#i have asks from march and drafts from may

[royalarms]

ok. i NEED to work on clearing up some inbox stuff and old drafts 😭

[jadevine]

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

--

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

[3rachaslut]

SMUT ! MINORS DNI ! dom!changbin X sub!reader femme

cw: slapping, degradation, pet names (slut, whore etc), rough, choking, jealousy, dom/sub dynamic

this has been sat in my drafts for about 8 months lol (i’ve proof read about 4 times but i got bored so i’m sorry for any mistakes there may be)

EVERYTHING WRITEN IS CONSENSUAL ON BOTH PARTS

It was 11:45pm and you, Changbin, Chan and Jisung had been in the studio since 6:30pm. Mumbles could be heard in front of you, although you wasn’t really listening, sipping on your iced coffee to keep you awake. You never was any help work wise in the studio but your boyfriend Changbin and the boys loved having you around and you loved it too.

“Y/n” Jisung called over to you and you whipped your head to look at him. “Listen to this bridge, what do you think is missing?”. You made your way towards him, taking the headphones and sitting gently on his knee. Changbin shot daggers in yours and Jisung’s direction. His glare on the both of you caused a smirk to tug on your lips, although jisung didn’t notice.

You readjust yourself, grabbing onto the sides of the chair, lifting yourself up and gently back down onto his lap again. You listen to the recording, feigning innocence as you slowly push yourself backwards into Jisung’s lap, causing him to cough and attempting to hide the slight moan he just let out. You spin idly side to side on the chair and the friction from you moving over his crotch was causing a reaction from Jisung and you felt it straight away. You smirk as you turn your head from the recording to face Jisung and rais your eyebrows. He taps either side of your waist twice, indicating you to get off his lap. He clears his throat. “Sorry guys, I’ll be right back, I just need to use the bathroom. Two seconds”. He quickly walks out of the studio, praying his friends didn’t notice the tent forming in his joggers.

You briefly look Changbin’s way and his death glare on Jisung never left his eyes, only when he was out the door to the studio did he tilt his head to look at you. You shrug in faux confusion as he looks at you with narrow eyes, causing a sly smile to form on your lips.

“Okay so.. any ideas y/n?” Chan asks, looking at you with tired eyes and Changbin interjects. “Chan hyung, we’ve been at this for hours! I say we go home, get some rest and come back to it tomorrow with a clear mind”.

“Yeah okay, let’s call it a night” Chan begins to pack his stuff and you feel Changbin’s threatening eyes back on you. You make your way to the sofa and sip on your iced coffee, pulling out your phone.

“Night guys, I’ll text Ji and let him know we’re heading home so don’t wait up for him” Chan says, walking out the studio, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Changbin barely waits until the door was closed until he shoots up off his chair and marches over to you. Hearing his footsteps getting closer, a smirk makes its way on your lips.

“What the fuck was that y/n?!” He spits out as his form towers over you and his fierce aura makes you shift slightly in your seat.

“What?” You ask, faking innocence and still staring at your phone. “I don’t know what you mean”. You shake your head in confusion as you continue to look down, too scared to look at him.

“Don’t play fucking dumb y/n! You know exactly what you did! Acting like that much of a whore around my bandmates that Ji had to excuse himself. Fucking slut” He says with narrow eyes and a feigned disgusted look on his face.

“I’m talking to you y/n..” Changbin says sternly, grabbing your chin and forces you to look at him. “When I talk to you, you fucking look. at. me.” He emphasises his words with a slap across the face, causing you to whimper slightly at the sudden pain but you couldn’t ignore the way your clit throbbed from the sting on your cheek. You giggle at him, the brat in you loving this. He shakes his head at you in disapproval.

“Slut” he says, throwing you backwards onto the sofa. He towers over you and puts his hand around your throat, adding just enough pressure for you to let out a strained moan.

“Stupid girl… you would have thought you’d know better by now..” Your eyes rapidly scan his face sensing a ‘punishment’ was incoming, although Changbin’s punishments only ever had you internally begging for more.

Changbin roughly grabs both your legs and practically throws you sideways so you are lying down on the sofa. He yanks your skirt up towards your tummy and rips your panties off, tossing them somewhere onto the floor.

“We won’t be needing them, will we doll?” He says with a chuckle. He forcefully parts your legs so your were spread out right in front of him, your breath hitching at the sudden air against your clit. You look away from him in shame at being so exposed when your boyfriend was still fully clothed.

“Such a pretty pussy” Changbin coos whilst his fingers brush over your sensitive clit, rubbing small circles and making you writhe in pleasure.

“Let’s see how red I can make it baby, hmm?” He laughs as your eyes widen, already knowing the punishment you were about to receive. His words were quickly followed by a firm slap to your pussy, making your whole body jolt. You let out a gasp from the sudden, intense stimulation. Changbin was always so brutal with this specific punishment, so you certainly knew the pain and pleasure you was about to endure.

“’m sorry sir! Didn’t mean to! I’ll be good!” you frantically beg. Changbin laughs and quickly dismisses your pleas by delivering another harsh slap to your pussy and you squirm underneath him. Your face contorts from the torment and you moan loudly.

“Not so fucking bold now, are you little girl?” He says with a sadistic look on his face, teasingly rubbing over your sensitive clit making you whine. “I expected you to know what happens when you act like a whore around my friends baby but clearly you don’t listen” He delivered a particularly harsh slap to your pussy that elicited a loud moan from you, practically verging on a scream.

“FUCK” you cry out as tears begin to fall from your eyes. You throw your head back in fear of the next slap you were about to receive.

“Language baby” Changbin shakes his head in disapproval and raises his hand again. You flinch and squeeze your eyes as you lay in expectation of the next blow. But it never came. Confused, you lift your head off the sofa armrest and saw Changbin staring at you with a mischievous grin.

“Aw… cute” He says smirking. Another slap landed on your sensitive pussy and you squeak in pain.

“You love this don’t you? Fucking whore” He says, a look of faux disgust on his face.

“No ssir… h- ’hurtss” you whimper, panting in between words as you try to catch your breath.

“Really? Are you sure?” He takes two fingers and eagerly thrusts them into your soaked cunt, making you gasp at the intrusion then moan in pleasure. “Because your pussy is telling me you’re lying darling” He slowly speeds up his movements in your cunt and your mouth falls open as he starts to curl his fingers inside you. Your legs begin to lift upwards and close together in an attempt to make his fingers go deeper inside you. You begin to writhe in your spot, moaning uncontrollably.

“Legs” Changbin barks, instructing you to keep your legs open wide and low.

You groan in frustration and your legs began to tremble involuntary as you whine from the pleasure.

“Such a naughty girl... You’re dripping all over my fingers from getting your little pussy abused.” He laughs. “What a fucking slut” He emphasises the last word with another brutal slap to your clit that was now pulsing more than ever. You cry out and your legs automatically close together from the sudden pain.

“Y/n I swear to god, if you don’t keep those fucking legs spread, I’ll take this belt off and whip that little clit with it so hard over and over again, you’ll be sobbing for hours. Now.. keep those legs OPEN!” You flinch at his raised voice and he grips your knee with his hand, pushing it down towards the sofa.

You squirm in place as you try your best to keep your legs spread however, you feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach and you know you’re close to squirting.

“Sir! M’ close!” you yell out, your eyes scrunching together. Changbin didn’t say a word back to you instead, his fingers speeding up inside your pussy. He smirks at the scene if front of him, admiring the state he’s put you in. He takes his fingers from his unoccupied hand and rubs little circles on your clit, smirking at the scene of your body writhing underneath him.

“oh, FUCK. Bin i’m gonna come”.

“Beg.” he instructs and you do. You want nothing more than to come undone underneath him and you were prepared to throw away all your dignity right now to get it.

“Please! Please let me come! I’ll be so good, i won’t flirt with your friends anymore- ah! Ever again just please! Fuck- please let me c- cu-“ Your body is jolting uncontrollably and you’re sure you looked a state. Changbin brings his face just inches away from yours, tantalising close.

“Come for me baby” He whispers.

You scream out a thank you as you squirted over his hand, your chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath.

“Oh baby, you made a mess all over my hand. What do you say?” He tuts, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry I made a mess sir” you say pouting.

“And?”

“Thank you for making me cum sir”

“Good girl” He says approvingly, kissing you and grabbing your panties from the floor beside you and wiping his hand clean with them. He cups your face with his hand and rubs at your cheek.

“My beautiful girl.. I’m so proud of you. Come here” He brings you into a warm hug and you melt into his arms, smiling. As much as you loved Changbin’s punishments, you also loved his affectionate aftercare that followed, making sure you’re okay.

“I knew flirting with your friends would get me in trouble. Clearly my plan worked..” You chuckle into his chest.

“Such a brat.” He smiles and shakes his head. “Are you okay? That wasn’t too much?”

“Binnie, it was amazing!” He lifts your face to look at him and brings you into a gentle kiss, pecking your lips over and over again.

“Come on baby, let’s go home”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You still don’t know what to call the man. Captain? Rogers? He’s just the man to you. The stranger who doesn’t speak. 

He doesn’t linger. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some game. If he’s playing with you. His stoicism is just another weapon against you. As he leaves, you sit, stunned and lost. Alone. 

The front door of the cabin shuts you in but you don’t know that you would have the courage to let yourself out. The man found you once; unbidden and unexpected, you’re certain he could do it again and again and again. So, you wait until you’re certain the house is empty before you get up. 

You fix the nightgown and hug yourself as you peek through the open bedroom door. You emerge warily and glance through to the bathroom. The front room once jars you further. You forgot how cozy, how normal it seams. 

You wander around the frayed rug and inspect every piece of furniture. A draft runs through the room, blowing in around the door. There’s an iron basket of split logs next to the fireplace. There’s something yellow on top.

You go over and open the packet; inside, a lighter and a little booklet on how to start a fire. Hm. There’s a bag of kindling next to the wood as well. Maybe later. 

You set the packet back down and turn to face the other doorway. The one you’ve not yet ventured through. The kitchen is small but tidy. On the table, there’s a small crate. Within, sorted neatly, are similar silver packets to the one he handed you in the bedroom. They are labeled alongside a large bag of quick oats. 

The oats simply read, ‘Breakfast’. The writing is jagged but legible. Each packet is labeled decisively; Day 1 – Dinner, Day 2 – Lunch... On and on. You turn and face the fridge. The only thing on it is another note. ‘Drink Water. Not Tap.’ Got it. After the complete absence of communication, it’s nice to have at least a little directive. 

You retreat to the bedroom and check the empty packet. Yep, Day 1 – Lunch. Amid the chaos of your abduction and the desolation of this place, the pieces of order stick out sorely. It all feels so fractured. 

You go to the armoir and try to open it. The doors don’t budge. You back up and cross your arms again. You’re really starting to get cold. You should get the fire going before your fingers go completely numb. 

You strip the flannel blanket from the bed and wrap it around your shoulders. You go back into the living room and hep the extra layer at your waist as you sit on your knees and try to figure out the fireplace. After several splinters and some sparks from the lighter, you get a flame struck. 

You stay close and hold up your hands as it begins to lick. You settle down on your butt and hug yourself under the blanket. You watch the flames swirl and your vision blurs with little orbs of colour.  

The questions don’t matter. The answers won’t make a difference. Why are you here? Where is here? No, it’s useless. Just like from the first moment you saw him. You know now, it wasn’t the first time he saw you. 

You hang your head and let it pour out of you. The fear throttles you so you’re choking on your sobs. Your body wracks and your skull throbs. You don’t want to live like this but you’re too afraid to die. 

You wade up from the dregs of your grief and the room comes clear again. You’re on your side before the glowing embers. You sit up and put another piece of wood on the pile then get up. You stagger around to the bedroom, your feet moving without your mind’s intent. 

You go to the corner. You stare at the shelf. The pictures, the stolen parts of your existence, the shank of hair... is gone? You saw him put it there. Oh well. Good riddance. 

You shudder and squint over the images. There’s one from over a year ago. The last time you saw your family. You shake your head and back up. No. No. You didn’t know for that long. Well, how could you expect something like this? 

You sniffle and leave the room. You can’t stay in there. Not with that shrine? Altar? You don’t even know what. 

You take a stiff pillow from the couch and lower yourself in front of the fireplace again. You close your eyes but you don’t know if you’ll be able to sleep. There isn’t much else to do. 

Time skews into a haze. It’s dark, then light, and dark again. Your stomach gurgles but by the time you get the food warm, you’re too sick to eat more than a few bites. As the days wilt by, a stench roils from your body. 

The packets help you track the day, even as you miss some, you try to keep some order in your mind. On Day Four, you dare to try the faucet. The tub pours out steaming water. You adjust it before you sink in. It’s as close to peace as you’ve found. 

As the water stagnates around your body, you can’t help but think. When will he come back? Will he be back? You don’t think he’s out there having fun and frolicking. You could tell by his attire, by the marks of death on that shield. 

You let the water go cold then drain it. You pull the same nightgown on, even as it reeks. You just need something on. You reclaim the blanket and your perch before the fireplace. You wish you had something warm to drink. Coffee or tea. Nothing could ever make this place anything less than a prison, but you wouldn’t mind some comfort. 

[4dkellysworld]

After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

[yuri-is-online]

Literally woke myself up in the middle of the night with this and had to scramble here like a being possessed by a spirit to ramble thoughts at you like some sort of divine offering but!!

You mentioned egocentric that you like to entertain the idea of a Mob Character from Scarabia developing a crush on Yuu after they save him form Azul's overblot, and of course following that is winter break and just his luck, Yuu's staying in Scarabia for it! Mob does his best with the opportunity falling into his lap especially with no Ace or Deuce to make any attempts of flirting awkward with their trying to join in the conversation (Deuce) or snide comments at his expense (Ace), so Mob always makes a note to sit with Yuu at the dorm meals, to show off during the desert marching by either how athletic he is or by offering Yuu his parasol. Hell, you're both kinda here against your will, you have so much in common! Yeah, he may have chased Yuu when they tried to escape, but orders are orders, you know? What's he gonna do, sock his Housewarden in the face infront of everyone for Yuu?

But ah, imagine his face when after the Octatrio stepped in to "help" Kalim "manage" his dorm, after Jamil's overblot, after the last party at the oasis, Ace and Deuce show up and Yuu's face just lights up after everything. No wonder people think there's something going on with them.

Is this anything? I feel like its something.

It is so much something that I have thought about this ask most every day since you sent it. I hate writing angst no comfort but poor Mob-Kun TᴖT The full flush of my original idea went something like Mob Kun, smitten with you as he is, gets ratted out to Azul by one of his friends and convinced to seek a consultation. That actually was in the first draft of Azul's long fic and a now scrapped Jade one since I felt like Azul wouldn't rush to capitalize on this little crush since there wouldn't be much of a profit. Mob Kun isn't super wealthy (his parents do well enough for themselves but he's no Kalim) and him getting together with Yuu doesn't really benefit Azul in the way he wants it to. Sure, love is a boon to those in the consulting business, but so is market research and Azul doesn't see this relationship having a great ROI.

He tries his best with the forced proximity he has with you to actually get close, you're on first name basis now! And you remember that you have class together! Hey, a shitty situation in their dorm is how you got close to Ace and Deuce, maybe something good will come out of this situation after all.

Maybe he volunteers to guard Yuu's room at night really thinking he is doing some good. He'd hate for something bad to happen to you, it's half the reason he chases after you when you escape. If he can just find you first, talk to you maybe? Remind you of how you saved him and beg to be allowed to save you too-

But he doesn't find you first, the Leech Twins do. He never gets the chance to explain himself, never gets to be seen as anything more than a face in the crowd. A soulless villain who Ace stares down and Deuce positions himself in between you and him.

What's he gonna do, sock his Housewarden in the face in front of everyone for Yuu?

He knew you were worth it, he just didn't know someone would. Maybe that's why he needed you to save him in the first place ha...

[toasttt11]

hospital visits

March 6, 2021

Hayden was finishing putting on her purple converse after the game she just played and her team had won when her phone rung and she paused as she only has her notifications on for a few people so she quickly pulled out her phone immediately and frowned seeing Ellen calling.

“Hi?” Hayden spoke sounding confused as her family doesn’t usually call her this quick after a game.

“Hayden.” Ellen’s voice cracked slightly making Hayden sit up alarmed, “Luke was injured in his game and we’re taking him to hospital, it’s his foot we aren’t sure the damage but there’s a bad laceration.” Ellen told Hayden seriously, There was so much blood and it was making Ellen worried.

Hayden clenched her hand taking a deep breath, “I’ll be there in a few hours.” Hayden didn’t care if she had anything planned her baby brother was injured that is all that matters.

Ellen nodded and said her goodbyes.

Connor who noticed how worried Hayden was, “What do you need?” Connor immediately asked squeezing Hayden’s shoulder softly, not asking anything more just being there for Hayden.

“Can you watch Archie for me and tell the coaches i won’t be at practice tomorrow.” Hayden quickly asked Connor as she knows Lauren and Connor have a key to her house.

“Of course.“ Connor easily accepted not even asking what is wrong just letting Hayden grab her stuff and run out of the locker room.

Hayden quickly got into her car and started the quick drive to the airport.

Hayden immediately bought the next flight out to Michigan which with her luck was only minutes away and she rushed to the terminal and got onto the plane last.

She let out a long breath as she sat down and the plane was getting ready to takeoff.

Hayden knows lacerations are incredibly dangerous injuries and may seem small but can cause a lot of damage, she just hoped Luke would be okay and she hated he got injured but especially in his draft year.

It felt like the longest flight in the world for Hayden and she spent the entire time counting down the time until the plane landed.

Hayden booked it off the plane immediately and quickly got out of the airport and flagged down a cab and told the driver the address to the hospital her family is at.

She checked her phone and Quinn couldn’t come out yet as he had a game to play and Luke told him to stay and play. Jack would be here later tonight.

Hayden rushed into the hospital and to the front desk, “Luke Hughes.” Hayden immediately told the nurse and was told what room he was in.

Hayden rushed down the hallway and toward Luke’s room, she walked in letting out a sigh seeing Luke in the room and walked right to him.

Luke blinked seeing Hayden walk in and smile drowsily as he has had many pain killers, “Haydes.” Luke slurred out.

“Lu.” Hayden breathed out relived as she bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and rested her head on top of his head as Luke grabbed her hand and clung to her tightly.

“How is he?” Hayden asked looking up at Ellen and Jim quickly but keeping her full attention on Luke.

“It could’ve been a lot worse.” Jim told her honestly squeezing Ellen’s hand reassuringly, “He will need surgery to make sure everything is okay and heal the correct way but he will be okay.” Jim finished telling Hayden.

Luke was lucky it wasn’t a lot worse and his injury will be something he will be able to heal completely from.

Hayden let out a sigh of relief and brushed his hair out of his face and kissed his forehead again.

Ellen took a deep breath wiping her face of any tears as they had only gotten the good news about Luke minutes before Hayden came.

Ellen let go of Jim’s hand and grabbed a chair and dragged it to the side of Luke and that Hayden was standing on and pressed a kiss to her nieces cheek, “Sit Hayden.” Ellen gave her a stern glance seeing Hayden about to protest, “You just played a long game and was just on a flight.”

Hayden nodded listening to Ellen and sat down in the chair not letting go of Luke’s hand as she watched him slowly fall asleep.

Ellen and Jim started talking with Hayden quietly as Luke was fast asleep and wanted to hear about things going on in her life that they haven’t heard about yet and it was a good distraction for all three of them.

Hayden had been in the hospital for a few hours and it was getting extremely late when Jack came hurrying through the door and let out a long relieved breath seeing Luke alright.

Jack walked in right to Luke and kissed the top of a sleeping Luke’s head and let a breath out and the tension released from his shoulder.

Hayden stood up and Jack immediately turned to her and pulled her into a tight hug, “Hi Haydes.” Jack softly whispered resting his head on his best friend’s shoulder.

“Hi Jacky.” Hayden gently whispered back resting her chin on Jack’s head and hugged him back tightly.

The doctor came in a little later to take Luke to surgery and Luke luckily was still sleeping so he wouldn’t even realize and wouldn’t be anxious.

Hayden, Jack, Ellen and Jim all waited in the surgery waiting room as they called Quinn to update him on everything that was happening.

Hayden rested her head on top of Jack’s head as Jack used Hayden’s shoulder as a pillow as the two quietly talked to each other as they waited for Luke’s surgery to be finished.

Hayden was glad to be with most of her family but Quinn even if this isn’t a reason she wanted to have to be with her family because Luke is hurt.

March 7, 2021

After a few more hours of waiting and the sun was already starting to come back up Luke’s surgery was finally finished and everything went really well and they were allowed to go back to Luke’s room and wait till he woke back up. The doctors told them that his surgery went really well.

Ellen and Jim went to Luke’s side first and Ellen gripped Luke’s hand tightly and Jim pressed a kiss to his sleeping son’s cheek.

Hayden waited till they were done and walked over pressing a kiss to Luke’s forehead before sitting in the chair next to him letting Jack see Luke too.

They all waited around Luke’s bed for him to wake back up.

Luke groaned and his eyes squinted open seeing most of his family around his bed, “Hi?” Luke croaked out and Ellen grabbed a cup of water for Luke to drink.

“Hay!” Luke tiredly beamed realizing Hayden was still there and gripped her hand tighter.

“Okay we already know who the favorite is but come on!” Jack scoffed playfully as Luke didn’t even acknowledge him but he wasn’t surprised as he knows that everyone’s favorite sibling is Hayden.

Luke teasingly smirked back, “Hi Rowdy.”

Hayden laughed at the two as Ellen and Jim watched three of their four kids with a fond smile.

[viviennevermillion]

kisses with them

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: spontaneously decided to write this. i don't take requests but i do want to consider other people's faves so if you want to see content for a character, drop them in my inbox along with whether you want something romantic or platonic with them and i'll draft something up! I write for everyone (except for romantic stuff for the children)!

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: kiss from a rose — seal

✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: luocha, dan heng

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: spoilers for recent main story update

Luocha's kisses felt earnest and loving. Although he was a man of many secrets, one thing was clear as day to everyone: he was unmistakably in love with you. There were things not everyone had to know about; especially when it came to that promise that had motivated him to come to the Xianzhou Luofu or what was in that coffin he carried around. But he knew very well how and why people might think that he was suspicious or up to no good. That awareness made him all the more mindful about making sure you'd never doubt his feelings for you.

"Aren't you going to trade with other merchants today? Work?", you asked, feeling him snuggle up to you and press a kiss to your cheek. "That's the good thing about being an independent travelling merchant", he spoke in a soothing tone and pulled you close, leaving a quick kiss on your lips that made your heart flutter, "I can afford to take a day off when the situation calls for it."

He smiled when he nuzzled your neck. "And this is a situation that calls for a day off?", you chuckled and ran your fingers through the soft blond hair falling messily over his shoulders. "What with all the trouble around the Luofu recently, I was busier than I hoped to be. I thought that now was as good a time as any to catch up on some quality time with my beloved", he gave you that charming smile that was reserved only for you, guiding your chin closer to his face until his lips met yours. He pecked at your lips, softly and lovingly; leaving you wanting to pull him in for another kiss. "I love you", he whispered quietly against your lips, his fingernails gently drawing circles on your shoulders.

Luocha may not have been privy to immortality as the Xianzhou natives were, but he was sure that he had found a love that could very well outlast the end of times.

As he looked around the Scalegorge Waterscape, Dan Heng felt unsteady and confused. Memories of times gone by flashed through his mind; ones that didn't really feel like they were his but ones he couldn't deny he experienced. He couldn't deny that he had considered the possibility of his past incarnation catching up to his current life one day; but the scale of it had still caught him off guard.

Was everything changing now? The thought of that made his stomach turn and he felt anxious.

As his eyes scanned his surroundings, they met yours. Dan Heng looked away; his heart beating rapidly as if he had been jump-scared. You hadn't had time to confront him about this new form and his past life yet; but he was worried about your reaction. What it would mean for the love you had. Perhaps you had seen the uncertainty and worry in his eyes; as you swiftly made your way over to him. He found it hard to look into your eyes now. "I...I just wanted to let you know; it's still me...despite all", he didn't know where to begin, awkwardly turning a strand of his now long hair in his fingers, "I know you probably have a lot of questions, but I promise-"

He didn't get any further before your lips crashed onto his; your hands cupping his cheeks and firmly holding him close to you as you kissed him like you hadn't seen him for a lifetime. "Once we're back on the express, I'll have to show you all the photos March took during our time on the Luofu!", you exclaimed with a smile, tears streaming down your face from the relief of holding him in your arms again. Dan Heng gave you a soft smile. You looked at him not as if he were a stranger, nor a distant shadow of the past; but as Dan Heng and in that moment he had no doubt that his future path was one that aligned with your journey.

Now it was his turn to pull you into a kiss. It was like the taste of your lips brought him back into the here and now and he had no idea how much he had needed that right now. A single tear ran down his cheek. "Thank you", he whispered against your lips, leaning his forehead against yours.

This journey to the past had left him unsteady and confused but now he was here with you. Now he was Dan Heng and he was loved and that was what mattered.

[which-item-poll-archive]

Archiving Which-Item-Poll

~~~NSFW items are on their way to the top of the queue. Here's a post about the tags to block if you don't wanna see them! :)~~~

Tag directory - A key to the tags I use as well as ways to browse by category or the month the poll was originally posted.

I also have a new survey about the tag directory

Please follow @pick-an-item-poll as they're continuing to post polls where you choose an item

If you want to follow the original blog's new poll blog, it's @hear-me-out-poll

What is this blog?

Basically I'm trying to (manually) reblog everything from their blog to this blog to create a more permanent archive once which-item-poll deactivates the original blog. I'm doing this because tumblr's search functions are notoriously useless for finding specific posts and many posts get entirely lost without a blog's archive page. Additionally, this preserves the tags that contain the information about the items, most notably the websites where they can/could be found.

Once the archive is complete and posted, we'll see where this goes from there.

@which-item-poll if you want me to delete a specific post or a couple that I re-blogged from you please ask me and I will. (Even after you've deleted the blog, since I know your main)

About the Archivist

You can call me Arc (not my name, but it works for now), I'm non-binary and my pronouns are she/they! I'm not the original owner of which-item-poll. I'm typically slow to respond to messages, but will take any suggestions into consideration even if I haven't responded to you yet.

Archive progress

Currently in the queue:

March, April, May, June, July and August 2024

Currently in the drafts:

September, October, November and December 2024

Completed Months:

January and February 2024

Needs to be queued/drafted:

Any posts remaining in which-item-poll's queue or any other post made between time of update (4:47am on the 15th of December EST) and when OP decides to deactivate the blog.

Updates

NSFW items are on their way to the top of the queue. Here's a post about the tags to block if you don't wanna see them! :)

I found my draft about opening submissions :) Now I just need to edit it so it's coherent.

The tag directory is completed! It can be found at the top of this post! There's also a new survey about it. Is it too long?

26/12/24 EST - Days left until completed archive: 27 days at 50 posts a day.

I've finished queuing and drafting existing posts and are now waiting to archive any future posts between now and when the blog is deactivated.

I'm also going to try and post some things manually to get that time down, but can't guarantee that I can do this a lot due to things happening IRL.

Previous updates under the cut

Update: My autotagger wasn't working, which I found out about 1200 posts into this. Currently working on restoring tags to the posts already reblogged. I've managed to fix my autotagger but I had to clear the queue and drafts. (I didn't want to do it... but must to preserve my sanity.... and more importantly my wrist) Once I've got the tags back on the January posts (manually) I'll be able to fill the queue and drafts back up with the original tags intact.

Update: Everything that was posted had the tags added back on. Resuming queuing posts (and I've confirmed that the autotagger is copying the tags). Starting the queue again since there's enough in there to run while I sleep.

Update: I have been misspelling February in all of my tags. I will fix this and continue to fix this as they get posted from the queue.

Update: All the miss-spelt tags have been corrected

Update: I made the pinned post nicer to read! I also added some information.

Update 15/12/24 EST: If I run the queue at 50 posts a day, it will take 45 days to post everything from the original blog to this blog.

19/12/24 7pm EST - Taking a very short break from working on the archive as I have my final assignment due for a university course due tonight. (in about 10 hours in my local time). I should be back to doing stuff with it tomorrow. :)

17/12/24 EST - Days left until completed archive: 40 days at 50 posts a day.

Update 21/12/24: I'm back to it and working on adding tags to posts before making a directory again. For now, All current archival posts and ones that are in the queue now have the tag #which-item-poll-archive

Update: I have lost my draft about new submissions somewhere :(

Since it was a majority yes vote on the survey about new polls, I'm currently considering how I'd go about doing that.

21/12/24 EST - Days left until completed archive: 35 days at 50 posts a day.

[kiwiana-writes]

2024 Writing Round Up

Thanks to @cha-melodius for the tag a couple of days ago—I put this in draft to wait for my Christmas gift fic to be published, even though I still have a couple of 2024 deadlines remaining. This is... a long fucking list, so under the cut it goes. I’m tagging everyone mentioned below abs anyone else who wants to play!!

JANUARY

None of my love will go to waste [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,306 words] Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate. [A gift for @clottedcreamfudge]

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,895 words] Five times Henry puts his foot in his mouth in front of his customer crush, and one time he puts his dick in his customer crush's mouth instead doesn't.

[PODFIC] Going Platinum [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 2:11:26 long] Podfic of Going Platinum by @cricketnationrise

FEBRUARY

[PODFIC] but if you could see us from a distance, you’d know i’ve always been so close to you [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1:03:31 long] Podfic of but if you could see us from a distance, you’d know i’ve always been so close to you by @anincompletelist

A thousand dreams that would awake me [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,935 words] Henry visits a sex club to get spanked the way he's craving.

MARCH

Pankakke [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 644 words] The first trickle of syrup that hits him is always the best. He gasps, opening up his batter bubbles to allow more in, writhing in pleasure as the maple tips his bottle until he's spent. Henry moans appreciatively as he absorbs the thick liquid, welcoming it in.

Thus may poor fools believe false teachers [RWRB; Oscar & Rafael; rated T; 1,808 words] Rafael's POV of the Dad's Way cancellation; a prequel to With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) [a gift for @inexplicablymine]

APRIL

What a beautiful tone [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 2,345 words] First time rimming but make it really, really introspective.

Warm like the glow that you feel head to toe [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,131 words] Alex is a senator; Henry is a prince who knows exactly what he wants.

Nature's infinite book of secrecy [RWRB; Alex/Henry, Oscar & Rafael; rated T; 1,981 words] Five times Rafael tried to figure out when Henry might propose and one time Oscar did something with that information; a sequel to With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) [a gift for @cricketnationrise]

[PODFIC] …But My Boyfriend Is [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 0:16:40 long] Podfic of ...But My Boyfriend Is by @clottedcreamfudge

MAY

[PODFIC] kiss me like you love me [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 0:14:47 long] Podfic of kiss me like you love me by @getmehighonmagic

[PODFIC] You're So Attractive; How Did That Happen [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 0:15:28 long] Podfic of You're So Attractive; How Did That Happen by @sparklepocalypse

[PODFIC] I Hear It (When I Look at You) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated M; 0:37:45 long] Podfic of I Hear It (When I Look at You) by @affectionatelyrs

[PODFIC + LIVE READ WHILE BAKING] An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated T; 0:38:29 long (podfic), 0:45:24 long (live read)] Podfic of An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat by @firenati0n

Like loving the stars themselves [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 7,219 words] Alex is a Time Lord, and time is complicated; Henry keeps meeting him out of order, and it's been a while.

Steep my senses in forgetfulness [The Pairing; Kit/Theo; rated G; 416 words] Theo can hear the way the ocean rolls up to the shore, lapping up over the beach before falling back, summoned into the chill of the Atlantic.

A Prince in the Pâtisserie [RWRB/The Pairing crossover; Alex/Henry, Kit/Theo; rated T; 588 words] “Parlez-vous anglais?” Alex Claremont-Diaz asks, his smile somehow even more blinding in person than it is on TV—and, yeah, maybe Kit only really started paying attention to US politics when Ellen Claremont was elected. Sue him. “I really hope so, cause I’m pretty sure Henry’s getting sick of translating for me.”

[PODFIC] No Ordinary Friend [The Pairing; Blond Calum/Ginger Calum; rated M; 0:22:25 long] Podfic of No Ordinary Friend by @cha-melodius

The wind in our free-flowing sails (and the liquor in our cocktails) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1,889 words] Henry is a speakeasy bartender, and Alex is the surface for body shots. Then they fuck about it. That's the fic. [A gift for @sparklepocalypse]

When a man has fallen down upon his knees [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1,886 words] Henry is a Broadway star, and Alex is his principal dresser. There are a LOT of quick changes. [A gift for @blueeyedgrlwrites]

A compass that fell silent at the sound of song [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1,542 words] The golden age of piracy has come and gone, but every ending is a new beginning. [A gift for @cactusdragon517]

One day we'll be living in the stars [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated M; 1,262 words] Alex is a new settler on Mars, and Henry helps him settle in. So to speak. [A gift for @ashesfromashes]

JUNE

[PODFIC] Through His Stomach [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1:21:59 long] Podfic of Through His Stomach by @frostingway for @aroyallybigbangrwrb

With his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 2,110 words] Savile Row tailors have spacious dressing rooms. [A gift for @sparklepocalypse]

Just let me get that, slick back [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 2,069 words] Henry's hair is long, and Alex feels extremely normal about it. Honest.

A midnight medication (just show me where it hurts) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated T; 2,121 words] Henry became a paediatrician to help sick children—not to flirt with their adults. [A gift for @sail-not-drift]

JULY

Naturally adapted for bodily exertion [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1,954 words] Alex and Henry are competitors in the Olympic Pentathlon... in 444BC. [A gift for @three-drink-amy]

Never want to live (or die) without you [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 9,999 words] Alex Claremont-Diaz is a pretty ordinary guy with a pretty ordinary life. He has a kinda shitty corporate law job, a nice apartment, and an incredibly sexy husband. It's a good life, overall. He's not anticipating any major changes to that life anytime soon. Major changes like, for example, eating some sketchy shellfish during a client lunch meeting and suddenly finding himself undead and with an irresistible craving for human flesh. You know. Hypothetically. (A Santa Clarita Diet AU)

I pictured you with other girls in love [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,187 words] Henry has an unfortunately physical reaction the first time he meets Alex... and it's not the one you're thinking of. [A gift for @sparklepocalypse]

AUGUST-SEPTEMBER

Brain break(down)

OCTOBER

SERIES: Kinktober 2024 [RWRB; various pairings; rated E; 40,000 words total]

Collars

Incubus/Succubus

Wax Play

Xenophilia

Somnophilia

Rough Sex

Nipple Orgasm [Alex/Nora]

Service Top

Tentacles

Cigar/Ash Play [Oscar/Rafael]

Hair Kink

Mutual Masturbation

Wing Kink

Magical Healing Dick

Boot Worship [Zahra/Shaan]

Biting

Hand/Finger Kink

Exhibitionism

Merpeople

Belly Bulge

Voice Kink

Fisting

Selfcest [39-year-old Henry/38-year-old Alex/19-year-old Alex]

Glory Hole

Double Penetration [June/Nora/Pez]

Orgasm Delay/Denial

Dry Humping

Dendrophilia

Omorashi, Humiliation [two prompts combined because I missed a day]

Sex Toys, Power Bottom, Knotting [all three prompts used for the last day of Kinktober!]

NOVEMBER

Someday your rainbow will come smiling through [Cinderella; trans man Cinderella/Cinderella's Prince; rated G; 3,108 words] A trans take on Cinderella [originally written as an original short story and shared on AO3 when it wasn't submitted for publication]

[WIP] Years of dreams just can't be wrong [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 13,330 words currently published] An Anastasia AU.

We gonna need some brand-new jeans [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 930 words] Finding a use for Thanksgiving leftovers. [Written for Smutsgiving 2024]

DECEMBER

Make heaven drowsy with the harmony [RWRB; Zahra/Shaan; rated M; 2,630 words] Zahra and Shaan's story before and alongside With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest). [A gift for @cricketnationrise for @fandomtrumpshate]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered [RWRB; Liam/Pez; rated E; 3,682 words] Five times Pez brings in something ridiculous to post to his friend in the States, and one time Liam has to put his foot down. [A gift for @onthewaytosomewhere for @fandomtrumpshate]

I only want you under my mistletoe [RWRB; Alex/Henry, Liam/Pez; rated E; 5,649 words] Pre-Christmas shopping is hell, but some retail workers make it more than bearable. [A gift for @everwitch-magiks]

[TBD by the end of the year] Inside you the time moves [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 10-20k] A gift for @amanita-fierce for @fandomtrumpshate

[TBD by the end of the year] All my promise and my pride (all my fear and all my fight) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 10-20k] A gift for @larkral for @fandomtrumpshate

[melrosing]

MBO Robert’s Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 3

what the fuck is this: it's me drafting a fake robert's rebellion tv show through a series of bullet points. there will be two seasons of ten episodes each when done

notes on this one: I’ve changed a couple (minor imo…) details just for my own purposes. first is that I’ve only sent two KG after Rhaegar, second is that I’ve had Aerys use wildfire on the Starks whereas I think in canon it’s just regular ole fire. whatever. humour me

also these are getting much longer lol

prev: 2.02

next: 2.04

title for this one: aerys’ bbq

Brandon and Rickard Stark march down the Kingsroad, arrive at the gates of KL with their men, and demand entry. The gates are opened readily for them, rousing some suspicion in the Stark men - but they continue on nonetheless

Aerys receiving word of this in the throne room that the Starks have arrived - Varys whispers the news in his ear. A slow zoom on. Aerys chewing on his fingernails, his eyes racing back and forth - fear battling it out with fury

~ Opening creds ~

Meanwhile!! Rhaegar and Lyanna have made camp in the woods. Rhaegar compliments Lyanna, saying she makes a fierce fire. Lyanna says she often used to hunt with her brothers - they were all hopeless at it. Lyanna asks where they are headed, anyway - feels like they’ve been wandering aimlessly. Rhaegar says there’s a place not far from here that his great uncle used to visit sometimes, with his wife Jenny. Lyanna like: Jenny of Oldstones? She likes that song. But why are they going there??? Rhaegar asks why Lyanna is following. Lyanna frowns, initially annoyed by the question, then tells him she didn’t want what waited for her at home. Rhaegar asks what does she want? Lyanna doesn’t know. Rhaegar asks what she sees in her dreams. Lyanna wants to know why he keeps asking about her damn dreams. But after a moment, she confesses that she saw him. Rhaegar at her, resolute

Back in KL. Brandon & Rickard are shown to the Red Keep, where they are greeted by the Hand of the King, Owen Merryweather. Rickard demands Rhaegar; Merryweather offers his apologies, however, Rhaegar is not here. The King will see them, however, and listen to their complaints. The Starks look suspicious, but follow Merryweather inside the Keep

Rickard murmurs to Brandon that he has heard the King has no great love for his son. Whatever the Prince may have done, they must make their case before the King, for Lyanna lies at the heart of it. Rickard’s voice breaks. She is his girl, his only girl. Brandon assures his father that they will find Lyanna, and she and Rickard will make amends for their quarrels together. And for whatever he has done to her, Brandon declares quietly that though Robert may never forgive him, he will kill Rhaegar himself

The Starks reach the throne room, where Aerys awaits them. Brandon and Rickard sense the tone shift as they approach the throne, the size of the thing becoming more apparent. Aerys speaks from atop it, he hears the Starks of Winterfell have been demanding words with him. Rickard states that they have received word that his son has taken Lyanna. Aerys asks if Lyanna is the horsey girl he saw in the stands? He’s sure he never knew what it was that Rhaegar saw in such a child, but it may well be that he has taken her. Princes do what they will. Rickard begins to object. Aerys interjects - but you northmen, mere servants, demanding words…… ‘you demand anything of your king?’ (Some dialogue for u) Just as B&R realise how far south this has sailed, all their men are killed around them. Brandon and Rickard are seized, and dragged in different directions

Catelyn stands at her father’s side in his solar, as he harshly dismisses Petyr Baelish from his service. Petyr is still harshly bruised, his arm in a sling. With poison in his eyes, he turns and leaves wordlessly. Hoster tells Cat that Lysa is childish to be so heartbroken over a feeble thing such as Petyr, and more foolish still to - he cuts himself off. Cat tells Hoster that Lysa is still only a girl, and she will grow and mature. Hoster tells Cat she has always been mature far beyond her years. Even now, when by all rights she should be the sister weeping in her room for fear, she stands here strong at his side. Cat tells Hoster she knows that Brandon will return, for doubtless he’d fear her lord father’s wrath if he did not. Hoster manages a small smile, but remains deeply uncertain. Whatever comes to pass, he says, ‘I will see to it that you are well matched’. Cat begins to realise the gravity of the situation. ‘And your sister, too, gods help her.’

In Jon Arryn’s solar with Ned and Bob. It’s obvious they’re spending most of their time here, awaiting news. Robert is unusually silent, whilst Ned tells Jon he needs to find his sister. Jon says Ned should wait here, and see what word comes from King’s Landing. Ned says Lyanna won’t be there: they’ve gone to the wrong place. Robert asks if Ned knows where she is then, because if he does then why doesn’t he damn well say? Ned says he doesn’t know. Robert says then they should leave it to his brother and his father. Ned is taken aback, but Robert doesn’t care just now. Lyanna is his

Arthur on the road with Oswell Whent. Oswell asks if Arthur does truly know where on earth they’re going. Arthur doesn’t answer. Whent asks Arthur if he thinks Rhaegar has done something to the Stark girl. Arthur says nothing. Whent says he wouldn’t have thought the man capable if he hadn’t two kids to show for it, and Elia’s beautiful enough so what’s he chasing after this northerner for, anyway. Arthur says they must be found. Whent like sure ok but it’s a needle in a haystack..… Arthur looks to the stars, then leads them in a new direction. Whent asks what the hell he thinks he’s seen, why are they heading this way. Arthur doesn’t reply

Elia in Maegor’s with Rhaella, the children around them; they’re being kept here during the Stark fracas. She tells the Queen she should like to return to Dorne, to keep the children safe during this time of tension. She would be happy to take Viserys, and Rhaella too if she’d like. They’ve not gotten to know each other much, yet she knows her mother loved Rhaella well, and her son would never let any harm come to she or her young son. Rhaella tells Elia they cannot leave - Aerys won’t allow it. Elia says that if she speaks with the King, he might change his mind. Rhaella implores her, you shouldn’t ask him. Do not ask him

Brandon in a black cell alone: he’s obviously been there many days. Suddenly, light; a gaoler has arrived with a pyromancer, but Brandon doesn’t recognise him as such. Brandon is told that his father has done the King great insult, but Aerys is merciful. He will allow a trial. Brandon says a trial for what - it’s their bloody Prince who ought to be on trial. They want to know where Lyanna is. The pyromancer continues regardless that Rickard has demanded trial by combat, and Aerys, in his magnanimity, has granted him this. He invites Brandon to watch

Jaime Lannister watches as wood is piled before him in the throne room. Utterly confused, he looks to Gerold Hightower, who won’t look back at him. Aerys watches the wood pile up with something stirring behind his eyes

Rickard is led in first, wearing fine armour. He demands to know who he is to fight. Next he is seized, and suspended above the wood, and Aerys informs him that fire is the champion of House Targaryen. Jaime whips round to look at Aerys, then Gerold, but no-one looks back, and no-one intervenes. Suddenly the doors open again, and Jaime watches as a strange contraption is wheeled in and placed before the fire

Brandon is led through the halls, all deadly silent. He senses something is terribly wrong, and has it confirmed when the doors open on the throne room. Rickard is suspended above a pyre, and Aerys looks on from on high. Rickard tells his son to leave him, to go find Lyanna and save her. Aerys says he could save his father instead - all he has to do is reach him. Brandon sees the contraption for the first time only as he is manhandled into it. Brandon, frantic, demands to know if this is all House Targaryen has left - a pile of logs in place of dragons? For a second Aerys looks perturbed by this comment, till he answers ‘a dragon sits before you, and his fire burns as hot’

A fire is lit beneath Rickard, and Brandon immediately strains forward to reach him. Feeling the noose tightening around his neck as he does so, he looks to Aerys, aghast. Aerys looks back, a small smile on his lips

The rest is a slow zoom on Jaime as he strains to mask his horror, the sounds of the Starks’ suffering fading into silence as he blocks it out. The room is bathed in an ever-growing green

Maegor’s holdfast: Princess Rhaenys wanders to the window, and is awed to see the windows of the throne room glowing green in the distance. Elia goes to see what her daughter is looking at, and is filled with disquiet - she leads Rhaenys away

Cut twenty mins later to the bodies of the Starks upon the floor of the throne room. The king strides past them to leave, Jonothor Darry and Gerold Hightower follow in his wake. Jaime stops beside the bodies and stares. Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder. It seems a gesture of comfort at first, until we see the look on Gerold Hightower’s face. It is stern and accusatory: “You swore a vow to guard the king, not to judge him.”

In the Riverlands with Rhaegar and Lyanna. It’s the middle of the night as they reach High Heart. Lyanna is alarmed to see a figure amongst the weirwood stumps, but Rhaegar awaits the Ghost as she slowly makes for them. The Ghost becomes more perturbed the closer she gets, looking at Lyanna with a kind of horror in her eyes. She tells Lyanna she brings death: countless deaths, Rhaegar’s and her own. what a fucking greeting. The Ghost says they cannot stay here; she will not have them. Lyanna looks to Rhaegar to see if he has any take on this. Rhaegar does not. They ride onwards

[agentstarkid]

AN ETERNAL LOVE BULLSHIT ✦ DR3

Based on this ask

✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ CHECKERED FLAG: 3.7K words (I tried to keep it short, oops)

✦ TRACK LIMITS: angst, self-doubt, crying, feelings of not being enough, heartbreak.

✦ MAY'S RADIO: I've had this on my drafts, ruminating on it for days, soooo I hope you guys like it. Vitto, Iza and Chloe are the real MVPs of this chapter! Queens uplifting another Queen 💅🏽💖 This was fun to write! Thank you so much nonnie for this idea! ilysm <3 p.s. can y'all spot the song references? 👀

This is set during Saudade. | Everything between "—" and italized are flashbacks.

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The end of April in California had days of clear skies, endless blue, and a gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The sun shone warmly, casting a golden glow over everything it touched, yet the cheerful weather felt almost mocking to her current state.

Her guitar lay across her lap, repurposed as a makeshift table for the notebook where she hastily scribbled words, each one an attempt to capture the storm of emotions swirling within her. The grass beneath her was cool and grounding, but it did little to tether her to the present. Every line she wrote was a desperate attempt to process the pain, to make sense of the abrupt void he had left behind. 

Life moved on around her with an indifferent rhythm, but her mind was still stuck replaying the scenes in a Bahraini hotel room on a fateful Friday morning in March. She was stuck, a relic in a world that had already moved on, trapped in the shadow of what once was. The ache in her heart was a constant companion, a reminder that she was still right where he left her, struggling to find a way back to herself.

Her pen moved frantically across the pages, as if the act of writing could somehow release the torment inside her. But each word, each lyric, only seemed to root her more firmly in the past. The guitar beneath her fingers, once a source of joy and creativity, now felt like a conduit for her sorrow. She was lost in her own words, hoping that somewhere in the tangled mess of emotions, she might find a way to heal.

But amidst the ache, she found solace in the unwavering support of her friends. 

Since landing in Los Angeles, her friends had been her rock. When days of isolation had left her feeling like a shell of herself, Vitto and Andrew had intervened, offering her refuge in their home outside the city. Their house, tucked away from the relentless glare of cameras and the whirlwind of drama, had become a sanctuary. The quiet of their surroundings was a balm for her frayed nerves.

Baby Iza, their little bundle of joy, at almost 1 year old, was a constant source of comfort. The child's tiny hands and infectious giggles seemed to have an almost magical ability to lift her spirits. It was as if Izabele could sense her sadness and made it her mission to shower her with love and affection. 

With the sun casting gentle rays through the window, the child would toddle into the room with her tiny feet pattering softly on the floor. Her face, a picture of innocent determination, was often lit up by a bright smile. She would clutch a small toy in her chubby hands—a plush animal or a colorful block—and make a beeline for her godmother, as if to say, “Here, play with me. Everything will be okay.”

Sitting down beside her, Iza would arrange her toys with meticulous care, her eyes occasionally glancing up to gauge her mood. They would sit together in quiet companionship, the simple act of play bringing a semblance of peace.

As the night fell and the room grew dim, she would make her way to her aunt's side once more, but this time with a special gesture. She would carry one of her favorite teddy bears, its soft fur worn from countless hugs—she recognized it as the one that Daniel had gifted Iza when she was born. 

Her sleepy eyes would barely stay open, and the pacifier bobbing gently in her mouth gave her a serene, dreamlike appearance. She would approach her aunt with the bear in tow, offering it with the sincerity only a child can muster. The gesture, simple yet profound, was Iza’s way of offering comfort and reassurance. The irony wasn’t lost on her, as the comfort offered by the bear was tied to the person who had broken her heart.

Despite the tangled emotions that the bear represented, she’d accept the gesture with a quiet grace. Each night, she would clutch the teddy bear tightly in her arms as she lay in bed, she would close her eyes and allow the bear’s presence to soothe her. It was a small, ironic comfort, a connection to a past she was still grappling with. She never spoke of it to anyone, keeping this bittersweet detail to herself. 

Vitto and Andrew's kindness, along with Baby Iza’s innocent charm, and Fio and Danna’s constant facetime calls—and impromptu visits—, were her anchors, grounding her in a time of turbulence.

Rumors had started circulating about Daniel moving on with Heidi, emerging just two weeks after their breakup. As she heard whispers and saw the headlines, she felt a deep internal conflict. One part of her mind tried to dismiss the rumors, knowing all too well how the business thrived on gossip and sensationalism. She had been in this world long enough to recognize how quickly false narratives could spread and how little they sometimes reflected the truth.

Yet, another part of her, the part that had been wounded by every argument they’d ever had about their future, couldn’t silence the inner voice that screamed she was a fool. It was the same voice that had questioned every promise, every declaration of eternal love Daniel had made. How could someone profess to love her, to call her the love of their life—a million times—, to talk about rings and cradles, and then, almost as soon as it was over, move on to someone new?

But a single text changed her entire world.

The moment she received confirmation from Chloe that the rumors were true, a wave of crushing disappointment and pain washed over her. It felt as if the ground beneath her had given way, leaving her in a freefall of disbelief and heartache. The confirmation struck her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs and leaving her feeling hollow inside.

The betrayal was sharper than she could have ever imagined. Daniel, the person she had known better than herself, had indeed moved on after only two weeks. The image she had clung to, the person she had given the benefit of the doubt, shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. How could someone who had claimed to love her so deeply and had spoken of a future together move on so swiftly? The realization was a bitter, choking pill to swallow.

Her heart ached with a profound sense of loss, not just of the relationship but of the person she thought Daniel was. The trust she had placed in him, the dreams they had shared, all felt like a cruel joke. She felt duped, as if she had been sold a "get-love-quick" scheme by someone who never intended to follow through on his promises. The sense of being deceived cut deeply, leaving a wound that seemed impossible to heal.

She sat there, gripping her pen tightly, her mind swirling with the betrayal she felt so deeply. Without a moment’s pause, her pen began to race across the pages of her notebook, pouring out the raw, unfiltered emotions she could no longer contain. The lyrics flowed from her as if they were the only way to make sense of the chaos within:

And ain't it funny

How you ran to her the second that we called it quits? 

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends? 

Now it sure as hell don't look like it 

You betrayed me 

And I know that you'll never feel sorry 

For the way I hurt, yeah 

You'd talk to her 

When we were together 

Loved you at your worst 

But that didn't matter 

It took you two weeks 

To go off and date her 

Guess you didn't cheat 

But you're still a traitor

With each line, she felt the searing pain of his betrayal more acutely. How could he have moved on so quickly? The words “two weeks” echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat, reminding her of how little time it had taken for him to replace her. The sense of being betrayed, of having her trust shattered, was almost unbearable. She had loved him at his worst, given him everything, and yet it had taken him mere days to discard their love and move on to someone new.

The realization that she was right, that he had been talking to her while they were still together added salt to the wound. It made every moment they had shared feel tainted, every promise he had made feel like a lie. The anger and hurt intertwined, fueling the lyrics that poured out of her. He might not have cheated in the traditional sense, but the emotional betrayal was just as devastating, if not more so. To her, he was a traitor, someone who had violated the sacred trust of their relationship.

The pen in her hand paused for the first time in days, the words unable to flow as freely as before. The grief was too raw, too overwhelming to articulate. She felt an intense, suffocating sadness, mixed with anger and a sense of foolishness for believing in him. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and her chest tightened with the weight of unspoken emotions.

Her phone storage has been filled with voice notes for the past weeks, but the number has elevated exponentially since the news had hit. Her chat with her producer has been overflowing with “What do you think of this?”, demos shared between them back and forth. 

For moments, she was consumed by raw anger, her pen becoming a weapon as she furiously wrote songs that painted him as the villain he had become in her eyes. She felt the fierce determination to make him know—and if his treacherous heart allowed, to feel—her pain.

Each line dripped with venom and sorrow, a raw portrayal of the anguish he had inflicted upon her. The thought of him reading her words and realizing the depth of her suffering provided a fleeting sense of power and justice.

But after the anger came a deep, suffocating depression. The reality of his betrayal settled over her like a heavy, oppressive fog. Each day felt like a battle to simply get out of bed, and her once vibrant spirit seemed to wither under the weight of her grief. She found herself crying at the smallest things, her emotions a raw, open wound that refused to heal.

—

One night Vitto found her in bed, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes red and swollen, looking every bit as miserable as she felt inside. Without a word, Vitto quickly gathered her in her arms, holding her tightly as the heart-shattering sobs began anew. The weight of her friend’s pain pressed heavily on Vitto’s heart, but she held her close, whispering kind and reassuring words, trying to contain the pieces of her shattered glass heart.

In a voice barely above a whisper, filled with desperation and heartbreak, she asked the questions that had been gnawing at her soul. “Why can't it be me for once, Vitto? Why can't someone choose me?” Her voice cracked with the weight of the pain she felt. “Is it so hard to love me? What's so wrong with me that no one has the will to stay?”

Vitto's heart ached at the sight of her friend so broken, so lost in her despair. She tightened her hold, pulling her closer as if she could shield her from the cruel thoughts that plagued her mind. “There's nothing wrong with you,” Vitto whispered back, her voice gentle but firm. “You are so easy to love, fofinha, and anyone who doesn't see that is a fool.” She prayed that her friend would see the truth in her words. “You deserve someone who sees you for the amazing person you are and who will never let you go.”

Vitto rocked her gently, smoothing her hair and murmuring softly. “You’re strong,” she whispered. “Stronger than you know. You’ll get through this, one step at a time. You have us, and we’re not going anywhere.”

That night, after the tears had subsided, she found herself sitting on the windowsill, staring out into the vast, indifferent sky. The weight of her grief pressed down on her chest as she gazed at the stars, feeling more alone than ever. 

In the quiet darkness, she whispered her desperate plea to any entity that might be listening. She wasn’t asking for fame or fortune, but for something much simpler and infinitely more precious: love. A love that wasn’t for the artist she became on stage or the persona she put on for the cameras, but for her—the real her, with all her flaws, insecurities, and hidden depths.

She was on her knees, metaphorically, begging for someone to change her fate, to alter the prophecy that seemed to doom her to be always left behind. Why couldn’t someone love her as fiercely as she loved them—or even harder?. 

The question lingered in the air, a painful echo of her deepest fears. She longed for someone who would choose her, who wouldn’t toss her aside once the initial novelty wore off and someone else, shiny and new, came along.

The night air was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the burning ache inside her. She closed her eyes, letting the silent tears fall, each one a small release of the pain she carried. 

She wasn’t asking for much, just someone who would love her, not for what she represented, but for who she truly was. Someone who would see her, really see her, and still choose to stay. The silence of the night offered no answers, but she hoped—prayed—that somewhere, someone would hear her and bring her the love she so desperately craved. The stars offered no answers, but in the quiet of the night, she found a sliver of solace in the act of voicing her deepest wish.

—

The phone rang late in the evening, its sound piercing the quiet of the room. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the screen. Chloe's name flashed across it, and a part of her almost didn’t want to pick up. But Chloe had been there for her in ways she hadn’t expected, turning from an acquaintance into one of her closest friends. With a deep breath, she answered.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to mask the exhaustion in her voice.

“Hey, you,” Chloe replied, her tone gentle, almost cautious. “I just wanted to check in on you. How are you holding up?”

There was a brief silence, the kind that stretches out when you’re trying to find the right words to explain a pain that feels impossible to describe. “I’m… surviving, I guess. It’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice wavering.

Chloe sighed on the other end, a mix of empathy and frustration evident in her breath. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. And I hate that I had to be the one to confirm it. You deserve so much better.” 

Her heart ached at the sincerity in Chloe’s words. “I don’t even know what hurts more—the fact that he moved on so quickly, or that I still can’t hate him for it. I feel like such an idiot, holding on to the person I thought he was.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Chloe reassured her. “You loved him, and you believed in him. There’s nothing wrong with that. But you have to remember that this isn’t about you, it’s about him and his inability to recognize what he had.”

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Thank you. It’s just… I keep asking myself how someone can move on so quickly. I thought what we had was real. We talked about a future, Chloe. The farm, rings, babies, all of it. And then, two weeks after we break up, he’s with someone else? It just… it doesn’t make sense.” she said, her voice cracking. “How could he say all those things to me, make all those promises, and then just... move on? Like I never mattered.”

Chloe hesitated, knowing that what she had to say might sting, but also feeling that honesty was necessary. “I know, and I wish I had the right words to make it better. I don’t understand it either. But people… they’re complicated, and sometimes they don’t even realize the damage they’re causing until it’s too late. Sometimes-” she let out a sigh, “Sometimes people make decisions that don’t make any sense, that hurt the ones they’re supposed to care about the most. But that’s on him, not you. You’re allowed to grieve, to be angry, to feel everything you’re feeling.”

“Do you think he ever really loved me?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had haunted her since the confirmation of Daniel’s new relationship, and now it hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded with vulnerability.

Chloe paused, her heart aching for her friend. “I think… I think he loved you in the way he knew how, but maybe that wasn’t the way you deserved to be loved. And that’s not your fault. It’s his loss, really. You gave him everything, and he’s the one who couldn’t appreciate it.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she fought them back. “It just hurts so much, you know? I keep thinking that if I had done something differently, if I had been better, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Chloe said firmly. “You did nothing wrong. You were yourself, and that should have been enough. He’s the one who couldn’t see what he had in front of him. But I see you, and so do the people who really care about you. You’re not alone in this.”

The girl swallowed the lump in her throat, grateful for Chloe’s words, for her friendship. “Thank you, Chloe. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you, no matter what,” Chloe replied warmly. 

As the conversation between the girl and Chloe lingered, an uncomfortable question bubbled up within her. She hesitated, biting her lip before finally asking, “Chloe, how is Heidi? Is she… nice? She looks like she is.”

Chloe paused on the other end, considering her words carefully. “She is nice,” she admitted softly. “She’s kind and sweet, and she seems like a good person.”

The girl swallowed hard, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “I figured as much,” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet resignation. “At the beginning, I wanted to tear her apart, you know? I wanted to pick out every flaw she had, convince myself she wasn’t good enough. But I couldn’t do that… because she just looks so nice and kind. It’s almost like it made everything worse, knowing that I couldn’t even hate her.”

Chloe sighed, understanding the conflict in her friend’s heart. “It’s natural to feel that way, to want to protect yourself by finding reasons to dislike her. But you’re also showing so much strength by acknowledging that she’s not the enemy. It’s okay to feel conflicted.”

The girl nodded, though her throat tightened. “I just wish it didn’t hurt so much, Chloe. I wish I could be happy for him, for them. But it’s hard when it feels like I’ve been discarded, replaced by someone who seems perfect in every way.”

“Listen,” Chloe said, her voice firm yet gentle, “you’re human, and it’s okay to feel hurt and conflicted. But don’t let those feelings define you. You’re more than what he made you feel, and you deserve someone who will see all of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between”

“I know,” she whispered, though the knowledge didn’t make the pain any easier to bear. “It’s just hard to accept sometimes.”

“It is,” Chloe agreed. “But you’ll get there. One step at a time. And remember, just because she’s nice doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid. You’re allowed to grieve what you’ve lost, even if it’s complicated.”

—

Slowly, the depression began to give way to a semblance of acceptance—or something that resembled it. It wasn’t forgiveness, nor was it forgetting, but a grudging acknowledgment that clinging to the pain and anger would only prolong her agony.

She continued to write, but the tone of her lyrics shifted. They were still tinged with sadness and loss, but there was also a hint of desperation and sometimes hope.

We broke up a month ago

Your friends are mine, you know, I know

You've moved on, found someone new

One more girl who brings out the better in you.

[...]

And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?

An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean

Remember when I believed you meant it when you said it first to me?

And now I'm pickin' her apart

Like cuttin' her down will make you miss my wretched heart

But she's beautiful, she looks kind

She probably gives you butterflies.

[...]

I hope you're happy

I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.

Acceptance came in small, painful increments. It was in the quiet moments when Baby Iza’s tiny hand rested on her cheek, or when Vitto and Andrew’s unwavering support reminded her that she was not alone. It was in the act of writing itself, where she could pour out her heart and begin to untangle the threads of grief and loss.

As she sat on the grass, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows around her, she realized that while Daniel’s betrayal had broken her, it had not destroyed her. She would rebuild herself, piece by piece, word by word, until she was whole again. Despite everything, she was still standing.

Through the anger, the depression, and the acceptance, she learned that she had the strength to endure. The scars from this heartbreak would always be there, but they would also be a testament to her resilience and her capacity to heal. And in those moments of writing, she knew she would emerge from this experience stronger, wiser, and ready to embrace whatever the future held.

[shirefantasies]

I wanna kiss Feren and comb his hair while he relaxes after a long day 😞 he looks so tired of everything (Love Thranduil but I would be on my last strand of sanity if I worked for him too)

I also feel like he greatly adores cats, like he's definitely snuck a kitten into work because he couldn't leave it all alone

You know what? Yes. Also, ✨two posts✨ from drafts this week because this one is so small (gif by @lokidlaufeyson, will delete from here if asked to!)

Breathe You In- Feren x Elf!Reader Drabble

Not an uncommon sight was it to catch Feren with a look of exasperation or even exhaustion upon his face. The king may have been fair, not quick to inflict harsh punishments upon his people, but that did not preclude him from making streams of demands, words which sent Feren this way and that, often after to inquire after or warn the prince. Certainly it came about due to Thranduil’s trust of your beloved-a status you were unsure the woodland king was even aware of- but sometimes you just wished you could march up to the great throne and tell him to quit treating such a wonderful and capable soul like an errand boy.

As he sat upon the bed, Feren breathed quite the sigh, shaking his head. “I must have ran across the entire kingdom and back today.”

Hands falling to his shoulders, you ran them lightly down, applying a bit of pressure and feeling tension melt from his muscles beneath it. With a look of bliss, he turned his head to meet your eyes, and the both of you shut your eyes and melted together into a kiss the moment gazes locked. Your hand slide down to run along his toned chest, his breaths coming slowly and languidly as your long kiss.

Feren held you against his forehead with a hand as you disconnected, both of you drawing a longer breath in unison. Clear as it was by his sudden grip what Feren's desire was, there you remained, hand over his heart and lungs filling with his air as it mingled with yours.

Finally, you broke the silence. "Turn around, my love."

Obeying, Feren rotated, shifting to accommodate you as you loosened his cape and set it aside, taking instead his flowing locks of brown hair and draping them like a long, silky curtain along the line of his spine. You felt a slight tense of protest beneath his tunic when your hands lifted from his body completely, but they returned posthaste, an ivory comb in hand. Fingers running delicately through his soft hair, you pursued each motion with the teeth of the comb, one never catching the other before another lock was taken in hand. Once again, you felt your beloved's body melt against you.

"Tell me more about your day," you encouraged, voice soft, "unless you would rather not."

You feel Feren sigh before you hear it. "Oh," he waved a hand, "so first I am sent to speak on behalf of the king to some suppliers of some sort-"

Smiling softly, you shook your head a bit, reaching over to the nightstand to dab some oil on your hands and humming disapprovingly at the obstinate shipmen. Your home was never short of stories, that was certain, you reflected as you worked the oil through Feren's hair.

"...But it was all worth it to come home to you, my darling."

"Oh, you flatterer."

"No," taking your face in his hands, Feren shook his head, his dark eyes fixed firmly upon yours, "verily. I mean it, that were I not so lucky in your companionship, your unyielding love and care, I am quite sure Thranduil would have driven me mad by now. Thank you for loving me."

"It is the easiest thing on this earth to do," you whispered back, leaning in closer and pecking his lips, "but you are more than welcome, my dear."

Taglist: @lokilover476 @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🩷

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry, meus cupitus - TSH

TW: gore, toxicity

Where do I even begin? I should start by mentioning that this little piece was inspired by multiple books including but not limited to: "The Meek One" by Dostoyevsky, "Lolita" by Nabokov, "American Psycho" by Bret Easton Ellis and "The Iliad" by the one and only Homer.

This is the toned-down version. I felt that the original was much too explicit to post, but nevertheless it will continue to live in my drafts. Keep in mind, that this version may still be incredibly violent for a part of the audience. Read at your own risk.

Henry, meus cupitus, the last season of the year. My sin, my soul. Henry Winter marching down the banks with his umbrella and books.

He was Henry when we spent our weekends at Francis’ country house, rowing on the lake, finding out about the moon landing. Henry Winter was him, spreading around campus like a dark November mist or in Julian’s attentive green eyes. But he was and still is Henry Marchbanks Winter ever since my ears listened to the convoluted story of the scar; ever since he started forgetting the Latin diary in my sight; ever since our ἕνωσις.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what right have you to judge me? No one should speak of love in the third person, for it is intangible, running so differently through our bones, that it mimics our soul’s very rhythm and so drowns each of us with unique scents, extorted from the desire for which we spill blood. And yet, here it is, my poor heart standing trial for its depth. Little lords and gentlewomen of the jury, I urge you to be magnanimous and instead ask yourself: how will I ever stay behind all on my own? 

We met at Hampden. Our fates intertwined unexpectedly, gloriously, under the pressure of Julian’s classes and consequently under his guiding gaze. We were each other’s equal, neither of us possessing the ability to surpass the other. Though our views on matters weren’t, generally speaking, that different we still somehow managed to find little details so insignificant that the vast majority forget. What I believed in he stood against. What he stated I debated. A continuous chase between cat and mouse, except neither of us hid in walls. Oh, please, listen, how beautifully we were at each other’s throat with winged words whispered by Pallas Athene herself! With every class, my desire to stomp on his toes, to cut out his tongue and compare it to mine, to reduce him to absolute submission grew. As I’m sure did his. My only wish, which Zeus who drives the storm clouds later granted me, was to have him under my despotism. It was sickly divine and it consumed my insides raw. 

Fate is funny in its own sadistic way. And so, despite everything, despite every warning that I’m sure his precious guts gave him, he fell in stride with me. Dangerous, obsessive me. Slowly, with every argument we lost ourselves in the other’s carefully crafted web, our souls moving to do their twisted dance. We couldn’t stop and certainly, we did not want to stop mixing that which made us two. The knot of selves was but a mere preamble to the waltz of unification we performed under the influence of all the gods above. 

Now, most esteemed jury, that you understand the extent of our strange relationship, I can begin to narrate the following events: his demise (and the attempt of mine). I’ll tell it as I myself see fit and understand. That’s the horror of it for me, that I understand everything.

On October 11th of a certain year which I fail to recall, we were sitting against each other on the couch in his apartment, talking, quietly laughing, wasting our minds with wine as one does during the exam period. Take note, that Henry is reserved while his usual self, however, alcohol slightly enables the more emotive side of him. Through our conversation, he grew serious. I didn’t have to ask I knew he was going to tell me.

“You ruin me. You must know since you keep doing it.” Henry mumbled under his breath.  “You lurk through the darkest depths of my mind,” I looked at him, his expression a mirror of mine “I wander dazed, like Hades’ dead undead, unable to form a single coherent thought.” He scoffed. “You are my worst nightmare.” 

I remember closing my eyes for a moment. Knowing he was suffering because of me filled me with bliss. I could see that he was terribly irritated with his emotions, but I wasn’t going to soften anything. Oh no, on the contrary, seeing him in such a state made me deliberately want to intensify it. And then I opened my eyes only to find him, him, holding a knife to my throat.

“This has to stop.” He said solemnly, yet my gaze fell on his shaky hand. “I don’t want to plague my rationality further with you.”

I knew that all he had was his mind. And so, when I felt the sharp metal press against my neck; when I saw his determined, icy gaze I knew I had to twirl around him again. To prove to him that we are far from equals, that I am the sublime.

“You don’t have to love me.” I started out almost desperately, though it was only a trick, I assure you.  “Don’t answer me anything, don’t take any notice of me at all, and only let me look at you from the corner, turn me into your thing, into your little dog..” I whispered.

With his thumb, he wiped away the wetness falling from my eyes (not tears). He was distracted and so I gripped his arm turning it away from my throat and towards his chest. He reacted and used his force to push it in my face. I stopped it with my free hand just before the tempting edge deflated my round eye and all the liquid from it spilled on my face. However, doing so, Henry did severe my ring finger. It ripped from the last jagged skin and juicy flesh that held it tied to my stained hand, fell on the sofa and rolled down onto Henry’s oriental rug with a barely audible thump, all while leaving dark red stains behind. I got up and used my body to push him to the ground. I step on my lost finger. It lets out a crack. He drops the knife due to the force and I get my greedy hands on it. He hurried to get up but I straddled his hips and kissed him, pushing my wet tongue into his warm mouth. I lost myself in it and I only snapped out of my daze when I felt his thick blood staining my skin. Drip, drop, little ladybugs everywhere. 

I opened my eyes only to find his, or rather my, icy eyes still staring at me. What was left of my finger I dipped in blood and licked it. The glorious taste of his fluids mixed with mine exploded on my tongue and a voice whispered. And I believed it blindly, madly, terribly.

You all whom you believe yourself above me, pitiless hermaphrodites, inquire endlessly about the location of his body. It is not good manners to insist. Settle down, brutes, I’ll give you a clue just so you’ll leave me alone to mourn.

I listened to the voice that sang so sweetly in my ear. That is where his body is, in eternity with me.

Pass judgment on me, for that is why you’re here. However, you all are witnesses to my ‘crimes’, so judge yourself too, with the guidance of the Gods, for every accusation that leaves your wretched lips is a cast of your own dark depths. Answer if you are without sin: is it wrong to prove yourself to the one you love?

[hiddleswiftt]

I love your fics and I saw you wanted ideas so here I am. I thought maybe you could do a Taylor inspired fic for Laurie with Love Story maybe with like a ball or something?

ooohh! yes! I’ve been waiting on a laurie fic request for a while now!

maybe with another march sister reader??

(tumblr deleted my first draft so i have to re-write!)

LOVE STORY (INSPIRED BY THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG “LOVE STORY”!)

laurie laurence x march sister (fem) reader!

description - you have been friends with laurie (along with your sisters) since his mother passed away. laurie was the lonely boy who was living with old mr laurence who lived opposite the march house, and ever since he started hanging around with you and your sisters, you’ve started to have feelings for him. six years later, you are travelling around europe with aunt march as her companion whilst you are studying and completing your acting classes. you and aunt march are invited to a ball in paris and someone in particular is on the list for you to dance with for the night! - i tried to make it similar to amy and laurie’s story but the reader wanting to be an actress rather than an artist like amy!

you’ve always loved laurie. always.

even when he had feelings for one of your older sisters josephine (or jo).

you’d be the one sitting aside, especially during your eldest sister meg’s wedding, while you watch jo and laurie dance. amy would reassure you that you’d be okay as you sit with her and beth (as she continued to struggle slightly from trying to get better from scarlet fever).

when beth got scarlet fever, laurie was always around for you. when you found out about it, jo and meg told you to stay with aunt march until beth is well again.

“i don’t want to say with aunt march! id rather catch scarlet fever than stay with her, the poodle and the parrot!” you’d wine as you put your head between the pillows of the couch while laurie would insist for you to stay with aunt march.

he was very persuasive, but in a kind way.

he wouldn’t tell you to do something if you didn’t want to. but this was serious. the spread of scarlet fever was serious. it wasn’t a joke anymore. you just about understood that.

laurie told you he’d come and see you, and you suggested for him to bring either the carriage or the phaeton, which he did, just to make you happy.

whenever laurie came to see you, you’d be dancing dramatically (as you would usually) wearing aunt march’s feathered things. you’d smile at him when you realise he’s been standing at the doorframe of the room watching you.

you’d show him things such as aunt march’s wedding ring (which you told him that she was too fat to wear anymore - he’d snigger at you quietly when you said this), the golden bracelet that was for the only child she ever had (until it died unfortunately…) or perhaps anything else you had found amongst aunt march’s house while she was napping.

you would show laurie the will you’ve written, since you thought you’d be the next to die to scarlet fever. laurie sat with you in confusion.

“from y/n m/n march, this is her will and testament for those that may die after her,” laurie read, “for my sister jo, i give her my..”

in this case the list went on.. and on..

laurie looked at you, “y/n.. you’re not going to die! you’re not even sick!” he tells you, trying to reassure you that you were going to be fine.

then you look across to him, and slump down next to him, “i know.. it’s just a precaution! i will some day.. we all do!” you tell him.

there’s a silence between the two of you. then you finally pluck up the confidence to ask laurie to write something else on your will.

“laurie? i have one more thing for you to add?” you ask him, “i want all my curls cut off to all the men who had loved me!”

you seem a little dramatic, but laurie laughs at you slightly and quickly scribbles it down on the will for you.

“if you want to look horrific in your coffin, y/n, go ahead!” laurie tells you, laughing as he finishes writing your comment on the will.

TIME SKIP -

it had been a year since and you had been travelling around europe with aunt march as her companion, while you completed and studied your acting classes.

you and aunt march were set to attend a ball in paris! you had changed a lot since you left home so aunt march suggested that you should start looking towards marriage now that you are properly of age now.

you had met a man named fred vaughn back a few years ago (he’s a friend of laurie’s) on the lake one summer. aunt march suggested for the two of you to marry, but you were unsure, and you thought that you wanted to make your own match.

you arrived at the ball venue in paris. you looked stunning. one of the best dressed probably..

as you entered the venue, you were given a card which included 6 men that wanted to dance with you for the evening.

you glanced at the names on the card briefly (except for the first - which you headed to first).

gregory lance - the first gentleman on the list. wants to dance “the saraband” with you. so you headed towards him for the dance.

as you quickly got through each dance, you finished your fifth finally. you said goodbye to david molesey - who was your fifth dancer, and looked down to your card again to find your sixth and last dance of the night.

you looked down to spot a familiar name on your card.

‘6. theodore laurence - lancers’

you smile and start to look for laurie, not realising that he was already staring at you from the doorframe of the room.

you smile at him and you decide to meet each other half way.

you hug him straight away, trying not to let you or laurie ruin your look of the night. “laurie! what are you doing here? i thought you were in london with your grandfather!” you said, smiling at him.

he smiles at you, completely in awe of you of how beautiful you look, “well.. i guess i am needed here just incase you need anything, y/n march!” he said, “and you look so beautiful! i almost didn’t recognise you!”

you blush a little and slap his arm softly, “yeah yeah.. what have you been up to, laurie?” you ask him, “anymore of the gambling and the drinking?”

he laughs slightly, “no.. no.. none of that recently, y/n!” he tells you, then you remember something that didn’t do laurie any good recently.

“im so sorry jo turned you down, laurie.. im so sorry.” you tell him, looking at him, making sure he’s okay.

laurie looks back up at you, “don’t worry.. im not..” he said to you, smiling at you and taking in the view of you, then he remembered that you both have a dance together, “miss march? may i have this dance?”

laurie takes your hand in his, leading you to the middle of the room to start the dance. you nod at him, “one often does at a ball, laurie laurence..” you tell him, giggling at him a little.

he smiles at you, as you both walk and start the dance. the dance has become more easier for you both.

you remember when you were younger, probably about five years ago, you and laurie were stood in the laurence house dancing. beth was playing the piano, meg was constantly flirting with mr brooke and jo and amy were giggling at you two while we continued to step on each others feet as you both danced.

oddly it was the same dance that were to start dancing at the ball just then. it was a familiar feeling that you hadn’t seen or talked of in a long while. the nostalgia rushed back to you both immediately.

it felt just right.

as the music and the dance stopped, there was a sense of something between you two.

you invited laurie to talk with aunt march and a few others. a lot of aunt march’s friends thought you and laurie were married!

you just shut your mouth and didn’t say much after that.

MINI TIME SKIP -

you decided to have a break and walk outside to get some air on the balcony. it was getting slightly too warm in the building so it was good to escape for a few minutes.

you didn’t notice laurie behind you, so it shocked you for a moment.

“y/n? are you alright?” he asked you, finally catching up with you and standing next to you on the balcony.

you smile up at him, “yes.. yes.. im fine.. i just needed some air..” you tell him.

you notice two boats on the ocean near to the venue, as you both stood on the balcony. the boats were close together. laurie caught you looking at them, and swiftly looked back at you to admire you.

“those boats are pretty close together.. as if they are on the same path..” you mumble to him.

laurie smiles and takes your hand in his. this gets you to look up at him. “y/n.. are we on the same path?” he asks you.

you suddenly look from the boats to laurie, who had now taken your hand in his. you looked into his eyes. you both knew exactly what you wanted.

“i guess we are, laurie…” you finally admit, as you start smiling at him.

you both stand and admire each other for a couple of seconds, then laurie begins to hold your waist, now leaning into you slowly.

as you both continue to stand on the balcony, you and laurie lean in together for a slow but passionate kiss.

you bring your hand to his cheek, and continue to kiss. the two of you felt alive at this point. more alive than you both have ever felt, ever.

you knew you should’ve told him how you felt years ago, although laurie was in love with jo at the time. gladly, you didn’t think that was the case anymore.

laurie loved you. and you only.

you loved laurie. and laurie only.

you both moved away from the kiss, laughing and sniggering still as if you were still children. you both knew that you weren’t children anymore, since time and your childhoods have gone so fast, and you both had nothing you could do to change that.

you were just happy in the moment. the moment you were continuously picturing for years. you never thought it would ever happen, but here you both were. in that moment together.

you notice something different about him that you didn’t see before.

“laurie. you grew out your hair!” you say, playing with it a little.

laurie laughs at you slightly, “i guess you could care for it?” he says, now looking at you.

you smile at him happily, “always, laurie… always!” you say, kissing his cheek.

suddenly someone with a letter on a tray walks to you and laurie. you pick it up swiftly and open it, making sure laurie stands by you though it, as you think the letter could be what you think it could be.

you read the letter. you were right.

you stand next to laurie and sob into his arms.

“it’s beth…” you say as you put your head into his chest, letting laurie hold you.

you let laurie read the letter. it’s from marmee, clarifying beth’s death.

you weren’t as close to beth as jo was to her. but you did have your fun times. especially that same moment when you, laurie and your sisters were in laurence house together, as beth played the piano while you and laurie would attempt to dance but instead you’d be treading on each others feet.

although you and beth weren’t as close as her and jo were, she still was your sister.

it was as if you planned out her death, as if you planned out your own with the will you wrote and told laurie about a few years ago.

MINI TIME SKIP -

it took you a couple of days to get through beth’s death. you were still in paris, you told marmee you’d come home as soon as possible.

you had a mix of feelings about what could be happening between you and laurie and thoughts of beth, and the fact that you weren’t there to support her when she was dying.

you stood on the balcony of the home you were staying in with aunt march. aunt march wasn’t doing so great herself either. she was falling ill now.

laurie came to see you that same day. he wanted to talk about the relationship you had but he was unsure whether you were okay to talk about it after hearing about beth’s passing.

“i keep remembering that will i wrote when beth had scarlet fever..” you remind laurie, as you both stand together.

“you bequeathed me a plaster horse, if i remember correctly.” laurie thought, as he looked at you.

“i had my death all planned out.. all rehearsed in my mind…” you say, trying not to cry, “i had beth’s all rehearsed and ready too… thought it would.. tear me open.. or burn me down like a house. but now im just frozen!”

laurie took your hand in his again. “ill come and see you everyday, y/n…” he says, admiring you but also making sure that you’re okay.

you look up at him, slowly twiddling your thumb with his, “promise me?” you ask.

he looks at you again, watching you twiddling your thumb with his, “yes.” laurie told you, now reaching into his pocket for something.

you wonder what he was looking for, so you decided to look out at the view from the castle balcony.

it took him a few seconds to find what he was looking for. he brought a black box from his pocket, and showed it to you.

you turned back to him and looked at the box. you were stunned.

“so.. y/n.. could we make it last forever?” he said, opening the box to reveal the engagement ring inside.

you were taken by surprise that laurie wants to marry you. you smile widely, and nod at him, letting him put the ring on your finger confirming your engagement.

MINI TIME SKIP -

you and laurie were on their way home from your long trip around europe with aunt march. aunt march had briefly found out about your engagement to laurie before passing out, and being taken home with aunt carrol and her daughter florence, who had been your other company before laurie arrived.

as soon as you arrived home, laurie helped you out of the carriage to find meg, marmee, father, amy, and jo (slowly) running out to greet you both.

marmee (with her good eye) noticed a ring on your finger. funnily enough, it wasn’t the same ring that laurie gave you a few days ago. it wasn’t the engagement ring.

you smiled down at the ring, and then looked back up at laurie.

“that’s not an engagement ring!” marmee says, realising something.

you and laurie smile at each other as you notice marmee admiring your ring.

“it’s a wedding ring!” marmee says, pulling you into a large hug and kissing you on the cheek, while father shakes laurie’s hand to congratulate us both, and to thank him for marrying you.

you smile at your mother again. “i cant quite get my glove over it!” you laugh, then moving to laurie to give your ‘husband’ a kiss on the cheek.

MINI TIME SKIP -

the hustle and bustle around the march house after yours and laurie’s return and the surprise of your marriage spread amongst the house. especially to mr laurence (laurie’s grandfather), who had told him to go abroad after jo turned him down.

you were happy. both of you were.

turns out that jo was falling in love with the professor she met at the boarding house in New York. she arrived home a week after yours and laurie’s return after being out in town and the professor was waiting for her.

you knew she was in love with him. jo knew you had always been in love with laurie.

you kindly persuaded jo to tell professor bhaer how she felt about him, and from soon after that, all your sisters and yourself were in love.

you all sat together, you and laurie at the piano as laurie played and you rested your head on his shoulder, meg and john with kitty and minnie, marmee and father and finally jo and bhaer.

it just fitted together so perfectly.

please don’t copy my work! <3

(let me know what you think of this fic by giving this post a like, follow and a comment!)

— h4uerkings

[pharaohbean]

invitation

original upload: june 22nd 2024 on ao3

summary: "'Dan Heng knew the dark well. Dan Heng did not like the dark. And so Dan Heng screamed out into the void for someone to save him.' Dan Heng's thirst for knowledge (and duty as the Archivist of the Astral Express) gets him into tough situations that even he can't pull himself out of. However, they will always be a shooting star nearby."

tags: Dan Heng/Boothill, Dan Heng/Trailblazer, March 7th/Stelle | Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Inspired By Poetry, Pre-Relationship, I Wrote This Instead Of Sleeping

warnings: none

author's note: "i churned this out at 1am all of a sudden after three separate drafts. what the f--- inspired by a poem (did you know literature is my worst subject)"

Dan Heng was not unfamiliar with the dark. However, he wished that that wasn't the case.

Years, decades, maybe even a century—his time spent in the Shackling Prison had not been kind to him even in the simplest of things like keeping time—spent in captivity, even before he emerged from his egg, had made the former High Elder harshly familiar with the darkness and the horrors it brought. Perhaps only because of the pain he’d suffered at the beginning of his life could he now stay calm in his current situation.

He dragged himself off of the stone brick ground, moss covering the Eras-weathered pathway, with Cloud Piercer rammed into the ground and acted as his pillar. His memories were muddled as he desperately tried to remember how he’d gotten in such a position—why unconscious (dead? Unsure, it was dark) bodies were scattered behind him, why no one from the Express was with him, why—

A flash of bioluminescent sea green had him whipping his head around. Bright blue-green serpentine eyes, dozens of pairs of them, crawled out of the abyss and lit up as they approached him.

They did not look friendly. They were not friendly, Dan Heng remembered that much. It was one against an army, and well—

The Imbibitor Lunae was infamously known for not going down without a fight.

As Archivist of the Astral Express, it was Dan Heng’s duty to make sure that any and all info in the Data Bank was as up-to-date as possible. With some worlds like Jarlio-VI, that simply wasn’t possible—the Space Anchors may have been deactivated due to unuse, or never existed in the first place. But if Dan Heng could fact-check it himself, he would.

It was on one of these solo expeditions—to a low-end yet vibrant planet named Alladonia, an entry just needing some brushing up on—when Dan Heng heard something that caught his interest.

Four men were planning an expedition to a nearby set of ruins—only revealed to them through a cryptic message delivered by an even more cryptic member of the Garden of Recollection—and were talking about hiring a Pathstrider to guard them. Apparently only one of them was a Pathstrider and a Pathstrider of Harmony in your group wasn’t very useful if none of you could fight.

His curiosity piqued, Dan Heng approached the group and asked them about their expedition. Their leader revealed that during their day-to-day life, the Garden of Recollection gave him a very strange… poem? Riddle? And that it would lead him to immeasurable power if they got there first. Dan Heng sighed inside—of course it did—but his thirst for knowledge would not be deterred. So he offered his services, simply wanting to document anything he found there and maybe a little money to cover lodgings and whatnot. The men, overjoyed, agreed.

The journey to the abandoned city was long but mostly uneventful; soon, the group had arrived at their location. Upon reciting the riddle (Dan Heng was half convinced it was a poem with the leader’s emphasized pauses at odd moments) the large stone doors cleverly disguised as mere sides of a cliff opened wide, casting light down into the city carved into two sides of a ravine, but still not enough to illuminate its lower levels.

The five of them had ventured down and down, exploring every little nook and cranny for any info they could find. The riddle/poem was not very helpful in what came next, so they brainstormed on a large platform in the side of the ravine—a town square of sorts, Dan Heng surmised. A large stone bridge crossed the ravine, where a dark river sat gently flowing.

And then the large glowing lizards appeared suddenly, soundless in the dark and attacked their near-defenseless group group and—

Oh. Dan Heng was falling off the bridge now into the river below.

It was warm and cold.

He felt like he was back inside of his egg, tightly insulated from the outside world, and yet the biting cold of the Shackling Prison(?) still seeped through, stabbing him in places he could not reach.

He tried to move his body, open his eyes, do something , but nothing responded to his calls. He screamed and yelled and begged and nothing escaped his lips; tears would fall, never to be seen since they could not be freed.

Then, in his mind’s eye, he saw a shooting star come rushing towards him—a blazing sign of hope and promises. It reminded him of the sight in Penacony, when those people from all over the galaxy had been called together just to provide a moment’s disturbance for the fatal counter-strike.

Dan Heng knew the dark well. Dan Heng did not like the dark. And so Dan Heng screamed out into the void for someone to save him.

When he finally managed to stir, he took into account all five of his sense at once:

Wrapped around his body was a thick, slightly scratchy blanket that made him feel tightly secure—like his egg or his bed at the Express. He could feel flickering heat near him, its warmth caressing his face.

Saltwater (or polluted water, unsure) hung on his tongue; he swallowed on reflex, trying to clear the mildly disgusting taste from his mouth.

The scent of fish wafted into his nose, bringing back memories of times before—good and bad, from hauntings of the Luofu to photographs of the Express.

The crackling of a burning fire filled the empty silence, reminding him of the whirring of the Archives; soon, the fire was joined by the rustle and jangle of metal shifting around and click-clacking across stone bricks to be by his side.

Finally, Dan Heng peeked his eyes open to be met by the warm, hazy glow of the fire and a body crouched next to his. Metal body, no shirt, black and white hair, and eyes that were always targeting someone or something .

“Boot… hill?” Dan Heng mumbled, brow furrowing. His vision blurred and his head swam as he tried to sit up. “Where…?”

“Take it easy there, partner,” Boothill’s mechanical voice said, a hand on Dan Heng’s chest coaxing him back down. “You’ve had quite the adventure, judging by your state.”

Dan Heng tried to think for a moment, but was knocked off his train of thought by a cup of water at his lips. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of drinking the river’s water, and Boothill’s laugh echoed through the place.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it! It’s not from that dirty old river,” the Galaxy Ranger reassured him. Dan Heng hummed hoarsely, then gratefully gulped down the offered cup—slowly, with each long gulp, his mental processes returned to him one by one.

Once the cup was finished, Dan Heng watched as Boothill rifled through a bag on the side, then looked around his surroundings. It seemed that Boothill had set up camp in one of the many lifeless homes, nondescript outside of their unique carvings on the walls.

“What happened?” Dan Heng asked quietly, his eyes flicking back to Boothill. The cyborg looked at him with a wide-eyed expression and something akin to a frown before shrugging.

“Got me beat, partner—I only just got here.”

“Why are you here?” Dan Heng immediately asked, then winced at the bite in his question. The Galaxy Ranger moved to sit next to him, watching carefully as Dan Heng sat up slowly. He pulled a cooked fish off of where it sat near the fire, and the Vidyadhara accepted the food graciously.

Boothill hummed, staring off into space for a few moments. Then, he began to speak:

“Yer a High Elder, aren’t you? Of the Vidyadhara.”

Dan Heng paused mid-chew, anxiety and panic flooding through systems. He quickly swallowed the torn piece and stammered out, “H-how did you know?”

Boothill looked back to him, and his gaze softened to one of… pity, almost. “We’re both Pathstriders of The Hunt. I’d be foolish to not recognize someone like me.”

Dan Heng looked down to the food in his hands, battling against the flood of memories that tried to breach his defenses. He had fought that battle against Dan Feng back while they were still on the Luofu; he was uninterested in fighting it again. “…I gave up the title of Imbibitor Lunae many centuries ago. At least… I tried to.”

Boothill hummed for a moment. “We’re both Pathstriders of The Hunt… and I heard someone like us crying out in despair.”

“Then we need to help them;” Dan Heng went to stand up, ignoring the throbbing in his entire body, “they could still need out help—“

He was halted by Boothill’s hand on his cheek, stilling his movements. The metal plates were cool against his warming cheeks, but not bitingly cold. The cool of a fan on a hot summer's day. Without realizing it, he’d leaned into it ever so slightly.

“I heard you ,” Boothill murmured. “I heard you begging for someone to save you and I came as fast as I could.”

“—Why?” Dan Heng blurted out after a beat, his mind muddling with every passing second. He couldn’t keep up with everything he was learning today. The thought of the motionless bodies of the other men crept into his mind, and then the lizards and the fight and the fall and the coldness—

Dan Heng was swept into Boothill’s arms suddenly; the blanket around him was left behind and his head rested on the junction between his neck and his head. Only then did Dan Heng realize he was shaking.

“You were amazin’ in that dream, y’know? Both of them. You put up a fantastic show for your friends and everyone else and even had me enraptured in your part of the show. It had me fooled, I’ll admit.

“But it’s over,” Boothill’s voice dropped to a mere comforting murmur. “It’s all okay. You can rest now.”

Dan Heng just sat there, petrified in the confusion of emotions flooding him. The cool grasp around him squeezed just a little tighter, and that was all it took for Dan Heng to bury himself into Boothill further.

Dan Heng did not like the darkness—in fact, Dan Heng hated the darkness, fearful of it even.

“It was too dark,” Dan Heng muttered into Boothill’s neck, his voice rising in hysterics as he continued to speak. “Reminded me too much of back then. It was cold, too cold, and too dark and I couldn’t do anything and—“

“Shh.” Boothill tugged the half-sobbing dragon into him ( if that was even possible, Dan Heng’s mind faintly commented). “You’re okay now. No more darkness or cold.”

“…I saw a shooting star. Near the end. It- it reminded me of when you summoned all those Galaxy Rangers in Penacony.”

“I guess the speed at which I flew over here could be compared to a shooting star,” Boothill commented, making Dan Heng snort a little in reply.

Silence lapsed between the two of them before the dragon breathed: “…I’m tired.”

“Well, your Express friends are on their way. You can get some rest before you go back with them.” The cyborg replaced Dan Heng back in the little sleeping bag he’d put him in; Dan Heng rolled himself into a cocoon immediately, much to the Ranger’s confusion and amusement.

Dan Heng glanced at him one more time, his eyes sparkling (with tears? just from relief?) as he quietly asked:

“Will you stay with me?”

Boothill understood immediately. The unspoken words between two Pathstriders of the same Path. Two hunters with too much in their pasts that always came back to them.

“As long as you want me.”

Dan Heng smiled weakly, humming in response to a hand ruffling his hair, then dozed off—not truly sleeping, but letting his mind shut down. Somewhere down the line, behind blurred and foggy memories, he felt arms pick him up and carry him a long way, never letting go until they’d arrived at the Express. Once he felt the familiar aura of the Express encircle him once more, Dan Heng truly allowed himself to fall asleep.

Dan Heng was not unfamiliar with the darkness. He did not like the darkness and was always afraid of returning to it.

But this time, no matter where he went in his dreams, a shooting star was always following after him.

And that— and he— lit up the darkness.