges. Every time he blinks to try to clear his vision, his right eye will not adjust.

He tries again, and again, and again.

Eventually, it all clicks to him.

Defeated – he truly feels defeated. Zeke was probably long gone. Even if he was nearby, it'd make no difference; Levi's in bits, his ears are ringing and drowning out everything and he is in no position to fight.

Still, he relents and tries again to prop himself up again for he can't let Erwin down like this. It has been four painstakingly slow years and he was so fucking close, and it blew right up in his face. Literally.

He failed Erwin, again; he let the Beast Titan slip away, again.

I failed, I failed, I failed…

With shaking hands and shuddering breaths, he is left to lie there in his misery.

I'm sorry…

His eyes snap shut and he gasps in deep strokes. This is the closest he has ever been to Death's doors since he was a kid. Is this what it feels like to be left behind while you are too weak to go on?

I'm… terrified, he admits. Letting out another choked sob as he succumbs to his fragile emotional state, Terrified of dying and of dying so slowly, terrified of letting people down again. Terrified of leaving you behind in this crazy, unsafe and new world, and that you may have to navigate it without him.

But he can't just leave you behind… not when there's still a slim chance he can still push through this. He can't just toss in the towel now – he still has to fulfil Erwin's final order.

He just can't help it that he's tired.

Even so, he refuses to close his eyes.

He will get through this.

For you. For Erwin. For Hange. For the kids. People are counting on him; depending on him.

For a while the world stills and slows, though, and as a harsh gust blows through the coniferous trees, he swears he can hear your agonized screams.

.

.

[F/n]...

.

.

[F/n], please…

.

.

I'm so terrified…

.

.

It all hurts…

.

.

He briefly comes to his senses when he feels warm hands cup his bloody cheeks. At this point, he's running out of energy to keep himself conscious. He can just breathe and stay calm. But when the fingers gently shake and rub away some of the grime from his face, he focuses his gaze a bit. He hears agonized sobs piercing the air.

A gasp. "...[F/n]?" He blinks more, surely he's dreaming.

He snapped his gaze over to the footsteps he hears.

Jaegerists.

"Don't look at them. Look at me." You whispered hastily, tapping at his cheek as if to keep him awake. "Levi… Oh, Levi…"

It was such a sobering sight to see Levi Ackerman like this. What could have happened… He looked like death. You hurriedly pressed two fingers to the pulse point on his neck.

Slow and shallow.

You continued to whimper, silently begging to the goddesses above – would they help you now?

Hange rushes up beside you, a hand on your back as they move to assess him. You bury your eyes in your hands, unable to stay remotely professional.

Any more theatrics and Hange might find out about you two, after all. And what would that mean for the Jaegerists? A close association to Humanity's Strongest? That didn't spell good news.

You hear footsteps behind you.

"Is that Captain Levi?"

Fucking Floch, traitorous bastard. What could he possibly want? You peer up behind you and your eyes zero in on the shotgun in his hand.

No way, he wouldn't–

"Heh, I don't know what happened but we're lucky it did. The biggest threat we faced is lying in a bloody heap," he said.

A soldier beside Floch stepped forward, clearly very eager to use his shotgun. "We should put one in his head just in case."

You gasped and immediately rose to your feet. Adrenaline surged followed by a swift kick and the man was disarmed, shotgun kicked far out of reach. You reach for his arm and twist it behind his back and just as you go to bend it:

"There's no need, he was caught in a thunderspear explosion at point blank range. It shredded his guts… killed him instantly…"

The soldier who was once at your mercy is dropped and you fall to your knees opposite Hange. You rest your hand an inch above his mouth. Strange; for a dead man, he was breathing semi-regularly. That's when Hange gave you the quickest look; had you blinked, you would have missed it.

Stay quiet, their eyes seemed to say.

"Floch!" a Jaegerist cries out.

You and Hange snap your heads to the commotion, the strange sight unfolding has you both stunned silent. There was a small class Titan probably no more than thirty yards away, hunched over as if in pain and steam that is normally excreted from a dead titan is being sucked back in.

This had to be an abnormal.

"Is it disappearing? Did it die?" Floch cried out, still holding his weapon from before. Though it was not like bullets would do much against a Titan anyway.

"No. Titans don't normally suck in steam like that when they disappear." Hange replied.

Eventually, the Titan's carcass did break down and evaporate. Rays of light shone through the clouds, like spotlights shining down on what was to be unveiled. You heard a rattled breath pass through Levi's lips as a figure fell unceremoniously to the ground.

Your teeth gnashed together at the sight of Zeke standing before you. You don't know how, but Zeke was responsible for Levi's grave injuries; Levi wouldn't get this injured by mishandling a Thunderspear by himself.

The Jaegerists stare in shock while Hange turns to face you. You see them stare past you and towards the river. You quickly get the message.

While Levi is physically unable to protest as he is plunged into the icy cold river, his body screams out in pain. The murky water seeping into his injuries did him no favours.

The swift current takes Hange and him along; they expertly swim with the swift pull of the river.

Amidst the crashing waves, Levi cocks his head to the side trying to see what you'd do.

Waiting for you.

*****

It's in the evening by the time you find Hange again. They had mouthed a few numbers to you before they dove into the river with Levi. You made a mental note at the time to remember, but you initially didn't understand. Once they were far out of sight, it clicked: Hange was telling you coordinates of the map you two had followed to get here. Coordinates of where they'd take him.

Cryptic, but clever; that was Hange in two words.

There was a clearing in the forest where they laid Levi down. By the time you had arrived, they unfolded a spare blanket on the ground for him to lie on, and another laid over him to keep him warm.

Hange worked in silence to get the bleeding on his face under control. It was obvious his right eye would never work again, which was a shame. His right eye once the colour of liquid mercury now was bloodied and had a milky hue to it.

Hange had asked for mostly silence but as the situation settled, you two began to talk a bit more. Good thing for you, you could hardly stop rocking back and forth as your mind raced.

"Is he going to be okay?" you blurted out.

Hange looked at you anf back down to him. "Nobody would have survived something like that, normally. But that is it to say the Ackermans aren't built like the rest of us. He'll be fine, but... He won't be doing any fighting anytime soon."

You can only nod as you watch Hange expertly stitch up. Your eyes continued to well with unshed tears every time you looked over at him.

If only you had rode a little faster.

If only you had convinced him harder in trying to stay with him the past month.

If only you had searched the Jaegerists harder and inspected the wine...

It's not like you'd have known.

Admist your introspection, Hange spoke. "So... how long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you two been seeing each other. Romantically, I mean."

Shit. Were you two going to be in trouble? No, hopefully not. Hange was one of you guys' closest friends. You had done your best to keep it under wraps, but as the war drew closer and closer, perhaps you two let some thing slip due to the sheer exhaustion of everything going on in the background.

"How did you know?"

"I'm not that stupid. But, if you must know... I always suspected something."

You gulp, but don't say anything.

Hange further clarifies: "It was your reaction to his injuries; you're a person who can normally stay reasonably composed. It was also the way Levi shifted beneath me when he heard you. And while his face was all bloody and battered, he... looked at you in a way I have never seen him look at someone before."

You nod. You figure it might be alright to tell them now. It wasn't as if you couldn't trust Hange – there was no one you trusted more after Levi – but it was purely so that there would be no outward bias and favouritism from Levi or you.

But also, because Levi was so vital to humanity's survival and victory – he couldn't afford to be chained down. As Humanity's Strongest, his duty was to humanity before it would ever be to you. But when he was just Levi? Was Levi allowed to be selfish, especially when the war was nearly over?

"A few years, around the start of 850 or so. Look, Hange–"

"--For what it's worth, I don't object," Hange interrupted. They continued to work on Levi's stitches. "I know people aren't meant to date superiors, but there is no one better suited for him than you. Look after him, okay?"

You blinked and sat back on your haunches. It was the first time that day you weren't craning your neck over to look him. Instead, you fixated on the bespectacled brunette.

"'Look after him, okay?' Hange, what do you–"

"...I just feel like this is it for me."

That was uttered so quietly, it was as if they were confessing a sin.

You're not sure if that was something you were meant to hear or not. Your lips parted and you blinked, owlishy. "Hange, no... What are you–?"

They are very quick to shut down whatever questions you had about their uncharacteristically morbid disposition. "Can you go check that we aren't being pursued? I had that we're just squatting here and there could be more Jaegerists looking for us."

Oh, you want to press further. But Hange was stubborn in every sense of the word; their stubbornness is what helped Humanity because they had to push Erwin to capture Titans and to study them more.

It's a later conversation, fine. You make your way to the entrance of the forest.

You feel a slight pressure in your head as you run. It builds and builds, and it's not long before your surroundings change. You were no longer in the forest but in a desert-like landscape. Your eyes widened at the sight of an aurora in the sky, myriads of root-like paths of iridescent light shooting out in all directions.

"To all Subjects of Ymir. My name... is Eren Jaeger..."

As Eren delivers his message, you sink to your knees and bring a hand to your forehead. Eren was actually going to ahead with this. What did this mean about Zeke? Was he still involved with this?

You scrambled to your feet and sprinted back as if you being chased by the marching Wall Titans themselves. That message was delivered to every Eldian and stunned them all silent.

"Hange!" you yell out. You hop over a few bushes and logs and push some brambles out of the way. "Did you see–?"

Levi was being pushed down by Hange as they spoke. That means he was awake, right? He was going to be okay, no? You ambled forward and plopped before him, sitting on your haunches. Levi reached a hand to you, wanting you near.

Hange smiled softly and stood up. "I'll give you two some space."

You smile at Hange as they walked away before you turned your attetion back to Levi. You gingerly cradled his bandaged face, thumbs smoothing under his cheekbones. His brows were knitted together; you initially assumed it was out of pain but he would have spoken up if that was the case.

He was devastated.

He was ashamed of himself.

Zeke was long gone now, but that didn't matter. He'd chase after him to the ends of the Earth in the name of fulfulling Erwin's final order. He'd fight to the bitter end if it meant making the world a safer place for you both.

"I failed." He finally admits.

How could he think that? He was a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was the only time he had underestimated the enemy. And Zeke was no ordinary enemy.

He was your safe haven; your release. It hurt you just as much to see him this way.

"I should..." he pauses to cough. You rest a hand on his tummy; his breaths are laboured. He has to catch his breath in between speaking. "I should have predicted the explosion."

"Levi, stop, you couldn't have–"

"It's been four years, [F/n]. Four shitting years. And I am no clo... closer than I was in Shiganshina." He said this through gnashed teeth.

You lean back and sigh. Even when he was gravely injured, he was still thinking about this damn promise. It's not that it wasn't worthy of being a promise, but it kept Levi awake at night (more than usual.) It was how Levi planned out every movement of every day.

"Erwin wouldn't want to see you struggling like this," you settled. Levi swallowed thickly. He looks towards the fire and tries to distract himself with the sparking embers. He begins to shiver a bit. With all the care in the world, you move him a little closer. "And neither would I."

He turns his head away. He has a bitter look on his face. He was probably pouting – as best as he could – beneath the bandages. "You heard 'em, [F/n.] They think I'm dead. I should be out there, fighting alongside you all. And I fucked up and now you and Hange and everyone in Shiganshina is paying the price."

He pauses, his eyes shutting.

"People's lives are on the line, and I could have been there."

It's a grumble. He's not looking at you, probably out of shame.

"Who says it has to be just you to take down Zeke, huh? Because Erwin said so?" You challenge. You are aware you're overdoing it and that you're cutting deep, but he is too stubborn and too familiar with shouldering everything that he has forgotten that sometimes even the strongest need a rest when they have been taken down. "You are not going after Zeke in this condition. Not until Hange gives you the all clear. Let us help you!"

"Tch, you don't–"

"–I don't understand?! Levi, I almost lost you today!" you choked. By now you have allowed yourself to – gently – slump over his body, trying to find some solace in his arms. You sit up again quickly, looking into his good eye. "I know killing Zeke is important, but you need to rest first, please! If I saw… If I had to see you that bloody and battered again…" you stop yourself from saying anything else.

It's not that you were arguing out of jealousy or anger. But it was likely Levi's first thought upon waking up was just Zeke. He was wholly consumed by this lofty goal. He wouldn't see himself as worthy unless Zeke was dead.

Levi Ackerman cannot afford to fail. Not now, not ever. At least that was how he disciplined himself.

You couldn't find it within yourself to continue the conversation. It just hurt. You were still reeling from seeing Levi so beaten up. Still reeling from the fact that if he wasn't an Ackerman, he would have died.

"I'm sorry, Levi. Sorry for… yelling. I just…"

He only nods, teeth chattering. "I know… It's okay. I know this must be a shock…" he says as he lifts up his right hand, looking at the missing fingers. "It is for me, too."

The silence that permeates between you two was initially palpable, but it becomes comforting the more you listen to his steady breathing.

Here's here now.

He's alive now.

And you would do anything to protect him.

"How are you now? Still cold?"

You hear him sigh through the bandages. He coughs before answering. "Sore."

"Where?" you ask, but that's a stupid question. Everything hurts from his head to his heart. You lean down and kiss his forehead, and trail a few kisses down his temples and uninjured cheek. "I love you so. You are no failure, Levi."

You swore you heard him inhale shakily, and that you saw his lips wobble.

"What about you?" he asked. How am I supposed to protect you in this state?

All you do is shake your head. No, stop it. Don't beat yourself up.

He relents. You weren't about to let yourself feel victimised. But also, you had to ease him of his doubts. If that was at all possible.

"You need not worry about me. Hange and I will come up with something, you just need to rest and heal."

He exhales, shakily. "Tch," he grunts in pain. "It all... hurts." You nod, smiling sadly. It was a smile that didn't - couldn't - make it up to your eyes. You smooth a thumb under his eyes, catching the stray tears that trickled down.

"Cry if you need to, I'll always listen."

You thumbed away every stray tear and listened to every worry the man had.

"Is there anything else I can do?" You ask him.

A shaky hand reaches out for you. He wants you closer. "...here. Stay. Stay with me."

Of course you would.

You'd follow Levi forever; loving him, listening and caring for him.

Hange, themself, had asked you to as well, and you were not about to let them down.

[vampkillr]

To Know — Bruce Wayne

m! vamp! reader — 2.2k words — angst — there's romance in this — SUGGESTIVE part towards the end you've been warned — battinson — spoilers for the new batman movie.

There was a calmness to my method. A beauty in chipping away piece by piece, carving out delicate beings from what was once a pillar of the strongest stone. Giving life to something so simple as rock. Creating flesh from earth. Shaping them in humanity's image. I was patient enough for this. Patient enough to seek out each detail with my chisel. Burying my tools into the stone and digging for every crease and corner of the body I was forming. Sculpting was an art that took time— and I was a man who had more time than I knew what to do with. "I can feel your eyes on me, you know." Something about a piercing gaze that made all of my senses jolt awake. He had been watching me for the past few hours—leaving every so often— but he'd always return. I knew who he was. What he was. Behind the scent of titanium and leather, the faint sound of blood being pumped through his heart. I don't think he knew I could sense him. I don't think he could tell what I was, but I knew better than to think my art was what intrigued him. "Do you speak?" My tone condescending.

"Only when I need to." His footsteps echoed from behind me, but I didn't make any effort to turn around and look at him. "You don't seem to sleep." My nerves began to cluster in my stomach from his statement. I knew I was stronger than him. Less fragile, but he was still the batman— and I knew the people he's defeated before encountering me. Would he have much of a challenge?

"Only when I need to." I used his own remark for myself, trying so desperately to turn my focus to my sculpture. The sound his steps made against the pavement, growing louder as he got closer to me— I was on edge. His breath was warm against the chill of my neck.

"I can make you human again," I wanted to crumble beneath the weight of the fear that froze me. The air of anticipation that settled sent me deeper into my panic. How did I want to play this out? Did I want to put up a fight even though he was offering me something I had yearned for? How could I trust him? "do you want that?" His voice snapped me out of my turmoil.

"No one can cure it." I straightened my back against him, trying to hide my weakening resolve. "Though the thought of living and growing old with someone is enticing, I know it's not possible, so please—" I turned around, doing my best not to falter under his gaze. "just don't tell anyone. I mean no harm." I knew I was pleading. I knew it was probably of no use. But I had to try.

"You don't think it's possible?" He stepped closer, trapping me between his own body and my sculpture. I shook my head. I knew all too well that it wasn't.

"Viruses lack self-sufficiency. But this one manages to survive even after the body kills itself trying to fight it." I sighed. "Even if you managed to help me, I would die. I wouldn't be human again." He brought his hand up to my face, thumb grazing against my cheek. I would never be able to let myself fall in love. I couldn't stay in one place forever. I couldn't have friends in fear I'd harm them out of desperation. My looks and my age were stagnant. I would never have the possibility of continuing my life. I would never see myself grow old. This wasn't living. It wasn't surviving. I just existed, unable to truly move forward and unable to ever go back. It was being stuck.

I rested my hand on his wrist, trying to gently coax his hold on my face, but he didn't budge. The feeling of being held was so foreign to me that my stomach began to twist the more I focused on it. I didn't know why I felt so pulled to him. Why I stopped being scared. Something about the proximity seemed to dull my senses. "Why have you been watching me?" He finally backed away, pulling a piece of paper out from his utility belt.

"I'm sure you've heard of the riddler." He handed me what looked like a halloween card, a cute spider drawn on the front.

Pity the recluse who prays the day away... I opened the card.

His story told through cold bodies and still eyes, they point to who next meets his demise. Underneath the text on the card, was a riddle written by hand.

Inaction can come with a cost, this empty reminder shows just what he lost. I hummed.

"I think this part is about one of my sculptures." I circled the first half of the riddle. "Cold bodies, still eyes... You assumed this card was specifically about me— what I am— but I haven't done anything wrong." It baffled me how he was right about the wrong thing. If part of the riddle really was about my sculptures, then I needed to think back to each one I've done. For the city, there were only three. And the one that pointed was a commission piece I did for the city. It was in the park, and given the direction.... My brows furrowed. "Bruce Wayne." He stepped away from me.

"What?" There was a strange amount of shock in his voice. "How did you..." It took only a second to gather what he had thought I discovered. He didn't sound scared, though. Just.... Surprised.

"I suppose there are no more secrets between us now, but that's not what I meant." I walked closer to him, closing the gap he made and showing the card. My finger underlined the front words. "Pity the recluse.... If I'm pitying, something must be wrong." I opened it. "I made a sculpture, the one in the park— it points to the heart of the city. Wayne tower isn't far off." I looked up at him, unable to discern the look on his face from the mask. "You're a recluse; and you've done nothing publicly for Gotham. Inaction. This empty reminder shows just what he lost...." I trailed off.

"The orphanage." His tone unreadable. Dark. The orphanage was abandoned and his own personal embodiment of becoming an orphan himself. The riddler wanted him to go there, but not as Bruce Wayne... Right? He couldn't have known something like that.... Could he? He had access to so many incriminating things about the mayor, the DA, the Commissioner— if his next target was Bruce Wayne, who's to say he hasn't figured out he was the Batman already?

"I guess you've got what you came for," I smiled through my worry. I had to trust his capability. "pleasant meeting you." I turned and walked back to my work, while he left without a word. We were bound to each other's secret, and held hostage by our own. Neither of us could say a word without our own truth being revealed.

Half of the city was underwater by the time we saw each other again, meeting on the roof of a building that there was no longer an entrance to. "Gotham needs more than what I am right now." He said, gazing off at the mess before us. "I need you to bite me." I sighed.

"There's more to it than just turning you, Bruce. I can't do that." He turned to me, ready to plead, but I spoke before he could. "You get so sick that you die. You wake up buried in a flashy suit and so thirsty that you'd kill literally anyone over the mere scent of them. It's an abyss." My hands went to his jaw and I took his mask off, relishing the sight of him. "Just because I haven't killed anyone in Gotham doesn't mean I've had this type of restraint forever. You're not ready for it." We stared at each other for a moment. Silence consuming us and yet so many words on our minds. I could see everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted to do— but neither of us moved any closer than we were.

"We can't be more than just this if you don't turn me," I couldn't tell if he earnestly wanted my love or if he wanted to use me for the immunity I could provide him. "I know you don't know me—" I cut him off.

"I know you more deeply than others, seeing you like this. Seeing you for who and what you are. For who you want to be." I traced the bat symbol on his chest lightly. "I know enough to believe I'd fall for you. But I can't stake your humanity for my own selfishness." I liked him. I liked his determination and his valor. I liked how he wanted Gotham to change, even if he was going about it in a strange way. But what he was asking of me was a cruelty to him. Especially if things didn't work out between us the way we were hoping.

"I'll stake it for you." He took the top part of his suit off. Baring his skin for me, Bruce pulled me towards him. "Do it." There was no choice. If this was what he wanted, if I was what he wanted— he'd find someone else to turn him. And knowing the type of people who turned me, there was a good chance he might be drained from lack of restraint. He'd die.

I leaned in closer to him, taking in the scent of his skin. One thing I truly did enjoy about my state was that humans didn't smell like how they smelled when I was one of them. Biologically, they changed from being my equals into being things I fed from. The blood that flowed through every inch of them, the pheromones they unknowingly released— every part of a human's body was something vampires were curated to crave. His scent was intoxicating, and I was positive separating myself from him would be one of the most difficult things I had to do. "I need to prepare myself for the taste of you." I muttered, feeling the way my breath grazed his skin with each word. My lips were practically touching the pale of his shoulder, my head dazed from the feeling of breathing him in. Bruce led my face to his, craning down to meet me— but he didn't move any closer.

"Wouldn't this be simpler?" He whispered. It was only then that I realized my fear that night was calmed by the lust I had for his blood. I've been driven into a hazy fog, completely malleable and his to manipulate. There wasn't one clear thought in my head that didn't completely revolve around him. But I didn't have to think anymore. I closed the gap between us and he pulled me further into him. I couldn't taste his blood like this, but I could feel his warmth and lose myself in it. The feeling of him pressing against me, the way he was holding me so desperately; I lost myself in him for just a moment. I pushed away from him, giving him the air he needed and taking the chance to move his jaw to the side. His neck was exposed to me, but I knew better than to bite him there. No matter how strong the urge to devour him was, my need to love and be loved was stronger.

I pressed my tongue to the skin I was so tempted to bite, drunk from just the taste of his flesh. “Lay down, I don't want you passing out in case I can't stop right away.” He followed my command only to pull me on top of him and into his lips. He was kissing me just for the sake of doing so. “Bruce,” His name slipped from my mouth in a whimper which seemed to only encourage him— but I backed off. I needed to cling to what little sense I had. If I let him go further with me while he was still human, I wouldn't have the ability to hold myself back. I could kill him, and I knew better than to let myself lose rationale.

“I'm sorry,” His face morphed with worry, hands reaching to hold me. “I shouldn't have—” I cut him off by biting into the muscle where his neck met his shoulders. I could feel the way he held my head closer to him, fingers buried in my hair. The moment his blood hit my tongue all of my thought was lost. He was so indescribably sweet that my brain couldn't wrap around the amount of pleasure I was in. My own euphoria was incomprehensible, and the only word I could think of was more. I wanted more of him, I needed more of him— all of him. And yet my arms pushed me off of him on their own, reluctantly I let him go.

The sight of him was beautiful. Orange hues painting his skin, blood flowing in smooth, rhythmic pumps from his vein, eyes captivating even through the smudged black liner. I pressed my hand firm against the wound, still straddling his lap from what we've done. Something in me knew that things would work out. That this wasn't some horrible mistake.

I could see on his face that he knew it too.

THIS WAS SO BAD IM SORRY💀 i had a vision right but i couldn't encapsulate it without multiple parts and we are Not having another beware situation — like and reblog pleasw😢🙏

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

I'd also love to see the thing of Foul Legacy Childe going feral to protect the person he loves 👀

*coughs* well, if you insist >:)c again, i'm not good at fight choreography but this one seems ok to me so i hope it's alright for you too!!

~ * ~ Abyssal Ballad

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Injuries, gore, pain, blood, broken bones, mentally snapping, fear, potential death

~ * ~

You had never known much about the Abyss. How could you, as an ordinary, magic-less human, who toiled away at a standard researching position in the Liyue industry? While Celestia was often praised as being home to the archons and gods above, a sanctuary for only the finest heroes and the origin of elemental Visions, the Abyss was dark and mysterious, full of vicious creatures and an endless ocean, disturbed only by glassy waves and cold, twinkling starlight. While both held their infinite secrets locked tightly away, they were seemingly opposites, forever battling against each other in a plane the people of Teyvat wouldn’t dare reach. Fairytales and journals and books all held the same message: Celestia is day as the Abyss is night, and each will consume you, for better or worse.

The Abyss had always been “for worse”, something you had found difficult to believe when Childe reappeared. You had known him before, when he was a ginger-haired, Delusion-bearing Harbinger of the Fatui, but you knew him even better now as your fluffy and affectionate roommate, with endless curiosity and a love for dozing in the sunlight. You were cautious at first, but every time he curled up next to you for cuddles or pressed his forehead to yours with a happy trill, your hesitation waned, and it seemed every day grew brighter in this eternal summer.

But the Abyss never relinquishes anything it once kept.

It had been cloudy that day, rain looming on the horizon. But you, ever persistent, had set out with an umbrella, a report to deliver, and a mothlike monster by your side. He didn’t have to come with, but he insisted, something you found sweet and kind of him to do. The citizens of the city had gotten quite used to you and Childe, some even greeting you as you left for Wangshu Inn, just out of the Harbor and towards Mondstadt. The clouds looked suspicious, but remained a teasing gray instead of pouring rain onto you.

The walk was peaceful and quiet, only broken by Childe’s rumbles and your quick responses to them. Your umbrella was long enough to be used as a cane, and it tapped merrily with every step you took, never out of sync. The Inn was close, a faint outline in sight at the end of a winding path, soon to be reached by you and your companion.

It only took a moment.

Like all bad things, it happened at the first chance, quickly and efficiently.

Childe liked sparkly things, as did you. A couple of magpies, you often joked. A crystalfly had caught his attention, and he jumped up to chase it. He’d be back soon, as he always was.

Two minutes.

He was gone for two minutes, and two minutes was all it took for someone to grab the collar of your shirt and pull you back, immobilizing you with a simple yet effective hold. They whisper to you, and more whispers join them, ordering you to show them where “the monster” was, to do it, do it or else, because pain would be delighted to meet you. Unfortunately, for both them and for you, fear has never easily gotten a grasp on your senses, and you simply choke out a command for these people to leave you alone. They laugh, and take your right wrist between their fingers. They give you a choice: tell them, or have your wrist broken. Should be an easy choice, no?

There’s a sudden yelp of alarm and they turn, dragging you with them, towards the sound. Childe stands there, tense and furious. The person behind you laughs again, and someone moves closer to Childe, only to stumble back when he hisses at them. The grip around your wrist tightens, and they address Childe instead of you. Either come with them willingly, or your bone breaks; it’s his choice now. From your position, you subtly shake your head- don’t give into their demands- and he hesitates.

There’s an awful cracking sound as your wrist is harshly yanked to the side.

You grit your teeth from the pain, before whipping your head down and biting, biting hard, on your captor’s wrist. They yell in surprise and release you, and you scramble to get away using only one arm.

Then someone hits you with a blow to your ribs, and your breath vanishes as you fall.

Something in Childe snaps. There’s a deep, guttural growl, building slowly from his throat, before he leaps on your attacker, tearing off their head with horrifying accuracy.

Your captor’s companions hastily begin backing away, holding their weapons with trembling hands, pitiful little sticks that Childe easily flings away with a swipe of his talons. He lets out a shriek, a harrowing sound filled with rage and a terrible, eager anticipation, springing up and clamping his jaw onto someone’s arm to dislocate and rip it off.

Your vision swims as you blink, the edges of everything gray and fuzzy. Someone’s screaming- everyone’s screaming. It’s loud, so loud, and you wince in pain as howls of pain make your ears ring. There’s a stabbing sensation in your chest, and you vaguely wonder if one or more of your ribs are broken, the sound of bones crumbling beneath sharp, vicious fangs in tune with your thoughts.

Blood splatters on the ground, the tang of it making you nauseous, and there’s the sound of flesh being torn to shreds while you can almost hear a mocking, maniacal laugh.

You’ve heard that laugh, so long ago, in the fiery walls of a house of gold.

You close your eyes, letting your mind slowly go blank in a valiant attempt to ignore the cries and pleas of people before they die at the claws of the Abyss. The pain in your side remains, pestering you to stay awake, but quickly fades into the background as your mind detaches from reality, dulling your senses and thoughts.

Then everything falls silent.

The lack of noise hangs thickly in the air, deathly quiet and stagnant. The pond of eerie serenity ripples, heavy footsteps pressing the grass as they approach you, and a claw sticky with blood nudges your side. You tilt your head back, ever-so-slightly, and are met with an Abyssal gaze, filled with nothing but ice-colored stars; a cold, unfeeling anger.

And you.

Childe’s stare warms as he lays next to you, carefully draping an arm over your torso. There’s a wet sensation on your cheek, and you realize he’s licking the cuts you had unknowingly received on your face in an attempt to soothe you. He licks your wrist as well, despite the lack of open wounds, and your fear settles as you focus on breathing. You suck in a gulp of air, only to cough when your chest twinges in pain. Childe noiselessly tucks you closer to his side, supporting your head in the soft, blood-crusted pillow of his fluff, and your coughing lessens into sharp gasps for air. A warm liquid fills your mouth, the taste of metal and consistency of sticky syrup. Your vision becomes hazy, and the gray around everything turns to black. You think you can hear humming, a gentle rumble from the throat as a monster drowns in midnight waters.

Music plays, and an old ballad sings. Celestial skies and Abyssal waves, eternal twins, consuming the heart and mind forever.

[chainofclovers]

Grace and Frankie 7x1 - 7x4 thoughts

Meh? Like...I love them so much, but...meh?

(I did enjoy this line about brunch.)

I really loved season 6 of Grace and Frankie. I thought it was well-paced, largely very well-acted, generally well-written, and it culminated in a massive moment of character development for the title characters, who, having spent years growing closer and being there for each other when others could not or would not be, finally articulate to each other that they are the primary person in each other’s lives. Platonic gal pal soulmate BFF emotional support witches 4 lyfe!

I know progress isn’t always linear, and in fact is very rarely linear, but after a moment that significant, you’d think the writers on this show would maybe come up with some more interesting things for these characters to do than spin in circles?

@bristler and I watched on Friday night, and just this morning over breakfast had a good conversation about the first four episodes of the new season now that they have settled in our brains a bit. We concluded that the writing (often noticeably clunky, like the dialogue is responsible for more narration than usual) and the tone (aggressively wacky) feel really off, especially compared to the prior season. I think we diagnosed the big issue, which is that Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda are by far the most talented actors on this show (if you disagree, fight me in the parking lot) and it feels surprisingly unfortunate that their characters have, to this point in the new season, pretty much figured out their perspectives on each other. No matter how people feel about Grace and Frankie’s sexualities, the whole show has been about them finding each other and getting in deeper and deeper, and it’s less interesting to watch other characters have realizations about that than it is to watch Grace and Frankie having realizations about themselves. If the title characters are now limited to reacting to other people’s actions, and the title characters are played by the best actors on the show, the whole show’s gonna suffer. And is suffering, very much so, at least for these first four episodes. I’m definitely still excited for the final twelve in 2022 (twelve! I cannot believe this season will have sixteen eps!), but I’m pretty disappointed so far.

Stuff I Loved:

The family brunch. These families have been entwined for so long, and the backstory for this particular brunch was so fun (even though I didn’t care for the effects they did to depict Grace and Robert 25 years ago; there was no need for a visual flashback in the scene). I love that Grace hit Frankie with a wiffle ball bat. I love that the two couples realized some of the emotional reasons behind their decisions to lie to each other about Bud’s Bunny and about M’Challah. I love the way Jane Fonda sounds uttering the phrase “Bud’s Bunny” with little to no irony. I love that Grace is able to recognize and articulate just how deep and miserable her anger issues were, albeit with the continued help of her omnipresent martini, and that Frankie told her she’d now make up a holiday in order to spend more time with Grace. I really, really hope Frankie does exactly this at some point in the remaining episodes of the season. I love that Grace is generally a pretty good person now, with aspirations of being a delightful person. I love that she and Frankie don’t have it in them to stay angry with each other, and I love all the evidence that they really, really talk to each other about everything now.

Frankie talking to the man at the office (I don’t remember who he was supposed to be? A toilet manufacturer? I didn’t mention this before, but I actually got pretty high while watching?!? Believe it or not, this was the first time I smoked pot and watched Grace and Frankie at the same time despite having enjoyed both activities on their own for quite some time. I would recommend the combo! And I think I still pretty much got what was happening) about paying for the toilet parts with candy. This whole subplot with the money laundering was absurd and not that interesting, but I loved this particular scene because it was finally evidence of some really thoughtful writing. The concepts aren’t enough! You have to write them into good dialogue! And the whole cash/candy thing was a moment of dialogue that only someone as hilarious as Lily Tomlin could pull off. Which she did, IMO.

In a show about super messy people, Coyote has stayed sober this entire time. He is sober, employed, in love, and preparing to buy a full-sized house with his partner. He hasn’t murdered anyone in his family. Hasn’t even attempted murder once.

In 2017 or whatever, Grace Hanson would have been furious about Frankie using obscure Beatles references like a treasure map when hiding the cash. But here in 2021, she cooperates and even gets in on the fun. The writing is very unsubtle this season, but that did feel like a reasonably subtle moment that shows how good of a partner she is for Frankie. (Platonic, of course! So platonic. Female friendship, amirite?)

Stuff I Did NOT Love and Felt Incredibly Negative About:

Brianna. I can only conclude that June Diane Raphael has decided she’s happy with playing a character whose primary role in life is to be hot and mean. She succeeds at being hot and mean, but I have reached my limit with this character. I realize we’re only a quarter of the way into the season, but I don’t think I can take another arc about her learning to compromise only to reveal to Barry that she never intended to compromise at all. At this point, it’s both abusive and boring. How?! The Grace/Brianna parallels aren’t interesting anymore, because one character has grown and the other is stagnant. I get that Brianna was raised in an emotionally stilted environment by two unhealthy people. But I think it would be very cool if she could learn something from her mother at this point. Grace has put a ton of effort into dealing with her “rabbit-killing, mad-at-the-world anger.” She’s put a ton of effort into figuring out what makes her happy, what she wants her life to look like. She’s even started accepting her age and abilities without shame. And that growth is believable; Grace is still short-tempered and she still slugs back way too many martinis and she struggles to articulate certain things, but she’s grown into a truly lovely human. And while, as a daughter with a mother, I can absolutely attest to the fact that it can be difficult and uncomfortable to learn lessons from one’s mother, Brianna really, really should. Grace spent decades letting anger and shame trap her in a small, miserable life. Brianna—and even Mallory, who just seems like a vapid idiot this season—are traveling that same path, but there’s someone right there who could really help, maybe even more than Frankie helped when the Hanson girls were first growing up.

The arraignment. The scene might’ve been salvageable if it was filmed from Grace’s perspective, and filmed to reflect how surreal and improbable it all was. But speaking of non-linear progress, this scene erased everything Nick Skolka has done to put himself in my good graces (LOL) over the past couple seasons. I mean, I tried, man. I even wrote fic about Nick, Grace, and Frankie making a genuine effort at polyamory. But the arraignment is so emotionally manipulative, such a slap in the face of everything Grace has worked for, and while we’re certainly “supposed” to feel the weight of the moment, I mean, it’s not like we’re supposed to be like, “Oh, cool, we’re in a rom com now! This is adorable!” it still felt bad and unearned and slapdash.

And I want Frankie to process these things with her! Frankie seems so happy to have all this information about Grace and how Grace feels, but I want to see scenes in which we can gain an understanding of how Frankie actually feels. Hearing Frankie talk to other people about how Grace feels is interesting, but it’s like there’s no room in these episodes for us to learn anything new about Frankie herself.

Grace’s transitional wig. Is so. Bad. It is. Such a. Bad wig. Oof. I mean, I like what they’re doing with Grace’s hair from a plot perspective, although (see one bullet up) I would really like to get more of an understanding of what’s happening in Grace’s head, not just on top of her head. And gosh, Frankie would be a really good person to talk to about this in a conversation that lasts longer than 30 seconds. But the wig! She’s in a wig in all four episodes, of course, since Jane Fonda went grey and cut her hair short before they started filming this season. The wig for episodes 1 and 2 is fine; it’s a good approximation of Grace’s typical hair, and of course we know that canonically Grace’s hair isn’t 100% her own hair anyway. But the wig with grey roots looks so weird. The part that’s growing out doesn’t look the same as the hair on the wig from 1 and 2. And the grey roots look like a yarmulke. I cannot wait to get to the point in the season when Grace goes all the way grey.

(One more thing about the hair. I can’t let it go. I paused the show while we were watching to rant, but I’m not done.) I had the great privilege of seeing Jane Fonda in person at a protest in 2019. She is an insanely beautiful human. She was growing her hair out and it was partially dyed blonde and partially grey. It looked really cool. I am not ashamed to say I spent that day learning many things about the climate crisis and about Jane Fonda’s hair. Having seen her in real life with her real hair looking that fucking great, I just have a an extra-large grudge against everyone involved in that horrible wig. The wig is necessary, but it didn’t have to be this bad.

What Do I Care About Now?

I am pretty intrigued by the way Grace threw out her real age in a conversation with Nick and Elena. She has nothing to fear anymore! She’s so chill about aging! What could go wrong? I assume that Nick and Elena maneuvering for Nick to be on house arrest in Grace's house specifically has to do with the fact that Grace is 82. She’s gonna find out that Nick is allowed to be with her because she’s ancient and helpless and the court took pity. Or something like that. She’s going to feel betrayed on top of feeling stifled and overwhelmed by Nick’s presence. I want to see where this goes for sure.

Other than that, and other than the fact that I really do continue to believe this show is moving in a direction in which Grace and Frankie will choose each other, I feel very whatever about this whole thing. I love this show and I will always appreciate this show for giving me some incredible characters to spend years of my life writing about, and for bringing me some pretty amazing friendships. Speaking of those friendships, yesterday @ellydash and @telanu and I were talking about some of the incredible TV we’ve watched recently, like Ted Lasso and Hacks and Fleabag and Killing Eve, and how great it feels to watch beautifully written TV crafted by writers who are profoundly—organically yet intentionally—attuned to even the most minor character’s rhythm. The disappointment of these first few episodes of the new G&F season feels like a mild disappointment rather than a sharp heartbreak, and that has a lot to do with being deeply invested in other shows that could also go in all kinds of different directions but with writing I fundamentally trust.

Also Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin are my forever faves and my appreciation for their performances and general awesomeness onscreen and in life is undiminished. So that’s pretty cool.